#i couldn’t think of anything at first when i first saw your ask but like. just now when i saw it again i immediately thought of peach beach

[mattsmedusa]

✎ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 ✮ 𝐜.𝐬 『 +𝟏𝟖 』

ⓘ best friends? ᚐ sexual tension ᚐ blowjob ᚐ etc. + intended lowercase. 𝐰𝐜. 𝟐.𝟐𝐤

it had been an overall good day for you. you were out with a friend of yours, having gotten your nails done and now eating lunch with her. your friend started to talk about her recent little hook up. it wasn’t anything unusual, you were used to hearing your friends talk about stuff like that, but today... something in you was more curious than ever.

your friend went on and on about how good it was and how more guys should be like the one that she fucked at that party two days ago. she suddenly nudged your arm and leaned in to whisper in a hushed tone. "he was huge, like, quite literally choked me with it—it was definitely an experience." she laughed, immediately switching to a different topic but you couldn’t shake off the sudden flicker of curiosity.

blowjob. you had never done it before and all because you were intimidated by the idea of having a dick in your mouth. now though, the intimidation was gone, only leaving curiosity behind. the curiousity was persistent enough to keep lurking in the back of your mind, even as you stepped foot inside the triplets place later that day.

chris, your best friend, was sitting on his gaming chair—his back facing you—when you walked into his room. he was so concentrated on his game that he didn’t even notice you at first. you shrugged it off and immediately plopped on his bed, sprawled out like a starfish as you closed your eyes, relaxing on his bed like you owned it.

after a few minutes, chris stretched, taking off his headset and stood up to probably get something to drink and that’s when he noticed you. his eyes widened and he recoiled, putting a hand over his heart, not having expected to see you—or anyone in that matter—on his bed.

"kid- you fucking scared me, when did you even get here?" he shook his head, laughing despite his initial surprise. "laying on my bed like you own the shit, get up." he walked over to you with a silly grin, probably plotting something, but you sat up right as he approached the bed, making him jolt in surprise at your sudden movement.

"what’s wrong with you toda-" "how do you give someone a blowjob?" chris immediately paused, mouth still agape from the word he was about to say before you cut him off. he stared at you blankly and you stared back at him, determined. a part of you regretted your words, but you were too far gone into the curiosity to take it back. "what does it feel like?" you pressed on, leaning forward towards him.

"what did you say?" chris blinked at you, not sure if he heard it right or if he was just hearing shit. "did you just- did you seriously just ask me how to give someone head?" he burst out laughing, plopping on the bed beside you as he lost his shit—not believing what he was hearing.

"you didn’t just ask me that." he said in disbelief as his shoulders trembled with laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. but when he saw that you weren’t laughing along, he realised that you were dead serious. his laughter subsided, surprise flickering in his expression since you never brought something like this up—never sounded interested when he did.

"wait for real? you really wanna know?" he gave you a teasing grin, his eyebrows rising. "well, it’s not like i’ve sucked dick before so i can’t really tell you how, but i have gotten a blowjob before..." he trailed off, his grin widening as he leaned closer. "you want me to teach you or something?" he joked, but the joke fell flat as you nodded your head.

his eyes widened by a fraction before he let out a small chuckle, leaning back on his hands. he didn’t expect you to actually say yes, and well, why would he refuse? it’s nothing serious—or so he thinks.

chris swallowed down the worries and what if’s and slowly nodded, muttering a bit too breathless "alright" as he adjusted his position on the bed, watching your wide-eyed expression with a small smirk. "you wanna learn or no?" he teased putting a small pillow that he had on his bed on the floor in between his spread legs.

you blinked, staring at him for a good minute, not expecting him to actually go through with it. after a few seconds, you slowly stood up and walked towards him until you were right in front of him before kneeling down on the pillow. looking up at him, you noticed the way his pupils seemed slightly more enlarged than usual.

"you’ve a hairband or something?" he leaned back slightly, casually, trying to hide the fact that your proximity got his breath hitching. "so your hair won’t get in the way." he explained, watching as you leaned to the side to rummage through your bag, pulling out a hairband and tying your hair in a low ponytail with it.

"alright now..." he cursed internally at how breathless he sounded. he spread his legs wider, almost unconsciously as he felt his dick swell at the imagery his mind created of you sucking his dick with those doe eyes looking up at him. he was already half-hard and you hadn’t even done anything yet. you were just sitting in front of him looking so edible...

what is he thinking?

chris cleared his throat, finding his voice hoarse and undeniably needy. "you gotta, uh, get me fully hard first." he said. "don’t worry, i’ll guide you through it- just do what feels right." he reassured. he was starting to finally understand the gravity of the situation, but as per usual, he pushed the thoughts away.

you tentatively touched his boner straining against his sweatpants and your breath hitched at the warmth and hardness. your gaze flickered up to watch his reaction as you palmed his dick, swallowing thickly when you felt him swell further under your attention.

chris helped you pull down his sweatpants, his cock springing free and slapping his stomach before standing upright, precum already gathering on the tip. he stared down at his dick, then back at you, a small chuckle escaping when he saw your heated glance at his cock.

"staring at it like you wanna eat it." he mumbled with another chuckle. "huh?" you snapped out of your small trance and looked up at him. "you’re staring at my dick like you wanna eat it." he repeated, giving you a knowing smirk—which earned him a slap on his thigh, causing him to giggle.

"so do i just... lick it?" you questioned, ignoring the comment he made, tentatively reaching out to wrap your fingers around his base and feeling how girthy he was. he was big and long, causing you to feel that primal need to be filled. you shifted slightly, trying to will your body to behave, but fuck, he was easily bigger than any of the guys you’ve slept with before.

chris nodded subtly. "yeah... lick it like you would with an ice cream cone." he gently guided your head closer to his cock, the tip almost pulsing as a fresh bead of precum formed on the slit before slowly sliding down his shaft and onto your fingers.

you leaned closer and slowly licked up the underside of his length, from the base to the tip, with your tongue flattened—all while looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours. chris’ dick jumped in your hand, his breath hitching at the sudden warmth and wetness of your tongue. the way you were looking up at him so prettily got him feeling all types of ways.

you saw his reaction and interpreted it as you doing a good job and started to slowly become bolder, moving your hand in a twisting motion up and down his shaft while you kissed and licked his tip.

"f-fuck--" chris moaned quietly, his eyes closing briefly at the pleasure shooting through his whole body as your mouth focused solely on the head of his cock. his hand left your head to clutch onto the sheets beside his thigh. his hips twitched and jolted when you wrapped your lips around his cockhead, swirling your tongue around it.

you knew some things about a blowjob. the knowledge came from hearing about it from your friends, porn and some freaky reels you got recommended while doom scrolling on instagram. it’s not like you were completely innocent—you just hadn’t tried it out on anyone. but you were nervous nonetheless, seeking approval from him as you kept gazing up at him.

chris’ eyes snapped open when you took him deeper in your mouth. "wait- fuck, you sure this is your first time?" he breathed out, completely in awe at how good you were doing. he barely held himself back from rolling his eyes back when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked up his length, letting it go with a wet pop.

"y-yeah, is it bad?" you asked panting softly, feeling insecure about your inexperience. your hand halted its motion on his dick, waiting for his reply.

chris quickly shook his head, "no, fuck no, you’re so fucking good at it... that’s why i asked," he explained, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, dick twitching subtly in your hand. he licked his lips subconsciously, eyes silently pleading with yours to keep going.

you let out a quiet sigh of relief and went back to what you were doing. getting bolder the more chris reacted. every small moan, whine or groan made your stomach flip. your panties were now uncomfortably wet, clinging to your pussy as you eased one more inch of his length into your mouth, gagging slightly before pulling off to pump him with your hand.

chris was so close to the edge already, finding it difficult to stay coherent so he simply stuck to letting you do your own thing as he leaned back on both hands. his head was thrown back, brows knitted together in pleasure and lips parted as soft moans fell freely from it.

you watched as chris’ breathing grew increasingly shallow, his hips jerking upwards and thighs trembling ever so slightly. that’s when you understood that he was about to come undone. the sudden realisation left your stomach doing somersaults and you immediately redoubled your efforts.

"wait, fuck- i’m gonna cum... if you don’t want—mmfhh—if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth then pull off." he said urgently. his breath hitched more frequently now as the bands in his stomach grew more and more taut.

you didn’t pull away though—you went faster, bobbing your head more enthusiastically as your hand took care of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking insistently before slowly going down and taking as much as you could.

that’s when chris suddenly held your head still between his hands, his hips giving a sharp thrust up and burying himself completely in your mouth as he came, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as breathy moans and profanities left his mouth. you felt his cock twitch and spurt out warm cum right down your throat.

chris’ hips jerked against your face, slowly riding out his high. he didn’t release your head until you slapped his thigh repeatedly, coughing as you tried your best to swallow down his release. he quickly let go of your head, mumbling a breathless "sorry" before slumping back on his bed. his chest heaved and body shuddered with aftershocks.

it took him a good minute to recover and when he did, he sat up, pulling his sweats up and looking at you like you had grown a second head. you simply chuckled at his surprised expression, wiping your mouth with a tissue from the tissue box beside his bed.

"you’re fucking insane." chris suddenly said. he was in disbelief that his inexperienced best friend just gave him the best blowjob he has ever received... and mind you, he has had his fair share of heads so when he thinks it’s good—it’s really fucking good.

"was it good?" you gave him a small grin, knowing the answer but not wanting to sound too full of yourself. your words made chris stare at you like you just told him something ridiculous.

"was it good?" he repeated your question with a laugh. "c’mon, you’re really gonna ask me that after making me moan and cum in like 2 minutes?" he teased, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he helped you stand up from your kneeling position in front of him.

"so, anything else you want me to teach you? ’cause i’m more than willing to be your personal instructor if you’re gonna do that good." he grinned shamelessly, laughing softly when you shoved him to the side.

"kid, don’t even try anything with me." you rolled your eyes, even as a small smile formed on your lips. you didn’t respond to his question, changing the subject as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, but you knew something shifted between you two after that. every little touch felt more than just a touch.

it’s probably just your imagination... right?

୨୧

✩ ˙˖˚᮫ ⁱˢᵃ ᮭ ᮭ.ᐟ i apologise for taking so long, hope you enjoy this nonetheless anon<3

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @chaossturns @mels4ngel @lypsiiii @sydneyylainn @sturniolozbae @hearts4werka @strnilolover @matts-sidepiece @hearts4sturniolo @ivysturnss @bumbl3b34 @sophand4n4 @sagesturns @gwennybenny @whore4mattsturniolo @sturns-mermaid @il0vey0um0st @summersturni @ashleysturn @unknvhx @natesfavoritehoe @lizzymacdonald06 @sleepiibunniiii @plrlvssnz @patchy-icey @greekgirldreaming @moosegirl96 @sllutty-sturniolo @rinnsgalaxy @urfavvbilliemunch @pasteldreams @heartsonlyforchris @jas06sposts @elizabeth8483 @starkeysturniolo @chrisissobabygirl @emely9274 @matts-wife @courta13 @p1nkm6tter @jocelyncsblog @bamsblooming @malsmind

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

[blueberry3241]

★彡 Seventeen reaction you show up in their dream

↷ Pairing : seventeen x reader ↷ Genre : Fluff, Comedy,Soft ↷ word count : 3,000 words

↳ Disclaimer : This is an original work of fiction. All characters, settings, and story elements are my own creation. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. Please do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt this work without my explicit permission.

Masterlist

↝S.Coups

Seungcheol woke up with a start, sitting up in bed with wide eyes. His heart was pounding like he had just run a marathon. He turned to look at his phone, checking the time. 3:14 AM. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“What the hell was that…” he muttered, trying to calm his breathing.

In his dream, you and he were sitting on a park bench, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. There was this nervous energy between the two of you, as if something important was about to be said. Then, you turned to him and smiled.

"Seungcheol… I think I like you."

And then—you disappeared. Just like that. Gone.

He groaned, flopping back down onto his bed.

"Why does my own subconscious want to torment me?"

The next morning, he couldn't stop looking at you. Every time you spoke, he was reminded of the dream, of your voice saying those words. It got to the point where he had to excuse himself.

Later that day, when you two were alone, he blurted out, “I had a dream about you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh… okay? And?”

“You confessed to me in the dream,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You laughed. “And what did I say?”

He hesitated, then looked straight into your eyes. “You said you liked me.”

You chuckled, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Guess your dream self has good taste.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, then, before he could second-guess himself, said, “Well, do you?”

Your laughter died down as you stared at him. His serious expression made your heart race. “Are… are you asking me for real?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Because I think I like you too.”

You blinked, then broke into a soft smile. “You’re braver than your dream self, huh?”

↝Jeonghan

Jeonghan didn’t dream often, or at least he didn’t remember his dreams. But last night? Oh, he remembered every single detail.

You and he were sitting in a small café, the atmosphere warm and quiet. He was holding your hand, fingers lazily tracing circles on your palm. It was so… peaceful. You looked at him, your eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place.

"Jeonghan, promise you won’t disappear."

He frowned in the dream. “What do you mean?”

"I just… don’t want to lose you."

He had woken up right after that, confused and, for the first time in a long while, a little emotional. He didn’t understand why that dream made his chest feel tight, but it did.

The next time he saw you, he found himself watching you more than usual. Not in his usual playful, teasing way—but in a way that felt… protective. Soft.

“Y/N,” he called, catching you before you left the room.

“Hm?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Then, after a moment, he reached out and flicked your forehead.

“Ow—what was that for?” you pouted, rubbing the spot.

He just smirked. “Just making sure you’re real.”

↝Joshua

Joshua had never felt so conflicted over a dream in his life.

It had been sweet. Dream-you had been sitting on a picnic blanket with him, laughing at something he said. Your hand had reached up to fix his hair, and when you pulled away, he had grabbed it, holding it tight.

"You’re so cute," you had said, smiling warmly.

He had woken up in a panic.

Because you calling him cute? That was dangerous.

“Josh, you okay?” you asked, waving a hand in front of his face when he zoned out during lunch.

“Huh? Oh—yeah. Just… thinking.”

You grinned. “Thinking about what? Me?”

He choked on his drink.

“Joshua Hong, you good?”

He coughed, quickly shaking his head. “N-Nothing! I mean, yes—wait, no—I mean—” He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

You laughed. “You’re acting weird today.”

If only you knew.

↝Jun

Jun sat in bed, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed. His dream had been fine—until some other guy had shown up and started flirting with you.

In the dream, you had laughed at the guy’s joke, and Jun had felt jealous. Dream-Jun had pulled you closer, throwing an arm around your waist.

"You’re mine."

He had woken up immediately, heart racing. What the hell was that?

The next time he saw you, you smiled brightly at him. “Hey, Jun!”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not allowed to talk to random guys.”

You blinked. “Uh… okay?”

He nodded, satisfied. “Good. That’s settled then.”

You just stared at him, completely confused.

↝Hoshi

Hoshi’s dream had been simple. You and he were napping together, curled up like two cats in the sunlight.

That was it.

And it was the best dream of his life.

The moment he woke up, he felt this overwhelming urge to be near you. So he found you, sat down beside you, and immediately latched onto your arm.

“Hoshi?”

“Shh,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder. “I just need to be here for a second.”

You chuckled, patting his head. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“No,” he murmured. “A really, really nice dream. And now I don’t wanna wake up.”

↝Woozi

Woozi’s dream had been too real. He had been in his studio, working late as usual, when you suddenly walked in with a cup of coffee.

"Take a break, Jihoon," you had said, sitting beside him.

He had grumbled, but then you had leaned your head on his shoulder. And just like that, his resistance had crumbled.

Then he woke up.

And now? He couldn't even look at you without remembering how soft your voice had sounded.

"Jihoon?"

"Hm?"

"You okay? You’ve been weird all day."

He scoffed. “I’m fine.”

But his ears were red.

↝Wonwoo

Wonwoo rarely remembered his dreams, but this one? It was too vivid.

In it, you and he were sitting in a library, surrounded by stacks of books. Everything felt peaceful—until suddenly, the lights dimmed, and an eerie feeling crept in. You had looked at him with wide, nervous eyes.

"Wonwoo… I'm scared."

Without thinking, Dream-Wonwoo had reached out and held your hand, squeezing it gently.

"Don’t worry. I’m here."

The moment he woke up, his heart was pounding. Why did that feel so real?

The dream stayed with him all day, making him hyper-aware of you. Every time you spoke, every time you laughed, every time you stood close to him—his stomach did this weird flip he wasn’t used to.

Later, when you were both walking down the hallway, someone accidentally bumped into you. It was small, nothing serious, but Wonwoo instantly reached out, steadying you by the waist.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up at him, surprised. “Yeah… Thanks, Wonwoo.”

He quickly pulled his hands back, nodding. “Just… be careful.”

You tilted your head. “You’re acting different today.”

He coughed, adjusting his glasses. “Am I?”

“Yeah. It’s like you’re—” You paused, narrowing your eyes. “Wait. Did you have a dream about me or something?”

His whole body stiffened. “...No.”

You smirked. “You totally did.”

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I’m never sleeping again.”

You just laughed. If only he knew how cute he looked right now.

↝Mingyu

Mingyu’s dream had been like something out of a romance drama. You and he were baking together, covered in flour, laughing as you playfully smeared some on his nose. Then, out of nowhere, you had stood on your toes and kissed his cheek.

"Mingyu, I think I like you."

The moment he woke up, he shot out of bed.

The dream was fake. But the feelings? Very, very real.

That day, you noticed something was off.

“Gyu, why are you following me like a puppy?”

“I just… feel like being around you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. Just… I missed you.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

“Yeah, and that was too long ago.”

You laughed, shoving his arm. “What’s gotten into you?”

If only you knew.

↝DK

Seokmin sat up in bed, clutching his blanket like he had just witnessed the most heartbreaking moment in cinematic history.

In his dream, you and he had been standing in the rain, and you had hugged him tightly, whispering, "Seokmin… I wish we had more time."

Then—just like a K-drama—lightning struck, and you were gone.

“NOOOOOO!” Seokmin wailed, startling his roommate.

The next day, he ran up to you, grabbing your hands.

“Y/N,” he said, eyes wide with emotion. “Promise me you won’t disappear.”

You blinked. “Uh… okay?”

“I mean it,” he said, gripping your hands tighter. “Stay in my life forever.”

You tilted your head. “Did you watch a sad movie last night or something?”

“Worse,” he mumbled. “I dreamed it.”

↝The8

Minghao wasn’t one to let dreams get to him. But this one? It stuck with him.

In the dream, you and he had been walking side by side under the moonlight. You had stopped and looked up at the sky, sighing softly.

"If only you knew how much I think about you, Hao."

When he woke up, his heart felt… weird.

Later that day, he found you in the practice room. Instead of greeting you normally, he just studied you quietly.

“Hao?” you asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “Why are you staring at me?”

He smirked slightly. “No reason.”

“Liar.”

He chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe… I just had an interesting dream.”

You huffed. “And you’re not going to tell me?”

He shrugged. “Maybe later. When the timing is right.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so mysterious.”

He just smiled. If only you knew.

↝Seungkwan

Seungkwan shot up from his bed, staring at the ceiling in horror.

"Seungkwan… I have something to tell you. I love you."

That was what you had said in his dream. And his response?

"Haha, nice joke!"

He had woken up screaming.

The next time he saw you, he pointed an accusing finger.

“YOU!”

You jumped. “What—what did I do?!”

“You were in my dream.”

“…Okay?”

“And you confessed to me.”

You stared at him, amused. “And?”

“I LAUGHED,” he yelled, running a hand through his hair. “Why am I like this?!”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, is this why you look so stressed?”

“Yes! Because what if I do that in real life? What if I mess up? What if—”

“Seungkwan.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling. “If you ever get a confession from me, I’ll make sure you don’t laugh.”

He turned red. “W-What—”

You just winked and walked away.

Seungkwan clutched his chest. He was doomed.

↝Vernon

Vernon sat in silence, staring at his phone screen, still processing.

His dream had been simple. You and he were sitting in a car, music playing softly in the background. You had turned to him and said, "I feel safest when I’m with you."

Now he couldn't stop thinking about it.

The next time he saw you, he casually asked, “Do you, uh, think dreams mean anything?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated. “No reason.”

You smirked. “Did you dream about me or something?”

His ears turned red. “W-What? No. Maybe. I dunno.”

You grinned. “Was I cool?”

“…Yeah.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder. “Glad to know dream-me has taste.”

Vernon just sighed. He was never getting over this.

↝Dino

Chan’s dream had been wild. In it, he had been some kind of hero, saving you from danger. And at the end, you had hugged him tightly and whispered, "You're my hero, Chan."

Now? Now he was on a mission to be cooler than ever.

“Chan,” you said, watching him struggle to lift a ridiculously heavy box. “What are you doing?”

“Getting stronger,” he grunted, barely able to hold it up.

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh… why?”

“No reason,” he said, voice strained. “Just… wanna be impressive.”

You chuckled. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know?”

He set the box down with a loud thud, panting. “But… what if you need saving one day?”

You laughed. “Then I’ll trust you to be my hero.”

His face lit up. Mission accomplished.

[heliosunny]

Would you mind writing anything with yan Sunday?If u don't mind ofc.Love ur work 🩷🩷

No Distance Left

Yandere!Sunday x Reader

The Quercus Society Library was like a second home to you, nestled on a quiet, tree-lined street where the Oak Family’s influence stretched farther than most could fathom.

You were a child, your visits frequent and filled with laughter, running between aisles with Sunday and Robin as your partners in crime.

One summer afternoon, you remember sitting cross-legged on the worn carpet of the library, flipping through a picture book as Sunday settled beside you. He had always been quiet, observant, but today, his silence was different.

“What’s wrong?”

Sunday hesitated, his gaze lingering on the pages you turned, before softly murmuring, “Do you think we’ll always be together?”

You looked up at him, your mind too young to understand the weight of his words. “Of course, we will! We’ll always come here. This is our place, right?”

“Yeah… our place.”

Robin, the more outspoken and bubbly younger sister, joined in, pulling you both from your thoughts. “I’m gonna be the best at hide-and-seek today! You’ll never find me, Y/N!”

The three of you spent the rest of that afternoon running through the library, hiding between bookshelves, and laughing so loud that even the oak bookshelves seemed to groan with your noise. You were all so young, unaware of the darker undercurrents swirling beneath the surface of your seemingly peaceful days.

Time passed, and soon you were no longer a child. The inevitable day came when you had to leave for high school, and your visits to the Quercus Society Library became less frequent.

The day before you left, Sunday stood by the windows, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the oak windowpane. Robin was tugging on your sleeve, trying to distract you with her usual antics, but you couldn’t ignore the look on Sunday’s face—almost as if he already knew you would be leaving for good.

“Promise me you’ll come back, okay?”

“Of course! I’ll always come back. You and Robin are family.”

Robin bounced over to you, pulling you into a hug with a grin. “You better! I’ll save you a special seat at the library for when you return!”

You promised to return. You swore you would. But once you were out of the city, your studies consumed you. You didn’t keep in touch with Sunday or Robin as much as you intended, and before long, their faces blurred into the past.

The first day of university was supposed to be a fresh start. New environment, new people, and the overwhelming relief of finally taking control of your own life. You had planned everything—your schedule, your part-time job, and how to balance tuition with supporting your family.

What you hadn’t planned for was him.

When Sunday walked into your classroom, it was as if the air itself changed. He didn’t acknowledge you at first. No greeting. He simply walked forward with the same composed grace as always, his presence both familiar and utterly foreign after all these years.

And then—he sat down.

Right beside you.

The entire day passed like that.

He didn’t ask why you never returned. He didn’t scold you, didn’t guilt-trip you. He simply existed next to you.

It wasn’t until the final lecture ended, when the last few students trickled out, that the moment finally came.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

You swallowed hard, gripping your bag’s strap. You owed him an answer.

“I’m sorry, Sunday. I wanted to. I really did.”

He didn’t respond, just stood there, waiting.

“I had to study and work at the same time. I couldn’t afford to go back home, not even once. There was just… no time.”

“So that’s how it is.”

He never pressed further, never questioned you again.

But somehow, he was always there. If you arrived early to class, he was already seated, flipping through his notes. If you stayed late in the library, you’d catch a glimpse of his familiar silhouette a few tables away. Sometimes, when you left your shift at work, you could’ve sworn you saw him across the street.

But he never approached.

That’s what made it so easy to ignore.

Until, one day, your manager pulled you aside after your shift, his expression unusually tense.

"Hey, listen… We’re letting you go."

"What?"

"Look, it’s nothing personal," he said, avoiding your gaze. "We just got complaints, and, well… the decision’s final."

Complaints? From who?

You wanted to ask, to demand answers, but there was no room for negotiation. You needed that job. Without it, how were you supposed to afford tuition?

Then, as if the universe itself had orchestrated it, you stumbled upon an opportunity almost immediately.

A friend mentioned a well-paying job—a company looking for reliable workers. The pay was more than enough to cover tuition and expenses.

And just like that, you unknowingly walked into Sunday’s carefully laid web.

Because this wasn’t just some random company.

----

The library—a place where you retreat to study in peace. You weren’t surprised to see him there. After all, he always liked books growing up.

“Sit.”

Whenever you hesitate on a problem, his voice cuts through your thoughts. “You’re overcomplicating it. Try looking at it from another angle.”

His advice is always correct.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice how brilliant he truly is.

Sunday rises to the top of the school rankings with ease, effortlessly surpassing the former representative. His intelligence, paired with his looks, quickly earns him admiration. People flock to him.

But no matter how many of them smile at him or how many students try to befriend him—he never once returns their warmth.

Except with you.

Students notice the way he talks to you, how he sits with you, how his normally distant demeanor softens in your presence. The whispers begin. How did you get so close to him?

You don’t have an answer.

-----

The barking was deafening, claws scraping against dirt as the dogs chased him down.

He was running, lungs burning, legs trembling—but they were faster. He was going to get caught.

Then, just before they could reach him, you stepped in.

"Run!" you shouted, pushing him out of the way.

You didn’t scream, but he saw it. The way the dogs latched onto your arm, the way blood stained your sleeve. That should have been him.

Tears blurred his vision as he crawled toward you, guilt crashing down like a wave.

“It was my fault,” he sobbed, “You got hurt because of me.”

But you only smiled, even as you winced.

“It’s okay.”

Sunday’s breath hitched as he jolted awake, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his mind. The barking had faded, but his chest was tight, fingers clenched.

"Sunday?" You were leaning slightly toward him, "Are you okay? You had a nightmare or something?"

For a moment, he just stared at you, mind caught between past and present. But then, reality settled in.

You were here. You were safe.

“…I’m okay.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the morning classes. You stretched in your seat, exhaustion settling into your bones after hours of studying.

“Hey, let’s go get lunch!”

You looked up to see Lena grinning at you, her long, auburn hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Behind her stood Ethan, adjusting the strap of his bag, offering you a lopsided smile.

“You’ve been stuck in here all morning,” Ethan added. “Come on, take a break.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Sunday, who was still seated beside you.

"Sure" you finally said, brushing aside the odd tension.

Lena looped her arm around yours, practically dragging you out of the classroom. Ethan chuckled, falling into step beside you.

“I swear, if we left you alone, you’d forget to eat.” Lena teased, bumping her shoulder against yours.

"More like they’d just survive on coffee," Ethan mused. "Again."

You laughed. "Okay, okay, I get it. I’m coming, aren’t I?"

As the three of you walked out together, you could feel Sunday’s eyes on you.

-----

Sunday had always been patient. He had learned from an early age that patience often yielded the best results.

From across the room, his sharp gaze followed as you sat between Ethan and Lena, the three of you chatting. Your eyes crinkled slightly when Lena said something amusing, your shoulders relaxed in their presence.

It was nostalgic. The difference was, it wasn’t him sitting there with you.

He had waited years. Years. Through the quiet ache of your absence, through the countless unanswered moments where he had expected you to return but you never did.

Time had placed a wedge between you, and these two had occupied the space you had once left behind. They filled the void that should have belonged to him.

This won’t do. He needed a way to fix this.

Sunday wasn’t careless. Rushing into anything would be sloppy. No, he had to understand before he acted.

How much did they mean to you? How easily could their ties be severed?

Would you abandon them if they betrayed you? If they hurt you? Or were they so deeply rooted in your life that something more… permanent had to be considered?

He needed answers.

Sunday started with the easiest method.

A quiet, discreet proposal. A generous sum. Enough to make Ethan and Lena rethink their place in your life.

Would they accept it?

Lena, the spirited one—he doubted she would take the bait so easily. But Ethan? He was more practical. Money could be tempting.

All Sunday had to do was ensure the conditions were appealing. A lucrative opportunity, something that would require them to leave. A business proposition, an exclusive program, a scholarship overseas—he had plenty of ways to make it happen.

It wasn’t just about getting them away from you. It was about making them choose to leave on their own.

Sunday’s patience had limits.

If money wasn’t enough, he would take something from them instead.

Their reputation. Their safety. Their future.

He would ensure they had no choice but to leave.

A scandal? A carefully placed rumor? A fabricated incident that would make the university question their standing? Ethan had a stable, good image—how much would it take to stain that?

As for Lena…

Accidents happen all the time.

Once they were gone, he would make his move.

-----

Sunday wasn’t supposed to be here.

He had just finished a business meeting, his mind still occupied with the details. Everything was going as planned—Ethan and Lena wouldn’t last much longer. He was only supposed to head home and prepare for the next steps.

But then, he saw you in the middle of a small plaza, standing by a decorated booth, surrounded by children with bright, excited eyes.

You were giving away balloons.

It was such a simple thing. So ordinary. And yet, the way you smiled at each child, the way you crouched down to tie the strings securely to their little wrists, he felt something shift inside him.

His feet moved before he could think.

He stood at a distance, watching.

A child’s laughter rang out as a bright red balloon suddenly slipped from their hands, floating up and getting tangled in the branches of a tall tree.

The kid pouted, pointing at it.

You reassured them with a smile before stepping closer. Sunday immediately knew what you were planning.

You jumped. Your fingertips brushed against the string. The balloon wobbled. But then, your foot slipped against the bark, and your balance tipped.

He caught you before you could fall.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then you blinked up at him in surprise. "Sunday?"

"That was reckless."

"Thanks for catching me."

Then, as if the moment had never happened, you turned back, reaching for the balloon that had fallen to the ground.

"Here you go! Make sure to hold on tight this time, okay?"

The kid beamed and ran off.

The café was quiet. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air. Sunday stirred his drink lazily, his gaze never leaving you as you took a sip of yours.

“You do this often?”

“Giving out balloons?”

He nodded.

You hummed, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah. The money’s decent, but that’s not really why I do it.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “I just… like spending time with kids. They remind me of when things were simpler.”

You chuckled, eyes gleaming with nostalgia. "Remember Robin’s birthday when she turned six?"

Of course, he remembered.

Robin had insisted on a castle cake—one with towers and candy decorations. The bakery they ordered from, however, had delivered a sad-looking mess that barely resembled a castle at all.

She had been devastated.

But you? You saved the day.

"Come on, it’s not that bad!" You had said, despite the fact that one of the towers had already collapsed.

Robin had sniffled. “It looks like it melted.”

Sunday had been about to call their family’s staff to fix the issue, but you had beaten him to it—grabbing frosting, extra candy, and getting to work.

By the time you were done, the cake was still a disaster, but Robin had been giggling, gleefully sticking sprinkles onto it.

Sunday had just watched you back then, marveling at the way you always knew how to turn a bad situation around.

You laughed at the memory. "Robin was so happy, she didn’t even care that it looked worse than before."

Sunday’s lips curled into a smile. "You always knew how to handle her."

"She was a sweet kid." You leaned back in your chair, "I kinda miss her, honestly."

"She missed you too."

"I also remember when we got chased by those geese—"

It had been a peaceful day at the park. You, Sunday, and Robin had been sitting near the lake, feeding the ducks.

Until you had mistakenly fed the geese instead.

They had not been pleased.

The next thing you knew, a whole group of them had started charging at you.

Robin had screamed, clutching Sunday’s sleeve.

You had grabbed his hand and yelled, "Run!"

And run, you did. For your lives.

The geese had chased you halfway across the park before you managed to dive over a fence to safety.

Robin had collapsed in laughter. Sunday had given you a long, exasperated stare. And you, despite gasping for breath, had only grinned at him.

“Worth it.”

You snickered into your drink. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast in your life."

"It was your fault to begin with."

"Still fun, though"

The conversation continued like that. And for a moment, Sunday wished time would stop. That this would last forever.

But reality was cruel.

You would go back to your friends. To your job. To your life that no longer included him the way it used to.

Unless, of course, he did something about it.

The next morning, your world came crashing down.

The moment you unlocked your phone, the message stared back at you like a cruel joke.

Ethan was gone in a car accident.

You barely remembered how you got to the hospital. By the time you arrived, his body was already covered, and his family stood there, pale and grief-stricken.

Your knees buckled.

A pair of arms caught you before you hit the ground.

Sunday held you close as sobs wracked through your body, his hands steady against your back while you gasped through the pain.

“I’m here,” he whispered, “I won’t leave.”

You didn’t care how you must have looked—broken, vulnerable, clutching onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

And for Sunday, it was perfect.

Because in that moment, you only had him.

When he returned home later that night, there was still confusion lingering in his mind.

He never laid a hand on Ethan.

This wasn’t his doing. He had been waiting, but not acting yet.

So how?

The answer came swiftly.

“Did you enjoy my work, young master?”

Sunday’s gaze flickered toward the butler standing before him.

“You.”

“I only did what needed to be done. He was in the way.”

“…I see.”

This man had just done him a favor.

One down. One to go.

----

Sunday knew.

Lena was different.

Unlike Ethan, she was perceptive, cautious—a problem.

She noticed things others didn’t.

So, he tried to negotiate first.

"You should leave them alone, Sunday."

"Leave them alone? I’m only looking out for them."

Lena scoffed. "Looking out for them? Or keeping them caged?"

Ah. So, she really had noticed.

Sunday kept his expression neutral, but he already knew what needed to be done. She wasn’t going to cooperate.

Then, he would simply take everything away from her.

It started with her family’s business.

One by one, their contracts were mysteriously revoked. Their deals collapsed. Investors pulled away as if tainted by an invisible hand.

In less than a month, they were drowning in debt.

And then, when Lena’s father came home one night, weary and defeated, there was a single offer waiting for him.

A lifeline.

Money. Enough to start fresh elsewhere.

All he had to do was take it and move his family away.

You found out the next morning.

"I have to leave."

"What?"

"My family… we’re moving. It's sudden, I know, but… we don’t have a choice."

You shook your head, grasping her hands. "No, there has to be another way—"

"There isn’t." Her grip tightened. "Just… promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?"

The goodbye was painful.

And when she finally walked away, you felt something inside you crumble.

Now, it was just you.

He noticed how you withdrew after that. It was expected, of course. But that didn’t mean Sunday would let it stay that way.

He knew exactly how to lift your spirits.

----

"Robin!" Your voice was full of warmth, arms wrapping around the girl who eagerly hugged you back.

She grinned up at you. "I missed you so much!"

Sunday stood beside you, watching with quiet satisfaction.

This was how it should be.

-----

Robin had boundless energy.

From the moment you arrived at the amusement park, she was dragging you from one ride to another, eyes sparkling with excitement. Sunday followed along, calm as always, though he never refused when Robin tugged on his sleeve to join in.

Your first ride was the Ferris wheel.

"We should start slow!" Robin chirped, already hopping into the cabin.

You took the seat across from her while Sunday sat beside you, his arms casually resting against the back of the seat. The ride slowly ascended, giving you a breathtaking view of the city as the sun cast golden hues over the horizon.

Robin pressed her hands against the glass. "It’s so pretty!"

You smiled. "It really is."

Sunday, however, was watching you.

You caught his gaze, and he only gave a small smile. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah. It’s been a while since I had this much fun."

Next, Robin pulled you both toward the rollercoaster.

"Come on, let’s go!"

You hesitated. "Robin, are you sure—?"

"Too late! No backing out now!"

And before you knew it, you were strapped in.

The rollercoaster shot forward at lightning speed. You could feel the wind rushing against your face, your stomach flipping as the ride twisted and turned at high speeds.

"AHHH!" You screamed, gripping the handles for dear life.

Robin was laughing hysterically. "FASTER! FASTER!"

Beside you, Sunday sat completely still.

You gaped at him. "HOW ARE YOU SO CALM?!"

He raised a brow. "Should I be screaming?"

"YES?!?"

Robin was cackling. "Brother, you’re no fun! At least pretend to be scared!"

He merely sighed. "This is hardly thrilling."

"Unbelievable." You shook your head, laughing breathlessly as the ride finally slowed. "Remind me never to sit next to you on a ride again."

Sunday’s lips curled slightly. "As you wish."

After more rides—including an overly competitive bumper car match and a water ride that left you drenched—you finally decided to take a break at a nearby café.

Robin slurped her milkshake. "That was the best! I can’t believe you screamed so much on the drop tower."

You groaned, slumping against the table. "I wasn’t ready for it to DROP THAT FAST."

Sunday took a sip of his coffee "You should’ve read the warning signs."

You glared at him. "I didn’t see any!"

Robin giggled. "That’s ‘cause you were busy trying to fix your hair after the last ride!"

You sighed dramatically. "Betrayed by my own reflection."

Sunday chuckled under his breath.

"I’d say it was worth it."

By the time evening rolled in, you were all starving.

You ended up at a cozy restaurant, settling into a booth near the window. The warm glow of the city lights outside made the moment feel peaceful, a perfect end to the day.

As you browsed the menu, Robin suddenly grinned.

"You know, Sunday’s a little tough to please." She poked your arm playfully. "You should keep an eye on him for me, okay?"

"Huh?"

"He rarely has friends, and he’s kinda odd. So make sure he doesn’t scare people away."

Sunday narrowed his eyes. "Since when?"

Robin smirked. "Since always."

You burst out laughing.

"You know what, I think Robin’s right." You gave Sunday a teasing glance. "You do have that 'mysterious loner' vibe."

Sunday exhaled slowly, setting his menu down. "I was just being myself."

Robin giggled. "Exactly."

You grinned. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you, Sunday."

"I suppose I’ll allow it."

The three of you continued chatting over dinner, the atmosphere warm, the food delicious.

For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

Robin had barely left when you already missed her presence. You wished she could’ve stayed longer, but she had responsibilities to tend to back home.

"I’ll come visit again soon, okay?"

You smiled, nodding. "I'll hold you to that."

----

The next day at school, the usual morning bustle filled the campus. Students hurried to their lecture halls, chatting about assignments, exams, and weekend plans. You were just making your way across the courtyard when—

THUD!

A figure dropped from above.

Gasps and screams erupted around you. Before you could even turn to look, a warm hand covered your eyes.

"Don’t look" Sunday’s voice was steady. His grip was gentle yet unyielding, shielding you from the sight before you.

"Sunday...?"

You heard frantic murmurs around you. "Oh my god, did he really just—?"

"Who is that?"

"I heard it was some creep sneaking into campus!"

Security rushed to the scene, and soon, teachers arrived to manage the situation. The man—apparently a pervert who had been sneaking into the school—had jumped from the second floor when he was caught.

Sunday only moved his hand away when the situation was under control. His other hand rested lightly on your shoulder, as if to keep you steady.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I just—I didn’t see anything, but still..."

After that incident, the school wasted no time tightening security. Strict rules were enforced for checking students and outsiders coming in and out of campus.

But even with the extra precautions, you couldn’t shake off the unease.

That night, as you sat in your small apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. The idea of being alone suddenly felt terrifying.

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, your phone buzzed.

Sunday: Are you alright?

You hesitated before typing back.

You: Yeah... Just a little shaken up, I guess.

A moment later, another message appeared.

Sunday: Come stay over at my place.

You: Huh?

Sunday: The house is big. There’s plenty of room. You don’t have to be alone.

Your fingers hovered over the screen. It was true—Sunday lived in a ridiculously large house. Staying there would be much safer than your small apartment.

Still, something about accepting his offer made you hesitate.

Before you could respond, another message arrived.

Sunday: I won’t force you. But I’d rather not leave you alone when you’re scared.

Maybe… just for a little while.

From that night onward, you and Sunday spent a lot more time together. Having him by your side was oddly reassuring. You didn’t realize just how much you had missed this feeling—the quiet comfort of his presence, the way he seemed to always know what you needed before you even said anything.

At school, he helped you with assignments, explaining complex topics. At home, he was always there to check in on you, making sure you ate properly, got enough rest, and didn’t push yourself too hard.

Even at work, he was helpful, dropping by occasionally to lend a hand or simply to keep you company.

But then, the news started broadcasting horrifying reports.

"Several incidents of theft and assault have been reported in the area. Authorities warn students to be cautious, as perpetrators have been targeting young individuals returning home late at night."

"Eyewitnesses claim the attackers have also been stealing clothing from laundromats and personal belongings from students’ dormitories."

Every night, the news became more alarming. You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

One night, after a particularly long shift, you checked your phone.

Sunday: You’re still at work?

You sighed, typing back.

You: Yeah, I’ll be heading back soon.

His reply came instantly.

Sunday: I’ll pick you up.

Before you could protest, he added—

Sunday: Stay inside and wait.

You didn’t argue. By now, you knew better than to refuse his help.

When he arrived, he didn't say anything at first. He just held the door open for you, waiting for you to get in.

Once you were in the car, he finally spoke. “You need to quit.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Sunday, I can’t just—”

“It’s not safe.”

Of course, you knew. But quitting meant losing income, and without income, you were in trouble.

Still, he was right.

It wasn’t safe anymore.

As if sensing your hesitation, Sunday spoke again, "You don’t have to worry. I have a job for you."

You turned to him. “A job?”

"You can do it from home," he explained, keeping his eyes on the road. "It pays well, and it’ll keep you away from danger."

"But... what kind of job?"

He glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to driving. "Some paperwork for my family’s business. Nothing too complicated."

A part of you felt guilty—accepting help from him when you had always wanted to be independent.

But another part of you knew you had no choice.

So, finally, you sighed. "Alright... I’ll do it."

Sunday’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. If you had been looking closely, you might have seen the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

----

Sunday sat in his room, staring out the window.

Everything he had done—removing obstacles, orchestrating events, securing your safety—had led to this moment. You were here, under the same roof, relying on him once again.

It was almost laughable how fate worked. Or maybe, fate had nothing to do with it.

Ethan… gone. Lena… out of the picture. Your part-time job… eliminated.

Everything had fallen into place perfectly.

Now, there was no one left to take you away from him.

"Sunday, come down. I made dinner today."

You sat across from Sunday, setting down a warm bowl of soup in front of him.

“I hope it’s not too salty” you joked, taking your seat.

Sunday glanced at the meal before him. It was simple but comforting. Something you had made with your own hands.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He took a careful spoonful, humming in approval. “It’s good.”

You smiled, pleased with the response.

As you both ate, you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, by the way… I saw a strange man earlier.”

Sunday paused, his spoon hovering over his bowl.

You continued, “He was hanging around near the house earlier. I thought it was weird, but maybe he was lost or something.”

He set his spoon down, reaching for his phone under the table. With a discreet movement, he typed a message.

[Check around the house. Find out who it was.]

Then, he looked up and smiled at you, "I’ll have someone look into it. Probably nothing to worry about."

The report came in faster than Sunday expected.

The strange man lurking around? It was him- The very same pervert from the news—the one who had been terrorizing students. The one responsible for the string of thefts, attacks, and robberies. And now, he had made the mistake of coming near you.

Sunday could have handed him to the police right away. That would have been the logical thing to do.

But where’s the fun in that?

Instead, he made a better decision.

Standing before the trembling man, Sunday offered him a deal.

"If you want to live, listen carefully."

Strange noises at night. A shadow passing by your window. The unsettling feeling of being watched.

You told Sunday about it every time.

And every time, he reassured you.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

But it got worse.

One evening, while you were walking home from campus, you felt a presence behind you.

At first, you ignored it. Maybe it was just another student. Maybe it was your imagination.

But then, a hand grabbed your wrist.

Panic shot through you as you struggled, a muffled scream escaping your lips. But before anything could happen—

A force yanked the man away from you.

You barely registered what happened next. All you saw was the flash of his cold eyes before he struck the man down with brutal efficiency.

You heard the pervert scream in pain before Sunday silenced him.

When it was over, Sunday turned to you, his hands slightly bloodied but his expression calm.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Your legs almost gave out, but Sunday caught you effortlessly, pulling you into his chest.

You shivered, gripping onto him. “I… I was so scared.”

Sunday stroked your back. “It’s over. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

And then, only after he had thoroughly played the hero, did he finally turn the man over to the police.

Later that night, as you rested, Sunday stood in his room, watching the news.

“The suspect has been arrested thanks to an anonymous tip.”

Soon, you wouldn’t be able to imagine life without him. Soon, he would be the only person you needed.

----

The movie played softly in the background, but neither of you were really watching. The warmth of the room and the faint scent of hot milk filled the air.

You took a slow sip, letting the warmth seep into your tired bones.

“Life here is exhausting” you muttered absentmindedly, staring into your cup.

Sunday glanced at you, “Then come back with me.”

You exhaled a small chuckle, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

You turned your head and found Sunday staring at you.

“You’re serious?”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. “I think I need a change.”

Sunday’s lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something, but instead, he pressed them together and turned his gaze toward the screen.

His heartbeat was too fast.

You didn’t realize what you had just given him. What you had just promised.

Finally, finally, you were coming back.

After all these years, after all the patience, the careful planning—you were walking right into his arms.

And this time, he wouldn’t let you slip away.

[scoupsakakitty]

hii hope youre doing great btw !!! i really love your stories and writing !!

so i wanna ask how about scoups dating an idol, and when they have to perform in the same events, but his partner suddenly fainted when her groups just finished performing. i just wanna know like how he would react hehehe thank youuu and im so sorry for my broken english since its not my first language :( but i hope you would understand it !!

In the Moment | idol!Scoups x idol!reader | angst

The atmosphere backstage was electric as Seventeen prepared for their own performance. The awards show had everyone on edge, but Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His eyes were fixed on the stage where Y/N’s group was performing, and despite the cheers of the crowd, he couldn’t ignore the unease building inside him.

Y/N’s movements were slower than usual. She looked off—tired, shaky, and strained in a way that didn’t seem right. Seungcheol watched, his heart pounding, as she struggled to keep up with the choreography. Every move seemed like it required more effort than the last, and he couldn’t stop the worry building in his chest.

He could see her pushing herself through the performance, but with each step, it was more obvious that she was fading. Her body seemed to be fighting against her, but she held on, determined to finish the routine.

And then, at the climax of the performance, it happened. Y/N stumbled. Her knees gave way, and before anyone could react, she collapsed to the ground, right in front of the stage.

Seungcheol’s heart stopped.

He didn’t think. He didn’t even wait for the signal. His mind screamed at him to act, and without hesitation, he turned to the staff beside him.

“Get her down here. Now!” Seungcheol shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The staff members hesitated for a moment, but Jeonghan, standing beside him, quickly jumped into action. "Call an ambulance, and get a doctor—now!" His calm demeanor masked the concern in his eyes, but his voice was sharp, urging the staff into motion.

Seungcheol didn’t care about anything else. His focus was entirely on Y/N. The moment he saw her fall, he felt the world slow down around him. His heart was in his throat, and he couldn’t afford to waste another second.

Within moments, two staff members appeared at the side of the stage, carefully lifting Y/N's limp body, guiding her toward the backstage area. Seungcheol was already there, waiting, pacing nervously.

He didn’t care who saw him. He didn’t care about the crowd or the performance waiting for him. All that mattered was Y/N.

As soon as they reached the backstage door, Seungcheol rushed forward. He gently but firmly took her from their hands, cradling her in his arms as though she was the most fragile thing in the world.

“Y/N, come on wake up you're safe now.” he murmured, his voice thick with worry. Her skin was cold and pale, and he could feel her shallow breathing against his chest. She was out of it, barely conscious, but he could still feel the faint pulse beneath his fingertips.

His heart hammered as he moved swiftly toward a quiet room. He didn’t let go of her once, even as the staff tried to clear the way. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, each step more urgent than the last.

When they reached the room, he gently laid her on the couch, pushing aside any distractions in his path. His hands shook as he brushed a lock of hair from her face, checking her temperature with his palm. She was still too cold, her breathing shallow and uneven.

The staff was quick to follow, bringing in a doctor, but Seungcheol didn’t leave her side. He stayed close, hovering protectively, watching her like a hawk. His eyes never left her face as the doctor began to check her vitals.

“Is she going to be okay?” Seungcheol asked, his voice tight, almost desperate.

The doctor nodded, though his expression was serious. “She’s just exhausted, overworked and dehydrated. We’ll need to keep an eye on her for a bit, but she’ll be fine with rest.”

Seungcheol let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned over and gently stroked Y/N’s hand, whispering to her, “You scared me, Y/N. Please, don’t ever do that again.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave him a small, weak smile. “I didn’t mean to... worry you.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know that, right?” he said softly, his voice low but firm. “Just take care of yourself. You’re important to me.”

Y/N blinked slowly, still feeling the effects of the exhaustion. "I pushed myself too hard."

He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “It’s not worth it, Y/N. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

The doctor gave them a moment before leaving to check on the rest of the team, leaving Seungcheol alone with her. He stayed close, holding her hand, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, not caring if anyone heard. “I’m here. Always.”

Y/N let out a faint sigh, finally allowing herself to relax, her body sinking into the cushions. And for the first time that night, Seungcheol allowed himself to breathe, knowing she was safe with him.

[aliwritex]

thoughts: drunk!franco

“I think you’ve had enough, darling” you told him by the bar, “i’m getting you water instead, okay?”

Franco had had a bit more to drink than you – maybe a lot more – and was now completely out of his mind. He wasn’t usually the type to drink, it was an accident that he had gotten to that point, really, his first drink was just a little too strong and had gotten him too excited. So now, after a couple more drinks, he was wasted.

He laid his head on your shoulder as you waited for his water, you took his hand in yours, taking to your lips and kissing it. His body kept getting heavier and heavier by your side, almost taking you down by the time you got the water.

“Look at me, baby,” you took his face in your hand, forcing his head up and tilting the bottle to his lips, “here, please drink some”

He barely opened his mouth but you managed to get some liquid in him. Getting him out of the club was a hassle, seeing he was using you for support as you walked and by the time you got an uber you were about to drop him.

“Are we going home?” he asked in the back seat, head resting on your side. You looked down at him and took his face in your hands, humming affirmatively “Good. I’m tired. Can I take a nap?”

“Yes, baby, you can take a nap. But we’ll be home in a minute, I need you to walk in, okay?”

He nodded softly, his eyes barely open as he did so. Franco buried his head back into your side and quickly drifted off, so when you got closer to your apartment you started pushing him away, trying to wake him up.

“Fran, come on, love, just need you to get out of the car and get inside. Can you do that for me?” he nodded as you stood outside the car, trying to lure him out.

Then it was another five minutes till you made it into the elevator.

“You’re really pretty.” he told you, words coming out of his mouth messy. “Really hot too. And these,” he hugged you, leaning down and pressing his face to your chest, “these are beautiful. I’d give anything to see them”

You couldn’t help but laugh, holding his head close to you “You saw them just a couple hours ago, baby”

“I did? Why d’you show me your tetitas?” he asked you, and his eyes suddenly went wide, he looked concerned and confused about it.

“Cause I’m your girlfriend?” you laughed “You saw me getting ready before we went out” pulling him out of the elevator and down the hallway.

“Shit, I got really lucky” he smiled “can I see them again? Don’t think I remember what they look like”

“Just get inside, Franco” you chuckled, pushing him inside. You let him down on the couch, setting your things down next to him. “Stay here, okay? I’m just gonna get you some water and get the bed ready so we can sleep”

Franco just nodded, falling on his side, limbs spread and falling off the couch. You made your way inside to clean your room, putting away all the clothes that you had decided against that night. You even headed into the bathroom to take a shower and wash your makeup off before going back to take care of Franco. You grabbed some things from the kitchen and walked into the living room where he was still sleeping.

“Baby,” you called softly, brushing his hair away from his face to wake him up. Your attempts were useless so you just gathered all your strength and pulled him to sit up. “Fran, wake up, come on, need to drink some water” you handed him the glass as his eyes opened, watching him drink but spill some all over himself. “Shit, Franco, oh god! Please, just take this so you don’t puke and we can go to bed, yeah?”

He nodded as you placed the pill in his hand. Thankfully he was able to take it without choking or making a mess, so you took the glass away from him and reached to take off his wet shirt.

“Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he protested lazily, “You can’t do that. I’ve just been told I have a girlfriend” he whispered.

His words made your annoyance fade away “I know, baby, that’s me” you caressed his cheek, looking down at him.

“Right! That is you!”

“Yeah, now do your girlfriend a favor and take these dirty clothes off so we can sleep,” you told him gently, undoing the button of his jeans.

Franco just nodded, standing up to help you take off his clothes. You managed to get him into your room and under the covers, where he snuggled close to your chest, letting his hands make their way under your top but you tried to stop him.

“You said you would let me see them” he whined, rubbing his face on your covered chest.

“I said you had already seen them,” you protested “but I’ll let you take a peak”

He immediately shoved his head under your shirt, along with his hand that rubbed your side. You felt him hum against your skin and smiled “They’re nice. Very cozy”

[cosmiclily]

hey, here i go again, this came up to my mind, so if you want and have the time, here it is

what about an angst with Vi, where she dreams about reader wearing a wedding dress, and she's in a suit, it's their wedding, but then she wakes up crying, cause knows she can't have that

btw, hope you're having a good week! 🩷

i sleep so i can see you

vi x reader

wc: 1.6k

cw: hurt no comfort, there is a little description of a panic attack

notes: 😼😼 i love angst and i love to make my comfort characters suffer muahahahaha, jk. there is like 5 seconds of happiness in the beginning and then suffering. thank you for the request!! i’m having an okay week nothing special, hope yours is going well! 😽

Vi was never the marriage type. If you had asked her as a teenager whether she ever wanted to get married, she would have scoffed and said, “Marriage is stupid. Why would I want the state and the church involved in my business?" But she never really meant it.

She wasn’t against marriage out of rebellion or some grand stance against tradition. No, Vi never imagined herself getting married because, deep down, she never believed anyone would stay.

When you lose your parents, grow up in the system, get separated from your sister, and watch every sense of family you ever had slip through your fingers, it becomes hard to believe that anyone would stick around. That anyone would want to stay. That anyone would be willing to put in the work to understand the mess that lives inside you—the trauma, the scars, the weight you carry every single day.

But you did.

You stayed.

You saw through the walls she put up, understood her in a way no one else ever had. You made her feel safe, cared for, like she didn’t have to fight the world alone anymore. You peeled back her layers, tamed the wild animal. And for the first time in her life, Vi found herself thinking that maybe marriage wasn’t such a bad idea.

Maybe sharing her life with someone—sharing everything—wasn’t so terrifying. Maybe growing old with the same person, waking up to the same face every morning, wasn’t a curse.

So when she saw you walking down the aisle, draped in white, makeup done, the biggest, most breathtaking smile on your face, she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over.

You held a bouquet of violets in your hands, and that small piece of her with you meant the entire world.

Everything was perfect.

Your parents were there, her sister was there, Vander, Ekko, Mylo, Claggor—everyone. Smiling. Happy. Whole.

It was almost too perfect.

Then, as you took another step forward, something shifted.

The aisle stretched, growing impossibly long, like you were further and further away from her. Your smile—so bright, so warm—began to twist at the edges, turning wrong.

Vi tried to move, but her feet were cemented to the ground.

She tried to call your name, but no sound came out.

She tried to run to you, reach for you—anything—but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—

Vi jolted awake, gasping.

Her body was shaking, drenched in cold sweat, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven. Her face was wet. It took her a second to realize she was crying.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

She wasn’t getting married. You weren’t in a wedding dress in front of her.

Vander wasn’t alive.

Her sister was gone. You were gone.

And she was alone.

Just like always.

The room was dark, suffocatingly quiet except for her ragged breathing.

Vi didn’t even have the energy to think, to process. All she could do was drag herself to the bathroom, sink to her knees, and empty her stomach into the toilet.

She spent what felt like hours on the bathroom floor, her back pressed against the cold tiles, hands trembling, hair sticking to her damp forehead. Vi’s chest rose and fell unevenly, breath hitching as she fought against the weight pressing down on her ribs. It felt like she was drowning.

She’d been through this before—with you.

The nights she’d wake up gasping, screaming, clawing at reality until she felt your hands on her, grounding her, pulling her back. You always knew what to do. You’d whisper soft reassurances, hold her until the shaking stopped, remind her that she wasn’t alone. That she was safe.

But you weren’t here.

And it was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

She was never good enough for anyone to stay. That was her curse—every time she let someone see the real her, every time she let someone in, they left.

And why wouldn’t they? Who would want to deal with this? With her?

Vi forced herself to move, to do something other than spiral. She turned the faucet on and splashed cold water onto her face, gripping the edges of the sink as she tried to anchor herself to reality. But everything still felt off—like she was stuck in some inescapable dream.

Her eyes flicked to the clock. 4:57 AM.

Too early. Too late. Meaningless.

Her hand reached for her phone before she could stop herself, fingers scrolling through her contacts until she found your name.

Her thumb hovered over the call button.

Maybe you’d pick up.

Maybe you’d tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she was fine, that you were fine. That everything was okay. That you were coming home.

But you wouldn’t.

So she didn’t call.

Vi locked her phone and let it drop onto the counter with a dull thud. Then, with a heavy breath, she dragged herself out of the bathroom and back to bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.

When her alarm went off, she was still wide awake.

But even if she was falling apart, life didn’t stop for her.

So, she forced herself up, took a shower, and went to work. It was an uneventful day at the shop—no tattoo appointments, no familiar faces walking in, just a single girl wanting a belly button piercing. By the time 3 p.m. hit, she had nothing left to do.

She thought about going home. Maybe she could force herself to be productive. Maybe she could drown herself in work, find something to focus on so she wouldn’t have to think.

But she knew exactly how that would go. She’d sit in silence, overthink, spiral.

So instead, she took a detour.

Vi knew your habits. She knew you liked to go to that small coffee shop by the river, the one with the rickety outdoor tables and the faded green awning. She knew your order by heart.

And there you were.

Sitting outside, a mug in your hands—probably tea, since you were trying to quit coffee—watching the ducks drift lazily across the water.

You looked exactly the same.

Like you.

And that somehow made it worse.

Her phone felt heavy in her back pocket, like it was calling her name, demanding that she did something. That she said something. That she stopped standing there like a coward, staring at you from a distance, pretending like she wasn’t the one who ruined everything.

But instead of pulling it out, instead of calling you or walking up to you, she just stood there.

Frozen.

She was the one who screwed everything up.

The one who said awful things. The one who pushed you away. The one who locked herself up so tight that even you—the person who had always been so patient, so understanding—couldn’t get through to her.

In her head, it had been inevitable. You were going to leave eventually. Everyone did. So if she accelerated the process, if she pushed you away first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe she could brace herself, prepare for the pain.

But like hell that worked.

Because here she was, standing across the street, looking at you like a ghost from another life, and it hurt just the same.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes met hers.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, just as quickly as you saw her, your expression hardened, and you turned away. Not just looking past her, but through her. Like she was nothing.

Like she was no one.

That was what finally made her snap.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she was crossing the street, stepping onto the café’s patio.

“Hey.”

You froze, your grip tightening around your mug, but you didn’t look at her.

Vi clenched her jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna pretend you didn’t see me?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, finally turning your head. “What do you want, Vi?”

And it wasn’t the words that got to her. It was how you said them. Tired. Like you had already run this conversation a million times in your head. Like you had already decided she wasn’t worth the energy.

Her hands curled into fists. “I—” She hesitated, suddenly realizing she didn’t have a plan. “I just… wanted to talk.”

You scoffed. “Now you wanna talk?”

The bitterness in your voice stung.

“What do you expect me to do?” Vi shot back, voice rising. “Act like we didn’t—” She stopped herself, taking a sharp breath. “I know I messed up. I know I said things I shouldn’t have, but damn, you really hate me that much now?”

You let out a humorless laugh, finally setting your mug down. “Hate you?” You stood up, and she realized just how much closer you were now. “Vi, I don’t have the energy to hate you. I wasted too much of it trying to love you.”

That hit like a punch to the gut.

She opened her mouth, ready to say something, anything, but you weren’t done.

“I gave you everything, and you threw it away” you continued, voice shaking. “And now you’re here? Just expecting me to what,forgive you? Pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“No,” Vi said quickly. “That’s not—”

But you weren’t listening anymore.

“Where the hell was this energy when I was begging you to let me in?” You took a step forward, eyes burning into hers. “Where was this Vi when I was trying to help you?”

Vi clenched her teeth, anger bubbling in her chest—but not at you. At herself.

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make things right.

You just stared at her, something unreadable in your expression. Then, after a beat, you shook your head.

“I hope you figure your shit out, Violet.”

And with that, you picked up your things and walked away, leaving her standing there, heart pounding on her chest.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[rebelfell]

Barbeddheimer took over a little bit…stand by…

“Hey, Eddie…you think we could talk?”

Eddie’s head shot up hearing Barb’s voice, his heart swelling seeing her standing in the doorway to the drama room. She was early, catching him right in the midst of setting up the map, on his knees and digging around in his bag.

“Of course!” he said, clumsily scrambling to his feet, his voice coming out a lot smoother than his movements. “Anything for you, gorgeous. What sort of boon does my fair mage crave?”

“It’s about that, actually,” Barb answered.

She hugged the notebook in front of her chest a little tighter, looking down to hide the small smile creeping across her lips. Lips that Eddie, as per usual, was having trouble keeping his eyes off.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The whole…I don’t know…the flirty stuff. I was wondering if maybe you could cool it a bit?”

Oh, wow. So this is what it felt like for your heart to fall out of your ass. Eddie had to lean on the edge of the table, staring down at nothing in particular as wave after wave of guilt hit.

He curled his fingers under the edge, digging his nails in the particle board. What was he thinking? How could he have done this? Screwed up so colossally with the only one who mattered?

“Shit, Barb, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I mean, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable—”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she assured him quickly, giving a little shake of her head and chuckling in spite of herself, “I actually, um…I kind of like it.”

Eddie felt a lot of things at once. Relief, first and foremost, followed by a rush of confusion.

“Oh,” he said. “So then…what’s the problem?”

“Well, I just,” she sighed, her eyes rolling behind the frames of her glasses. Not in annoyance, just like she’s trapped in thought. “I guess I like it too much? And I know you don’t really mean it—”

“Sorry, wait—don’t mean what, exactly?”

“You know, just that you…”

Barb tugged her bottom lip back with her teeth, and it took every bit of Eddie’s severely limited self-control to keep his mind out of the gutter.

“That you…like me, or whatever. I’m sure you do this with everyone, but I don’t get attention like that, really ever, and I’m not used to it and—”

Okay, that’s it. Eddie pushes himself off the table and starts to wave both his hands back and forth, the chains on his zippered sleeves and the cuff bracelets on his wrists clacking together.

“Hold on, hold the fuck on one minute...”

Eddie pinched his eyes closed, his brain running through thoughts at a speed that made him dizzy. He knew he’d been maybe a bit too forward, but he couldn’t help it. She was so smart, so wildly, incredibly fucking smart, it was more like a superpower than mere intelligence.

In spite of himself, Eddie sort of loved seeing her week after week outwit and outmaneuver all his traps and pitfalls. She always saw them coming even when the rest of the party were none the wiser. And she’d gotten them out of endless scrapes and jams by thinking her way out.

It absolutely infuriated Eddie, for sure, but only about half as much as it turned him on.

“So, wait…you think I’m just messing around?”

“No, not messing with me,” Barb answered him carefully, “but if you’re trying to make me feel welcome, or part of the club or something, I wanted you to know you don’t need to.”

Eddie’s head fell back on his shoulders, staring up at the stage lights hanging overhead like he might find some kind of answer hiding in the rafters.

As it was, he was gonna have to go off the cuff.

“Barb, I hate to break this to you,” he chuckled, “but I don’t act nearly this dumb with anyone— let alone everyone. This is…all for you.”

Barb blinked back at him curiously, lips pursed in confusion and her brow wrinkled like when she came to an equation that tested her verve.

“What do you…”

Before she could finish asking, Eddie closed the distance in between them with three long strides. Her breath stuttered as he took the notebook out of her hands, revealing the Hellfire emblem that was plastered across her chest. He flipped it to the first blank page and scribbled something down with the pen from behind his ear.

He then handed the notebook to her, letting the tips of his fingers brush with her trembling ones as she took it back and tucked it in her arms.

“Let me know?” he asked, tipping his head at her and holding out the pen he’d just used.

It was one of hers. She loaned it to him one of the first times they had studied together, and it had not left his person since. Not until now.

She took it from him, that little wrinkle in her brow not budging as she opened up her notebook and started flipping through the pages until she found his scrawl among her neatly printed words.

[p13rc3-th3-m4tt13]

could i request spencer x cinematographer!reader? maybe they meet at a film festival or something

The Lens I See Through

of course! i love this request, it's very unique and super cute. i had a fantastic time writing this and i am so glad that this was my first request! <3 thank you very much anon for requesting this! :D

cw; cinematographer!fem!reader x spencer reid, strangers to friends, reader wins multiple awards, mentions of a second date, no use of y/n, reader making a film that's slightly emotional, reader being very happy, spencer being slightly more forward than he typically would (making the first move)

description; It's your first year submitting an award at your local film festival. You didn't think it would get much traction, but not only did you win awards, but you also met a handsome, tall stranger who wants to go on a second date with you.

category; fluff <3

word count; 2.2k

a/n; i hope this is what anon had in mind when they said "film festival..." i'm not really educated on these kinds of things; i've only ever been to one and this is what it was like, so i hope i got this right. also, so sorry it took me so long to get this out! i got busy the day after i finished my essay and never really caught back up...

You were at this year’s annual competitive film festival in your town after submitting a film for the very first time. You had been to this festival before, but had never actually submitted anything. You were surprised when it had been accepted, but then again, it was some of your best work so far, so you were glad to have it recognized.

You knew that this meant hundreds – possibly even thousands – of people had a chance of seeing your short film, along with other films that could be better or worse than your own. You didn’t necessarily care if you won anything this year, seeing as it was your first, you were just glad that you had been accepted.

Before the awards for the festival started, everybody had the chance to walk around and meet people and groups who had submitted films through the booths that they had set up. Having a booth was optional, and since it was your first year submitting a film at this festival, you decided not to have one just yet, especially since you were a standalone filmmaker.

Not having your own booth gave you the time to walk around to see the booths that others had set up. Some people went along with a theme relating to their films, which you thought was neat, and others had a plain booth with a few brochures on their tables. You liked them all, nonetheless, and you visited as many as you could.

A particular booth caught your eye, though; not because of any particular theme, but instead a person. It was not even the person behind the booth, but rather a man standing in front of it and speaking to the person running it as his eyes quickly scanned over the brochure he had been handed.

You had seen this man before; last year, even, at the film festival. Then, you didn't have the courage to speak to him. Not much about you had changed, but you were at the booth beside him and he seemed like he would be there for at least a few seconds longer, so you couldn’t help but approach him.

As you got closer, his head snapped up and turned towards you, a small smile forming on his face as he saw you. His smile already melted your heart. You returned it, giving a soft smile of your own as you stood beside him at the booth.

“Hi there,” you said, both to the person running the booth and to this tall, handsome stranger. You took one of the brochures from the table so that you wouldn’t seem like you were just coming over here for the handsome man who was now standing beside you, although you most definitely were.

“Hello,” the man said, still smiling as he looked down at you. “Are you just here to look or are you a filmmaker yourself?” A crease formed between his eyebrows as he asked you the question and you took your eyes away from the brochure and looked up at him instead.

“I’m a cinematographer, yes,” you said, almost sheepishly. You figured that he would think this title meant that you were helping with large films, meanwhile you mainly worked on your own on somewhat short films, rarely anything that was seen by eyes other than your own and those close to you.

“That’s neat,” he replied, shifting slightly towards you. “I’m guessing you entered something into one of the competitions then, hm?” His smile formed into a grin and you felt your cheeks threaten to get hot as you nodded your head.

“Yeah, I did,” you murmured. You weren’t the most confident about your filmmaking skills, but you knew that you weren’t the worst. Hopefully, if this man saw your film, he would be at least somewhat impressed by it.

“Interesting. What did you enter for?” He seemed to be somewhat nervous as he spoke, as if he wasn’t very used to social interaction. You didn’t mind it, though, and with the topic at hand, you just so happened to be the same way.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Nothing much. Best Short Film, Best Newcomer, Best Standalone Cinematographer.” You were still somewhat shy as you spoke, but knowing that he was as well gave you a bit more confidence.

You watched as a crease formed between his eyebrows, showing his confusion. “Oh, so you make films on your own? That’s really neat. What do I need to search on the website to find the film you’ve entered for the contests?” He flashed you a soft smile, and you hesitated for a moment before finally telling him both your name and the title of your film so he could find it.

“Well,” he said, still smiling, “it’s very nice to meet you. My name is Spencer Reid.” He nodded his head towards you and you couldn’t help but return the smile he was showing you.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Spencer Reid.” Your smile widened slightly. “Did you submit anything into any of the contests, or are you here to look at the works of others?” You held his gaze – though not intensely – as you asked the question.

“I’m not exactly a filmmaker, but I do enjoy seeing those who are filmmakers express themselves through this form of art. I feel like it isn’t appreciated as much as some of the other forms of art are, so I like to be sure to stop by here and a few other annual festivals when I’m free.” Spencer’s facial expressions changed quite a bit as he spoke, something you couldn’t help but find endearing. You nodded along as you listened to him speak, finding his appreciation for filmmaking to be very sweet.

“That’s very kind of you. I do agree that we aren’t appreciated as much as others are, so I appreciate you for appreciating us.” You laughed at your own silly sentence and Spencer did as well, his smile only widening, causing a slight blush to brush over your face from just how handsome he looked.

“Of course, of course. Always here to appreciate you cinematographers.” Spencer chuckled softly, his gaze drifting away from yours as he did so. He paused for a moment before speaking again, stumbling over his words as he did so. “Hey, so, this might be kind of out there, and I’m sorry if it is, but it seems like we’re both here alone, so would you like to go to the awards ceremony later together?” You watched his face become increasingly red as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.

You nodded your head just as his gaze met yours again. “Yeah, of course, that sounds great.” You were still smiling as you spoke and you watched as the smile returned to his face as well. “Do you want to walk around and look at the other booths a bit before the awards?” You tilted your head to the side slightly as you asked the question.

Spencer nodded his head and looked around for a moment. “Should we just start by walking straight ahead?”

You looked around as well and shrugged your shoulders. “Why not?”

—

About an hour later, you and Spencer started making your way to the auditorium for the awards ceremony. You decided that you wanted to sit somewhere near the front, so you started towards the ceremony about twenty minutes early to ensure that you got good seats.

“It’ll be easier for you to get to the front to take your award from here as well,” Spencer said with a smile once the two of you sat down. He had a bit more confidence in you than you had in yourself…

You scoffed and shook your head. “Oh, whatever.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I doubt that’ll happen.”

“Well,” Spencer started, “If I’m thinking about this correctly, last night when I watched your film and all of the others, yours was one of the most aesthetically and emotionally appealing that I saw, as well as one of the most memorable. Typically, whenever people are picking something that they want to win, they’ll pick the thing that they think looks best or the thing that they’ll be sure to remember for longer.

“Research suggests that people tend to remember things that are more emotionally significant to them, as well as things that draw their eye to them. Your film did both of those things, with the topic of it being somewhat emotional and the lighting and aesthetics of the film being pleasing.” Spencer smiled at you once he finished speaking. You had heard him ramble like this once already since meeting him, and you absolutely loved it.

You returned the smile that he wore and nodded your head. “Well, thank you for the logic behind it, Spencer.” You chuckled softly, somewhat surprised at the rant he had gone on about the subject.

Spencer nodded his head as well, his lips forming into yet another smile. He could smile all day and you could tell that you wouldn’t get tired of it. He nodded his head once before speaking. “You’re welcome.”

  A few seconds later, the person running the awards ceremony stepped onto the stage. There was clapping and cheering, so you and Spencer figured that the both of you should most likely be clapping and cheering as well.

The person gave a short introduction, stating what the festival was and thanking the partnerships, before jumping into the awards. You knew that a lot of yours would be called last, but you didn’t mind. It gave you more time to prepare yourself not to be too upset just in case you didn’t win anything.

“Now, for the Best Short Film Award…” The announcer stated. Spencer glanced over at you so briefly you figured you might have imagined it. There was a drumroll in the audience – as there was before every award was stated to build suspense – and the announcer smiled as he called out a name that wasn’t yours.

You figured you wouldn’t win this one. It had the most entries out of the three things that you entered in. It didn’t upset you very much at all.

Spencer leaned over slightly so that he could speak quietly enough without interrupting the awards but also so that you could still hear him. “I know you’re walking out of here with at least one award,” he whispered. You smiled.

“Well, Spencer, I’m glad you have faith in me,” you whispered back, laughing softly as you did so.

After a few more awards were announced, it was time for another one that you had entered in. “Now, to award our Best Newcomer…” The drumroll once again. Spencer looked over at you, and this time, you knew you weren’t just imagining it, because he held your gaze.

The announcer said your name and you felt your face flush. A bright smile graced your lips, the same with Spencer’s, as you stood up and rushed onto the stage to take your award. You seemed to drown out the clapping and cheering as the announcer handed you the trophy you received. “Congratulations,” he said with a smile as he shook your hand.

You were still beaming as you nodded your head. “Thank you,” you responded, taking the trophy in one hand and shaking his hand with the other.

You made your way back to your seat and sat down beside Spencer. You were both still smiling brightly and he even chuckled softly as you approached. “Congratulations! I knew you could do it,” he chimed.

“Thank you,” you said in response, giggling softly from the happiness. You were practically buzzing the entire time until the next award you were entered for was announced. You snapped back into reality and focused on the man on the stage.

“And, the award for the Best Standalone Cinematographer goes to…” The drumroll again. The suspense was getting to you, and the few seconds of the drumroll felt like hours as you stared at the man ahead of you.

And then your name was announced again. You were so happy you could faint. You stood up from your seat and hurried onto the stage again with a somehow brighter smile than what you were wearing before, taking the award from the man and shaking his hand with your free hand. He congratulated you again and you hurriedly thanked him before practically skipping back to your seat due to your happiness.

Spencer was beaming, too. His smile stretched across his face and you couldn’t help but admire it as you sat back down. “Amazing job! You got two awards, and this is only your first time submitting a film. Imagine what you’ll get next year,” he cheered.

“I appreciate you for believing in me, Spencer,” you said, still smiling brightly as you did so. He nodded his head.

“Of course. And uh, hey,” Spencer paused for a moment before turning his body a bit more towards yours. “Since you won those awards, would you like to come to dinner with me sometime to celebrate?”

This was another trophy to add to your new collection. Spencer Reid was inviting you to dinner. If it was possible for your smile to grow any more, it did at that moment.

“Of course,” you said, nodding your head, most likely a bit faster than you should have.

“It’s a date, then,” Spencer said.

“It’s a date.” You nodded again.

[neeeooon]

Hm hm

As soon as i saw hq master list i spawned here!!

HQ BOYS WITH SO WHO USED TO PLAY VOLLEYBALL, but quit due to injury

ALSO HIII HSISJJ HII ELLEE ELLIIEEE

HIHIIIHI NENSI THANK YOU FOR THE REQUASKK 🫶🫶

when you used to play volleyball

bf hq x gn!reader who quit due to an injury. slight angst in some

kageyama tobio

-> injury smingery. “you can still move your arms, right?” “yeah?” “throw some balls for me to set.” “… bet.”

-> you don’t even think kageyama realized he was saving you by asking you to help him, but losing the chance to play for a team crushed you. getting to touch the ball again, even if it was just to throw for your boyfriend, was enough to drag you out of bed in the morning

-> alas, kageyama indeed wasn’t thinking about much of anything except improving his skill (and maybe spending a little time with you. maybe.)

tanaka ryuunosuke

-> at first he avoided mentioning volleyball around you, as he felt guilty that your career was over while his was just starting to take off. however, once you were out of the hospital, you made a point to stop by the gym to watch him practice every day after school

-> when tanaka missed an easy shot, you whacked the back of his leg with your crutch. “you’re better than that, ryuu! i’m the injured one, so don’t go slacking off on your team!” he beamed at the fact that you touched him before locking in the rest of practice

-> you become a manager-in-training alongside yachi and help teach her all about volleyball plays and phrases. still, your biggest reason to be there is to cheer the team (cough, especially tanaka, cough) on during matches

nishinoya yuu

-> “hey, y/n! can you throw some sets for me?” nishinoya asked when he caught you after class. after breaking your foot, you’d been forced to stop playing volleyball until your cast was removed and your pt was complete, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t throw some balls for him in the meantime

-> you hesitantly accepted, worried you’d lost your touch after not playing for so long. if your sets were lacking in anyway—too long, too low, too weak—nishinoya didn’t point it out

-> he blocked every single one until you eventually ran out, to which he jumped up and kissed your hand to limit your movement. “that was great, babe! if you’re up for it, we could meet here again tomorrow?” you don’t know why you were so happy to hear him ask that

tsukishima kei

-> when you see him play before ever competing against shiratorizawa, it upsets you

-> volleyball was your life until your knee blew out and put a halt on your career. you started dating tsuki before knowing he played, but once you did, you were so excited to watch him with the same vigor you had

-> “why don’t you try? it’s like you don’t even care!” “why would i care? it’s not like i’m ever going to beat those guys.” his nonchalance annoyed you. “volleyball could change your life if you let it.”

-> you watched that moment live, and you actually developed quite the friendship with bokuto due to the similar ways you overreacted :)

yamaguchi tadashi

-> “i’m going to help you serve,” you declared one day after accidentally stumbling across the boy’s volleyball practice. that was how you met tadashi, and you’ve been helping him practice almost every day since

-> you hold up a plastic shop bag from the store your uncle worked at and tell tadashi to focus on it while he serves. “it’s easier for beginners to look at something else to keep them grounded while serving. give it a try!”

-> he asked you after becoming your boyfriend how you knew so much about volleyball, assuming it was your uncle or ukai who taught you. hearing how you had limited range of motion and were banned from playing again after nearly shattering your lower spine in an accident pushed him to work harder for you

-> “i’m gonna be the best setter on our team!” he enthused, and though you didn’t quite believe he meant it, you smiled and encouraged him anyway. “hell yeah, you are!”

[glamourscat]

Can you maybe do a Shidou x Single mom reader? Shidou moved into a new apartment building because he got kicked out of the last one for being too loud or something alike, and his nextdoor apartment neighbor is a young single mom he greets sometimes, and she ends up asking him to babysit her toddler once because no one was able to take care of it at the moment and she was late to work. In the end the kid is obsessed with him and doesn't want to leave at first, but reluctantly accepts once they promise him/her they can play again.

Idk if that's a weird request or anything, but i think it would be cute. The kid can be a girl or boy, whichever you choose.💐

WHATEVER THAT MEANS | SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER (TIME SKIP)

so, i slightly changed it around, bc i found it hard to write for a mother who left her kid w someone who she barely knew :'( i made them on friendly base, so not super close but friendly enough for the reader to trust shidou into taking care of her daughter. I hope you like the fic either way, and i'm sorry for the little adjustment!

Loud. Inadequate. Noisy. Just a few adjectives his old apartment complex neighbors would use to describe him. And it’s not like they were necessarily wrong… but can’t a guy have hobbies? What’s the big deal if he wants to shout off his balcony in the morning as stress relief? Or sunbathe naked? It’s his house, after all.

But apparently, they didn’t see it that way. And so, embarrassingly enough, he got evicted. Football season was about to come to an end, which meant more days spent indoors, especially with the scorching summer temperatures in Japan.

It’s been over seven months since he met you. And he still couldn’t quite figure you out.

The first time you two met, you threw a shoe at him. The second time, you apologized for the shoe but still got into a screaming match over who stole whose package. The third time, it was a rainy night. He was restless.TV, phone, laptop, nothing could quiet his head. His eyes drifted to the window, and before he knew it, he was grabbing his jacket and shoes, heading out for a walk.

He didn’t even realize how far he’d gone until he found himself near the striking lights of the town center. He was about to turn back when he saw you. Standing there, soaked through, outside some cheap ass restaurant. His first instinct was to tease you, but then he took in your face.

Sorrow. Embarrassment. Pain.

And he didn’t have it in him.

You turned to leave before he could even step closer.

“Wait, damn it—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was quiet but firm as he reached out, catching your wrist.

“I don’t—I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Shidou huffed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“You’re drenched. C’mon. Let’s go back.” His voice was strangely calm. Just like that he led you home.

That night, seven months ago, he learned about you. Your life. That you, at 26, the same age as him, had a three-year-old daughter. That the father was more absent than his own had ever been.

He doesn’t know exactly when the shift happened. When throwing shoes turned into spending late nights at each other’s places, talking until 1 a.m. and laughing over things that didn’t even matter. Maybe it was the vulnerability of that very first night you two talked. Or maybe it was realizing that, despite everything, you two weren’t so different. He just… expressed things more loudly.

And maybe that’s why, on his day off, he’s here. Babysitting your kid. A round, giggling toddler sitting cross legged in his lap, applying makeup to his face with the concentration of a professional artist. She’s rambling, some absurd story about nursery school that he’s pretty sure she’s making up as she goes.

God, he has no idea what he’s doing.

There’s pink sparkling eyeshadow smudged across his eyelids, uneven swipes of glitter on his cheeks and something sticky in his hair that he’s choosing to ignore.

“You look like a princess,” she announces proudly, clapping her hands together.

Shidou snorts. “Yeah? A hot one?”

The toddler tilts her head, considering. “Mmm… a silly one.” She exclaims with her hands thrown in the air as to emphasise her claim. 

He grins, flashing his teeth. “Same thing, nugget.”

As you walk through the door your eyes fix on the scene. You don’t know where to either laugh or to be worried for Shidou’s safety. Surely that many hairpins in his hair cannot be good for blood circulation, right? 

His eyes meet yours as he flashes you a stupid grin of his. He doesn’t know how it happened, how he got here. But he knows it feels good. It feels good to be wanted. And your kid, for whatever reason, is obsessed with him.

Which is a problem, when you move closer to pick her up and she immediately buries her face into his shoulder, clinging and gripping him like he’s the last cookie in the cookie jar that someone is also trying to take. 

“Nooooo,” she yells dramatically. “I wanna stay with Ryusei!”

“Kid, I’m flattered,” he says, patting her back, “but your mom will kill me if you don't go take your bath.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sweetheart, you need to bathe. And eat dinner.”

“Ryusei can do it!”

Shidou chokes on a laugh and you shoot him a glare, but your daughter isn’t paying attention, she’s too busy gripping his shirt. Kicking her feet annoyed at the injustice of it all.

It reminds him a little of himself. That fierce, stubborn kind of love. The kind that grabs on tight and refuses to let go. She’s a kid, but he can feel that she’s smart enough to understand this feeling. So he tugs her away just enough to look her in the eye, his voice quieter now.

“Hey. What if I promise to come back?”

Her lip wobbles. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.” He does the motion across his chest, then taps her nose. “I’ll come play again. You can even make me a clown next time.”

The toddler sniffs. “Princess clown.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever the boss wants.”

She hesitates, then, slowly and reluctantly, she lets you take her into your arms. But her eyes stay locked on him, watching as if she’s trying to make sure he doesn’t disappear the second she looks away.

Shidou leans back, resting his head against the couch. And, because he knows she’s waiting, he throws her a lazy salute.

“Later, nugget.”

She sniffles again. “Bye-bye, Ryusei.”

And just like that, she’s gone, carried off into the other room.

The apartment is quieter now, the warmth of her weight still lingering on his skin. He exhales, stretching his arms over his head and catches you watching him as you pop back in the living room. 

“You didn’t have to promise,” you say, voice softer than usual.

Shidou hums. “Nah. I wanted to.”

A moment of silence goes by. 

“You’re good with her.”

He smirks. “You sound surprised.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “Just… didn’t expect it.”

Shidou shrugs, leaning his head back again. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Doesn’t know if he even needs to. It’s just that love, in all its forms, has never come easy to him. It’s always been messy. Complicated.

But this? This feels simple. So yeah. He’ll come back. He will still pretend to huff and think twice before accepting. He will still tease you restless as per usual. But he will let your daughter cover him in glitter and tell him ridiculous stories and call him silly names. Because it’s easy. Because it’s warm. Because it feels good to be like this. 

Whatever that means. 

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[roseandxanderfics]

“Safe Haven” - SingleMum!reader x Roy Kent

Summary: Roy Kent never expected to fall for a single mum and her kid, but somehow, he’s become the grumpy protector of both. He’s got a reputation to uphold—except when it comes to you two.

---------

It started with a tiny hand tugging at his sleeve.

Roy had been minding his own fucking business, stretching in the gym, when he felt it—a small, insistent pull at the fabric of his hoodie.

He looked down.

A kid.

A tiny kid.

The little boy, no older than two, stared up at him with wide brown eyes, his small fingers still clinging to Roy’s sleeve like he had no fear at all.

Roy blinked. “Uh. Hello?”

The kid blinked back. Then, with all the confidence in the world, he reached up and poked Roy right in the chest.

Roy scowled. “What the fuck?”

The kid grinned, completely unbothered. He poked again, right over Roy’s heart, and giggled like he’d just won a game only he knew about.

Roy exhaled through his nose. “Right. Okay.”

This was happening, apparently.

He squatted down, bringing himself closer to eye level. “Where’d you come from, then?”

The kid didn’t answer. He just tilted his head, inspecting Roy with the kind of serious curiosity only toddlers could manage.

Roy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He really wasn’t built for this shit. “Alright, mate. Where’s your mum, eh?”

The kid just pointed at him. “Big.”

Roy snorted before he could stop himself. “Yeah, well, you’re small.”

The kid grinned again, apparently pleased with that assessment.

Roy huffed, glancing around. The gym was empty—no sign of a frantic parent, no staff looking for a lost kid. He had no fucking clue where this little guy had come from.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “Come on, then.”

Without thinking too much about it, he bent down and scooped the kid up with one arm.

The boy settled against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world, chubby fingers curling into Roy’s hoodie.

Roy definitely wasn’t thinking about how warm and small he was.

Nope.

Not at all.

With a gruff sigh, he started walking, scanning the halls of Nelson Road for anyone who looked like they’d misplaced a fucking toddler.

It didn’t take long.

Just around the corner, Roy spotted you—pale, frantic, spinning in circles like you were about to lose your mind.

“Oi,” Roy called out. “This yours?”

Your head snapped up so fast he thought you might get whiplash.

The second you saw Oliver in his arms, your whole body sagged in relief.

“Oh, my God,” you breathed, practically running toward them.

Roy, eyebrows raised, let you take the kid back.

The way you held him—clutching him like he was your whole fucking world—did something weird to Roy’s chest.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you stammered. “I looked away for two seconds, and—”

“S’alright,” Roy muttered, watching you press a shaking kiss to Oliver’s curls. “Found him poking at the dumbbells in the gym.”

Oliver wiggled in your arms, turning to point at Roy again. “Big.”

Roy smirked. “Yeah, yeah. We covered that already.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the kind that was still half panic, and looked up at Roy.

And for the first time, he really looked back.

At the exhaustion behind your eyes, at the way your shoulders sagged under a weight he couldn’t see. At the quiet strength in the way you held your son, like no matter what, you’d never let go.

He recognized it.

Understood it.

And fuck if that didn’t scare him more than anything.

——————————

Unexpected Circumstances

By the time you managed to strap Oliver into his car seat and drive home, the weight of the day had fully settled on your shoulders.

You’d been two seconds away from a heart attack when you lost sight of him at work, and now, with the adrenaline fading, exhaustion hit you full force.

Just as you were about to pull into your driveway, your phone rang. You sighed, glancing at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

“Ms. [Last Name], I’m calling from Little Sprouts Daycare—”

Your stomach dropped.

“Is everything okay?” you asked quickly, already fearing the worst.

“I’m afraid not,” the director said apologetically. “There was some severe flooding overnight. The building’s completely water-damaged, and we’re going to need extensive repairs. We’ll have to close for at least three weeks.”

Your grip tightened on the wheel. “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience,” the director continued. “We know how important childcare is, and we’re happy to provide references for any temporary facilities.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the panic at bay. “No, it’s—it’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.”

When the call ended, you just sat there for a moment, staring at the dashboard.

Three weeks.

Three weeks without daycare, and no family nearby to help.

You glanced at the rearview mirror, where Oliver was happily babbling to himself, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding in your mind.

There was no other option.

He’d have to come to work with you.

⸻

Day One: An Interesting Start

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked, shifting Oliver’s weight on your hip as you stood nervously outside Rebecca’s office.

Higgins smiled kindly. “Of course. We’ve had stranger things happen here. You’d be surprised how many employees have had to bring their kids in.”

You tried to relax, but the idea of your two-year-old running around a professional football club still made your stomach twist.

Oliver, of course, was completely oblivious to your stress. He clutched his stuffed dinosaur in one hand and played with the collar of your shirt with the other, utterly content.

“Come on,” Higgins said cheerfully. “Let’s get you both settled.”

⸻

By the time lunch rolled around, you were already on edge.

Oliver had spent the morning exploring every inch of the building he could reach, and you’d spent the morning trying to keep him from causing complete chaos.

So when Roy Kent—gruff, scowling, and undeniably intimidating—walked into the cafeteria and plopped down across from you, your brain short-circuited.

You blinked at him. “Uh.”

Roy grunted, stabbing his fork into his food. “What?”

Oliver, seated in his high chair next to you, perked up. “Big.”

Roy sighed. “Still fuckin’ big, mate.”

You let out an exhausted laugh, shaking your head. “Did you… did you sit here on purpose?”

Roy gave you a flat look. “Nah. Just magically appeared in this chair.”

You huffed. “I meant—why?”

Roy chewed, swallowed, and said simply, “You look tired.”

You blinked. “That’s because I am tired.”

Roy shrugged, like that settled it. “Figured you could use someone who won’t piss you off by talking too much.”

Your lips twitched. “…Fair point.”

Oliver, meanwhile, was happily smacking his hands on the tray of his high chair, staring at Roy like he was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Roy stared back.

Oliver giggled.

Roy narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

Oliver pointed. “Big.”

Roy exhaled through his nose, looking deeply unamused. “You’ve got one word, and you’re stickin’ to it, huh?”

Oliver just giggled harder.

And to your absolute shock, Roy’s mouth twitched.

Just barely.

But you saw it.

Your own smile softened as you took a bite of your food. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

——————————

It took less than five minutes for everything to go wrong.

One second, you were finishing up an email at your desk, and the next—Oliver was gone.

Panic shot through you as you shot up from your chair. “Oliver?”

No answer.

Your heart pounded as you turned in a frantic circle, eyes darting around the office. He had been right there. Right there.

You rushed into the hallway, scanning left and right. “Oliver?”

Higgins poked his head out of his office, brow raised. “Everything alright?”

“My son—he wandered off,” you said, trying to keep the terror out of your voice. “I just looked away for a second.”

Higgins immediately straightened. “Let’s find him.”

He took off down one corridor, and you hurried down the other, pushing open doors and peeking into rooms. Your pulse was a drum in your ears, the fear growing with every empty space.

Then, just as you were about to really start spiraling, you heard it.

A tiny, familiar voice.

“’Becca.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet as you followed the sound—right to Rebecca’s open office door.

And there, sitting happily on the couch across from the owner of AFC Richmond herself, was Oliver.

His dinosaur was in his lap, his little legs swinging, as if he belonged there.

Meanwhile, Rebecca—powerful, composed, intimidating Rebecca—was watching him with something close to amusement, her tea cup paused mid-air.

You exhaled hard, gripping the doorway for balance.

“Oh my God,” you gasped. “I am so sorry.”

Rebecca turned her gaze to you, smiling slightly. “Don’t be. He’s been keeping me quite entertained.”

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath. “How did he even get in here?”

Rebecca lifted an elegant brow. “The door was open.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “I swear, I looked away for one second.”

Oliver turned to you, beaming. “Mama!”

“Yes, Mama is here,” you said, stepping forward and scooping him into your arms. “You cannot run off like that, baby.”

Oliver patted your face with sticky hands. “’Becca,” he said again, pointing at Rebecca.

Rebecca chuckled. “He is rather charming, isn’t he?”

You sighed, shifting him on your hip. “Too charming for his own good.”

There was a low ahem from behind you, and you turned to see Roy standing in the doorway, arms crossed. His dark eyes flicked from Oliver to you, then back to Oliver.

“Didn’t take long for him to start running the place,” Roy muttered.

Rebecca smirked. “He does seem to have that effect.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I should probably get him out of your hair before he starts making business decisions.”

Rebecca gave Oliver a little wave. “Come back anytime, little one.”

Oliver waved back. “Bye, ’Becca.”

You shot Rebecca one last apologetic smile before turning on your heel and carrying Oliver out, Roy falling into step beside you.

There was a brief beat of silence before Roy muttered, “Lotta guts, breakin’ into the boss’s office.”

Oliver just grinned at him.

Roy shook his head, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

You sighed. “It’s gonna be a long three weeks.”

—————————

Coach Roy vs. The Two-Year-Old Striker

Three days into Oliver’s unexpected training ground residency, Roy found himself in a situation he had never anticipated.

He was standing on the pitch, staring down at a very serious-looking toddler.

Oliver had his feet planted firmly, his tiny body standing as straight as a two-year-old could manage. His dinosaur plush sat discarded on the grass, replaced by a miniature football Jamie had sneakily handed him that morning.

Roy, arms crossed, scowled down at him. “Right. If you’re gonna keep runnin’ around out here, might as well learn something.”

Oliver blinked up at him. “Okay.”

Roy exhaled sharply. “Alright, kid. First lesson—kicking. You wanna kick with the inside of your foot, not your toes, yeah? Gives you more control.”

Oliver nodded solemnly. Then, without hesitation, he lifted his little leg and sent the ball rolling… straight past Roy’s boot.

Barely moving.

Roy blinked. Then looked at Oliver. “That was shit.”

“Oi!” you called from the sideline.

Roy groaned. “Fine. That was not good.”

Oliver nodded again. “Not good.”

Roy sighed and bent down, rolling the ball back toward him. “Let’s try again. Inside of the foot.”

Oliver took a deep breath—like he was absorbing the weight of the moment—then took a few careful steps and…

Toe-punted the ball directly into Roy’s shin.

For a second, there was complete silence.

Then Jamie—who had been watching with way too much interest—burst out laughing.

“Oi, little man’s got power,” Jamie cackled. “Good job, mate.”

Roy turned his glare on him. “Shut up, Tartt.”

Oliver beamed, clearly very pleased with himself. He turned to Jamie, eyes wide. “Good?”

Jamie grinned. “Real good, bud.”

Roy groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “This is a fuckin’ disaster.”

“Roy!” you called again.

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Right. Not a fuckin’ disaster. Just a regular disaster.”

Oliver was still grinning, looking up at Roy with so much excitement that—for a second—Roy forgot how much of a nightmare this was.

He exhaled sharply. “Alright, kid. We’re doin’ this again.”

Oliver clapped his hands. “Again!”

Roy shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see if you can actually listen this time.”

From the sidelines, you watched with an amused smile. This was already turning into the best entertainment of the week.

And maybe—just maybe—Roy wasn’t hating it as much as he claimed.

——————————

Oliver’s First Chant—And Roy’s New Biggest Fan

Roy liked to think he had a decent amount of patience when it came to football.

With adults.

With actual professionals who should know what they were doing.

With a two-year-old? Not so much.

It had been a week of Oliver tagging along to training sessions, and somehow, the kid had managed to worm his way into every corner of Roy’s day. He was at breakfast with his mum in the lounge, in Rebecca’s office babbling at her while she pretended to take his opinions on club management seriously, and now, he had a designated seat on the sideline.

Roy hadn’t thought much of it. The kid had a short attention span—he figured Oliver would get bored and go running back to you in no time.

But today, just as Roy was shouting for the team to stop acting like dickheads and fucking run, a little voice rang out from the sidelines.

“Woy!”

The entire training ground went silent.

Roy turned around slowly.

Oliver was standing on the grass, beaming.

His chubby hands clapped together once before he repeated, even louder, “Woy!”

There was another beat of stunned silence.

And then, the entire squad erupted.

“Oi, boss has a fan club!” Isaac cackled.

“First time anyone’s ever said his name without soundin’ terrified,” Jamie teased.

“Can’t even say his ‘R’s properly, but somehow, it still works,” Sam laughed.

Roy ignored all of them. His attention was fixed on Oliver, who was now bouncing on his little feet, as if he somehow understood he’d just delivered the most devastating blow to Roy’s entire reputation.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Roy muttered under his breath.

Oliver, oblivious to the effect he was having, clapped again. “Woy!”

“Yeah, yeah, I fuckin’ hear you,” Roy grumbled.

But despite his scowl, his voice wasn’t quite as gruff as usual.

And when Oliver toddled back to you, absolutely delighted with himself, Roy was already bracing for the next round of teasing from the team.

Little shit was his biggest fan.

And worst of all?

Roy didn’t actually mind.

————————

Roy didn’t do lunches with people.

He tolerated team meals when necessary, scowled his way through the occasional club event, and had exactly three people in his life he’d voluntarily share food with.

Somehow, Oliver and his mum had snuck onto that list.

Not that Roy was making a big deal out of it. It had started when you’d been too tired to go off-site for lunch, and Rebecca had insisted you use the executive lounge. Roy had gone in to grab a coffee, only to find you balancing a squirming two-year-old on your lap, trying (and failing) to keep him from kicking the table.

Roy had meant to just grab his drink and go.

Instead, he’d found himself dropping into the seat across from you with a gruff, “Kid’s gonna kick that plate straight onto the floor.”

You sighed, shooting him a wry smile. “I know. He’s got too much energy.”

Roy snorted. “Takes after Jamie, then.”

And just like that, lunch had turned into a regular thing.

Now, a week later, Roy was watching Oliver demolish a peanut butter sandwich with absolutely no regard for the mess he was making. Crumbs everywhere, sticky fingers, little bits of crust getting mushed into the table—Roy was horrified.

“You’re raising a menace,” he grumbled, nodding at the destruction.

You rolled your eyes, handing Oliver a napkin. “He’s two.”

“No excuse. Look at him, he’s deliberately making it worse.”

Oliver, as if sensing Roy’s judgment, grinned directly at him and smushed his sandwich half into his face.

Roy narrowed his eyes. “That was personal.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I think he just likes you.”

Roy blinked, thrown by the casual way you said it.

Oliver likes him?

Him, Roy Kent? The man who terrified the entire Premier League for over a decade?

Before he could figure out what to do with that, Oliver clambered off his chair, sticky hands reaching up expectantly.

You sighed, but before you could intervene, Roy—on instinct—scooped the kid up.

Oliver settled against him like it was normal, like Roy always carried him around.

And Roy… let him.

Even when his tiny, peanut-butter-covered fingers latched onto his sleeve.

Even when you gave him an amused look like you knew this was a big deal.

Even when he muttered, “Yeah, alright,” like he wasn’t already completely fucked when it came to you and your kid.

———————————

It took precisely three minutes for Roy to realize the kid was missing.

One second, Oliver was sitting happily at your desk, stacking some stress balls into a precarious tower while you finished up an email. The next, Roy walked past your office again, and the little menace was gone.

He didn’t think. Didn’t question it. Just muttered a low, “Fuck,” and went looking.

He found him in Rebecca’s office.

Of course he fucking did.

Rebecca sat behind her desk, legs crossed, watching the toddler perched in her chair with an expression of vague amusement. Oliver, completely oblivious to the fact that he was in the presence of one of the most powerful women in English football, was babbling something in that half-intelligible way two-year-olds did, waving his arms to emphasize very important points.

Rebecca, to her credit, was nodding along as if he were making a solid argument.

Roy stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “He botherin’ you?”

Rebecca turned, a slow smirk pulling at her lips. “Not at all. I was just learning about, what was it, darling? Oh yes—how dinosaurs should play football.”

Roy exhaled sharply, biting down on a laugh.

Oliver turned at the sound of his voice, face lighting up. “Roy!”

He scrambled down from the chair and ran toward him, stopping just short of barreling into his legs. Instead, he lifted his arms in a very clear pick me up demand.

Roy hesitated for approximately two seconds before sighing and scooping the kid up. “You can’t just wander off, yeah? Your mum’s gonna kill me.”

Oliver, unbothered, patted Roy’s stubbled cheek with his tiny hand. “’Kay.”

Rebecca chuckled. “He has quite the hold on you, doesn’t he?”

Roy scowled. “Fuck off.”

Rebecca just smirked harder.

And Roy knew she was going to be insufferable about this.

————————

The morning of Oliver’s last day at Richmond started like all the others.

He ran into the building, his tiny backpack bouncing on his shoulders, and made a beeline for Roy’s office.

Roy barely had time to look up before Oliver crashed into his legs with a gleeful “Hi, Roy!”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Roy muttered, reaching down to steady him.

It had become their routine. Roy would act like he was completely inconvenienced by Oliver’s enthusiasm, but then—every single time—he’d huff and let the kid clamber onto his chair while he pretended to check emails.

But today felt… different.

When you walked in a few minutes later, you looked around the office like you were committing it to memory.

“This is it,” you said softly, offering Roy a small smile. “Daycare’s finally reopening.”

Roy didn’t react, not outwardly. Just nodded and glanced down at Oliver, who was happily playing with one of his many acquired Richmond trinkets—a football keychain Sam had given him.

The whole thing felt off.

The team felt it too.

Training that day was quieter. The usual chaos of Oliver sprinting across the pitch, shouting something incoherent, was missing. The team kept sneaking glances at the kid like they were trying to savor the last moments of his ridiculous reign over Richmond.

Even Ted looked oddly sentimental about it.

Then, after lunch, when Oliver was supposed to take his usual spot in Roy’s office, he hesitated.

Instead, he toddled over to Roy and just… lifted his arms.

Roy froze.

You let out a quiet laugh. “He wants a hug, Roy.���

Roy stared at Oliver, then at you, then back at Oliver—who was still standing there, patient and expectant.

The team was watching. Everyone was waiting for Roy Kent to react.

And Roy Kent did not disappoint.

With a long-suffering huff, he scooped Oliver up into his arms, letting the kid settle against his chest.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered. “Don’t get used to it.”

Oliver giggled, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Roy absolutely did not melt.

Did not.

⸻

Later That Evening

It should have ended there.

A goodbye. A thank you, Roy and a we’ll see you around.

But instead, when Roy was heading out for the night, hands stuffed in his pockets, he saw you waiting outside the club.

You looked… nervous.

“Everything alright?” he asked gruffly.

You nodded, glancing down before looking back up at him. “I just—” You hesitated. “I just wanted to say thank you. For being so good to Oliver. And to me.”

Roy shifted. “Didn’t do much.”

You laughed at that, soft and disbelieving. “Roy. You did everything.”

There was a pause.

Something unspoken stretched between you.

Then, before Roy could talk himself out of it, he exhaled and grumbled, “If you ever need someone to kick a ball around with him or whatever… you know where to find me.”

You blinked. Then smiled.

“I’d like that,” you admitted softly. “Oliver would too.”

And then—because fuck it—Roy added, “You too. If you ever need… I dunno. A break. A drink. Whatever.”

You stared at him for a moment, something warm in your eyes.

Then, before Roy could completely combust from the weight of your gaze, you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Roy.”

And with that, you walked away—leaving Roy standing outside Nelson Road, hands clenched into fists, desperately pretending he wasn’t fucking smiling.

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * JACOB BLACK HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 brother’s best friend

you’ve known jacob for as long as you could remember.

he and your older brother, embry, were practically inseparable. and despite you being younger for a couple of years, you tried to keep up with them.

you didn’t like being left alone in the house.

you were always running after jacob, embry, and quil, determined to keep up even when your little legs couldn’t quite match theirs.

“wait for me!” you’d huff, trying to climb over a fallen log they’d jumped over with ease.

jacob would always double back, offering you a hand with an easy grin. “c’mon, you’re almost there.”

he’d always be the first to notice if you scraped your knee or got too tired, offering to carry you without you even having to ask.

“you’re spoiling her, man,” embry would tease.

“she’s little,” jacob would shrug. “she gets a pass.”

jacob never complained about having you around. if anything, he looked out for you more than your own brother sometimes.

“she’s fine,” embry would say when you struggled to keep up.

“she’s tired,” jacob would argue, crouching down so you could climb onto his back. “c’mon, y/n”

you trusted him completely, falling asleep against his shoulder more times than you could count.

as you both grew up, you stopped being just embry’s little sister to jacob. he didn’t realize it at first, but he started looking out for you in different ways.

it started with the little things— jacob started waiting for you outside of school, even when embry wasn’t with him.

“what are you doing here?” you asked the first time it happened.

he shrugged. “figured i’d walk you home.”

“oh but embry’s already left.”

“yeah, i know.”

you didn’t question it.

then came the protective streak—any time you mentioned a guy in your grade, jacob would casually ask way too many questions.

“who’s that?”

“is he nice?”

“you think he’s funny? pfft, bet i’m funnier.

if someone made a joke about you, he’d shut it down fast. “say that again, i dare you.”

he was always the first to offer you his hoodie when you were cold, the one to check in when you were upset, the one who walked you home even when you insisted you didn’t need him to.

“what if some creep tries something?” he’d argue.

“jacob, we live in la push. everyone knows my brother.”

“yeah, well. just in case.”

during your teen years, the shift begins.

jacob started noticing everything about you. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous. the way you chewed your lip when you were thinking. the way you laughed—god, that laugh.

you, on the other hand, started noticing him. how he’d filled out, how his shoulders seemed broader, how his hands were always grease-stained but warm when they brushed against yours.

he tried to play it cool, but quil caught on fast.

“dude, you’ve got it bad for her,” quil snickered one day after you left the garage.

“shut up,” jacob muttered, ears burning.

the first time jacob saw you talking to a guy who wasn’t one of the pack, he felt something ugly twist in his chest.

he wasn’t your brother. he wasn’t your boyfriend. he had no right to feel like this.

and yet—

“who’s that?” he asked, leaning against his bike as you walked up.

“a friend,” you answered, giving him a confused look. “why?”

he shrugged, trying to look casual. “no reason. just… making sure he’s not an idiot.”

the first time embry realized something was off, he and jacob were working on his bike, and you came outside to bring them water.

“thanks, y/n,” jacob said, giving you a lazy grin as he wiped his hands on a rag.

but then his gaze lingered a little too long as you walked away.

embry narrowed his eyes.

“dude.”

“what?” jacob snapped out of it.

“you were staring.”

“i was not.”

“you so were.” embry tossed a wrench at him. “that’s my sister.”

embry let it pass. assuming it wasn’t that serious— but it was shifting into something more as time passed.

jacob hated that he noticed everything about you now.

the way you played with the hem of your sleeves when you were nervous. the way your smile changed when you were talking to someone you liked.

he especially hated that he wasn’t the reason for that smile when you talked to other guys.

one afternoon, you were laughing a little too hard at something a guy from your class said, and jacob felt his jaw clench.

“you know that dude?” he asked embry, trying to sound casual.

“yeah, he’s cool. why?”

“no reason.”

“no way,” embry groaned. “you actually like her.”

jacob rolled his eyes. “i— shut up.”

“i know you, jacob.” embry looked at him in full seriousness now. “just… don’t hurt her.”

jacob turned to look at him and met his sincere eyes sharing a knowing look. they were best friends after all. with a little smile, jacob nodded and continued working.

one night, you two were sitting by the cliffs, the ocean stretching out endlessly in front of you.

“you ever think about leaving la push?” you asked, watching the waves.

jacob glanced at you, at the way the wind played with your hair. “not really.”

“why not?”

he hesitated. because you’re here. because i can’t imagine anywhere else feeling like home.

instead, he said, “i guess i like it here.”

you turned to look at him then, and for a second, neither of you spoke. the air was thick with something unspoken, something electric.

but neither of you dared to cross that line. not yet.

after weeks of this back-and-forth, embry had had enough.

“just tell her.”

“tell her what?”

“dude.” embry dragged a hand down his face. “i cannot physically watch you pine any longer.”

“i’m not—”

“pining. you are pining, jacob.”

“i don’t even know if she—”

“she likes you too, dumbass.”

jacob blinked. “what?”

“oh my god, you’re hopeless.”

it happened after a bonfire. you were laughing at something quil said, and jacob just… looked at you.

and he knew. he couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

embry nudged him. “just do it already.”

jacob exhaled, steeling himself. no more excuses. no more waiting.

he’d spent years pushing this feeling down, trying to convince himself that you were just embry’s little sister, just his friend. but tonight, watching you, he knew he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

so he found himself following you as you wandered off.

it was late, the embers of the bonfire glowing softly as the waves crashed in the distance. most of the others had wandered off.

jacob found you standing by the cliffs, arms wrapped around yourself as the waves crashed below. he swallowed hard, heart pounding.

“you always disappear after bonfires,” he said, stepping beside you. his voice was light, but there was an edge to it.

you glanced over your shoulder, giving him a small, knowing smile. “and yet, you always find me.”

he smiled back as he stepped closer, close enough that he could smell the lingering smoke from the fire in your hair. “so… what are you doing out here?”

“just thinking.”

“about?”

you hesitated, then turned to face him fully. “you.”

his breath caught, but before he could respond, you went on.

“i’ve been waiting,” you said softly. “for you to say something. for you to do something. but I’m starting to think maybe I was wrong.”

“you weren’t.” the words slipped out before he could stop them. desperate.

your brows lifted slightly. “no?”

“no,” he said, voice rough. “you weren’t wrong. i—god, i’ve tried to push it down, tried to tell myself i don’t, but i do—i want you, i’ve always wanted you.”

the confession spilled out like a dam breaking, all the unsaid words, the stolen glances, the years of aching for something just out of reach.

“i just—” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “i didn’t want to ruin what we have. didn’t want to mess this up.”

you stepped closer, hopeful glowing eyes searching his. “what if you’re not messing this up?”

his hands twitched at his sides. “then i’d—” he let out a soft, breathless laugh, eyes filled with something raw. “then i’d really like to kiss you right now.”

a sweet smile flashed in your face. “finally.” you sighed and stepped closer, reaching up to cup his face tugging him down.

he barely had time to react before your lips brushed against his—soft, warm, real.

when you pulled back, he stared at you, breathless, wide-eyed. he had been waiting for this moment for far too long, he wouldn’t let it slip.

a slow grin spread across his face before he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again—harder this time, full of all the pent-up longing he had tried so desperately to ignore.

for a moment, the only sound was the waves crashing against the cliffs.

“you good there, jake?” you teased when you slightly pulled back just enough to look at him.

his deep eyes admired you in that moment— breathless, your messy hair dancing with the wind and your plump lips that just blessed his with a kiss.

“i’m more than good,” he murmured against your lips. “i’m yours.”

[tinyshyteacup]

Tw: cussing, tooth rotting fluff

Part 21

A Charming Detour - Part 22

His heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands were sweaty, and he knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't fucking help it.

Juice’s brain decided to just malfunction.

He saw you standing in the kitchen, your back turned, casually reaching for a mug in the cabinet.

Okay.

Breathe. Just—tell her the plan.

“Hey, babe—uh, so, I was thinking—”

You turned around, looking at him with that sweet, soft expression, and Juice panicked.

“I mean—fuck, okay, don’t—don’t say anything yet,” he rushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just—just hear me out, okay?”

You blinked.

Juice kept rambling.

“So, like, I know we didn’t really do the whole, uh, dating thing—’cause, y’know, fake marriage, then—then feelings, which is totally ass-backwards, but, uh—” He let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Whatever, that’s not the point.”

You tilted your head slightly, listening, which only made him more anxious.

“Like, an actual date. No club shit, no favors, no—none of the fake stuff. Just—me and you. I, uh—tonight” he blurted.

You blinked again.

Juice swallowed hard.

“So?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.

There was a pause.

Then—

Your lips parted slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing your face before you spoke.

“Juice… we have work tomorrow.”

Juice froze.

His stomach plummeted.

Fuck.

Juice stared at you for a second, scrambling to process.

Because—

Fuck, he didn’t even think about work.

He was too busy being a lovesick moron to remember that you both had responsibilities.

“I mean,” you continued, biting your lip, “I’d love to, but I don’t think a late night out is a great idea.”

Juice felt something in his chest sink—but before he could get too deep into his own disappointment, you took a step closer.

“But…” You smiled softly, looking up at him. “How about takeout and video games?”

Juice blinked.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a little shy now. “It’s not a date-date, but… it’s still just us, right?”

Juice’s brain stalled.

Because holy shit.

That was—

That was even better.

"We could save your idea though, until the weekend ?" You said, hopefully

Juice had spent the whole day stressing about where to take you, how to impress you, what the perfect first date should be.

But the truth was—

You didn’t need some big, extravagant night out.

You just wanted him.

His shoulders slumped in relief, and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Babe,” he exhaled. “That’s—fuck, that’s perfect.”

You giggled softly. “Yeah?”

Juice nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Because nothing—nothing—sounded better than a night on the couch, eating shitty takeout and kicking your ass in video games.

Or, more likely, you kicking his ass—but whatever. He’d take it.

The smell of greasy fries and takeout containers filled the living room as Juice flopped onto the couch beside you, controller in hand.

“Alright, baby,” he said, nudging you playfully. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

You let out a huff, curling up beside him. “Oh, please. I’m way better than you.”

Juice snorted. “Oh, now you talk shit? Alright. Let’s go.”

The game loaded, and you both settled into a comfortable rhythm—laughing, teasing, stealing each other’s food between rounds.

And Juice—

Juice couldn’t stop staring at you.

Because you looked so happy.

So at ease.

And this was actually real.

He felt something warm spread through his chest.

Juice was not cool.

He knew that.

But fuck, he was trying.

It started when you leaned over to grab a fry from his container—totally stealing his food, but he couldn’t even be mad because your sweater slipped off your shoulder a little, and it was so distracting.

Juice’s brain short-circuited.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself.

You paused, blinking at him mid-bite. “What?”

Juice froze.

Shit.

Uh. Say something smooth. Say something—

“Your—your, uh—” He gestured vaguely at your shoulder, floundering. “It’s—uh, you’re—”

You glanced down in confusion, then tilted your head. “Juice, what are you saying?”

Juice panicked.

“Your skin,” he blurted, way too loud. “I mean—it’s, uh, soft.”

There was a beat of silence.

You stared at him.

Juice stared back.

Oh my god.

What the fuck did he just say?

Your lips twitched, and then—

You burst into laughter.

Juice groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“I—” You wheezed, clutching your stomach. “My skin?”

“Shut up,” Juice whined. “It was supposed to be a compliment!”

“I mean—thank you?” you giggled, still watching him struggle. “That’s so—God, you’re adorable.”

Juice died inside.

A little later, you were curled up against him, casually scrolling through something on your phone while Juice tried to act normal on 1V1 mode.

Which was hard.

Because every time you shifted, every time your leg brushed against his, every time you tucked yourself a little closer to him—

Juice had to remind himself how to breathe.

But then—then he had an idea.

He saw an opening.

You stretched, arms lifting above your head, letting out a soft little sigh—

And Juice, in a very brave (and totally not well-thought-out) moment, decided to pull you back down against him.

Smooth. Casual. Effortless.

Or at least—

That was the plan.

What actually happened was—

He miscalculated horribly.

His arm yanked too hard, and instead of a cute, flirty moment—

You yelped and practically toppled into his lap.

Juice panicked.

“Shit—fuck—sorry, babe, I—”

You blinked up at him, stunned, your hands gripping his shirt.

Juice’s brain blue-screened.

Because—because you were so close.

Your nose nearly brushed his, your wide eyes looking up at him, your lips right there, and—

Juice forgot how to function.

“Uh.”

Silence.

You tilted your head, face crimson.

Juice swallowed.

And then you—

You just settled.

"This ok Juice?" You ask in that soft little voice.

Like it didn’t completely ruin him.

Juice nodded and barely managed to keep his brain from exploding.

Later, Juice was mindlessly playing with your fingers, tracing circles on your palm while you rested against his chest.

It was so easy to just be with you.

So easy that—

He kind of forgot to keep his mouth shut.

“You know I'm pretty sure I'm in love you.” he murmured absently.

Silence.

Juice blinked.

Then froze, realised what he said.

Then panicked.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

His heart stopped.

He did not just—

Slowly—very slowly—you shifted agasint him.

Juice stared at you, horrified.

He panicked.

“I mean—fuck,” he rushed, voice cracking. “I mean, like—not—not in, like, a weird way, just in a—I mean, not that it’d be weird if I did, but I just—” He wheezed. “Oh my god, kill me.”

Juice stared at the ceiling, heart racing.

He was so fucked.

Then—

He dared to look down.

Your eyelashes fanned your cheeks.

Your fist was curled up under your cheek.

Breathing even.

Holy shit.

You

You where asleep.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

And Juice?

He was freaking out.

Not in a bad way.

Just in a holy shit, I get to hold her kind of way.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, heart hammering against his ribs.

Your cheek was pressed against his shirt now, your fingers loosely curled against his chest. You looked so peaceful like this, so soft and warm and—

Fuck, he was in trouble.

Carefully—so carefully—he shifted, easing an arm beneath your legs before scooping you up entirely.

And immediately—

You whined in your sleep, instinctively burying your face against his throat.

Juice’s entire brain blue-screened.

His arms locked up, breath catching as your nose nudged against his skin, warm and trusting and—

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

This was dangerous.

Juice wasn’t sure what made him do it.

Maybe it was the way you sighed when he tucked you under the covers.

Maybe it was the way you rolled towards him instinctively, like even in your sleep, you wanted to be close to him.

Or maybe—

Maybe it was just the fact that you were his now, and for the first time, he didn’t have to pretend this whole thing was fake.

Either way—

He hesitated for way too long.

He was so used to trying to keep space between you in bed. You’d slept next to each other a bunch of times before, but always with a boundary—a line neither of he had never crossed.

But now?

Now, you were actually dating.

Now, he had every right to reach for you.

Right?

And the second he did—

You melted against him.

Juice sucked in a sharp breath as your body pressed flush against his, tucking yourself right under his chin like it was natural.

And it was.

Too natural.

Too easy.

Too perfect.

Juice’s throat went dry, heart pounding as he let his arms wrap around you fully, drawing you closer.

And the worst part?

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling into his chest like you belonged there.

Juice was the human embodiment of a dial tone.

Juice tried to be smooth.

He really did.

But the thing was—

His brain stopped working whenever you were this close.

It started with his fingers lightly tracing up and down your back—innocent, just casual, nothing weird.

And then, in a very bold move, he tipped his head just slightly so his lips brushed your hair.

Soft.

You shifted at the touch, stirring just enough to murmur, “Mm… Juice?”

Juice froze.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Abort. Abort.

“Uh—nothing, baby,” he rushed, way too guilty. “Go back to sleep.”

You hummed sleepily, eyes barely open. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “I was just—uh—” He scrambled for an excuse. “You—you smell nice.”

Silence.

Then—

Your lips twitched.

Juice panicked.

Oh no.

You were fully awake now.

And you were grinning.

Juice groaned, immediately hiding his face in your shoulder. “Oh my god.”

You giggled. “I smell nice?”

“Shut up,” he whined.

You giggled harder.

You were warm.

That was the problem.

You were all soft limbs and gentle touches, your fingers absentmindedly brushing along his wrist, his arms and fuck—Juice was so gone for you.

“I like this,” you murmured sleepily.

Juice swallowed. “Yeah?”

You nodded against his chest. “Feels… safe.”

Something in his chest ached.

His arms tightened around you without thinking, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed a slow, almost reverent kiss to the top of your head.

“I got you, baby,” he murmured before he could stop himself. “Always.”

You hummed softly, completely at ease, and Juice—

Juice realized too late what he’d just said.

Oh shit.

Oh, shit.

His heart stopped.

Did you hear that?

Was it too much.

Did you—did you realize—

But no—your breathing had already evened out again, your body loose and trusting against his.

Juice exhaled.

He was so in trouble

[kind-of-a-writer]

The Refill

Gator Tillman x fem!reader Gator thinks you owe him. You can’t seem to disagree. part two of The Usual

contains: mean gator, harassment, name-calling, public/car sex, blowjob, creampie

Gator Tillman wasn’t really one for sentiment. You knew you couldn’t thank him for getting your job at the bar back with a little gift or a sweet ‘thank you’ like most people. That wasn’t how he operated.

It had been weeks, surely it meant Gator had forgotten about the little favor he had done for you, courtesy of his stupid cop friend getting you fired in the first place. 

You were at the shitty gas station near your apartment, walking out of the convenience store with a bag of candy and a cheap bottle of wine to get you through the night. It had been another tiring shift at the bar, lousy tips tucked in your pocket and hands full, when you saw him leaning against your car, hitting his vape like usual. 

How Gator knew it was your car, you weren’t sure. 

The gas station was empty this time of night, save for you, your car, and Gator, with his cruiser parked to the side. 

Slowly, you approached, with half a mind to just walk back into the store and wait until he left. But you knew hiding from him was just going to delay the inevitable. 

The cloud of smoke left his mouth as he glanced up at you, with heavy lids, rough lips curled up into a smirk. He pocketed his stupid vape and tilted his head.

“Evening, ma’am,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to search your vehicle, just procedure, y’know how it is. Been getting reports about you.”

“What?” you asked, flabbergasted.

He glanced back at you finally, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, they’ve been saying a certain slut’s been real lonely the past few weeks-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you replied, an irritated expression on your face. He let out a low laugh, like he was genuinely amused by your annoyance.

“What, too embarrassed to admit how you were a little slut for me?”

“Keep your voice down,” you said through gritted teeth, glancing around, in case there was anyone around. 

You didn’t want to think about that night; despite how it replayed in your head constantly, when you’d see him with his cop buddies at the bar, not sparing you a second glance. Like fucking you meant nothing to him, which it probably didn’t. Or when the nights were hot and you were alone in your room, heat pooling between your thighs at the memory of his cock filling you up, taking what he wanted from you. 

“Don’t act like a prude,” he grinned smugly, as if he could read your mind. “You sure seemed to like it, being fucked in the bathroom.” 

Mouth agape, you couldn’t say anything in your defense because it was, albeit humiliating, also the truth. 

Swiftly, he grabbed the bottle of wine from your hands, studying the label with raised eyebrows. “Cheapskate, huh? This shit’s like sewer water, darlin’. Surely you can find it in your budget to get drunk off of somethin’ a little higher quality?”

He was being weirdly calm tonight, or even nice. Or, the closest to nice Gator would ever get. You blinked up at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. The last thing you wanted was for him to know he was getting to you again.

“I’m good,” you said firmly. His brown eyes bored into yours as he let you grab the bottle back from his grasp. The heavy weight of his gaze made you look down. “Are you done?” 

“Dunno,” he replied. “I believe someone did you a little favor a couple weeks back, remind me what that was again?”

“...yeah, thanks,” you managed to say finally, glancing to the side. 

He took a step forward. The sound of his boots against the cold pavement and the whiff of his cologne, mixed with the fruity vape lingering on his body, was enough to make your head spin. But you stood tall, keeping your eyes locked with his. You tried to ignore how good he looked, his black t-shirt clinging to his body, his cargo pants snug. 

“What’s that?” Gator asked, leaning closer, his lips twitching with amusement. “Didn’t quite hear you.” 

You let out a little huff, finally looking up at him again. “Thank you,” you repeated a little louder, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

He smirked again. “Mhm, don’t you think I deserve somethin’ more than a little ‘thank you’? After all, I got you that job back. Probably would be homeless if it weren’t for little ol’ me, huh? Practically saved you from the streets.” 

You blinked up at him again, raising an eyebrow. “Why did you?”

He seemed slightly taken aback, a confused expression flashing across his face. “What?”

“Get me my job back,” you clarified. “Why’d you do it? If I mean nothin’, if I’m such a lousy waitress.”

His lips twitched and he grunted, glancing away, almost like he was flustered. “That fucker Nick had no business messin’ with you like that. If I wanted you fired, I’d have done it months ago.” 

Your lips curled into a sarcastic smile, regaining some of your confidence at his shallow words. “Aw, how sweet. D’you think that makes you any less of a cunt? You’re just as much of a dick.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Easy, darlin’. I can make a simple call, make him fire you again-”

“No,” you said quickly, hating how desperate you sounded.

“Oh, no?” Gator crooned, a devilish smirk on his face. “Convince me you deserve to keep your job. You owe me, after all. Consider this an evaluation.” 

“Here? No way.” You sputtered, giving him an incredulous look as you glanced around again. “Are you fuckin’ insane?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, raising his eyebrows. “No?” he clicked his tongue. “Alright, it’s your call.”

You paused, not wanting to give him more of an edge, but it was impossible. You knew it was useless, he had you at his mercy. The thought of his cock filling filling you up made your clit throb, an ache that never seemed to leave anytime he was around.

“Fine,” you murmured finally, cheeks flushing. “I- I guess I do owe you.”

“Attagirl. C’mon, you know what I want.”

Gator’s threaded his fingers through your hair, pushing you down. You sank down, knees digging harshly into the cold, dirt ground, the dampness seeping through your thin tights. You set the cheap wine and bag of candy on the ground beside his feet.

You tilted your head up as his fingers combed through your hair, almost gentle. Then he tugged harshly, drawing out a soft yelp from your mouth. 

“You look good on your knees,” he said lowly, palming himself through his bulging trousers as you swallowed thickly, watching him. His eyelids were heavy as your eyes met, looking up at him beneath your lashes. “You gonna just stare, or what?”

Swiftly, you clumsily unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down, along with his boxers. He hissed softly as his cock sprung out, slapping against your cheek. You tilted your head back, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, twitching in anticipation, pretty and pink. Getting a good look at it only made you want him more. 

Gator exhaled sharply when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock, leaking and hard, pumping him a few times.

“Pretty,” you murmured without thinking, earning a little smile from him. You stuck your tongue out, eyelids heavy as you licked along the length of his aching cock, causing your stomach to flutter. Finally, you parted your lips, taking it in your mouth. His girth strained against your lips as you moved your head forward. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Gator tilted his head back against the car with a soft thump. You moaned around him as he pushed his hips forward slightly, easing more of his length inside. “What a cockslut, mhm?”

His breath was ragged, gripping the back of your head so tight like he was scared you’ll pull away as he blinked down at you. You moved your head forward, parting your lips forward to invite more of him in. Your clit throbbed as his tip hit the back of your throat. Your knees scraped against the ground as you shifted slightly. 

Gator’s hips thrusted forward without warning, making your eyes water as fucked into your mouth, guiding you along the curve of his cock. “Whore,” he said with a lazy smile, voice rough and thick with need. “You take it so well, almost as good as your pussy.” 

You bobbed your head forward. The moan that Gator let out made your stomach flutter, your pussy starting to throb almost painfully. He shifted his leg slightly, knocking the forgotten bottle of wine beside his leg to the ground. You couldn’t care less right now. 

He tugged at your hair, pulling your mouth from his cock forcefully. “C’mon, get in the car.”

You blinked up at him through your lashes, lips swollen and chin slick with saliva as he helped you up, knees stinging as he hastily opened the car door, pushing you into the backseat. 

You made a noise as he ripped your tights, pushing them off. He climbed in after you in the cramped space, your palms pressed against the soft seats, forehead pressed against the window as he pushed your skirt up.

Gator hummed, his hand into the flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading. “What a sight,” he murmured as he slapped your ass, relishing as he watched the skin jiggle. “Take these pretty panties off.” 

With shaky hands, you obliged, fingers digging into the waistband of your pink cotton panties. You slid them down your legs, knees shifting slightly as you tried to push them off, struggling a little with the tiny space in the car. 

“Jesus, can’t do anythin’ by yourself?” Gator scoffed, lifting your knee one at a time, tugging them down forcefully. “Just a dumb little whore once you’re all worked up, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “You talk way too fuckin’ much.”

His fingers patted against your slick pussy, the lewd, wet sound filling the car. “I think you like it,” he smirked. “Look at how she’s achin’ for me. Your pussy might be the only good thing about you.”

You let out a soft huff, hating how his words made your clit throb. “Fuck you, Gator.”

Gator let out a low laugh, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Aw.” In one swift movement, he flipped you so you were on your back, his knees on either side of you. “Pretending like you don’t want me again?”

You moaned, head bumping against the door as the fat tip of his cock ran up and down your folds. He pushed the tip in just a little, only to pull back out. The whine that left your mouth was desperate, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him. You lifted your hips, but he held you down.

“What?” you murmured, annoyed.

“Say please,” said Gator, his thumb swirling your clit. 

You laughed breathlessly. “You can’t be serious.”

He pushed his cock in a little more, making you moan. He pulled back out, rubbing the length across your slick. “Drop the bitch act, admit you want this.”

You groaned, your shirt riding up as your back arched. Cheeks burning with humiliation and panting, you blinked up at him, the weight of his gaze heavy on you. “Please,” you said finally. “Please, just put it in.”

“There it is,” he said, his voice low and almost gentle. “You want it bad, huh? Been thinkin’ about this?”

Gator shoved his cock inside, the sensation making your body tingle, your lungs exhaling sharply at the feeling. He let out a groan as his tip pressed against your spongy walls, the feeling of him stretching you almost too much to bear. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, suddenly leaning down panting against your neck, fingers digging into your side. He groaned lowly as your cunt clenched around him. “Yeah, fuck, that’s good.”

You whimpered, eyelids heavy as your hand found his shoulder as he started moving, thrusting deep and fast. He lifted up again, his eyes fixated on how his cock disappeared deep inside your cunt, lips parted with fascination.

“Fuck, see that?” Gator groaned. “See how well you take it, darlin’?”

“Shut up,” you whined, head tilting back as he shifted slightly, slamming against a spot that made you moan loudly. “Oh, God.”

He grinned wickedly then, eyes meeting yours as you bucked your hips up against him to meet his thrusts. 

You couldn’t speak, walls clenching around his cock, stomach swirling, pleasuring building up. Your lips were parted, whimpering desperately already. This was different than last time, and you couldn’t tell if you liked it or not, the way he was looking at into your eyes as he fucked into you. His gaze was intense and raw, like you were the only thing in the world.

“Gator, fuck,” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulder as he filled you deep, thighs already trembling, your cunt soaked and aching. You were starting to lose yourself, unable to take it. “Please, please-” 

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Little whore? Just a slut for it,” he said roughly, hair falling into his eyes as he picked up the pace, the car starting to squeak with every forceful thrust. 

You pawed at his shirt helplessly as the pleasure built up, eyes fluttering shut. “Close,” you panted, which only seemed to spur him on, clearly eager to get you there. 

Your orgasm came down hard and fast, your fingers gripping at his shirt tightly as you whimpered. Your walls were clenching around him so tight he let out whine in response, breath catching in his throat. You’d have laughed if your mind wasn’t foggy with pleasure, if he wasn’t gripping your sides like he needed you.

Gator leaned down again, biting at your shoulder, moaning as his cum spurted against your walls, his thrusts relentless until he was practically leaking out of you. 

Silence filled the car, save for both of your breathless pants, his face still pressed into your neck. 

You almost wanted to run your fingers through his hair, but he was already pulling out, tucking himself back into his boxers. He tugged his trousers back on, leaning back up, avoiding your gaze. 

Then, he picked up your discarded panties from the floor of the car, quiet as he helped you put them back on. Gator pushed your skirt back down as you sat up slowly, his hand gripping your bare thigh. 

You were confused, you half-expected him to leave like he did last time. 

“Good,” he said lowly, eyes meeting yours in the dark. “I guess I’ll let you keep the job.”

You scoffed slightly. “How nice of you.”

“I don’t do nice,” he replied. “You earned it.” 

Gator parted his lips then, almost like he wanted to say something else. But he simply pushed the car door open and got out without another word. 

You sat there, in the backseat, sighing as you heard the sound of his car starting up and leaving the gas station. Which was somehow worse than him leaving you bare in the bathroom.

[thesagesjournal]

[Log-in story] Fusetter x Mahoutsukai no Yakusoku

Appearing characters: Figaro, Cain, Faust, Rustica, Bradley, Fusetter

Keep The Secret of Tonight Under Lock and Key

Figaro: Is this the place?

Cain: I think so? That ball of light we saw should be around here somewhere… What was that anyway? It gave me the creeps…

Faust: I don’t sense anything ominous, and the barriers are intact, so I doubt it’s anything serious. We should investigate properly, though. Just in case.

Rustica: There’s something so mystifying about forests at nightfall. One can spot many different critters roaming about, guided by the light of glowing mushrooms and fruits.

Bradley: …Hm? Wuzzat over there, under the tree?

???: …

Bradley: Izzat a… dog?

Figaro: If it is, seeing this kind of breed is a first for me. Have you seen anything like it before, Faust?

Faust: Can’t say I have. It’s unusually long and… pudgy.

Cain: Doesn’t seem hurt or anything either. Heya, buddy, you good over there?

Bradley: Lessee… Giddy-up!

Bradley: …The hell?! It can’t be that long…

Rustica: Is it in the middle of taking a nap perhaps?

Strange dog: …Hruk…

Wizards: !

Strange dog: W-Wah! W-Where am I?!

Bradley & Figaro: It…

Faust, Cain & Rustica: Can talk?!

Strange dog: E-Erm…

Figaro: Well, you don’t see this every day. What’s your name, little guy?

Fusetter: I’m Fusetter!

Figaro: I hope you don’t mind me asking, but just to clarify, you are a dog, right?

Fusetter: Yep! …Whoa, it's the moon! And it’s so big!

Rustica: It’s always been this big. Does it perchance have something to do with your arrival?

Fusetter: Well, I remember looking up and admiring it.

Fusetter: I’d never seen a moon so big and pretty, so I decided to take a picture of it, but… Before I knew it, I ended up here.

Bradley: Where have I heard this story before…

Rustica: It’s easy to lose your way while following the moon.

Faust: I’m more curious how it managed to pass through the barrier. The capital and the market are a long distance away.

Faust: As for what it is… A magical beast or fey of sorts?

Figaro: Could he be from another world?

Cain: Maybe even the same one as the Master Sage?

Figaro: Well, we do live in a world riddled with mystery.

Figaro: It wouldn’t be a first.

Bradley: The Sage never said nothin’ about dogs bein’ able to talk in their world.

Bradley: Say, lil’ fella, where exactly were ya watchin’ the moon from? Got any name you can give us?

Fusetter: Of course, I was at ◯◯◯!

Bradley & Figaro: Come again?

Cain: Sorry, we didn’t quite catch that, can you say it again?

Fusetter: I was at ◯◯◯!

Faust: …Interesting. It’s as if the most important part is evading us.

Figaro: Are you using magic to do this?

Fusetter: I wouldn’t call it magic, but I do have this unique power…

Fusetter: It’s a bit difficult to explain.

Cain: Go on, we’re listening.

Fusetter: Okay, then, can you hold my paw for a moment?

Cain: Of course~ Ooh, you’re so squishy!

Fusetter: Hehe, thank you.

Fusetter: Now, think about something you’ve kept secret recently.

Fusetter: Once you’ve got your secret ready, go on and say it.

Cain: Oookay…

Cain: When I woke up yesterday, my pants were ◯◯◯◯.

Cain: What the…!

Bradley & Rustica: We…

Figaro: Couldn’t understand that last bit at all.

Faust: …Really interesting.

Fusetter: That’s my power: I can keep others’ secrets!

Rustica: Why, it’s just like a little spell. May I give it try as well, Fusetter?

Fusetter: Of course!

Rustica: Thank you. Now, to think of a secret… Oh, I got it.

Rustica: Two days ago, right as I was about to go to bed, I was heading towards ◯◯◯◯, and somehow ended up singing and dancing at ◯◯◯◯◯◯.

Bradley: That’s rad as hell! My turn, lil’ pup.

Bradley: I keep my ◯◯◯ at the manor.

Figaro: Me next.

Figaro: My ◯◯ is ◯◯◯◯◯◯.

Fusetter: Your secrets are safe with me, everyone!

Figaro: I can’t help but feel like we’d be living in a different universe if we’d met you earlier.

Fusetter: I’m happy to help as long as everyone’s getting along.

Faust: …

Fusetter: Would you like to try it too?

Faust: I think I’ll pass.

Rustica: But his paw is really soft.

Figaro: It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you know. Don’t let it pass you by.

Fusetter: Please!

Faust: …Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, I suppose.

Faust: …Oh, you really are fluffy all over. …Right, the secret. Let me think…

Faust: …I had ◯◯◯◯◯ for last night’s dinner.

Faust: Wow…

Bradley: Pretty sick, yeah?

Cain: But how are you doing that if you’re not a wizard?

Figaro: I don’t sense any magic, so maybe he’s not a wizard but a magician?

Fusetter: You’ve brought up the word ‘magic’ so many times now, so I have to ask… Are you all wizards?

Figaro: Yep, and we serve the Sage.

Figaro: They came from another world, just like you, and under their guidance, we save the world every year.

Fusetter: Woow, that sounds awesome!

Rustica: And we’re not the only ones. Say, Fusetter, would you like to go back to the manor with us?

Rustica: I’m positive the rest of our friends would be thrilled to witness this unique ability of yours.

Bradley: You Western bunch just wanna toss ‘im ‘round like a hot potato, don’tcha?

Fusetter: Please don’t do that…

Cain: Nah, don’t worry about it. They’re a bit of a special case but mean well.

Cain: But Rustica’s right, why don’t you come with us? I imagine you must be feeling quite lost in another world all by yourself.

Faust: And while your situation might be a bit strange, you don’t seem like you’re here to cause trouble.

Figaro: Yep, the Master Sage and kids will love you.

Fusetter: Aww, you’re all too kind!

Figaro: Nonsense. Maybe the twins will know something about you, so we should talk to them and see.

Figaro: Although, something tells me you’re going to keep all personal information to yourself.

Figaro: I would also like to perform a few check-ups on you.

Fusetter: …What’s a check-up? Will it hurt?

Figaro: No, not all. I’m a world-renowned doctor, you know? I’ll handle you with care.

Fusetter: Ooh, sounds good!

Fusetter: Let’s get along, everyone!

[baylz]

CHAPTER ELEVEN: static

main masterlist | now playing: I Know It's Over by Jeff Buckley

She hasn’t seen Eita in a long time.

When she saw him for the first time in forever at Mika and Daishu’s wedding, she didn’t even try to look at him. Their conversation mostly consisting of how are you and hope you’re doing well, it was the kind of thing you most hear from relatives you never seen before.

Normally, she had a lot of things to say. She was the kind of person to make things seem a little lighter with her words, spewing out anything that came to mind. It was easy to talk to people.

But now, browsing from aisle to aisle with Eita two steps ahead of her, she had nothing to say. Her mind was blank, mindlessly following behind him as they observed each bundle of flowers. “I like this one.” He’d occasionally say and she would simply nod.

The silence was static. It was almost agonizing. She felt herself zoning out every so often and the jingle of the front door opening and closing would snap her out of it. Her body was oddly tense and she didn’t know she had been clenching her teeth until her jaw became sore.

Moments like this made her think of how it was like to be with him. Talking with Eita was never easy.

She remembers a time when they were dating. He had forgotten her birthday and he showed up at her doorstep, unannounced with flowers and a card in his hands.

It was the evening and she was in her birthday dress, it was pretty and in her favorite color. “You look beautiful.” Her mother said when she tried it on. She wished Eita had said the same when she first opened the door, stare in awe because she did her a little hair different today, and notice how her lips were shinier than usual.

Except, he didn’t do anything of that. He didn’t compliment or notice a thing about her.

His expression remained blank, unwavering. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, almost too embaressed to say the words out loud.

She took the gifts into her arms.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked and she didn’t know how to answer. It was a mix of things, disapointed that he wasn’t the first person to call and wish her a happy birthday, sad that he missed her party, and angry for forgetting in the first place.

When she didn’t answer, he affectionately squeezed her arms and brought himself down to her level as if she were an unreasonable child. “You like the flowers and the card, don’t you?”

There was nothing that stood out about the birthday card. It was clearly purchased from the store and, compared to all the birthday cards she had written him over the years, there was no thought put into it. She didn’t voice that, though, and opened it to see if he had written anything inside.

It was just a simple happy birthday message that already came with the card. There was no sign of his handwritting. No heartfelt message. Nothing.

Eita cringed, “I didn’t have a pen with me, but aren’t the flowers pretty?”

“These are roses, Eita. I’m allergic.” She uttered, completely defeated. Her eyes grew watery and she couldn’t differientate it as tears or an oncoming allgeric reaction to the plants.

Eita stopped her before she could storm back into the house and she squirmed in his grasp, “Eita, stop, please, I—”

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m sorry Y/n, okay? I’m really sorry. I promise, tomorrow I’ll make it right, okay? Just—” His hold on her was tight, bruising and desperate,”—please don’t turn your back on me.”

She wanted to say something. To yell. To push him away and slam the door in his face. But, he was making an attempt to make things right. This should’ve been enough, right?

The roses were dangling at her side. Despite them not being good for her, she couldn’t let them go.

Maybe that’s how she felt about Eita.

“Okay, I won’t.”

The door jingled as another person entered the shop and Y/n blinked back the memory. Eita was no longer in front of her, she looked around to see that he had stopped infront of a batch of flowers.

“These are perfect,” He said, tracing a delicate finger over the paper-like petals, “Hana loves peonies.”

Y/n came to his side. The flowers were as bright and big as Hana's personality and it dawned on her that he truly was capable of remembering such a thing.

NEXT CHAPTER

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