#if you were curious about what my writing looks like

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Teacher's Always Right

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

Notes: Very self-indulgent of me as someone who teaches teenagers for a living and regularly gets questioned on my relationship status. They really do bully you (affectionately).

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You're in the middle of teaching your high schoolers about the fur trade in colonial Canada, mid-speech, arms spread wide as you gesture to your powerpoint when a teenage voice interrupts you.

"Miss, are you married?" It's David, sat at the back, legs stretched out as far as he can reach them. He's ironically enough wearing a Canucks jersey, specifically Number 43...a very, very familiar number to you. As is the question. In your years of teaching this isn't the first time you've been interrupted to be questioned on your relationship status, in fact it happens multiple times a year. Each set of students eager to know why you're a miss and if you'll be a mrs soon and are going to be leaving them to have a baby. When you were single, the questions were usually why?

"No." You've gotten rather good at deflecting or at least not letting slip the reality of your relationship, usually finding out you're not single is enough for them, but there's something about David's attitude that screams persistant curiosity. It makes you wonder why you bother teaching your subject at all when he's more curious about your love life than History itself

"Do you have boyfriend?"

"Yes, does this have anything to do with British colonisation or the fur trade or....?" You lean back on your desk, board pen landing gently on the surface, knowing that you're not going to be free of this conversation for at least another 2 minutes.

"What's your boyfriend do?" You breathe a deep sigh and look around the room, you don't want to get into who your boyfriend is. It's not like its a well known fact that you're dating the captain of the Vancouver Canucks and you try to keep it that way. Not because you're ashamed but because its your private life, school and home, those are as separate as you can make them. It would be impossible to do that if everyone was talking about your relationship, although you know eventually it'll become more public.

Stacy from one of the desk by the windows chimes in this time, curiosity peaked, dragging her away from her current hobby of staring out the window in boredom, "C'mon, miss, it can't be that bad? What? Is he like unemployed or something?" She says while chewing loudly on a wad of gum.

"Gum in the bin, Stacy." Her chewing stops and she slumps as she stomps her way to your classroom bin, spitting the gum in with a roll of her eyes.

"So? Is he unemployed?" You decide to answer the question, only because Stacy actually did what you said this time. You hated gum in the classroom, mostly because it always ended up on the bottom of your shoes and made them stick to the floor as you walked. You wouldn't mind it so much if they could all just throw it away normally.

"No. He's got a job, a good job." A really good job, a ridiculously good job actually. You didn't talk money with Quinn much, but the reality was that he made an amount in a year that you would never make in a life time as a teacher.

"Sooo???" David interjects, leaning forward now in his seat, clearly not happy enough to just know your boyfriend isn't some unemployed bum.

"He's a hockey player."

"Like beer league?"

"No. Like NHL." You watch your classes faces in what feels like slow motion, the series of disbelieving looks, wide eyes and raised eyebrows that are quickly followed by a chorus of objections and claims that you can't be telling the truth.

"Nah, no way! You're not here, teaching us, and dating a guy who makes millions, nah." It's actually frustrating, it shouldn't be. You've literally had students throw tables at you and yet, the idea that they think you are a liar is what makes you frustrated. Is it really that hard to believe that you enjoy your job and don't want to scrounge off of your pro-athlete boyfriend? Or that hard to believe that you managed to snag a pro-athlete in the first place?

"You don't believe me?"

"Nah, like if you are, he's gotta be in some really bad team in the US." You're already formulating a plan to prove to your students that you're not lying and not dating a shit NHL player. Sure, the plan involves a lot more work for you, but the idea is in your head and you can't help but think that it'll be worth it.

"He's a Canuck." You smirk a little, knowing the mention of the local team would get a response. Most of the kids you teach go to at least one game a year or watch it on TV. Some have even seen you at the games, but you always sit in the stands like a regular fan. Mostly because Quinn can't really talk to you anyway when he's locked into a game. You'd serve as more of a distraction if you sat front and centre every game.

"No, no way!" David stands, slamming his hands on his desk, "You're lying!" Half the class echo his claims that you must be lying and it makes you even more determined to prove them wrong. Do you really need to prove to a bunch of teenagers that you're dating an NHL player? No, do you want to? Absolutely.

"Fine, don't believe me, but i'm not lying. I'm dating a Vancouver Canuck."

It takes a little to get them all back on track with the lesson but you manage it. Although you're just as distracted. The moment the bell goes to signal lunch break and your classroom empties, you're on your phone calling your boyfriend, even though you know he's probably in the middle of practice.

He answers on the second ring, the sound of the rink in the background loud and clear as pucks hit the sideboards and skates scratch up the ice.

"Hey, baby, everything okay?" It's unusual for you to call him in the work day and you can hear the worry in his voice, even if he'll pretend he's not worried at seeing your name pop up when you should be working.

"Hey, I'm fine, don't worry...but...you know how you love me?" You fiddle with a little wooden bear that sits on your desk. Quinn bought you it after finding out your favourite animals were any type of bear, it's left ear is broken off and it's got a little bit of red paint where it fell on a floor one time, but you love it anyway.

"Uh huh?" The worry in his voice gives out to amusement at realising you're after something. On his end Quinn is stood at the bench watching the guys run drills, Tocc giving him a look as if to say 'hurry up'.

"And you know how you want to always make me happy?" He smiles at the faux innocent voice you put on, as if he'd deny you anything.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" There's zero hesitation, typical Quinn really, if you want something you've got it, if you need him to do something he's agreeing before all the terms are laid out. He's lucky you don't abuse that sort of power really, he'd spoil you completely if you let him.

"I need you to help me organise a school trip to see you guys practice and meet you all, so that I can prove to my students that I am actually dating an NHL player because they're calling me a liar and I will not be called a liar by teenagers who gaslight me all the time!" The faux innocent voice gives way to your rapid ramble, annoyance riding your tone as you pace across the front of your classroom.

You're greeted firstly by his loud and genuine laugh, so loud that it makes you pull the phone away from your ear. It takes a solid minute for Quinn to stop laughing, and he can see the looks he's getting from the ice, Brock throws him a questioning eyebrow raise, Petey perks his head up at the sound of his captain actually laughing that hard.

It's the dead silence on your end that makes him stop, "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes! They're telling me i'm lying and I will not be called a liar!"

"Okay, so let me get this straight." He runs a hand through his hair, before leaning against the side of the bench, "Your students don't believe you're dating a canuck, so you need me to help you organise a school trip-"

"For free!" You interrupt, knowing you won't get permission for a trip that costs the school anything more than a few buses and fuel costs, school funding being what it is.

"For free, to prove that you're dating me?" There are easier ways, Quinn thinks, to prove this. Like, him posting a picture of you together on the internet or him kissing you in front of the arena at a game, but it's kind of cute how much you're affronted by your students calling you a liar. It also sounds way more fun.

"Yup, is that...is that too much to ask? I'm being silly aren't I?" He hears it in your tone, the way you seem to start second guessing yourself, can hear you tapping a fingernail against your desk, probably messing with the little bear figurine he got you all those years ago.

"A little silly, but for you? I think I can pull some strings, honey."

You know Quinn will say yes to most things you ask, but you hadn't actually expected him to agree this time. It had felt too big, too much. Your normal requests were small, something like asking if he could get you a doughnut on his way home or could he put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"You serious?"

"Yeah, i'm serious." It takes a beat before your almost squealing in delight down the phone at him, the realisation that he's actually saying yes hitting and he can't help but laugh even as he pulls the phone away from his ear.

"I love you! Have I told you that today?" Your voice is sweet and happy, brighter than it was before. It makes him want to always say yes to you, the way you light up like a christmas tree.

"Mmm, not since 6am this morning."

"Well, I love you and you are the absolute best boyfriend I've ever had and I will never take you for granted."

He can see Tocc motioning him over, telling him without words that its time for the call to end and get back to being captain. Part of him just wants to keep talking with you, rare as it is to get to do during a working day, but he has responsibilities just like you do.

"I have to go, baby, I have practice...but we'll talk about this later, okay?"

He knows his evening is going to be spent planning out what you want this trip to look like before he goes away and tries to make it happen, but he doesn't mind. Anything to make his baby happy. Even if that is trying to prove a bunch of teenagers wrong.

Between the two of you it takes about 2 months to organise the trip. A lot of that time simply spent getting risk assessments done, approval from your administration sorted and organising parental consent. It also takes you getting the sports teacher on side because it was becoming difficult to find a justification as a History teacher for why you wanted to take kids to meet some hockey players. By the time you've organised it, most of your students have forgotten your claims. You have not forgotten their belief that you are a liar, however.

"I can't believe you managed to get us a trip to Rogers Arena! To meet the Canucks! Best teacher ever!" The hockey boys in your class are especially stoked, many of them playing in junior teams and following the Canucks closely as their team of choice. David is no exception to that rule, arriving to the school bus in so many bits of Vancouver merchandise that you're unsure how he's managing to walk weighed down as he is.

"I told you, my boyfriend plays for them." You remind him, ticking him off the register of kids and ushering him up into the bus.

"Miss, we all know that's not true." He turns to you just as he's about to dispear to find his seat. The scepticism written all over his face.

It makes you shake your head, waiting for the moment the puck drops.

The entire ride to the stadium features your students making fun of you for saying your boyfriend was a canuck, you let it slide simply because you're looking forward to seeing them eat their words. They think its funny right now, but you know you're getting the last and final laugh.

You're met at the entrance by, surprisingly, Tocc, who greets you with a warm hug, "Hey, how you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you for having us, Tocc." You like Tocc, he's a good coach and you like that he cares about how the guys are as people not just how they perform. You also can see how much Quinn appreciates him as coach, so you have a soft spot for the scary looking guy.

"No problem," You can feel the weight of 50 eyes on you, all varying shades of disbelief as they realise you seem a little too familiar when interacting with the Head Coach and its only the beginning. You can't help but smile simply because they're starting to realise that maybe they fucked up. Maybe their doubt was misplaced, maybe you actually were telling the truth all along.

"Are Quinn and the guys on the rink or in the locker room?"

"Rink, easier to fit all the kids, but we've got to get them booted up first." The famililarity with which you refer to Quinn and the guys, does not go past David and Stacy both of whom share a look that screams 'don't tell me that she actually knows them...'.

It takes a bit of time to get all 50 kids in skates, although at least 20 of them bring their own, as do you. You're not much of a skater, but dating Quinn meant you couldn't avoid him buying you a decent pair for family skate and the few times he manages to drag you on the ice each year.

You're about to put your own on when Quinn makes his way over to you clearly having just come off the ice, guards on his skates and hair messy from his helmet. He waves briefly at some of the kids before reaching you, taking your skates in hand without hesitation.

"Y'know I can do it myself, right?"

"When have I ever let you do your own skates? Besides, I thought you wanted the last laugh?" He nods his head in the direction of your students who stand gaping at the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks putting your foot in a skate and putting said skate between his thighs to help him tighten the laces with care. Not something one does for a strange teacher they don't know.

"I'm really enjoying myself already. The whole ride they were giving me all sorts of hell about it, and now I can see their little brains working hard to figure out if I was actually telling the truth or not."

You watch Quinn work, finishing tying off your first skate before reaching for the other, his hands are sure on your calf as he slips your foot into it. "The guys are looking forward to it, think this might be their favourite practice of the year. You might be their favourite WAG now."

"All I had to do was bring a bunch of teenagers to the rink to get them to love me?" Quinn stops mid lace pull, smirk firmly in place as he looks at you from underneath his eyelashes.

"Y'know they loved you already, right? Pretty sure Petey is your number one fan."

"That's because I bribe him with sweets." Specifically his favourite sour candy which makes his eyes water. The more sour the better.

Quinn huffs out a laugh, tying off your laces before patting your foot and setting it back on the ground. His hands reach out to help you to your feet and linger on yours a little longer than is strictly necessary.

"You ready for this?"

"Can't back out now, so I guess I have to be." There's a slight bubbling of nerves under your skin, the sense that your students might not think this is cool and instead think that you're undeserving of your relationship, but you shrug it off. After all, they're kids, their opinion on your relationship is genuinely not important.

"See you on the rink?"

"See you there." You watch him walk away and try to ignore the buzz of chatter you can hear from students, commenting on the fact that Quinn did your skates for you.

You get them registered, orderly and help them file onto the rink, the less sure of the bunch buddied up with someone who had more experience skating to avoid 50 kids bowling each other over on the ice. You did not want to deal with a pile of kids flat on the ice after knocking each other over, the paper work would be ridiculous.

You stand back and just watch. The clear awe on their faces as they step out onto the ice, the large rink impressive any day let alone for kids who had never stepped foot on a rink that size. It makes you smile, knowing you're contributing to their memories, providing something great even if it all started out of petty spite. Even if they don't believe you, you feel good knowing they're getting to enjoy this experience.

You skate nearer to the front, Brock and Petey giving you a bright smile and wave, a variety of nods of recognition from the others. Little things that once again tell your students you know these men better than they expected you to.

"Hey, guys. Welcome to Rogers Arena, it's great to have you here," Quinn starts the introduction, smoothly sliding forward on his skates and gesturing to the line of players as he proceeds to introduce each them by name and position, before finally getting to himself, "And i'm Quinn Hughes, Captain of the team,"

"And Norris trophy winner" You chime in, arms crossed as you watch your boyfriend do what he's best at. He's good with fans especially kids, even if he's terrible with the after game reporters.

He turns to you with a bright grin, "Hi, baby," You can see the twinkle in his eye as he drops the petname, you know he does it on purpose to get the reaction that he does from your students as a wave of muttering and murmuring goes through the little crowd.

"Hi, honey, thanks for having us." You throw it right back, more sickly sweet than you'd usually be, playing up to your little audience who practically gasp.

"Anything for my girl."

"No fucking way!" "What the hell?!" You watch each face drop, mouths open, eyes wide. Watch David as he swears loudly face aghast, almost horrified at the realisation that he might have been making fun of Quinn Hughes' girlfriend the entire time he'd been calling his teacher a liar.

"Language, David!" You tell him off even as you smirk, watching the murmurs die off as Quinn and Boeser talk the kids through skating techniques and how best to shoot the puck, the different techniques and ways to hit the puck with the stick. Half of it makes little sense to you but its nice to watch how the kids get engaged, how Quinn takes over a leadership and teaching role.

You mostly take a step back throughout, watching your students learn from Quinn and the guys, but every now and then Quinn finds you under the pretense of fixing your stance or giving you a tip or piece of advice.

Like now, as his hands reach out, fixing how you hold the hockey stick, foot kicking yours just slightly further apart to adjust your stance.

"So, think they believe you now?" You look over at your students, the joy they're having learning hockey from some of the best, but also at the looks they keep sending your way. You're certain they've learnt their lesson, the teacher is always right, at least when it comes to her own love life.

"I think I am offically the coolest teacher in school, so thanks for that." You reach up and kiss Quinn on the cheek, quick and chaste, nothing inappropriate considering you're both at work and surrounded by kids, but it's enough to make his cheeks flush red.

He rubs the back of his neck with that boyish smile of his and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, "Well, I couldn't have a bunch of teenagers calling my girlfriend a liar."

You're so stuck in the moment with him that you don't notice David and his friends until they're upon you and calling out to Quinn. The picture of respect when talking to who might just be their new favourite NHL star.

"Hey, Mr Hughes?" Conveniently half the kids surrounding you are the ones who claimed you must have been dating some beer league level player or some guy from the Chicago Blackhawks.

"You can call me Quinn, Mr Hughes is my dad. What's up, dude?"

"So when are we going to be calling teach Mrs Hughes?" It's your turn to flush, face warming harshly as Quinn's practically asked when he's proposing to you by a spotty 15 year old.

"David!" You might never be able to call your future child David at this rate, far too familiar with calling the name in admonishment. Definitely no David's in your future. Add that name to the list of names you can't use.

David looks at you with a wide grin, braces on full display. "What? I'm tryin' a help you get that bank!" It's actually mortifying, you thank your lucky stars that Quinn knows you're not actually after his money because if a 15 year old were to ruin your relationship you might actually become a super villain.

"I do not need a 15 year old wingman!"

"Baby, it's alright." Quinn wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side as if that will sooth the embarrassment of having a 15 year old try to help you get a rich husband, "Uh, to answer your question, it won't be too long now, bud."

"So, like 6 months? A year? Next week?"

"Oh my god..." You turn your face into Quinn's shoulder, your groan muffled by his jersey. You're certain you might actually pass away from embarrassment, even if deep down there's a little thrill in your stomach that Quinn basically just said he's going to propose to you sooner rather than later.

"I gotta keep it a secret, sorry, man! Gotta keep Mrs Hughes on her toes." Your toes curl at the way he calls you Mrs Hughes, a small smile on your face hidden by his jersey.

A little back and forth is exchanged before David and his friends decide their bored and skate off towards Boeser who's going over the finer points of 'get to the net' and 'just shoot the puck'.

You mumble into Quinn's shoulder as his hands run up and down your back in soothing strokes, "Are you really ganging up on me with a bunch of teenagers?"

"Hey, I just told you that I want to marry you and you're mad at me?" He's not serious though, grinning as pushes you back to look at him. It's adorable, the pout on your face as you glare up at him for making fun of you. Although, you're always adorable to him, so maybe he's biased,

"Correction, you told a 15 year old that you wanted to marry me."

"Okay, okay, I see the problem." He shakes his head solemnly, hands on your shoulders as he lowers his voice just a touch, "Baby, just so you know I want to marry you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" You watch as he stands, mouth agape at your casual response. You're sure he was expecting you to giggle or squeal, but you're determined to mess with him a little.

"That's...nice to know?" You grin at him even as internally you're screaming because your boyfriend wants to marry you and you definitely want to marry him.

"You're such a fucking nerd."

"You're dating a teacher, that's like my whole thing. I'm a professional nerd."

"Yeah... it's cute. It's why I want to marry you."

"Quinn!" You shove him away with a laugh. Maybe your students won't be embarrassing you anymore, but you think you might have a lifetime of Quinn doing it instead. Somehow that doesn't seem like the worst idea.

[yazzwrites6962]

Trouble ♡ Silco (Arcane)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Young!Silco x Fem!Vander'sSister!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This was not my idea! I got this idea from @truezaunite. Hopefully this turned out how you'd hoped :) Also, I am finally done with finals! So hopefully I can get back on track with practicing my writing. Although, I may be changing my major. That's some extra stress. I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Vander's younger sister finally returns after eight years away from home. She was once a pesky little girl, following Vander and Silco everywhere they went. Now, she's grown into a bold, confident young woman. Silco finds himself drawn to her in a way he never thought would happen before.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, intoxication, suggestive content, romantic tension, family tension, harsh expressions

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The dim lights of the Last Drop flickered casting shadows over the bar where Silco sipped at his bitter drink. Vander stood behind the counter, polishing a glass, before a sudden grin tugged at his lips. He looked up at Silco, placing the glass down on the counter.

"She'll be here any minute now." He said, in awe, as if the realization of what was about to happen finally set in. He sighed happily, throwing his rag over his shoulder as his large frame leaned against the bar.

"Your sister?" Silco muttered, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. Vander had casually mentioned your upcoming return a couple weeks ago. "The one who used to follow us around everywhere like a lost pup?"

"She's not so much of a pup anymore, Silco." Vander chuckled. "It's been, what, eight years now? She's grown into her own and doing well from what I hear in her letters."

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Vander jolted with anticipation, but Silco turned lazily. He expected to see the same, wide-eyed little girl he once knew. Instead, walked in a woman who moved with confidence, her gaze sharp as a knife. Your boots stomped against the wooden floors as you approached the men, a warm smile on your face.

"Vander!" You exclaimed, hurrying behind the bar and jumping into your brother's arms. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you as if he feared you would slip away from him again.

"Welcome back, Y/N." He sighed, glad to finally have his precious little sister home. He pulled back, holding you by the shoulders and taking in the sight before him. "By Janna, you've gotten big! You look... well... you look like trouble!"

Silco watched from his stool as your banter with Vander continued. His usually sharp tongue was momentarily silenced. You were nothing like he had remembered. Your scrawny limbs and irritatingly squeaky voice were nowhere to be found. You were poised, witty, and beautiful.

"Still as broody as ever?" You giggle, snapping Silco from his thoughts as you waved your hand in front of his face. He gulped, attempting to hide his nervousness.

"I see you're still just as obnoxiously loud as I recall." He smirked, picking up his glass and taking a sip. His heart was pounding, and he had only hoped that his cool drink would calm his nerves. "I'm curious, what kept you away so long?"

"Traveling. Learning. Surviving. You know, the usual." You said, plainly, crossing your arms with a playful defiance. You wouldn't give him a proper answer. "Vander never let me feel too far from home, though. His letters kept me sane."

"Someone had to keep you in line." Vander chortled. "Even from across the world." You rolled your eyes, settling in the seat right beside Silco's.

"Now I'm back, so you can rest easy, Vander." You reached out, taking Silco's drink from in front of him and taking a sip. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach as your lips brushed the rim of his glass.

You continued to catch up with Vander, but Silco's eyes never left you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, which left him feeling uncharacteristically unsettled.

As the night wore on, the bar filled with the usual chatter of patrons. Vander grew busier and busier keeping his establishment running. You found yourself sitting alone with Silco as Vander ran back and forth, keeping the customers happy.

"I should probably get going." You said, sliding Silco's glass back over to him. "I've got a lot to unpack. Tell Vander I'll be back tomorrow, yeah?" You didn't want to interrupt your brother's work. Besides, if you tried to say goodbye, Vander would only try to keep you there all night.

"Of course." Silco smirked, his finger running along the glass. "I'm sure I can speak for both Vander and I when I say it's good to have you back home."

"it's good to be back." You chuckled, placing a finger b=beneath Silco's chin and lifting him to meet your eyes. You could see the pink dusting his cheeks as you did so. "Don't miss me too much, now. See you in the morning."

You turned away, waving to Vander as you walked out of the bar. Silco huffed, frustrated with the realization that you were definitely trouble, as Vander had previously remarked.

"Now, what're you smirking for?" Vander grumbled with suspicion, returning to the bar and setting down a tray of dishes to clean. The Last Drop had emptied slightly after you left.

"She's certainly not what I anticipated." He tried to keep his tone casual, but the waiver in his voice was undeniable. Vander raised an eyebrow.

"I swear Silco, you'd better not be planning on roping her into another one of your schemes." Vander shook his head disapprovingly at his friend.

"Relax. I'm not planning anything." He leaned back in his seat, remembering just how protective Vander always was over you. "Just reacquainting. After all, she's family."

"Yeah, well just don't go getting any slick ideas." Vander warned, not fully trusting that Silco wasn't plotting something. "She's got enough to deal with out there. She doesn't need you adding more to her plate."

"Of course not." Silco waved his hand dismissively, but his thoughts betrayed him. The memory of your teasing touch lingered, leaving him more flustered than he would like to admit. "Though... Tell me Vander... Why do I get the feeling she could hold her own against anyone or anything, even you?" Vander paused, contemplating Silco's word for a moment before a smile of pride lit his face.

"Because she can."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You had been back in your hometown for the past few months. Most of your time was spent helping in your brother's bar. The Last Drop was unusually lively tonight. People shouted over the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Silco was in no mood for the ruckus. He sat in the corner with a half-empty bottle of his favorite drink.

"Drinking all by yourself? How sad." Your voice suddenly poked through the chatter. He turned to spot you right beside him, taking the seat to his left without asking permission.

"Maybe I prefer to be in the company of my thoughts tonight." He slurred, a scowl on his face as he grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. He sure would need it, if you were going to stick around.

"Jeez. Here I thought you were happy to see me." You raised an eyebrow, taking the bottle from his hands and pouring a glass for yourself. He shivered as your fingers brushed against his in the exchange.

"You have such a way of making things complicated." He grumbled; the alcohol having loosened his tongue. His mind was foggy, and the room spun around him.

"Complicated? Me?" You questioned, a giggle erupting from your throat. "What did I do this time?" You saw Silco hesitate, swirling the liquid in his glass. The room felt warmer than before, and his usually guarded mind betrayed him.

"You... You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't be feeling." He replied, leaning forward against the table in attempt to still his dizziness.

"What are you talking about?" Your laughter faltered, replaced by a cautious curiosity. He looked up at you, softly, his usually sharp eyes clouded by something you couldn't name.

"You." He growled. "It's always you. It's always been you. You walk in suddenly after eight years, and nothing else matters. It's distracting. It's frustrating. Infuriating."

"Are you drunk?" You question immediately, choosing not to put too much thought into his words. He's just talking nonsense. At least, that's what your initial reaction was.

"Perhaps." He leaned back in his seat, shutting his eyes. "That doesn't make it any less true." Silco was not usually the type to allow himself to be too intoxicated. You bite your lip, your cheeks burning.

On the one hand, you wanted to explore more into his words. You wanted to understand his feelings. What he meant. However, you knew you shouldn't be prying into the private matters of a drunk man. Especially not Silco. You cared for him.

"You really know how to throw a girl off her game, don't you?" You joked, taking the bottle from the table and placing it far enough that Silco wouldn't be able to reach.

"Just forget about it." He grumbled, opening his palm and sitting up, expecting you to return the bottle to him. He noticed you taking it away. He hoped you would just leave him to continue his drinking in peace.

"No." You spoke sternly. "No more drinking tonight for you, and no. I won't forget about it," Silco groaned, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes once more. "But maybe I don't want to."

His eyes shot open, flickering to meet yours. Before you could continue, Vander called your name, needing assistance with the flow of customers rushing through the door. You stood, quickly smoothing your clothes.

"We'll talk more about this later." You winked, hurrying to help your brother. Silco watched you go, his heart pounding harder than it ever had. For better or for worse, the truth was out, and there was no way of taking it back.

But maybe he didn't want to.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The storage room behind the Last Drop became a sanctuary for you and Silco. The dim lighting and cluttered shelves provided just enough privacy for your secret meetings, and tonight was no different.

Silco pressed you against the wall, lips feverish against yours. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other gripped at your waist.

"You're going to be the death of me." He murmured against your lips, his hands exploring your body. He peppered kisses along your jawline, traveling down your neck. You hummed, hands gripping at his hair and clothing, pulling him closer into you.

"What the hell is this?!" Vander's voice boomed, his large frame filling the doorway. Neither you nor Silco had heard the door open. You sighed, calmly adjusting your clothing. Silco looked as though his soul had left his body.

"It's exactly what it looks like." You said boldly, surprising both men with your fearlessness. "I know this is a shocker. You don't have to like it, but you will respect it."

Silco nervously looked between you and Vander, half expecting to be punted across the room at any moment. Vander's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down at you. You grabbed Silco's hand, intertwining your fingers to try and sooth his anxiety. Finally, Vander let out a sigh.

"If you hurt her-" His expression softened as he realized he was glad you'd chosen Silco, not some stranger he didn't trust. You interrupted before Vander could finish his sentence.

"He won't." You smiled, feeling Silco's grip loosing as his heart calmed. Vander eyed Silco, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had just caught his best friend sucking face with his little sister.

"I won't." Silco nodded. "You have my word." Vander sighed once again, turning out of the doorway and muttering something about how he was too old to deal with this. You were alone with Silco again, and a smile played at your lips.

"You're trouble, you know that?" Silco let out a breath, wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead. You giggled, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Mhmm, but I'm your trouble now."

[endearng]

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Hi, just curious. What's your 10 or 20 fave BL kisses from bl series/dramas/web series you've watched or are watching, if you have any?

Hey Anon,

I don't know if you remember this ask, it has been sitting in my inbox for a while now. Sorry for the late reply!

And of course I have favorite kisses. I love a good kiss. In my definition of a good kiss, it doesn't need to be the perfect angle or the perfect "lip-touching", I don't know, people rate such scenes differently. For me it is more about the emotions I could feel during that kiss, the build-up or if there is a special detail that really catches my breath. I guess you'll understand, what I mean when you see my choices.

This is not a ranking! It is in alphabetical order, not just because I don't want to rank them, but because I am lazy.

Bad Buddy

The iconic rooftop kiss. The whole build-up was perfect. The tears? The first short kiss followed by this gorgeous kiss filled with all the emotions one person can feel? What is not to like about this kiss!?

Be My Favorite

I was very protective of these two and especially Krist. People were saying, he can't kiss other man because he is homophobic and what is this then? Yes, I remember Sotus. The kisses were.. not good, but I gave Be My Favorite a chance and this kiss was so soft and so full of love and tenderness. I really enjoyed this whole scene a lot! And Kris can kiss.

Boys Be Brave!

This kiss came as a big surprise for me. It is Jinwoo trying to hide from Kisub and the letter finding him what leads to this quiet and beautiful first kiss. I loved everything about it!

Ghost Host, Ghost House

All of there kisses were so good! But I loved the teasing and the chasing in this scene especially. Those two have incredible good chemistry and I wish we could see more of them.

History 3: Make Our Days Count

Oh the desperation for each other was so real in this one. Both wanted each other so bad! But what I loved the most about this whole scene was the way how Sun Bo Xiang reassured Lu Zhi Gang that he desired all of him. So good!

I Feel You Linger In The Air

The most painful and saddest kiss in bl-history! It is such a wonderful scene. Everything about it made me cry and smile at the same time. Gorgeous scene!

Jack and Joker

They finally confessed and kissed for the first time. And what a kiss this was! It left the most of us speechless and a little bit breathless. The way Jack stopped the kiss in the middle to calm Joke down a little bit and they started the kiss again so fucking tender and argh! I love it so much!!!

Love Class 2

Love Class 2 has some really good kisses, but this one was something else! It is one of the softest kisses ever. I don't know how many times I have rewatched this whole scene. Just look at them. You can feel the softness of this kiss! And there were sounds during that scene... they were something else.

Love For Love's Sake

I really didn't expect that kiss at the end of this series. I hoped for a tight hug, but hello? Those two and the script kept delivering until the very end. This was pure perfection.

Love Mechanics

Yeah, well... perhaps I am just a sucker for YinWar kissing... I don't know. But every time I see this kiss I want to live in this scene forever and I would be perfectly fine. I am just sitting here, wanting to write about this kiss and I stared at it for an unhealthy period of time and forgot everything else. That is really bad. I love that kiss so much!

My Stand-In

They had some good kisses. This was not one of them, but this specific moment, when Joe gave in to the kiss, I was blown away. He really didn't want to like this kiss, but his heart still wanted it. The emotions!

My Tooth Your Love

Every once in a while there are these cute and small kisses, so ordinary and overlooked. I think these are very important to portrait a good and real relationship. Because kisses don't need to be these big moments in slow-motion and with different angles. Yes, those are nice, but I really adore those "small" ones that show the love between the characters.

Perfect Propose

The reason I picked this scene is because of the build-up. Hirokuni asked Kai not to call him Hiro, but Kai just ignored him and breathed Hiro and followed with this passionate kiss and I was just in awe.

Sing My Crush

I was absolutely not expecting this kiss! I thought we got this dead-fish-kiss and that would be it. I would have love the series nevertheless, but this scene? Damn, Korea! Such a good kiss!

The Heart Killers

I don't think those two are the best kissers in the industry. I think they have some good chemistry without a doubt. But this kiss. This moment here. It was everything for me. I can feel Style's hand on Fadel's head. I can feel it. And I love it! I am not normal about this scene! Everything about these few seconds brings me so much joy. The look on Fadel's face, the hand and everything that happend before and followed afterwards.

The Day I Loved You

This is still one of my favorite rooftop-kisses. For me it is the way they grab each other to pull the other one close. The way they want to crawl into each other, to feel the other person everywhere. Such a perfect first kiss! Such a perfect scene.

To My Star 2

I love these small kisses. I name them "A thousand little kisses". Those kisses make me smile and so happy! There is nothing more to say about it. I love them. To My Star is just an example for many other shows out there with these little kisses.

Unknown

I loved this whole scene. But this segment of the kiss, this little dance of them, is so good. I can't tell you how many times I just watched this specific scene. How easy Yuan maneuvered Qian around to close the door. How they kept kissing. I... I... nope. There are no words in my head anymore.

Well, these are a few of my favorite kisses. There are more, but I guess this list is long enough. I hope you like my little selection :) I wish you a wonderful day!

[mlyscha]

hello! I wanted to request a riki fic inspired by the song from the start by laufey! like in a high school au. I'm so sorry if my explanation is off I'm not good at that stuff 😞 I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!

𝒰𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽!

( ENHYPEN ── 𝒻𝗼𝗿. 𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎 ) ౨ৎ ℐ𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 . . . you loved riki from the start, suffering the consequences of it. 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 : angst. 𝓌𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌! unrequited love, reader and riki's family is vaguely implied to be wealthy, heeseung is reader's older brother & interpretative ending. ( 𝗐𝖼. 38OO ) 𝓮𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮' … 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋-𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 ༘ . 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

( 愛 ) 𝒻𝗿𝗼𝗺. @starizzm ⸝⸝

𝒶-𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. OMG I LOVED WRITING THIS REQUEST!! as i was listening to from the start by laufey, lots of ideas just began to pop in my head lolz i hope you enjoy reading this and thank you for your compliment >< you're always so sweet! <3

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍! ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾&𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀&𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

TODAY FELT LIKE ANOTHER TRIVIAL day at school. you haven't done much besides thinking about your crush: nishimura riki. he is your brother's classmate and you have known him since you were a little girl.

so little that, even though you two have never talked for more than a half an hour alone, you fell in love. you remember sneaking into your neighbour's garden and stealing fresh flowers to gift him or how often you asked you mother to make sugar biscuits; so you could give it to him and hopefully make your brother's best friend fall in love with you. and you remember how often you dreamed of confessing as if you two were ditto.

you were written something down on your notebook when you heard someone entering the classroom, quickly occupying the seat in front of you. everything happened so suddenly that you couldn't even process how close that person was from you.

and then, that deep voice of your crush echoed, fitting itself in the room like a glove. "what are you doing, flower?" the way that pet name came out of his mouth made your heart pound. you looked up and replied: "i am just doodling and writing... i am kind of bored..." you say, but then at the same second you frown.

"what happened to you? are you sick?" you watched riki frowning this time. "what do you mean, silly?" he chuckled, holding your hand. "i am just talking to you," you hum in understatement, gulping down tightly as you felt his thumb rub the back of your hand.

"what are you doing?" you asked, making him chuckle again. "i am sensing you are not a fan of affection..." riki says, and as soon as you realised he was about to leave your hand, you grabbed his and held it. "oh...? so you do like affection, flower..." you look down, embarrassed by his teasings.

thinking all of that situation was weird, you question him: "what do you want? i am not writing your essay again, neither do your history homework! you're a grade above me anyway..." you disengaged and he scoffed. "it's a pity how little you think of me, beautiful..."

"why are you calling me that...?" "you are curious little one aren't you?" he smirks, looking down at you and cupping your cheeks after standing up from the chair, standing in front of you. "y/n, you want to know a little secret?" riki asks you in a alluring voice, making you nod as you focus on him. he smiles before leaning his head closer to your face. "you have to keep this secret, okay?" you nodded again, hypnotised. "good," he pauses. "i am in love with yo..."

THE SOUND OF YOUR ALARM has you falling from bed, whining as you hit your face on the ground. "ouch!" you groan. "you fell from your bed again, y/n?!" your brother's voice reached your room from the bathroom. "what do you think?!" you yell back, standing on your feet with a grumpy face. "by your face i would assume: yes." he says, walking in your room.

"go shower and get yourself ready, you stink," when he was just about to walk out of your room, he adds: "and, i almost forgot that riki is picking us up, make sure to get ready in a blink of an eye!" finally, he leaves the room and lets you have some space to process what he has said.

hearing that name you recapped the dream you have just waken up from. you were used to dreaming about him confessing to you. however, you weren't sure why your dreams always finished before he could say: "you"── odd, but nothing to be worried about.

after a big stretch you began your day by taking a quick shower and dress up; following the next step which is make up. after finishing all steps, you sprayed some perfume and went downstairs to have breakfast with your family.

"hello, sweetheart! how was your sleep?" you mum asks you, placing a small peck on your cheek. "uh, great, and yours?" "could've be great if your father and i didn't have to plan our next business trip," you mother sigh. "i wish i could spend more time with you and your brother..." "stop being dramatic!" your father jokingly says, making your mum gasp but laugh.

"oh, i made your favourite biscuits, y/n!" "really?!" your eyes widened a bit, excited about giving them to riki. "of course! make sure to share with your friends, okay?" you hummed making your mum smile.

A SHORT TIME AFTER BREAKFAST riki arrived at your house just in time── his private driver driving the three of you. you were sat on the right while heeseung sat between you and riki. you were holding the small tupperware your mum put the biscuits with a tight grip, holding yourself to hand it to riki 'till lunch time.

the drive was calm, yet, awkward── like usual ──since you kept yourself quiet while your brother and his friend kept talking.

the exact moment three of you entered school, a group of girls stopped to greet riki and your brother── since both of them are pretty popular among the girls. and you? you stood there awkwardly existing, admiring how communicative your crush were; even though he has this nonchalant personality.

your chest hurt: realising he has never smiled to you as pretty as he just smiled to a girl walking beside him. her name is yoonchae, and she is the prettiest girl you have ever seen in your life. you looked away once riki turned to glance at the sight burning his skin through his white uniform shirt.

once you reached your classroom, like the usual, your brother stopped in front of the door, watching you wave at him── secretly hoping riki would do the same like the old times when kids: but he has never done since he turn into a grown up.

heeseung sensing your disappointment, he nudged the japanese boy with his elbow, discreetly nodding his head at your seated figure. you quickly turned your head away from the sight of them, embarrassed.

however, you heard the familiar deep voice call your name: "hey, y/n," you looked over at him. "have a great class today!" he said, giving you a closed smile, lacking enthusiasm. you shyly smiled and nodded your head, thanking him while trying to hold in the pain of being shoot with a cupid's arrow.

your brother glanced at you and smiled and that smile of his always makes you feel that he knew how much you liked his best friend (deep inside). and even though it is indeed something easy to see, you thought you kept things discreet and simple── until you turned seven and realised how obvious you were mostly of the time.

"hi, pookie!" your best friend poked you. "what ya' thinking about?" she asked, sitting on her desk by your side. "nothing much, mei..." you reply, pursing your lips. she hums.

"is it riki again? who got you upset? what did he do?!" mei squinted her eyes, ready to fight the black haired boy. "he has done nothing," you let out a nasal chuckle. "like usual..." you roll your eyes, sighing.

your friend pouted, worried about you once she realised how down you looked. "y/n, if you keep liking him i will-" "what if i tattoo his name on my forehead?" you glance over mei, who leans her head back and turns back to you in shock.

"what?! are you serious? i mean, you can tattoo his name, but not on your forehead!" "mhm... what if i boil write his name on a paper and boil it in water?" you suggest excitedly. "oh my god, y/n, think on something else!" "something else? like... hypnosis?" "no!" she kisses her teeth. " what if you just confessed to him?!"

your shoulders tensed up and your face dropped. you sighed, pondering. "i think i am not rea-" "don't tell me you're not ready── liking him for more than a decade! you can't be serious right now!" mei argues.

"i know, mei, i am just..." you look down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "scared," "but-" "can we talk about this later?" you look at your friend with pleading eyes and she purses her lips, feeling empathy. "sure, i just don't want to see you hurt, okay?" she smiles, covering your hands with hers.

YOU AND MEI WERE JUST about to walk out of the class to grab lunch, when your brother walked in with riki and yoonchae── that girl from earlier. "let's have lunch together?" "ye-yeah, i was just about to look for you guys," you reply. "you didn't even have to come up here anyway." heeseung chuckles. "just making sure you eat, alright? let's go."

you noticed how close riki and that girl looked, smiling at each other like sneaky lovers just hiding secrets.

your brother's arm was placed across your shoulders, snuggling you closer to his chest, somehow trying to turn your face away from the sight of them. meanwhile, mei kept walking by your side, chatting with you and your brother enthusiastically. however, the only thing you could think about and notice yoonchae and your crush walking side by side a few steps behind.

"can i eat those biscuits too?" your brother's voice echoed. you glanced down to the small biscuits tupperware you were holding. "what do you think?" you sarcastically ask him. humming, he replies: "i think because i am your brother i can have all of them," heeseung steals it from you, holding it high from your reach.

you scoff, mocking his childish action, completely ignoring his teases. "give it back," you display your palm, waiting for him to hand it back to you── in which he did, frowning as mei and him traded confused eye sights, thinking that your behaviour was curious.

WHILE SITTING ON THE CAFETERIA'S bench, heeseung and your friend couldn't stop looking at each other while watching your quiet behaviour, since you were always more comfortable to be yourself/talkative when your best friend was there.

heeseung gestures to your friend, signalising he wanted to talk to her. "guys, i'll buy something sweet, alright? i'll be right back," heeseung said── the three of you nodding. standing up from the bench, he glances at your friend.

"oh, really? i'll go with you then, i am craving something sweet!" mei felt you holding her hand, asking her to not leave. "it's going to be fast," "i am going with you," "no, finish your lunch, otherwise you'll fell sick." and then she follows your brother to a corner, doing her best to ignore your pleading eyes.

"gosh, this conversation better be quick── otherwise i think i might die," mei says, looking at you sitting there while hugging yourself. "okay, do you know anything? i mean, did y/n tell you something?"

"ugh, i hate this because-" she glances at heeseung with a scrunched nose, pondering if she should tell him. "heeseung, you have to promise me you won't tell y/n i told you this, but..." mei sighs before revealing: "y/n likes- no, i mean, she loves riki. a lot." she explains. "and i think this has something to do with him being close to yoonchae,"

"i knew it!" he whispers-yells and mei's eyes widens. "i were almost sure you knew, but i didn't know you were that enthusiastic about it," she says. "anyway, what should we do to help her then?" "you got my number right?" he asks and she cocks a brow, nodding. "good, we can discuss about it later-"

"discuss what?" "AHHHH!" "OH MY GOD, Y/N!" "you scared us!" "were you guys talking about me?" "WHAT?!" heeseung and mei looked at each other like accomplices, nervously pondering what do say. "look, y/n-"

"don't tell me..." you gasped. "you two were making out?!" both of them became silent, processing. "i kne-!" "you knew nothing because there is nothing going on! let's go back, y/n!" mei began to walk you back to the table, looking angrily back at heeseung while he discreetly laughed.

THE BELL RANG, MAKING EVERYONE feel relieved and happy that another busy day at school finished. you sighed as you began to pack your belongings.

"are you good to go?" your best friend asked, patiently waiting for you to leave class with her. you nodded, standing up from your chair and hanging your backpack on your shoulder. "ugh, i can't wait to go home!" mei groans, grasping onto your arm as both of you walk out of class. "do you want a ri-"

"y/n!" your brother's voice echoed through the halls and you couldn't help but roll your eyes with annoyance, looking back where the voice came from. "where are you going not waiting for me?"

"what do you mean? we are going to the same house, i don't need to wait for you like a little girl." you glance over at the japanese boy standing beside heeseung, focus on his phone── texting someone.

heeseung, meanwhile, just chuckled at your attitude. "stop acting like this, bubs," he messes up with your hair. "let's go, shall we?" he nudges riki with his shoulder and you frown your brows a little bit.

THE RIDE BACK HOME WAS quiet, just like earlier. riki and heeseung kept talking and like the usual you kept quiet, holding onto your biscuit's tupperware── untouched.

once the car parked in front of your house, you and heeseung exited the car, thanking riki. the japanese boy smiled, saying it was nothing and wishing a good night.

walking in your house, the smell of fresh savoury food reached you from the entrance. "honey! the kids arrived!" your mum's sweet voice came from the kitchen, calling your father. "hello, my babies," your mother greeted both of you, picking up the thrown backpacks and putting it away in a basket. "alright, both of you go shower so we can have dinner, okay?"

GOING DOWNSTAIRS FOLLOWING THE DELICIOUS smell trail, you encountered your whole family united at the dinning room, organising the dinner table. "oh, hello, sweetie," your mum's sight laid on you. "take a seat!" she says with a big smile.

"how was class today?" your dad ask both of you. "good," "normal," "how boring! here, i made steak today to help on your guys 'teenager mood'," she jokes and the old man laughs. "teenager mood is a great one!" he says and your mum chuckles. "i know," she pauses as she sits on the table. "help yourselves!"

even though you were considerably hungry, the sight of riki that touchy with another girl bothered you. it's not like you two have something even that special that could make you worry that much, but you── unfortunately ──had big expectations since a kid against your relationship with him. it hurts. it really does.

you weren't expecting to ever have to experience an awkward silence with him as much as you began experiencing. you weren't expecting to be looked at like you were nothing but a burden when it's just the two of you and no one else in the room. you weren't expecting to be nothing either.

"how about you, y/n?" your mother's voice echoed, waking you up from your trance. "oh? yeah, it is..." "you haven't touched your food yet," heeseung wheezed, leading to a dirty look from you. "just the thought of you is delicious!" you explain yourself, making your mum chuckle. "it's okay, honey, just eat."

"oh, i noticed you haven't eaten the biscuits i have baked this morning, sweetie... did it taste bad?" your mum asked apprehensive. you sigh, smiling. "no, mum, i just had a upset stomach..." "oh... okay..."

"is there any interesting girl in your school, son?" your father questions your brother. "that i am liking? no, not at the moment," heeseung shrugs. "has your friend found anyone?"

you choke on your water, coughing uncontrollably. your mother pats your back and asks if you were okay. "excuse me," you say, standing up from your seat and sprinting to the bathroom.

once you locked yourself in the bathroom, you soaked your face with water, trying to process the question you weren't ready to hear the answer── thinking about the possibly right answer leaving your brother's mouth scared you.

you stood there in front of the mirror for a good three minutes, leaving the room with a deep breath, recomposing yourself and finishing dining with empty thoughts.

YOU WERE UPSTAIRS IN YOUR room finishing the book you have read a few times before. feeling a sense of boredom, you made your way to your brother's room, knocking on his door.

"so that's what i tol- oh wait a second, bro, y/n is here," heeseung opened the door while holding his phone up at his ear. "what is it, missy?" putting his phone down, he gently pulls you in to enter, shutting the door as you did so.

"i am kind of bored── just wanted to make a little visit," heeseung frowns. "okay? lay down, i am doing a school project." "i won't bother," you surrender yourself, plopping on his bed.

while laying on heeseung's bed, you started to feel sleepy. something about the soothing voice he was talking to behind the phone and the noise his keyboard was making── everything so relaxing. with that, you took advantage of the environment and decided to take a nap before returning to your room later.

however, you began to hear a suspicious conversation brewing, growing your earbuds as soon as you heard: "you know, yoonchae has texted me earlier saying that," riki paused, the noise of sheets echoing from the phone── like he were moving himself around. "- she wanted to make it official soon," he sighs. "and now, i am not sure what to do..."

"what do you mean? you told me you were in love with her like... yesterday and for the past three months...?" "i know but-" he takes another deep sigh. "i know she is pretty, we have the greatest connection, she is smart as fuck── like: straight up, perfect, but now i don't know how i should make it official, you know? what if i don't reach her expectations?"

"riki, if she likes you, she won't accept anything less than your best, that's all i have to say." you heard your crush whining. "i'll see what i can do then."

"are you planning to ask her when?" "i think," riki paused, humming as he though. "this weekend── i'll probably ask her out on a date and confess; give her a ring and all."

"okay, i got to go now, it's getting late and y/n is sleeping on my bed," you heard riki chuckling. "alright, see you tomorrow." "see you, bro, good luck."

once you heard heeseung standing up from his chair you closed your eyes shut── feeling a few tears streaming down, wetting a already soaked spot on your brother's bed; from all the tears that have streamed down your face the moment you began to hear their conversation.

"y/n? wake up, go back to your-" "i am awake," you opened your eyes, slowly sitting on the edge of his bed. "oh...? were you?" you watched your brother's voice shaky and his throat swallowing dry.

do you recognise the sound of glass shattering? and how about the pain after it hits you? it hurts right? it hurts even more when the glass shattering is your heart and a stupid sharp piece of it stabbing your chest a billion times, leaving you numb── paralysed. not even your tears being felt at this point.

"since-?" "since everything." you stood up from his bed, standing on your toes while sobbing. "you knew, didn't you?" you scoffed in disbelief. "you always knew how much i liked him..." "y/n, you know all i do is to protect yo-"

"SHUT UP!" you snap. "YOU ALWAYS TREAT ME LIKE A FUCKING KID!" you take a few steps back from where you brother stood, disgusted. "that's why riki never perceived me as a woman... IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" suddenly, you felt big arms hugging you. "it's all your fault..." you sob as you grow weak.

"you don't mean it..." "i mean it," you whisper. "I FUCKING MEAN IT!" you try to push him away from you, but he doesn't let you do that, holding you tighter. "i am sorry, i am so sorry."

the last thing you remember is being held by your brother while crying your eyes off.

YOU WERE SITTING ON THE bench of a nearby park, appreciating the sunset view while trying to forget what has happened. you woke up today feeling blue and with swollen eyes, deciding to call it a day and refusing to go to school.

suddenly you feel a presence by your side: riki. "are you okay? heeseung told me you were going to be here and that i should've pick you up." he asks and you look away. "aren't you going to talk to me?" you kept quiet. "is that so? mhm... look at me then," you feel his thumb brush against the skin of your neck, gently pulling it to look at you.

"did i do something that bothered── bothers you?" you glance at him with teary eyes. "why are you crying?" he runs his thumb against the blush of your cheeks.

"you lied to me..." you say with a weak voice, muffled like. "you lied to me saying that you would like me someday..." you watch him frown. "what do you mean, y/n?" "you told me you would like me the day i confessed to you." "oh? that? you were six and i was eight, what did you expect? i thought you were joking," he chuckles.

"but i wasn't kidding── at all," you sniffled. "yesterday you and heeseung broke my heart..." you confess. "i should've known better," you chuckle, feeling pathetic. "the way you look at me stabs me like the sharpest knife." "what do you...?" "like a reminder you don't feel the same."

a few seconds into an awkward silence you confess: "i loved you from the start, riki," "y/n, i-" "since day one; my whole life, riki! i can't stop thinking about you since we were kids!"

YOU SLOWLY WOKE UP FROM your dream yelling something you couldn't recover. you look around your room but immediately lay your head down on your pillow, staring to the blue while thinking about the dream you just had── different from many others where riki always tried to tell you a secret.

therefore, this time, since this time he hasn't mentioned anything about this secret, you thought for a little bit and realised you might have already found out── that he likes yoonchae. so that 'yo' was never supposed to sound close to 'you'... wow, how depressing.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆ 24.

[star-hoon]

number one girl

"I'd give it all up if you told me that I'll be, the number one girl in your eyes"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[WORK IN PROGRESS!]

PAIRING. sunghoon x fem reader (best friends-to-lovers! au)

WARNINGS. profanity, (will be updated once complete)

WORD COUNT. (will be updated once complete)

SUMMARY. you always admired your best friend sunghoon. but when did that admiration turn into something...more?

DISC. this story is entirely fiction & does not reflect any real events of the idols mentioned.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. omfg this was so cheesy

pls give me feedback, i'd love to improve my writing so any and all critique is welcomed <3

you can still remember the first day you met sunghoon.

it was the first week of the semester at university and in physics class you were partnered up with jake, the handsome austrailian student (much to the other girls' dismay). although you of course could admit jake was very charming and handsome, you saw him as a lot more than that. he was smart and always patient to give you some extra tutoring when you didn't quite understand what was taught in lecture, genuinely kind, and it was so entertaining to see him never pass up a chance to show you a new picture of his dog layla.

jake invited you to his birthday party at an arcade that also had things like escape rooms and an ice skating rink. you've never met any of jake's friends before so you really didn't know what to expect but after some drinks and games in the arcade, it wasn't too hard to ease your initial nerves around the group of strangers.

"you HAVE to see sunghoon ice skate, i swear he's more coordinated on ice than walking on the ground..." wonyoung says to you as the group walks to the ice skating rink. she was one of the girls there that you got along with really well and she was super friendly right off the bat.

"really? huh... sorry i'm really bad with names, who's sunghoon again?" you nervously laugh to her.

she points to the dark haired boy laughing with heeseung as you all get in line to get you ice skates.

"he used to compete in international ice skating competitions...almost working towards olympic level. but he decided to drop competing to focus on his studies. don't let him try to convince you he just 'skates for fun'... you'll see what i mean," she had a lingering fondness in her eyes.

you couldn't help but to wonder what wonyoung meant but you got your skates and laced them on the benches lining the rink of ice.

"before we all get in the rink, i think it's only fair sunghoon gives a little show before we all totally eat shit on this ice" jake announces to the group, everyone laughing along with him.

your gaze falls on sunghoon, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks with all the attention now on him. you see his faint smile and waving his hands, declining jake.

"oh cmon sunghoon! please! some people here haven't seen you on the ice and you've been telling me you've been dying to skate again..." sunghoon finally gave in.

"fine fine, only because it's your birthday," sunghoon jokingly rolled his eyes. everyone cheered as you all gathered along the wall of the rink. the minute sunghoon started gliding along the ice, it was like a switch flipped. you felt like the person you were watching wasn't that shy boy you briefly met a few hours ago. his aura radiated a confidence but also a sense of comfort. you could feel his emotion with every turn and twirl. you could see his visible passion and love of skating. he was smiling so wide, his fangs poked out and you couldn't help but to smile as well. it was the kind of smile you wanted to stare at forever.

he was freestyling to whatever music that was playing over the speakers of the skating rink but you could tell he didn't need choreography to shine brighter than any of the white fluorescent lights in the building. you understood what wonyoung meant, he truly looked more comfortable on ice than on the ground—and you grew more and more curious about sunghoon.

when he concluded his impromptu performance, you all applauded and jake along with the other boys entered the rink cheering sunghoon on, hugging him and ruffling his hair. you entered the rink, you heart hammering out of your chest in nervousness and anxiousness. you've never ice skated before and you already knew you would make a total fool of yourself in front of everyone.

"wonyoung, i've never ice skated before...can i hang on to you?" she chuckled at your nervousness, finding you adorable.

"of course, here hang on to my arm until you get the hang of it. we can stay near the wall" the few circles you did around the rink was less you hanging on to wonyoung and more you having a death grip on the ledge of the wall—stopping every 2 feet feeling beyond imbalanced. you let go of wonyoung making a full stop.

"i'm gonna rest for a little bit, you can go hang out with the others" you stated trying to cover your labored breath.

"are you sure?" she questioned. "yeah! go for it! i'm just gonna take a breather, i'll join you in a sec" you reassured her. she gave you her signature sweet smile and skated towards the rest of the group.

after a few moments of watching the rest of the group from afar, you attempted to skate towards the center of the ice to join the rest of the group. without knowing still how to maintain your balance and the wall no longer within arms reach, you knees completely buckle under your weight. you were pretty much bracing for impact to have your hands and knees to collide with the harsh coldness of ice at your feet. before you could even fully comprehend it, you felt a pair of arms catching you, slightly easing your fall.

"woah that was a close one. are you okay?" it was sunghoon. his face was close to yours, close enough for gaze to fall on the concerned look in his dark orbs and the mole on his cheek and nose.

"y-yeah i'm fine! t-thanks for saving me, i totally ate shit." you joked, a cold sweat running down your spine in utter embarrassment.

"no worries, thankfully i got to you in time. and don't even worry about it, being on ice takes a ton of practice." his arm still holding onto yours helping you get up. he guides you both back to the wall.

"you're really good at ice skating by the way, like crazy good" he let out a soft chuckle at your compliment blushing. you knew he probably heard that a million times before.

"thank you, it's y/n right?" you nod.

"can i ask why you quit? wonyoung told me about how you used to compete but left to focus on school," the echos of the group's chatter and laugher being background noise to your conversation.

"yeah that's the main reason. i guess that's the simple explanation i give people..." his voice trailing, as if there's more to the story. you raise your eyebrows at him, hinting at him to keep explaining.

“it got pretty lonely in all honesty. competing i mean. i made friends through skating and stuff but when i trained and performed in a competition…i was alone through it all. it made me start to dislike the sport all together…” he sighed. “…and that was really hard for me. and i decided to step down from competing and just skate as a hobby now.”

he saw your solemn expression and reassured you the best way he could. “but it’s good now. truly. i think skating in a setting like this, with friends and just having fun healed my relationship with it.” you both looked out to the group, laughing in unison seeing ni-ki chase jake excitedly.

“basically the best way i can describe it being on the ice now feels like reuniting with an old friend…” sunghoon expresses, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

“wow, i had no idea. thank you for telling me. for what it’s worth, i think you’re really brave.” you caught him tilting his head with a questioning look.

“well, i mean it takes a lot of courage to give up sometimes. especially something you put so much time and energy into…i feel like so many people think it's automatically a waste or a shame to give something up. but sometimes its just a redirection and sometimes its for the better.”

“y-yeah, exactly…” sunghoon looked at you stunned. you’re the first person to openly and fully understand his story and he didn’t even need to explain it to you his reasoning.

“i think you’re the first person who actually understands.”

you hummed in delight, smiling at him. “looks like we’ll get along pretty well”

“yeah i guess so” he smiles back.

you could feel the sincerity and warmth in his smile. it was different than the ones he gave you earlier. it was a smile you wanted to see again and again.

since that day at jake’s birthday, you and sunghoon have been inseparable. he was your best friend and you trusted him more than anyone else in the world.

he was reliable, he understood you in every way, and he accepted you even at your lowest—not judging you about your past.

you and sunghoon slept over at each other’s apartments all the time, even having each other’s a spare key.

sunghoon crashed at your place that previous night, you two pulling an all-nighter studying and your apartment being closer to campus than his. you two would sleep in each other’s bed but always staying on each other’s side—simply sleeping side by side, most of the time with your backs facing one another.

he had class earlier than you—his dreaded phone alarm going off, both of you stirring awake.

you pulled the covers over your head, groaning at the awful triggering sound of the alarm as sunghoon shut it off. he laughed quietly at your misery.

“hoon, why the fuck did you sign up for an 8am calculus class. who even voluntarily does that…”

"guess i'm a masochist," he sarcastically states, stretching and letting out a yawn. he reaches over your half-awake body, still covered by the blanket still to grab his glasses off your nightstand.

he basically puts all his body weight on top of you, borderline crushing you in the process dramatically reaching towards the table, a mischievous smirk on his face fully aware of his actions.

"hoon! ughhhh you're so annoying, you're crushing me" your voice muffled under the sheet. he laughs, amused by teasing you especially early in the morning when you're the grumpiest.

"sorry my bad" laughter still littering his voice. when you finally feel his weight off your body, you pull down the sheet from over your head.

you didn't realize sunghoon was still hovering over you, his arms on either side of your upper body. his gaze held something different in it, something you've never seen in his eyes before.

was there something in the air? were you starting to fall ill?

you and sunghoon joked around all the time and were in close proximity of each other all the time. maybe seeing each other at embarrassing moments one too many times, but this felt different.

the blue tint of the morning light peeking through your curtains illuminated his figure above you. the white tank top he always wore to sleep emphasized the contours of his defined arms, the thin silver chain adorning his collarbones reflected specs of light. and his messy hair and glasses wasn't helping your suddenly and unconsciously racing heart.

he was close. like really close. maybe too close for two people that were just friends. the air around you two felt thick and it was like you were holding your breath, maybe you were.

sunghoon slowly raised his hand, using his finger to brush a stray hair away from your face. and you swear his gaze wandered from your wide eyes to your lips. his touch lingered down to trace your jaw slightly.

he suddenly pulls away from your body, rising from the bed. he grabs his hoodie draped over your desk chair pulling it over his head and walking towards the bathroom—as if nothing had happened.

— should i continue writing?

taglist (open!): 

@laylasbunbunny @blackberryrains @luv-jungwon106 @woniebae

@gudkc @enha-stars @dimplewonie

thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, likes, comments & shares are always appreciated!!

[mochinomnoms]

How do you think explaining Christmas would go down with the boys? I'm specifically looking at Krampus, cause the holiday is all about joy and hope and lights and and giving, and then there's just this half goat demon man that will stuff you in a sack and torture you for Your Sins.

The story of Krampus is actually really metal tbh. There was this evil butcher that killed, chopped, and salted these three kids that were hanging outside his shop, and then St. Nicholas came along and uses the Power Of God to commit actual fucking necromancy to bring the kids back to life. God then cursed this butcher to follow around St. Nich as a punisher that comes around every December 5. The French call him "the whipping father" it's fucking insane actually.

Some of the holiday is also a little weird when you put it into perspective, like: oh yeah, there's this red guy that you write letters to and then he breaks into your house and you leave an offering of milk and cookies for him in exchange for candy and gifts :D! He also has flying reindeer with very cute names btw! But we're not going to talk about that actually cause now we have to decorate this whole ass pine tree that I brought into ramshackle :D it's gonna be great! :D

Bro imagine giving them advent calendars! Those little ones with the small toys or chocolates- give one to Riddle he needs one. Lots of sugar intake to catch up on

🦩

To be real, I was raised very Catholic (ew) and traditionally Mexican so my Christmas stuff is very different from what you see on TV and like in Hallmark movies.

So like, we celebrated it as a religious holiday, so the Santa stuff is kinnda foreign to me, I only heard about it from school. We still got presents and stuff, but I remember doing Posadas, which is children reenacting the Mary and Joseph seeking shelter by going to houses and singing and asking for shelter. At the end we go to one of the parents' houses or to the church and have a little party! We also didn't really decorate like I've seen in American homes, we had like a cute tree usually, but mostly decorated the altars to La Virgen and the Nativity scene.

The biggest difference I've found is that we celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve instead; we had Nochebuena, so we'd go to midnight mass, have dinner, and at midnight we open presents. Technically, kids didn't get presents because of Santa or anything like that, we got it cause kids get gifts like how the three kings gave baby Jesus presents. Though that also is a different winter holiday in January or February, not sure. When I got older my family started getting more Americanized, and my brothers got the whole Santa deal, but we still did a lot of the church stuff.

Considering that there is no mention of any sort of religious institution in Twisted Wonderland, I imagine my explanation of Christmas would be very foreign. Though Noble Bell College basically being Notre Dame in the Masquerade event and Rollo practically inventing Catholic guilt in a world without Catholics has some implications? I actually don't think there is any mention of any deities that the cast or world in general worship, though perhaps it's implied with Hades? He's not referred to as God of the Underworld though, he's King so maybe??

This got off-topic, but I like to think any explanation of traditions from back home is fascinating to the boys! And there's a lot of winter holidays besides Christmas and Las Posadas, I mean Hanukkah is big and Yule is reemerging as people learn more about where traditions from Christmas comes from.

If you're like me and have a religious aspect to your winter holidays, I think they're curious about it and asking all sorts of questions! If you had the more traditional American Christmas, then they're super curious about the whole Santa deal! Like, they thought you said your world didn't have magic, so what's with this magically man in a red suit and white beard?

(Also, I don't know what advent calendars are, they have candy I'm guessing? If it's a calendar, then I'm safe to assume it's like a count-down to Christmas day?)

[the-cauldron-witch]

Howdy T'Witch! It makes me so happy that you got your blog all up and designed! Those are big days and I’m happy that it looks so good! Hopefully you think so too!

I say that your writing requests were open and I’d love to pick your brain on some light angst if you’re up for it! No worries if you ain’t because hey understandable. The holidays be crazyyyyyy 🤪

But maybe to something to think about if you’re bored and whatever. But I wanted to ask on how do you think the Bayverse Boys would respond to you (y/n) getting amnesia and forgetting about them completely for whatever reason for how ever long? Do you think they’d try to rejog their memory or try to love them better with the chance of a fresh start? Or something else entirely. I am curious and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve got the time and energy. Thanks for existing!

Hey Anon! (It’s weird to type this and have you not actually be an anon lmao)

I am very happy I finally have my blog up and running how I like, it finally feels like a little home to me. Thank you for noticing! 🫂🫂🫂

Thank you so much for sending an ask, I’m going to have fun with this one! I’m giving them a happy ending though, cause I can’t write angst and not give my boys a good ending. (Also completely unedited and not proof read lol)

Leonardo

The worry and anxiety he feels in the pit of his stomach like he swallowed a lead weight is one thing, but the chest-clenching heartbreak when you shriek at the sight of him and had no recollection of his existence is another.

He keeps a stoic face once you’ve calmed down and while explaining who he is to you, but really this poor guy is absolutely gutted. It takes so much of him to keep a straight face.

Still a bit of a helicopter, using any subtle opportunity to jog your memory of himself. He’ll make a cup of tea for you in the exact way he did on your first date, subtly comment on your outfit when he recognizes it’s something he bought you, anything he could think of to hopefully remind you.

This man does not sleep the entire time. You aren’t sleeping in his bed, how could he anyway? Once he is sure you are fully asleep, he comes to check on you. Listen to see if you talk in your sleep, mumbling about memories or just in case a nightmare decides to haunt you.

When he can’t check on you or do really anything else, he’s meditating in order to keep his emotions in line. He’s completely destroyed, so meditating for hours on end is the only way he can keep himself in check.

Although he’s snappy, irritable, and driving everyone but you away, what Leo really needs is one of his brothers to ignore the attitude and just stand there and let him get it out. By the time he’s done he’s already apologized a hundred times, he’s just lost and broken hearted.

Out of all his brothers, Raph is probably the one that cracks him and gets him to just spit it out. They all know what’s going on and how much Leo’s hurting from it all, but he still needs to let it out. Raph can handle the attitude with ease, brushing it aside and letting Leo get himself together

After what feels like an eternity, you gain your memory back at the most random of times while you happened to be watching him practice his kata. When you start babbling memories excitedly, he picks you up in a hug and cries into you.

It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching, he’s crying and just so grateful that you remember who he is. Weeping tears of joy and the bottled anxiety finally burst as he holds you. Bear with this poor guy, it’s been a ride for both of you really.

Raphael

This poor guy is so surprised and in shock when you don’t remember him, he thinks you’re playing some sort of prank on him at first.

“Heh- babe, c’mon…don’t joke around like dat”

Once it hits him that this isn’t a prank or joke, you genuinely do not know who he is, Raph practically shuts down.

The love of his life doesn’t remember who he is, even looks at him like he’s the monster he felt he was before meeting you. It breaks his heart so much he locks himself away for a day or two, unfortunately leaving you more confused.

When you start wanting to be near him- no, needing to be near him, is when he starts coming around. He found you pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door like a cat waiting to enter a closed off room one night.

You couldn’t explain it, but you have this invisible pull and primal need to be near him somehow. To be close, even touching him. Although you don’t remember why, you just know you need to,

Raph starts coming out of his room and trying to act normal, but when his brothers look him in the face an see how red and raw his eyes are, the dark circles, and the heartbreak in his eyes, they know it’s just an act but wisely choose not to comment.

He catches you staring at him while he’s working out, chuckling as you bashfully try to shy away. He doesn’t tease or joke though, instead encourages you to come watch

“I miss my favorite spotting partner,” Raph admits, hoping that will help jog your memory a little. It doesn’t outright, but you do find yourself already knowing how to spot him.

After a few days of you following Raph around like a lost puppy, your memory finally comes crashing back to you when Raph slipped the boxing gloves on you for practice.

Relief. So much relief it washes over Raph like a tidal wave that nearly knocks him off his feet. He holds you and kisses you, telling you repeatedly how grateful and happy he is you have your memory and you’re here. The tears will come at night while the two of you are in bed for the night, but he holds you and everything is okay.

Donatello

Initiate full on analytical mode. He is immediately going through a thousand different scenarios and cures in his head, he almost forgets that *you forgot* who he was all together, so his babbling did nothing to calm you down.

Even with all his knowledge and abilities, it still doesn’t negate the overwhelming emotions he feels when you don’t recognize him. It hurts, makes it hard for Donnie to even breathe, but he hides it behind his science and research.

Sitting in front of his computer for days on end in between checking up on your, it becomes almost like an obsession for Donnie to get your memory back. At the risk of his own health and wellbeing, he does not stop.

From using scents he knows you enjoy, like that cologne you bought for him as a gift or your favorite body wash, tasting your favorite coffee or the tiramisu Donnie bought for the two of you on a date once.

Let’s put on that movie we watched on that one Valentine’s weekend; you were obsessed with it for weeks!

Oh, what if Donnie took you to that rooftop the two of you saw a comet in the night sky once? It was absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you, he confided.

Countless hours of research keep Donnie from sleeping, honestly at one point contemplating how he could just straight main-line caffeine into his blood stream to stay awake.

Without warning one night, you come into his lab and demand he sleep. Not ask, not coax, you demand Donnie to get in bad with you and get some sleep. He questions if you’ve finally gotten your memory back, but sadly no. And he’s crushed. But you still demand he lay down in bed with you.

Crawling into bed with you with awkward limbs, Donnie is surprised that you lay down exactly as you always do with him. Even without memory, it was like your body still remembered how you fit together.

Quiet tears fall as Donnie holds onto you, sleep mercifully taking him into a deep slumber. Guilt crawled its way into your stomach while trying to sleep, wishing that your memory would just return so you could stop all of this.

Waking up in the morning, you blinked with shock as you look at Donnie- looked at him like you knew him again. And you did. You had woken up with your memory by some miracle.

Kissing and hugging you with love and relief, Donnie can’t keep his hands off of you or keep the tears from smudging his glasses. It was all so hard to believe while it was happening that now it was over, it felt like the end of a tornado.

The two of you decide to sleep in a little longer, only because Donnie could barely hold his eyes open. Frankly, sleep was probably what you needed too after all this.

Michelangelo

Confused. Downright, no jokes confused. How could you not remember him so suddenly? Time just doesn’t erase like that right?

Mikey asks Donnie a million and one questions, repeating or re-wording them or giving scenarios. It drives his brother mad, but he tries to be lenient because Donnie knows how terrified his younger brother is.

He caters to you in every way; offers to get you a drink, make you something to eat, get you a pillow, it becomes a little overwhelming, but you don’t know how to tell him to stop.

When Mikey tries to kiss you and pull away, it was like you could practically hear the way his heart shatters like glass. But he hides it with a smile and flirts, telling you he won you over once, he could do it again.

This is when he starts to flirt with you like he did before the two of you started dating, but with far more strategy and knowledge. Comments about how sweet you are while making your favorite chocolate pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream

Tells you how amazing you look in that shirt or those pants, mostly because he was the one to buy them.

He’ll give you your favorite kind of gifts; favorite flowers, candy, stuffed animals, anything he can think of giving you and jog your memory. Each time it doesn’t work, he’s crushed a little bit more, but he keeps trying.

Plays movies that you and Mikey watched together, shared music playlists the two of you built together over the period of your relationship, and whatever else he could possibly think of. But it still didn’t work.

When you aren’t anywhere near to see, Mikey with let himself cry for a moment out of frustration and sadness that you don’t remember him. It hurts, but by the time you are near he has a smile back on his face.

He thought you were sleeping one night when you found him crying down one of the sewer tunnels away from the lair. The sight broke your heart, which for some reason jogged your memory. Rushing to hug and kiss him, you damn near scared Mikey out of his shell.

“Angelcakes, you remember!?” Mikey shouts, picking you up and spinning you in a massive hug. Thank the pizza Gods, he had you back!

Taglist

@silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

@yorshie @truffle-reblogs @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen @milykins @justalotoffanfiction

[lsunstreakerl]

Famiglia-Familie

Chapter One Analysis:

First off- most of chapter one is kind of over a few concurrent days, so this is a bit shorter than my analysis for the other chapters is going to be.

- I imply in later chapters that Max sees more of the accident than what I actually write in chapter one, and that's true! There's a couple of reasons for that, one being that I just didn't want to write that, and the other being a super convenient excuse for reason one! the human brain, especially a young one (like, maybe, 14?) is going to block out a traumatic event, especially the finer details. Max's brain is literally rewriting what he's seeing in front of him and during the actual crash, in order to try and minimize the psychological damage.

- This ties into the way that Max struggles to even refer to the accident later on- he cuts himself off before he says "Jos", he won't call it "the accident" or even really think of it at all. Max divides his life solidly into a "before" chunk and an "after" chunk.

- "But issi/sunny, why was Force India even there?" Honestly, the way GP and Max meet in this fic is complete chance. There are so many spots where it could have gone otherwise, but it doesn't. I mention at the beginning of the fic that it's leading up to the race weekend, but it's still a wednesday, so there's a lot of the support staff driving around. A group of the Force India guys, including GP, were carpooling back to the hotel when they see the accident site, and they're genuinely just being good samaritans when they stop their car and start trying to help people.

- Max's arm is bothering him a bit while he's still stuck in the seatbelt, but the way that it has him restrained, (which he can't see) is actually doing him a bit of a favor at that point in the fic. It's cutting off blood flow, so Max isn't feeling how majorly fucked up his own bones are. (For curious minds: in this fic, Max has a spiral fracture down the body of his right distal ulna, comminuted fractures across his fingers in a few spots, and an impact fracture on the distal end of his right radius. There's some impact damage on the proximal ends as well, where the elbow joint forms, but it's not as severe as the fingers and wrist.)

- Because of the way Max landed, Hayden isn't able to see the way his arm is caught in the seatbelt until he asks Max to start moving, at which point he asks for the knife. Hayden does have a moment here where he's looking at the injury and wondering if it might be better to let EMS cut Max out, but he's worried they won't get there fast enough, and this is a kid, trapped in a metal van, when there's lightning out, and he makes the decision to cut Max out, and whatever those consequences are he's willing to live with them. (Triage is traumatic and stressful and for those of you who care about original side characters, yes, Hayden goes to therapy.) ((also because he saw a dead man))

- When Hayden cuts Max out of the seatbelt to pull him out, Max gets that blood flow back, which allows his arm to tell his brain "we have a problem!" Which is why he starts screaming. Rough night for him.

- Max is having such a genuinely awful night the entire time that that as soon as he's out of the car and someone (GP) is being kind to him, he decides he's going to cling, and he's not going to let go, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. GP is such a genuinely nice guy, and Max is tugging at all of his heartstrings, that he's like "sure I'll go to the hospital" because GP and the Force India crew could see Jos, and they know that Max is alone now.

- Max gets morphine in the ambulance. yippiee!

- Max is terrified in the hospital, because of everything that's been happening, and his arm, and all he has now is this unfamiliar stranger he'd decided to cling to, so he's like "fuck it, all in, I'm attached to this guy now" and then he doesn't want to even let GP consider leaving, which is why he makes life harder for the hospital staff by refusing to let go of GP.

- The Force India guys called Colin as soon as they pulled over, letting him know about the accident and that they were going to help. Colin keeps in touch with all of them throughout the night, finds out from one of the other guys that GP is with a random kid in the hospital, and acts accordingly. (Has people collect emergency supplies for a teenager and put it in GP's room)

- GP has a reputation in the garage for being soft hearted, so no one is at all surprised about how the situation actually ends up, because of course the guy who always breaks for squirrels and gets out of his car to carry a turtle across the road takes in a child in an emergency, that's just how Gianpiero is.

- When GP first calls Colin is the hospital, he's mostly just getting reassured that it's all okay, and to do whatever he needs to do for the kid. Colin tells him that if Max needs to come to the garage with him for the next few days, Force India can accommodate that.

- Max isn't really thinking about the "not talking" thing until he's confronted when the social worker, where he makes the conscious decision not to speak, both because "that makes everything real" and also because he's in an unfamiliar country, and he doesn't have a legal adult taking care of him, and he doesn't want to say the wrong thing and accidentally back himself into a corner.

- "He didn't get letters for very long" is one of the subtler more heartbreaking lines, because Victoria continues sending him letters for months, Jos just doesn't let Max know about them, so Max thinks Victoria stopped sending them, and Victoria thinks her older brother doesn't like her.

- GP goes through the legal hoops in the background of this fic. Colin has to vouch for his employment status a million times, he has to call the British Embassy in Germany to get the ball rolling on emergency foster certification and then standard foster certification, he has to get the emergency foster certification from Germany, and he has to juggle so many emails. Your average person would be completely overwhelmed, but GP is a race engineer, and being overwhelmed is kind of his job, so he handles it pretty well.

- Max goes into emergency surgery to handle some of the worst parts of his arms and fingers, but the hospital is still super clear with GP that Max needs to have some follow ups. (Max ends up with some serious hardware in his hand. He still has struggles with fine motor skills, and he's got killer osteoarthritis in his fingers, wrist, and forearm, but the brace helps with it.

- "issi/sunny, any hospital that lets a pediatric patient leave that soon after a surgery of that magnitude without a thorough welfare check should be ashamed of themselves!" IM NOT HERE TO BE REALISTIC IF I WANTED THAT I WOULD GO TO WORK.

- Max not looking in the mirror goes hand in hand with him not speaking, or acknowledging the accident. He knows he's injured, he knows as soon as he sees himself in the mirror with his injuries that he can't fool himself anymore, so he's not looking at all.

- GP has no idea what to do with a teenager, which is why he's kind of awkward at first. It's important to note that GP, again, has zero clue who Max is. GP thinks he's taking care of a kid who had a normal home life before a traumatic accident. GP does not think he's taking care of a kid who was already traumatized even before the accident, and he's not able to pick up on some of those warning signs until he and Max are living together.

- "Why doesn't Max go straight to Michael?" Max is 14, and has been told his entire life that nothing is more important than racing, and so of course this would be true for a world champion as well, and Max is so petrified of being a burden that he doesn't want Michael to know at all, because he knows Michael will drop everything to take care of him. (He's been raised to think that kind of behavior is soft and he doesn't need it.) He especially doesn't want to tell Michael right before a race as well. Max is also still trying to pretend it's not real, so the less familiar faces he's around the better.

- Max gets really into the data partially as a coping mechanism, because if he's looking at the data and trying to learn then he's not thinking about the accident. This is also why listening to GP read it out loud is soothing to him. GP has a nice voice, and Max can listen to him rattling off numbers and variables for hours. This is also the beginning of a little routine for the two of them when one of them is having a hard time, where they sit and they go over data together. (nerds)

- The Force India engineers are so excited to have someone genuinely interested in what they're doing that they fall in love with Max immediately.

- The Force India garage also knows why GP has Max- they know that Max is from the accident, and they know he's very grim and quiet, so they actually do kind of make a game out of trying to make him laugh, or at least smile.

- Yes, that is the actual qualifying and race results for Force India in the 2011 German GP.

- I don't actually know if Paul di Resta is a good guy or not, and I didn't want to look it up. ignorance is bliss and all that.

- Max taught himself to be ambidextrous because he thought it would be a cool party trick, and instead it's totally saved his ass now that he literally can't move his right hand.

- "issi/sunny, did you actually look at places for rent in Buckingham for this fic?" guys, I ended up on one of the Buckingham city council's 117 page documents detailing next years public transportation plans from like 2013. do not underestimate the depths I will go.

- Max trying to figure out what he would even want in his room is a bit heartbreaking, and GP doesn't understand why Max struggles with it so bad. (Again, GP is assuming Max lived in a house somewhere, when Max's house was the van, and the van is gone.)

- GP gets attached to Max almost immediately. Here is this quiet kid, from a horrific accident, and he's so scared, and for some reason he's putting his trust in GP, so GP isn't going to betray that. And then GP finds out that his quiet kid is so smart, and that he likes looking at the data, so of course GP is like "give him all the data he wants" and the garage loves him because he's quiet and well mannered and genuinely interested.

- Word gets around the paddock pretty quick about the accident in general, because it made local news, and then it also spreads that one of the race engineers from Force India is actually taking care of a kid from the accident site, so Max has always got people looking out for him when he's around the paddock. (Max doesn't realize this in the fic) he's quite literally a grid kid, in the realest sense.

- GP spends the entire time he's driving from his old flat to the new house freaking out about the whole thing. He's very careful and responsible to not ever show that in front of Max, but trust that there are multiple points in this fic where he is internally flipping his shit.

Feel free to ask questions/request clarification on things! If you actually read to the end of this 🫶

[slaytheday12]

Hii!! I hope you’re doing well! Here’s a request (it’s the only thing I can think of rn 😭)

Walker scobell x reader where the reader is a friend of Tamara’s (or any of the people from the PJO cast) and Tamara introduces them, or they meet at a party that Tamara has.

Ok, thank youuu! If you don’t want to write it, you obviously don’t have to lol

Love ya <3

A/N: i love u more babe enjoy.

It was the kind of party that only Tamara could throw—one filled with laughter, the hum of a guitar in the corner, and the distant twinkling of Christmas lights strung between trees. You weren’t one for huge gatherings, but Tamara had insisted you come. "It’ll be fun," she said with that irresistible grin of hers. "You need to meet my friends. I promise you'll like them." you reluctantly agreed just to get her to stop whining but now you’re regretting that decision.

you took a deep breath as you approached the side of the backyard where a circle of friends had gathered around a fire pit. Music played softly as you heard the gentle hum of conversation. Some of the faces were familiar, others not so much. You scanned the group for Tamara, but your attention was immediately caught by a tall blond with a friendly smile.

His expression was a mix of easygoing and shy, you couldn't help but notice the playful shine in his eyes. Walker Scobell. You’d seen his face on Tamara’s Instagram stories, but you hadn’t really talked to him in person before. Tamara had told you a little about him-said he was the "baby" of the group, even though Leah was technically younger. Quiet, funny, and always a good listener—basically the opposite of the chaotic energy she usually brought to the table.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him from across the yard. Walker was standing near a tree, fiddling with his phone in one hand, his other hand clutching some soda. He looked like he was content, just watching everything around him. you hesitated for a moment, but then, feeling a little braver, you approached him. "Hey, you work with Tamara right," you said, trying not to sound too nervous. "You’re Walker, right?" His eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a warm, shy smile. "Oh, uh, yeah! I’m Walker." He scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little flustered. "Nice to meet you, Y/N." His voice was a little quieter than you expected. "Tamara’s been telling me a lot about you," you added, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"Oh yeah? All good things, I hope," he replied, his lips curving into a slightly playful grin. His demeanor was still shy, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that made you feel at ease. "Mostly," you teased, taking a sip from your own drink as walker chuckled. "So, how are you liking the party?" you asked, leaning a little against the tree he’d been standing by. He shrugged, glancing at the fire pit where the others were chatting. "It’s not really my thing, but it’s nice. I’m more of a small-group kind of person."

"Same here," you admitted. "Honestly, I was about to skip, but Tamara can be pretty persuasive." Walker smiled knowingly. "Yeah, she has a way of dragging people into her plans. But hey, if you hadn’t come, we wouldn’t be talking right now. So, maybe her plan wasn’t so bad." His words caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth rise to your cheeks. "Maybe not," you said softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

There was something refreshing about Walker—his shyness wasn’t off-putting, but rather comforting, like he didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with words. It made you feel like you didn’t have to try too hard. "So, what do you usually do when you're not at parties like this?" you asked, genuinely curious. Walker took a thoughtful sip of his soda before answering. "I guess I'm pretty into movies, hanging out with friends ,and my family. I’m not really the party type either, but I don’t mind it now and then. It's kind of like a change of scenery, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," you said, nodding. "I’m more into quiet nights at home. Less chaos, more…peace, I guess." Walker’s eyes gave you an understanding look. "Sounds nice," he said. "I think I could use a little more of that myself."

The night air had a slight chill to it, and you could feel it creeping into your bones, but you didn’t want to leave the conversation just yet. The flickering flames of the fire pit cast shadows over the group, and the distant chatter blended with the soft hum of the music. You could feel the warmth of the fire reach you where you stood, but the warmth of the moment was even more powerful.

After a brief pause, Walker added, "So, what kind of movies do you like?" The question seemed simple enough, but there was something in his tone that made you feel like he genuinely cared about the answer. "I’m a sucker for old classics. You know, black-and-white films and the occasional rom-com."

"Nice," Walker said, his grin widening. "I can’t say I’ve watched many of those, but I’m always up for something new." He glanced at the group again, as if unsure whether to join them or stay in this comfortable little bubble you two had created. Before you could suggest anything else, a burst of laughter came from the fire pit, followed by a few people waving over at you. "You coming over?" Tamara called out, her voice carrying through the cool night air. You turned your head, but then looked back at Walker, who seemed to be silently debating whether or not to join them. "Maybe later," you said, glancing back at the fire pit with a slight frown. "I could use a little more time away from the crowd."

Walker nodded, his smile returning as he seemed to understand exactly what you meant. "Yeah, I feel that too," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We’ll just hang out here for a while, then." And so, you stood there together, letting the soft sounds of the night and the crackling fire fill the space between you. The party seemed distant now, less important. For the first time that evening, you realized that maybe Tamara had been right all along—meeting new people wasn’t so bad after all.

A:N/ guys this is my first fic i hope u love it let me know what you think and please request more of what you wanna read. <3

Edit: I didn’t realise how short this is, maybe a part 2 that will be longer. ;)

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hii, I hope you're doing well!! This is my first time requesting so I was REALLY nervous :")) I saw some posts about Y/N accidentally calling some of the creeps their "husband", and I was wondering if you could do one with Jeff? I'm really curious of how it would be like with him and I really like him ^^

Listen. Listen. This man has been wormed into my brain for the longest time and my softness for him came out today, and this became like twice as long as I originally meant to to be, because I love him. I honestly ended up wanting it to be longer, but this took me way too long to write, so I cut it short. I hope you enjoy <3

While Jeff would never, ever admit it to anyone, he has spent hours thinking about what it would be like to be married to you. To be married to you, live with you, be able to wake up to you every single day, for everyone around the two of you to fully know you belong to each other. The unfortunate downside to that fact is that Jeff doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't believe he deserves to be so happily married to you with all of the horrible things he's done, with all the horrible trauma he regularly has to deal with and make you put up with (despite you routinely telling him it doesn't bother you at all and you love him all the same, flaws and all). He thinks you're just far too good for him, and so the bitter, depressed part of his brain constantly tells him that'll never happen.

So, needless to say, Jeff is about to get his shit rocked mentally. The two of you were out and about, and you'd bumped into an old friend (i.e., someone important in Jeff's eyes), and introduced them to Jeff. Jeff, in his attempt to seem like a decent person under the watchful eyes of someone you have known for such a long time, does pull himself off pretty well, at least until you accidentally slip up and refer to Jeff as your husband. He feels like you've just punched him straight in the gut. He can't breathe, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's gonna vomit, but he carries on with a passive smile, hiding all of his inner turmoil, keeping it locked inside until the two of you can get away from all of the prying eyes in this public space. The entire way home he still feels like he's gonna be sick, trying everything he can just to keep it together. The second you're through your front door he's wheeling around and pinning you to it, arms beside your head as his chest heaves, eyes slicked with a mixture of tears, confusion, and desperation. You can't tell what's wrong with him, and he can't tell why he's reacting so strongly, his mind foggy amidst his air-deprived anxiety attack. The two of you stand there, your hands comfortingly cupping his face while you coach him to breathe, to calm down.

By the time he's caught his breath, he's leaning on you, his body weighing against you as you rest against the door behind you. His arms are tight around your waist as his face nuzzles against your neck, and you're overcome with intense worry, unaware of what got him like this in the first place. "Did you mean it...?" His voice eventually trails off, and the emotion in his voice is untraceable, his trauma brain overtaking as your words replay in his mind over and over again. Your brows knit together as you try to figure out just what it is he's referring to, and he answers the question for you, saying he meant when you referred to him as your husband. He looks absolutely broken in your arms, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind as you finally realize why. You've heard it, the things he says to Liu, or BEN, his words about how he doesn't deserve you, how you deserve to marry someone better than him, soon followed by their chastising words about how that's not true, and suddenly his worrisome behavior from the last few hours that you've picked up on (because you always notice these things) suddenly makes sense.

You reassure him that of course you meant it, why wouldn't you? Jeff feels like he's being chastised once more, his cheeks puffed out in a pout as he avoids looking at you as you lecture him about how you'd love to marry him one day, and how he absolutely deserves to have you, how you're not too good for him, a lecture you should have given him long ago. He ignores the tears streaming down his face once more, ignores the thudding of his own heart in his chest, ignores the dying voice of denial in the back of his mind, but what he can't ignore is your lips slotting so perfectly against his own, or your fingers stroking along his scars in the way that always makes him fall apart. He's still not completely sure he deserves you, but goddamnit, with the way you're looking at him right now, he's sure as hell not gonna let anyone else marry you and take you away from him. Not with how tenderly you're holding him, how gently you're pressing your lips across his scorched skin, not with how lovingly you're gazing at him, as if he's the most beloved person in your life, because of course he is to you, just as you are to him. 'Husband' ends up becoming one of your favorite nicknames for him following that day, a nickname that always has his skin flushing red and his eyes softening in a way they only do for you. A nickname for now, and a title not too far into the future that he wears with pride.

[grimeshound]

LIKE FORTNITE, I'MA NEED YOUR SKIN.

word count: 1,517

pairing: negan x you

summary: you decide to try out one of negan's video games, curious about what it might offer. before long, you get distracted and stumble upon something far more tempting to play with.

warnings: 18+, dry humping, grinding, teasing, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk

a/n: title from agora hills cuz i've found myself playing it a lot while writing ... if inside out was real pre-apocalypse gamer negan would be controlling my mind 24/7

---

“Shit!” you cursed, the screen glowing with the dreaded “You Died!” flashing in bold letters.

Behind you, Negan chuckled, that smug bastard leant back in his chair, enjoying your frustration. It wasn’t often he got to see you like this—riled up, cursing at a game the way he usually did. Normally, you’d be the one poking fun at him, teasing him mercilessly when he got too into his games. But tonight, the tables had turned, and he was loving every second of it.

“You good there, darlin’?” he drawled, voice thick with amusement.

You huffed, sitting cross-legged on his lap, the controller gripped tight in your hands. “How the hell do you play these? They’re rigged!”

Negan let out a deep laugh, his chest rumbling against your back. “Oh, sweetheart, they ain’t rigged. You just suck.”

That earned him a sharp glare over your shoulder, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “Help me, then, Mr. Expert.”

He quirked a brow, his grin widening. “You sure? Might cost ya.” You rolled your eyes but handed him the controller anyway. “Just do it.”

He placed his large hands over yours, guiding you as you clumsily pressed the buttons on his controller. His chest pressed flush against your back, his breath ghosting over your ear, making you shiver. You tried focusing on the screen, but the proximity was getting to you, especially when you noticed something else—a certain tension beneath you. Negan was quiet, unusually so, and that silence made you grin. You weren’t married to Negan without learning a thing or two about taking advantage of rare opportunities.

Deciding to test the waters, you shifted slightly in his lap, pretending to adjust your position. The soft groan that escaped him told you all you needed to know. Negan was painfully hard underneath you. 

You decided to test your luck further, rolling your hips slightly against him. A low, guttural groan slipped from his lips before he could stop it. 

“Like that?” you asked innocently, feigning focus on the screen, though the phrase carried a double-edged meaning.

Negan chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on your hips. “You little tease,” he drawled, his voice thick with approval. “Yeah, just like that. Goddamn.”

Emboldened, you kept going, grinding against him with deliberate intent now. One hand gripped his thigh for support as you moved, feeling the unmistakable hardness beneath you. Your soft gasps filled the room, and you couldn’t help but look down, catching the girthy outline straining against his sweatpants.

“Negan—” you whimpered, breathless, the friction almost too much.

He smirked, the sight of you driving him insane. “What’s the matter, baby? Can’t handle what you started?” His words were a challenge, but his eyes were locked on the way you moved, hungry and dark. You gonna play, or just sit there lookin’ pretty?” Negan teased, his voice dripping with that cocky tone he carried so well. At the same time, he shifted beneath you, just enough to remind you of the pressure growing against your core.

“Hard to concentrate with you distracting me,” you muttered, biting your lip as you felt his hand slide down to your thigh, squeezing gently.

“Distracting, huh?” he chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Sweetheart, you’re the one grindin’ on me like you’re tryin’ to start somethin’.”

Abandoning your hands from the controller entirely, you quickly stripped your shirt, shorts and underwear off, baring yourself to him. Negan’s smirk faltered for just a second as his eyes raked over you, his cock twitching against the confines of his pants. You positioned yourself over him again, letting the rough fabric of his sweatpants rub against your sensitive clit, soaking the material with every movement. The friction was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you began to rock your hips, slow and deliberate.

Negan let out a low groan, his hands flying to your waist as if to steady himself—or maybe to ground himself in the reality of what you were doing. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, voice strained. “You feel that? Feel how fuckin’ hard you’ve got me?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you moved, each grind sending waves of sensation through your body. The heat radiating from him only added to the intensity, and you couldn’t stop the soft moans spilling from your lips. He couldn’t help the way his cock throbbed so damn hard, like he practically had a second heartbeat. 

“Yeah?” he teased, his grip on your hips tightening as he guided your movements. “That feel good, huh? Rubbin’ that pretty little pussy all over me like you own me.”

“I do own you,” you shot back, your voice breathy but filled with playful defiance.

Negan barked out a laugh, though it quickly dissolved into another groan as you shifted, grinding yourself harder against him. Your movements became more frantic, your hips rolling in desperate circles as you chased your release. You tilted your head back, a whimper escaping as the rough fabric hit your clit just right. “Oh, god—Negan,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders for support. “I can’t—it’s so good—”

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Get yourself off. Soak me, make a mess—show me how bad you want it.” Negan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you. “Look at this mess you’re makin’.”

“Gonna cum,” you gasped, breathless and desperate.

His grin turned wicked. “Didn’t even touch you, and you’re about to fall apart? Dirty little girl.” 

You moaned at his words, hips stuttering as you finally reached your peak, crying out his name as you came hard, soaking the fabric beneath you. Negan’s gaze stayed fixed on you, groaning at the sight of the wet patch you’d left on his pants.

“Damn, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Didn’t know you’d put on a whole fuckin’ show for me. Made a fuckin’ mess on me”

“Sorry, daddy,” you cooed sweetly, lips quirking into a grin. Before he could respond, you slipped off his lap, settling between his legs. “I’ll clean it up for you.” 

“Oh, you’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?” Negan chuckled, low and approving, as you tugged his waistband down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and you wasted no time, wrapping your hand around him and licking a long stripe along the underside.

Negan’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you. “Shit, baby. You really do know how to shut me up.”

You took him into your mouth, sloppy and eager, knowing exactly how he liked it. Your hand worked his base as your lips stretched around him, spit and arousal coating his length. Each groan that rumbled from his chest sent heat pooling between your thighs.

But then a sharp, startled curse tore from Negan’s lips, making you pause.

“Fuckin’ hell!” he barked, glaring at the screen. The dreaded “You Died!” text flashed in bold.

You couldn’t help it—you giggled, the sound muffled as your mouth was still full. Negan’s head snapped down to look at you, his expression torn between frustration and amusement.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” he growled, tossing the controller aside.

Before you could respond, his hands tangled in your hair, holding you firmly as he began fucking into your mouth. The obscene squelching noises filled the room, along with your muffled moans and the occasional gag as he hit the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your face, makeup smudged, but you didn’t care—you loved the way he lost control.

“That’s it, baby,” Negan groaned, his pace relentless. “Fuckin’ take it. Show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

You felt his cock throb, his breaths growing ragged as he reached his peak. With one final thrust, he came deep in your throat, groaning loudly as you struggled to swallow every drop. When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva connected you to him, and you coughed, gasping for air.

“Shit, honey,” he rasped, tapping his cock against your cheek. “Took it like a damn champ.”

He slumped back against the couch, grinning smugly. “C’mere,” he said, gesturing for you to join him.

Climbing back onto his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck, still catching your breath. He didn’t waste a second, pulling you in for a deep kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that left you dizzy, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle, still flushed from the intensity.

“We both died,” you said, teasing. “Guess that makes us even.”

He barked a laugh, a low, gravelly sound that made your heart skip. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, as he nodded. 

“Guess so. You game for another round?”

A mischievous grin spread across your face. “Always.”

You were more than ready to dive right back in—only this time, you were ready to ditch the game and go straight into the real action. 

[admirationandromantics]

Chris's Little Sister

Can you write something about Josh dating Chris’s younger sister? -anon 

Of course I can!! I think one of the best ways to incorporate the reader into the group would actually be through a sibling relationship. And like… brother’s best friend? Now that’s something I live for. I did take some inspiration from Friends, just felt like it fit. Anyways, enjoy some headcanons for this one (already written one story today, and prepping for Christmas, so don’t have that much time).

And yeah, I still got a couple of requests in my inbox, but please bear with me. I do have things to do, but will get to them when I have the time. Enjoy <3

Chris and Josh met in third grade, so no wonder that when Chris brought home this beautiful little guy, you had heart eyes. You didn’t dare to talk to him, even when he initiated the conversation. You hid behind Chris or your mom, just observing them as they played. 

As you grew older, you developed more of a friendly relationship, this was your brother’s best friend after all, you weren’t gonna fuck it up. Chris brought you when you went to the Washingtons, and you mainly spent your time with the twins. 

Of course, Josh had a soft spot for you. He liked you, felt that he had to protect you, that sort of thing. You didn’t know if it was because you were Chris’s sister or because there was something else beneath. Soon, after a little too much time without Chris, you guys figured things out. 

Stolen glances became signals for a retreat to a secluded make out spot. Secret visits, making sure not to wake his sisters as well. Small touches that no one noticed. Everything felt like fireful passion, and keeping it secret made it even more thrilling. 

Josh has also made a few suggestive comments to his friend, trying to warm him up to the idea. “No, I’m not home that day” “Is your sister home?” “Why does that matter?” “I can think of a few ways we could entertain ourselves” “You’re not going near my sister, I’ll beat your head off, no joke” “Yeah, yeah… I know” 

When the annual winter getaway came, you found yourself with a lot more space and options. You and Josh talked, always away from Chris. I mean, he would actually kill him if he did something. You spent this time being flirty, a few comments here and there, which surprised the bachelor. 

That’s when it suddenly happened. You found yourself pressed up against the wall, locking lips with Josh Washington, your brother’s best friend. But you were caught. Hannah stood like a ghost in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. You both knew you had fucked up. 

“Hannah!” “Don’t fucking talk to me” “Hannah, please!” “Has this been the drive all along? Being my friend, being with me just to hook up with my brother?” 

“You hooked up with Josh?” The colour drains from your face as you hear his voice. Chris, standing there, defeated, looking down on you. Everything is fucked up, everything is bad. “Chris, please hear me out…” 

He doesn’t. He marches to Josh’s room, confronting his friend. “What the hell, Josh!” 

You run inside, putting yourself in between them. “What’s going on?” Josh whispers to you, confused by the raging blonde. “He knows” “Shit”

“How long has this been going on?” You’re both silent, wondering what the right answer to the question might be. A while, a long time. Maybe he’d go easier on you if you said it was just one time? “Oh my god, and you never told me?” He’s looking down at you, disappointment and full of sorrow. 

“Listen Chris…” “Is he forcing you to do anything?” “No!” “Has he manipulated you in any way?” “Absolutely not!” 

He’s still defeated, trying to come to terms with it all. “You have many girls head over heels for you. Why, why. Why did it have to be her?” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were kind of curious as well. Why you, of all people. 

“Man, I-I can’t describe it. It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I love her, and we work, we’re good together” 

You both turn your attention to Chris again, and you take hold of his hand, rubbing over the knuckles softly. “I’m sorry Chris, but I feel the same about him” 

“For goodness sake, it’ll take time for me to digest this” “Of course, we understand” “And you feel safe?” “I do” “And he hasn’t hurt you in any way?” “No” 

“That’s a lie” Beth says, standing in the doorway. “What?” “The sounds I’ve heard from his room the last few weeks…” 

The relief turns to fear again as your brother rush to tackle your boyfriend.

[cupidbedsy]

❃ downtown festivities ; flowers

➪ summary: connor and violet visit downtown chicago and their adventure is nothing short of chaotic

➪ warnings: two people rearing their heads into every single thing connor and violet do (lukas and kevin ofc)

➪ word count: 0.9k

➪ file type: 12 days of au's: christmas edition (flowers) blurb

➪ cupid's notes: honestly, whenever i'm in writers block i really just need to write for these two bc this was so easy to write and i don't know why i was dreading doing this in the first place. i still have three more blurbs to work on in order to be caught up but i don't know if those will be out tomorrow or today so yeah

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

“Are you sure you don’t want another jacket?”

“Connie, I’ll be fine. I promise.” Violet looked up from where she was sitting on the couch, already dressed in her winter coat, UofI beanie on her head and gloves adorning her hands. 

Connor finished putting on his boots, walking over to her, and grabbing her hands to pull her up, “Just making sure.”

She smiled up at him, letting him bring her into a soft kiss. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead to rest against hers, unable to keep the huge smile that was growing on his face. The smile caused her to blush, looking at him with curious and shy eyes, “What?”

“Nothing.” He stepped back, gripping her hand, “C’mon, we have places to be.”

The two walked out of Connor’s apartment, Violet whispering about all the things she wanted to do and wanted to see. It took everything in Connor to not just say ‘okay’ to everything she was saying, wanting nothing more than to spoil her just as he always did. 

The cold hit them immediately as they stepped out of the building, Violet trying to bury her head further into her coat, “Jesus fuck.”

He laughed, looking down at her, “That’s a new one.”

She clutched tightly onto her boyfriend’s hand as they made their way down the street, eyes wandering as she tried to look at every single Christmas decoration that was out. Once they came to a corner, Violet’s eyes looked around aimlessly until her eyes landed on the store diagonally from them, a hit-eating grin on her face, “Connie.”

“Yeah, pretty girl?” He didn’t look down at her, simply pulling her into his side to keep her warm and away from the other people who were starting to crowd around them as they waited to cross the street. 

“I found a store I want to go to.”

“And what store is that?”

She nodded her head in the direction, waiting for realization to click after he turned his head. He scanned the store, immediately rolling his eyes before looking back at her, “Really?”

“Please.”

“Do you want to go because you want to or do you want to go because you want to see my face everywhere?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” She trailed off, smiling before pulling him in that direction. 

“Careful, Vi. You’re either going to trample someone or get trampled and I am not in the mood to deal with either outcome.”

“Shut up.”

They came to a stop outside the Hawks store, Violet bouncing with anticipation or amusement, he didn’t know, but it made him smile nonetheless. He opened the door, allowing her to talk in first, trailing after her as they climbed up the steps. 

The guy standing there, got ready to greet the two of them when his gaze fell on Connor, cocking his head in confusion to which the boy just grumbled, “Don’t ask.”

The worker laughed and nodded, “Welcome in guys.”

Connor followed her around like a lost puppy the entire time, making mental notes in his head about which things she said she liked and which ones she loved. When they stopped by Winter Classic jerseys, he gave her a look when she took her phone out and took a picture of the sign, “What’re you going?”

Violet gave him an innocent look, “I don’t have this picture of you yet.”

“Obsessed much?”

“Yes.” 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Once Violet finished looking at everything she wanted to, the two made their way back downstairs into the cold of Chicago, trudging through downtown. When they came to a stop at a red light, waiting to cross, she looked over at him, studying the slope of his nose and the slight curve of his jaw. 

As if he could feel her staring, Connor looked over at her, furrowing his eyes with a cocky smirk playing on his lips, “Yes?”

“Can you believe it’s almost been a year since we started dating?”

And she was right, and no, he couldn’t believe it. A year ago today, they were probably texting about something completely random and most of his focus was on playing better and helping the team. A year ago today, they were dancing around their feelings and just basking in their friendship and flirtiness.

In a week, Violet would fly out to Buffalo with the team so they could be together for their anniversary, and then they would fly back home to celebrate New Year’s together. Connor’s head swam with the information, at their plans, at the present that was hiding in the bottom of his backpack. 

His smile softened into one of fondness, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple and bringing her into a huge hug, “I love you.”

Her eyes met his and she grinned, going up on her tip-toes in order to kiss his jaw, “I love you too.”

Some ran into the back of Connor, causing the two of them to stumble slightly, the boy turning around to glare at whoever it was. But instead of some stranger he thought he was going to have to yell at it, he was met with the faces of his two teammates, “What the fuck are you two doing here?”

Lukas and Kevin gave them shit-eating grins, “Fancy meeting the two of you here. What brings you two lovely people out on this very fine day?”

And some things will never change, even if those things include running into Kevin and Lukas when he really didn’t want to.

꒰ FLOWERS TAGLIST ꒱

@winterbarnesblog @rowdyluv @fantillisgirl @macklin-celebrini-71

FLOWERS MASTERLIST ; AU'S ; 12 DAYS OF AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[lissasinclair]

Meeting Arthur at the mental asylum

I was lying on my newfound bed with wheels, staring at the ceiling. My brain was working hard; I was frantically trying to recall all the prayers I’ve ever heard or learnt by heart. So… the first one is to the Guardian Angel… The second is to God Himself… Or maybe God doesn’t really need me to tell Him all those beautiful prayers in rhyme? Maybe I can try to ask Him for help using the simple words and sentences?

I was feeling awful as hell. I was just lying in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know anything about that place with bars on it’s windows; no street name, no how it was look like. I didn’t know where are my own clothes; I was wearing an ugly washed-out gown that was held at my waist by the two long cords. I wondered how many people used to wear it. It felt uncomfortable and kind of humiliating. I looked and I actually felt really crazy in that.

It was New Year’s Eve, on the 31st of December. And I was lying on the bed with wheels in a big hall of a mental asylum, a mental prison, with a bandage on my left wrist.

There were about twenty to thirty other female patients around me. Some were just lying still on their beds, like me, sleeping maybe; the others seemed kind of nervous and worried about something. I was afraid to look at anyone. I was feeling like I was displaying myself in a shop window. Two medical workers were sitting next to the door, laughing and talking, guarding us.

Guarding us from whom? From ourselves?

I continued talking to God, closing my eyes shut. I wanted so desperately to have some sleep, but I couldn’t. My anxiety and fear kept me awake.

“Hey, you”, - suddenly I heard my last name, - “Get up”.

I instantly opened my eyes, not believing my luck. I was sure that the person who just called my last name would tell me now that all that was nothing but a huge mistake and I could finally leave this prison. God really helped me. He heard my prayers and pleas.

“There’s a doctor coming to talk to you”, - a female medical worker told me in a rough tone.

“Okay…”, - I answered, slowly getting up. I looked around and saw a man in a white coat coming to my bed. He was reading something in the papers that he was holding in his hands; he wasn’t looking at me.

“So”, - he said, continuing to check something in his papers, - “Tell me what happened to you exactly, why did you stab yourself and so on”.

I was taken aback by his words; it was hard for me to tell exactly what happened in front of all the other people around me. Some of the women got curious and I saw them sitting upright in their beds, looking at me with interest.

“Mmm…”, - I mumbled, - “Right here?..”

The doctor narrowed his eyes and finally looked at me: “Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I sighed and tried to compose myself. I told myself that I had to use this opportunity, maybe this man was kind enough to understand me? Maybe he would help me? Maybe this was my chance?

I started to tell him my painful story. It seemed like he had already heard that same story a million times. He interrupted me a lot and I was feeling that for some reason he was kind of annoyed with me.

“I really hope you understand”, - I told him finally, trying to speak more quickly, - “I’m an average girl, I’m absolutely normal; I just lost my self-control for a few minutes”.

“Well…”, - he said, writing down something, - “You’re not normal… You can’t be normal”, - he grinned just for a second, - “If you were normal, you wouldn’t do that”.

After saying that he disappeared, as abruptly as he had entered. I watched his back as he went away. I really didn’t understand what had I said wrong.

I laid down again and closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how many minutes or hours passed. I tried to sleep again, but it was impossible. I heard some desperate screams, loud noises around me, rough and angry voices, clatter of swift footsteps, laughing and crying.

I wished I had a book or just something to distract myself a little; but I wasn’t allowed to have anything personal at all. So my mind was the only thing I had to amuse myself. At least there was something left that they couldn’t take away from me. I didn’t want to pray anymore, ‘cause God obviously wasn’t listening to me. So I started recalling all the poems I’d learnt in my previous life ‘till my mind was completely blank.

“She’s just pathetic”, - I heard a female voice talking suddenly out loud, - “I mean, she is crazy for real”.

“She is unworthy of any respect, isn’t she? Stupid idiot. You heard what she said? She said that she’d chosen a very special knife for that; it means she wanted to do that a long ago”.

I was lying completely motionless with my eyes closed. Those fragments of their conversation were about me. They were also the patients. There were three of them.

They continued to talk about me, mocking at me and laughing about the reason why I was there.

I wished I was bold and strong enough to get up and tell them to stop that; to tell them that they were also there, with me, in the same place, that they weren’t better than me at all.

But I couldn’t move.

In the evening the cries and the screams around me became louder. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear anything.

After dinner that tasted as bad as it looked and remained untouched by me, I heard that we were allowed to watch a movie because of New Year’s Eve. It seemed such a miserable thing to me, getting stuck in there, at the dining hall, watching some stupid movie on a tiny TV-set. Why? To create a special atmosphere full of wonder? Haha…

After being forced to take some medications and finding no way to spit them out, I went to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water under the gaze of a medical worker. I wasn’t allowed to be alone with myself even for a minute. I had a disgusting feeling because of that; the words “big brother is watching you” were spinning in my head.

There were no mirrors at the bathroom. I laughed to myself, suddenly understanding why.

After that I entered the overcrowded dining hall. There were already both male and female patients there. “Wow, they decided to gather all the departments in here, what a joy”, - I thought.

My eyes desperately tried to find an empty seat.

My head was dizzy. My heart was racing. What were those pills they gave me? They always ignored my questions about that and there were no names on the packs. It was kind of a secret? Secret healing?

I sighed and tried my best not to fall on the floor and not to start banging my head against it, crying and screaming, as if I had really gone crazy.

All of a sudden my eyes fixed on an empty sit on the edge of a hall. I rushed there.

There was a man sitting next to it. I felt a little bit nervous; was I allowed to sit there or should I only sit next to women? Ohhh, what a stupid fear.

“Hi… Do you mind if I sit here?”, - I asked him quietly.

He looked up at me and our eyes met. His eyes were sad and lustreless; he looked kind of lost. He was skinny and slender; his clothes were baggy and oversized, engulfing his thin frame. His features were well-defined yet delicate; his cheekbones were pronounced and his cheeks were hollowed; it seemed that his skin clung to the bones; his eyebrows were thick and beautiful; his dark brown messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearingly charming look.

Usually I don’t look people in the eyes, ‘cause I’m kind of afraid of that and I always get anxious; but for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t take my eyes away from his.

“S..ssure…”, - he answered, his voice was nearly above a whisper, - “Hello”.

I sat down next to him, feeling relieved. He seemed to be a rather calm guy; I hoped that he wouldn’t cry or scream all the time like my female hallmates. Besides, it was a really good place. He was sitting on my left, while there was no one on my right at all; only the window with that ugly bars.

Out the corner of my eye I saw his hands on his lap. His hands were elegant and large compared to my own hands; his fingers were slender and his finger joints were distinct.

I found that beautiful.

I tried to stop secretly observing him and looked at the tiny TV-set. I was wondering which movie they had chosen for us.

A very familiar melody began to play. I shuddered. Well, of course, it was quite expected… New Year’s Eve, the 31st of December… I knew that movie. For me it was a wonderful love story right from the childhood. It was an old Soviet movie, a romantic comedy called “The Irony of Fate”.

It was hard to ignore the throbbing in my head. It was too much… Watching it here… Having no hope at all, having no one to come and save me from here, desperately trying to keep myself sane all the time; answering the same idiotic questions over and over, wondering which answer would be “normal” enough; being forced to strip naked in front of the stupid medical staff, in order to show them that I actually didn’t have anything sharp hidden under my clothes to cut myself once again… As if I wasn’t a human being, but an object to be humiliated… Ohhh… And after all of that I should watch one of my favourite movies in this hell. It felt like I was betraying myself, like I was throwing mud at everything I used to love.

I almost groaned and closed my eyes. I put my elbows on my knees and hid my face into my arms, hoping I would just disappear.

Suddenly I heard a gentle and faint whisper to my left: “Are you okay?..”

I raised my head a little and turned it left. I saw the beautiful stranger looking at me with concern. Or at least it seemed so.

His eyes met mine again and for a moment I felt my breath hitch in my throat. For a moment I was lost in the depths of his eyes.

“Nah… I mean… Yeah… it’s just… it’s just hard for me to watch this particular… movie”, - I answered in a whisper, breaking our eye contact reluctantly and stared down at my knees, feeling shy.

“You… you’ve watched it before?”, - he asked in a gentle whisper.

“Worse”, - I replied, still staring down, feeling kind of afraid and nervous to look back at him, - “That’s one of my favorite… movies”, - I whispered and looked up at him, trying to master my fears. He half smiled in a very sad and meaningful way.

“I understand”, - he replied with a faint sigh, - “You don’t want to… destroy your beautiful memories of that... Being here destroys everything”.

He continued looking at me. I stared back at him, amazed.

“You put my thoughts into words so… perfectly”, - I said, - “That’s exactly what I think”.

The opening melody was over.

He leaned a little closer to me. I swallowed.

“Can we just… Can we try to imagine that we’re not here right now, that we’re… we are…”, - his whisper was soft and calm, like a gentle gust of a sea breeze into my hair.

“At the cinema?”, - I whispered back doubtfully. It seemed to me that I was beginning to understand what he was about to say.

“Yeah”, - he smiled, his eyes were glistening in the dim light coming from the TV-set, - “Let’s imagine that we’re at the cinema. Somewhere in the centre of the city… And we’re watching it there… Feeling free and… safe…”, - he smiled at me, definitely trying to imagine himself what he was talking about.

I couldn’t help but smiled warmly at him. He seemed to be so kind and extraordinary. It was so overwhelming to talk to someone kind in here. To talk to someone who was listening to me at all.

“Nice idea”, - I whispered softly, - “However that screen is too small to imagine that we are actually at the cinema”.

He chuckled shakily, turning slightly to the left to see the screen and then back to me. “I agree with you. The screen is the only thing in here that doesn’t match with our dream… But I guess… we may try to ignore that, huh?”, - he smiled at me; his smile was so tender, personal and playful; it was a smile from his soul. I smiled back at him and nodded quickly, feeling a thrill running down my spine.

I turned to the screen slowly and saw him did the same. He was still smiling. I was feeling both overwhelmed and calm at the same time. I was feeling strangely drawn to this gentle stranger.

The movie was already going on. I was feeling much better now. I really tried to imagine that I was sitting at the cinema next to this kind man, and that everything was absolutely fine. I was trying to imagine that I was watching this movie for the very first time with him. I was feeling so warm inside because of our little conversation.

We were watching the movie in silence. The other patients around us were rather still, only one woman was getting really anxious about being away from her child. When she got too noisy she was taken away from the hall by the two medical workers.

Sometimes I sneaked glances at him to see his reaction to my favorite scenes. I guessed most of all he liked the songs. He seemed to truly enjoy them because of his sparkling eyes and radiant yet shy smile. I knew all the songs by heart and couldn’t help but imagined how I was singing them to him. Why? I didn’t know. Maybe I wanted to make him smile even more.

Several times I heard people’s loud screams from the distance. I guessed those screams were coming from the farthest hallway. It was the hallway located after entering the building. The screams were rather distant yet seemed to get closer and closer before disappearing again. Obviously there were the new patients there, crying and yelling desperately, not realizing yet why they were brought here. I was listening to them with a heavy and aching heart; I tried to pretend that I didn’t hear them as I usually did, although it was impossible to ignore those animalistic sounds. But that wasn’t the worst part. Worst of all were the shouts in response; the medical workers tried to shout the newcomers down, insulting and threatening them. Their shouts were almost completely drowning out the sounds of the TV. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how the hands of the beautiful man sitting next to me were shaking at those moments.

I heard how the men in white coats, that were sitting in the dining hall with us, guarding us, laughed loudly: “As always they all go fucking crazy at the end of the year, don’t they?”

Almost at the end of the movie the main characters seemed to lose each other by denying their true love feelings. At that moment a very sad song started playing. In the lyrics of that song a man was trying to find his lost love. All his efforts were wasted. This song was called “I Asked the Ash Tree”. It was kind of a metaphorical song; very touching and even heartbreaking. This song always managed to touch the very inner parts of my soul, no matter how many times I’d listened to it. And, of course, it did touch my soul now. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

I turned left just a little to look at my new acquaintance. I saw his eyes locked to the screen with a sorrowful look on his handsome features. His eyes were strangely sparkling and he seemed to be so far away from here. My heart dropped. He was almost crying.

I felt my body shake a little. Did he find this song touching too? His soul seemed to me too gentle to be in here, to be locked in this soulless little world with the bars on the windows.

I felt an unbearable urge to reassure him somehow. I leaned to him and whispered: “Don’t worry; they will be together at the end of the movie”.

He turned to me and laughed nervously but quietly, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’ve just spoiled me the ending, have you?”, - he whispered in a cracked voice with a hint of playfulness.

I grinned at him softly: “I’m sorry; but I guess that was rather obvious; they’re meant to be together”, - I whispered, feeling shy and kind of nervous.

He stared back at me with a calm thoughtful look. “Yeah… They really are…”, - he smiled, his eyes were still sparkling; I suddenly thought that I wouldn’t forget that beautiful moment.

When the movie ended, I saw several medical workers leaving their posts and waiting for the patients near the door, shouting rudely: “Everybody out, now! Hurry up!”

I got up from the chair and saw the man next to me did the same. I felt a piercing ache in my heart. Suddenly a rush of panic and fear was overwhelming me.

All the patients were moving slowly towards the door. It was still rather dark in here, and the only light was coming from the hallway.

I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want to leave him; what if I would never see him again?

I swallowed hard and looked at him. “Time to say goodbye?”, - I asked, feeling awkward.

I noticed that he wasn’t much taller than me; he looked fragile and even thinner than before now that he was standing.

He looked at me, leaning over to me, his eyes were deep and tender. “Could I possibly ask you to… to stay? I mean… in here? Just to talk?..”, - he stuttered a little bit while trying to find the words.

“What do you mean? They will notice… I mean… our absence”, - I sad quietly, ignoring the dense flow of the other patients around us.

He half smiled. “I guess they won’t… They need to celebrate, you know… Too busy entertaining themselves”, - he said, looking at me with a dark expression on his face.

I understood what he meant. The staff wouldn’t lose the opportunity to celebrate New Year. Moreover there weren’t any medical chiefs at that time. I’d already heard the dish clattering and the laughter coming from the distance.

I felt the adrenaline rushing through my whole body. Obviously I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to get to know him. But at the same time I was scared to death that they would find us and would try to discipline somehow.

And, of course, I was thrilled to stay alone with him. It felt too good to be true.

“I’ll stay with you”, - I whispered, looking at him timidly, feeling my heart racing.

He smiled, seemingly not believing that I actually agreed.

“Come here with me”, - he said quietly, taking me by the sleeve in a very gentle way. He led me over to the last row of the chairs, bypassing the little crowd.

It was still dark in there. No one turned on the light in the hall. We knelt down behind the seats, remaining hidden under the darkness.

I was watching the crowd of the patients passing through the narrow door to the hallway. I was praying so that nobody would notice us. I still wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing staying here with that kind man. Who knows, what was going on in his mind? He was a complete stranger to me after all; but I wasn’t afraid of him at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was feeling oddly calm except for that strange excitement and tension. I just couldn’t resist the temptation to get to know him.

Finally everyone left and the door slammed shut. I was holding my breath, listening to the turn of the key in the door. Then I heard the sound of the footsteps disappearing in the hallway.

It seemed that we both were still waiting for something in a complete silence. After a few minutes my lovely stranger laughed quietly. I turned to him, smiling in relief.

We got to our feet almost simultaneously. I was now standing right in front of him. His eyes were piercing mine. The only light was coming through the window behind my back. There were some lanterns shining in the inner yard of the building. Their soft glow illuminated through the bars of the window making the delicate features of his face visible. I found myself admiring him once again. Even more now. His beauty was exceptional without a doubt. He had a fragile, almost ethereal beauty. He looked like a real piece of art; something amazing, something historical, something you need to cherish with all your heart.

He smiled warmly at me, his eyes were sparkling. “Let’s have a sit over there”, - he said softly, looking behind me. I turned around to the window with a wide sill. I took a couple of steps forward; then I climbed onto the sill and sat on it dangling my legs. He sat down opposite me and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I was actually here. His deep eyes were focusing on mine as though he was desperately trying to dig into my soul. He was making me feel nervous but… in a very good way.

We were sitting silent for a few minutes or so. The silence felt strangely comfortable and… safe. It was the very first time I heard silence in here.

A funny thought just came into my mind. “Do you know what people usually say?.. About celebrating New Year?”, - I smiled, looking directly into his eyes.

“What is it? Tell me”, - he said with a soft smile.

“People usually say… that the way you’ll celebrate the New Year…is actually the way you’ll live it”, - I said, smiling shyly yet playfully, - “That means we’re fated to stay here… At least for a year… I mean… No way to escape… From this prison”.

He laughed gently and shook his head. “I hope that people are wrong about that… You’ll definitely get out of here… Not sure about myself though”, - he said, his eyes dulled a little, but his smile didn’t fade.

I continued looking at him with newfound confidence.

“Do you… do you wanna smoke maybe?..”, - he suddenly asked in a low and soft voice, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. His every move was smooth, graceful and calm. I was admiring his irresistible charm.

I widened my eyes in amazement after hearing what he’d just said. “Really?.. I mean… Sure, I’d love to… But… where did you get that?”, - I said, looking at him with wonder.

He grinned with a radiant smile, leaned closer to me and handed me an open pack of cigarettes. I smiled and gladly took one, placing it between my teeth.

“You know, my guards… I tell them some jokes at times and stuff… And if they find it funny enough, they kind of… reward me with that”, - he said, still smiling, yet his expression darkened a little.

I was watching him almost in awe, wondering to myself, how is it even possible to make jokes in such a hell?

He flicked his lighter, and brought the flame up to the tip of my cigarette, leaning even closer to me. I raised my left hand, instinctively covering the flame. The sleeve of my robe fell down, revealing the bandage on my wrist. I froze for a second, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot, ‘cause only pathetic stupid idiot would do something like that.

I took my left hand away, not sure if he noticed that or not. I couldn’t help but looked up at him, inhaling the smoke. He was so close, looking straight into my eyes. It felt like the most intimate and magical moment I’ve ever experienced. I could feel his breathing; it was overwhelming.

I leaned back a little, feeling extremely shy. I exhaled the smoke with a sigh of relief.

“Better?..”, - he asked quietly in low and calm voice, smiling warmly.

“So much… better…”, - I answered, taking another drag, feeling the smoke burning my throat.

He chuckled like he knew exactly what I was thinking about and lit himself a cigarette, taking a long drag on it. He let the smoke linger for a few seconds; after that he exhaled it in a long stream directed to the ceiling.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Oh my… The way he was smoking was so… cinematic. He looked so… perfect, so alluring… He was almost glowing in the low light coming from the window; he looked like an angel.

He seemed to notice my gaze and it seemed that he liked it.

“What is your name?”, - he asked suddenly. His voice was soft, musical and a little husky; I felt my heart pounding against my ribs; I was admiring him, watching the smoke leaving his lips, swirling through the air. “My name is Lana”, - I answered quietly, swallowing hard, - “And what is your name?”

“My name is Arthur”, - he said, smiling, - “You have a very beautiful name, Lana”, - he added; his smile was shy and sincere. It looked adorable.

“You have a very beautiful name too…”, - I answered, melting under his stare like a snowflake on a tongue. His wonderful name suited him so perfectly.

The thin wisps of the smoke floated in the air, making all around us looking like a fantasy.

“Lana… I’m sorry for asking, but…”, - he said in a soft yet hesitant voice, - “Your wrist… That’s the reason why you are here?..”

I froze for a few moments, didn’t know what to answer, feeling embarrassed and, yeah, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot.

I took the last deep drag from the cigarette and crushed it out on the sill. I swallowed hard and nodded, staring at the window.

“I wasn’t… I mean… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to do that… I don’t know why I did that… I’m just…”, - I sighed deeply, desperately trying to find the words, - “It was like the other part of me. You know, like it wasn’t me at all. Like the real me was just standing there and observing all that was happening… And she, I mean, the real me, didn’t want to stop that or didn’t know how. Whereas the other part of me had an irresistible urge to hurt someone… To hurt… Myself…”, - the words were flowing out like an endless stream, - “I was so overwhelmed by pain and… fear… so hardly overwhelmed. It was intolerable… Unbearable… I wanted to release it somehow… And also… I wanted to make myself… To make myself feeling even worse. It was like I was wondering… How would I feel after reaching the bottom of this… abyss… But know what, Arthur…”, - I sighed, saying his name felt like the very last step of giving all my trust to him, - “Now I know for sure… This abyss has no bottom… And I’m keeping falling”, - I stared down, feeling my body tremble.

I heard how he sighed heavily, crushing his cig. “You’re not alone with that, Lana… Yow know, I… I do understand you. I feel you”, - he said, his voice was gentle and a little hoarse, - “I feel you…”, - he said again and moved closer to me. He laid his hand on my right forearm softly, like I was made of crystal.

I was feeling like my chest would explode from my heartbeat.

I looked up at him, feeling both deeply embarrassed and suddenly relieved. He was looking at me with a deep understanding, his soulful eyes were filled with compassion and gentleness. “Just so you know… you are not falling alone… And as long as you’re not alone, falling isn’t that scary…”, - he said.

I swallowed, breathing unevenly. His hand was still on my forearm and I could feel his warmth.

“I guess I’m here for…for kinda same reasons”, - he added, continuing looking into my eyes, - “Although… it doesn’t seem so at the first glance…”

“What… what did you did?”, - I asked, my voice was raspy and it was hard for me to speak.

He hesitated for a moment.

“I killed six people”, - he said.

His tone was dark and serious; it sounded like a joke to me, although I could tell from his expression it wasn’t. His eyes became empty, dull and lifeless in just a moment. The look in his eyes was exactly the same as when I saw him for the first time. I could see a pain in his eyes. He looked like a person who had lost all the hope in life.

I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. How could anyone so fragile-looking and gentle-hearted be a killer?..

“But… how?.. I mean… why?..” - I asked, looking at him, feeling my heart heavy for him.

“You know, Lana… I was feeling like I was drowning in my pain... I got used to that, but then… at some point… it was… too much to bear. I didn’t know how to make it stop… At least for a moment…” - he looked away, his voice was hoarse and shaking. “And then something just broke inside of me… Something I couldn’t repair. You told me that you were feeling like there was some other part of you, hurting you… I was feeling exactly the same way… I was feeling like…like I was torn in two… One half of me was petrified and couldn’t move or think of anything, while the other half was dizzy with excitement… With a strange kind of excitement I’ve never felt before… I was… so thrilled, so unstoppable, so… uncontrollable, so unfamiliar to my usual self. And you know what… I was also feeling… free. Finally free from my pain… And even… relieved… But at the same time I felt that feeling that way was wrong… That in fact my pain didn’t fade away at all… But at least it was no longer locked inside of me. It broke free… Suddenly all the pain and suffering were no longer only mine…”

Arthur was silent for a while, staring gloomily out the window. Then he said: “I wish I didn’t do that… but I did”.

I was trembling as if with a chill. Everything he’d just said felt like it was happening to me. I could feel his pain. I could feel how unbearable it was. I wish I could find the right words to reassure him, but it seemed there were no words in the whole world in any languages that would help to heal his deepest wounds.

I carefully jumped off the sill. Then I turned my right hand palm up and pulled his arm gently. He slowly moved his legs off the sill and stood in front of me.

Now he was looking at me. His sorrowful eyes penetrated my whole being. And it hurt me deeply to look into his eyes.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Never in my whole life had I met someone like him. I was feeling like I’d met my own soul in him.

I couldn’t resist but hugged him. I didn’t know from where I got the confidence to do that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and gently nuzzled the crook of it, hiding my face and breathing in his scent. He smelled like smoke; it was on his clothes and I inhaled his scent deeply, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

He froze and I could feel his body stiffening with tension. For a moment I was afraid that he would push me away; but then he gave me a tentative hug back, wrapping his arms around my waist very carefully, as if he was scared of hurting me.

“You… Why are you hugging me, Lana?..”, - he whispered into my hair.

“Because… I feel you. I feel you too, Arthur”, - I whispered back, - “I feel you more than you can imagine…”

I raised my hands a bit and stroked his soft and silky curls.

Arthur pulled me closer towards him, holding me tighter, sighing deeply and shakily. I felt his warmth; it was so incredibly comforting. I instantly felt safe and relaxed; I felt like I was weightless; like I was normal.

“I have a request for you, Lana”, - he whispered softly; I could feel his hands moving slowly across my back.

“What is it?”, - I asked in a gentle whisper, still stroking his hair.

Arthur paused for a moment before saying: “Please be… real”, - he whispered, his voice quaking as if he lost control of his emotions, - “I want you to be real. I need you to be real”.

I smiled, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Make a wish, then, Arthur… Make a wish for me to be real. And I’ll make a wish for you to be real too”, - I whispered desperately and almost inaudibly, - “People say all the wishes come true on New Year’s Eve”.

He pulled back a little and cupped my face with his hands with exquisite gentleness, looking down into my eyes with tenderness.

“I really hope they are right about that”, - Arthur said quietly with a delicate laugh, and then his soft lips pressed very gently against mine.

[bokutosbabe]

Oooh another event! Your Spotify wrapped was really good, I thoroughly enjoyed it. This one seems interesting so I'm dropping another request :3 May I request Chigiri (mainly because it's his birthday) with the 🍉 and 🍰 emojis c:

Thank you!

awe tysm! i had so much fun writing that one and i hope people enjoy this one just as much!

A Chigiri Hyoma Watermelon Slice

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you and i got lost in it

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — chigiri hyoma x gn! reader, gn! reader, popular chigiri, fake dating, one mention of his injury, set in high school so no funny buisness

♡ synopsis — having to live as a married couple was hard enough, but having to sell that you were actually chigiri hyoma was a whole other beast.

The announcement of the "marriage simulation" left the entire school buzzing with excitement and dread. Most students were hoping to get paired with their crushes or close friends. You, however, weren’t feeling particularly optimistic. The idea of pretending to be married for an entire month seemed overwhelming, especially with grades on the line.

When the pairings were revealed, you stared at the board in shock.

Your name. Chigiri Hyoma’s name.

The entire room seemed to react at once. Gasps, murmurs, and even a few jealous groans filled the air. Chigiri Hyoma, the school’s soccer star and heartthrob, was your partner. A sharp pang of nerves shot through you as your classmates turned to gawk.

"You’re so lucky," one girl whispered, glaring daggers at you.

Lucky? That was debatable.

Chigiri found you later that day, his expression unreadable as he approached. His red hair gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the hallway windows, and you couldn’t help but notice the curious glances your classmates shot your way.

"Looks like we’re stuck together," he said, his voice calm but firm.

You managed a nervous laugh. "Yeah. I hope I don’t drag you down."

He raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a faint smile. "Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get through this."

The simulation apartment was surprisingly spacious for two students. Like all the other pairs, you had separate bedrooms but were expected to share the rest of the space and complete various “married couple” tasks. Cooking, cleaning, budgeting, and even planning weekly “dates”—everything was carefully designed to test your compatibility.

From the start, Chigiri approached the simulation with a calm, almost methodical attitude. He’d nod along during discussions and pitch in when needed, but there was a certain distance to his demeanor. It wasn’t that he was cold—just reserved. Polite.

But that didn’t stop the rumors. Within days, the school was buzzing with stories about the two of you. Some speculated you had feelings for him, while others claimed he was just tolerating you. It didn’t help that Chigiri’s fanbase seemed to grow more hostile with every passing day.

"You’re the envy of half the school," Chigiri said one evening, leaning against the kitchen counter as you struggled to make dinner.

You sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. "Yeah, and the other half thinks I don’t deserve to be here."

He tilted his head, watching you closely. "Why do you care what they think?"

"Easy for you to say," you muttered. "You’re Chigiri Hyoma."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Then he pushed off the counter and grabbed a cutting board, silently joining you in the kitchen. You blinked in surprise as he started chopping vegetables with practiced ease.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Helping," he said simply.

Over the next week, things began to change. Chigiri’s reserved nature softened, and he started opening up in small but meaningful ways. He’d share stories about his soccer career, his struggles with injury, and even his fears about the future. In return, you found yourself confiding in him about your insecurities and the pressure you felt to prove yourself.

To make the simulation more convincing, you both decided to "fake" being a real couple when others were watching.

Was this neccesary? No. But when both of you were deadset on making every other couple look awful, it was easy.

It started with small gestures—sitting closer during classes, sharing inside jokes, and smiling at each other more often. Then came the bigger displays: Chigiri would casually drape an arm around your shoulder when classmates were nearby, and you’d laugh a little louder than necessary at his jokes.

"We have to sell it," he said one afternoon, smirking as he handed you a coffee during a study session. "Otherwise, they’ll fail us for not being convincing."

They wouldn't, by the way, but Chigiri knew you weren't aware of that.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest. "Fine, but don’t overdo it."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Scared you’ll fall for me?"

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly turned back to your notes. "In your dreams."

The tasks became easier as you both leaned into the act. Cooking together turned into a surprisingly enjoyable routine, with Chigiri occasionally teasing you about your lack of culinary skills. Budgeting sessions were filled with quiet laughter as you argued over unnecessary expenses, like the overpriced scented candles he insisted on buying.

On one particularly busy day, you found yourself rushing to a mock family dinner the school had organized as part of the simulation. Chigiri, ever the composed one, casually slipped his hand into yours as you walked into the event.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, glancing at the curious eyes on you.

"Relax," he murmured, his grip steady. "Just playing the part."

Your heart pounded as his thumb brushed against your knuckles, and for a moment, you forgot it was all pretend.

The first date night was awkward, to say the least. The simulation required you to plan a romantic evening together, and neither of you knew where to start. In the end, you settled on a movie night in the living room, complete with popcorn and a stack of cheesy rom-coms.

To your surprise, Chigiri seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. He laughed at all the right moments, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a relaxed, almost boyish charm. By the time the credits rolled, you were both lying on the couch, your shoulders brushing as you shared a blanket.

"This isn’t so bad," he admitted, glancing at you with a small smile.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Yeah. Not bad at all."

By the third week, the line between "pretend" and "real" began to blur.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere along the way, your feelings for Chigiri deepened. It wasn’t just a schoolgirl crush anymore. You admired his determination, his kindness, and the quiet strength he carried despite everything he’d been through.

But you were convinced he didn’t feel the same. Why would he? Chigiri Hyoma was out of your league in every possible way. He deserved someone confident, someone beautiful—someone who wasn’t you.

The final task of the simulation was a formal dinner, complete with fancy outfits and a grading panel. You spent the entire day stressing over every detail, from the menu to the table setting. Chigiri, as usual, remained calm and composed.

When he stepped out of his room in a sharp suit, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked… breathtaking.

"You clean up well," he said, his eyes sweeping over your outfit.

"You too," you managed, feeling your cheeks heat up.

The dinner went off without a hitch, and by the end of the night, you were both sitting on the balcony, watching the city lights. The simulation was nearly over, and you couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling in your chest.

"What happens after this?" you asked softly.

Chigiri turned to you, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… we go back to normal, right? Like none of this ever happened."

He was silent for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the railing. "Do you want it to go back to normal?"

Your heart pounded. "I… I don’t know."

Chigiri’s gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch. Vulnerability. Hope.

"For what it’s worth," he said quietly, "I don’t want it to."

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and took your hand in his. His touch was warm, steady, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way.

When the simulation ended, you both received high marks for your performance. But the grades didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the boy standing beside you, his hand brushing yours as you walked out of the apartment for the last time.

As the school buzzed with gossip about the simulation’s results, you and Chigiri lingered by the courtyard fountain, the evening sun casting a warm glow around you. Neither of you seemed eager to say goodbye.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "what now?"

You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of doubt. But all you saw was the same steady determination that had drawn you to him in the first place.

"I guess we see where this goes," you said softly.

A smile spread across his face—genuine, unguarded, and utterly breathtaking. "Just say you'll date me already."

Ever the serious yet also silly man you'd grown to know over the past few weeks, what else were you supposed to say?

"Well then, Chigiri Hyoma, yes, I'll date you."

this was supposed to be fake dating so i hope i pulled it off decently :)

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!