#it makes me anxious to leave them like this

[rootedinrevisions]

Where the Night Ends

SUMMARY: After an evening in the spotlight, Glen Powell’s biggest night of the year is more than just red carpets and bright lights—it’s a celebration of his career and a test of his resilience. Through the glamour and chaos, you’re by his side, offering him a safe space to share the highs and the inevitable disappointments. In the quiet hours after the applause fades, the two of you find strength in each other, proving that true connection shines brighter than any award.

A/N: This story was inspired by the idea for a story I've had for a while for Glen that even the most charismatic and confident people, like Glen Powell, have quieter, more vulnerable sides they don’t often show the world. While Glen’s charm and upbeat personality make him shine in the public eye, I wanted to imagine what those quiet, intimate moments might look like—the ones where he allows himself to relax and let his guard down with someone he trusts completely. And I thought tonight with the Golden Globes and him not winning would be a perfect way to explore this idea I've had. Also I don't know why but Glen low key gives me golden retriever boyfriend vibes so there's some of that in here as well!

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Your Likes, Comments, and Reblogs mean the world to me and help me continue creating stories like this one.

WARNINGS: Nudity (No Smut, just non-sexual but intimate nudity).

TAGS: In comments.

You glance at your reflection one last time, running your hands down the smooth fabric of your gown. The luxurious satin hugs your body in all the right places, the deep color shimmering subtly under the bathroom light. The rich hue perfectly complements Glen’s sharp, classic black ensemble, and you can't help but imagine how great the two of you will look together tonight. The gold accents on your bracelet catch the light with every movement, adding a hint of warmth to the otherwise cool tones of the dress. It feels like magic—elegant, understated, and yet striking in its own quiet way. The gown pools slightly at your feet, as if it were made for you.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. This is your first time attending such an event with Glen, despite the time you’ve been together. You won’t be walking the red carpet beside him, and the idea of staying in the background, on the sidelines, makes you both excited and slightly anxious. You're not used to this kind of attention, and tonight, all eyes will be on him.

Before you can let the nerves fully settle in, you hear Glen's voice. His warm, familiar tone breaks through the quiet of the hotel room.

"Damn," he murmurs from the doorway, his voice a little breathless. "I thought the Golden Globes were supposed to be the main event tonight, but now I’m not so sure."

You turn toward him, your heart skipping a beat. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin, his velvet jacket catching the light. His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in them—a mixture of admiration, affection, and something deeper.

He takes a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving yours, and wraps his arms around you from behind. His chest presses into your back, warm and solid, grounding you in the moment. His breath brushes against your ear, soft and gentle.

"You look incredible," he says, voice low and reverent, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. The warmth of his embrace settles your nerves, and the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding begins to melt away.

His presence is like a balm, soothing your anxieties. You lean back into him, the soft beat of his heart against your back comforting you. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy before the whirlwind of the night begins.

"You sure I’m not going to embarrass you in front of all those cameras?" you tease, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

Glen chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you just a little. "You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried," he murmurs, his voice steady. "Besides I think my mom and dad have the embarrassing moments covered."

You both laugh softly, but the smile that stretches across his face is real—genuine, almost vulnerable in a way that only you get to see. It’s a rare, quiet moment that makes you feel all the more certain of the love you share.

You take a deep breath, your nerves settling as you feel the warmth of his body surrounding you. His embrace is a reminder of the calm you’ve come to rely on in the chaos of this world—his, and now yours.

"Alright, I think it’s time to get going," you say softly, turning slightly to grab your coat from the chair.

Glen kisses your cheek before you both head for the door, his hand brushing yours as you step into the next phase of the night.

You and Glen step out of the hotel room, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin as the door clicks shut behind you. Glen’s hand finds yours almost instinctively, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you once again. You give him a small smile, feeling the shift from the quiet intimacy of the room to the bustle of the world outside.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice warm but laced with a hint of excitement. His eyes twinkle, full of that effortless charm he seems to carry with him no matter where he goes.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is quick, but the silence between you is comfortable. Glen’s thumb brushes lightly against your hand as you both stand side by side, the sound of the elevator music almost drowned out by the rush of adrenaline you both share. Tonight is big—for him, for both of you—but in this moment, it’s just the two of you, sharing a quiet space before the chaos begins.

The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby floor, and you step out into the bright, bustling space. The lobby is abuzz with activity—people in tuxedos and gowns chatting, last-minute preparations happening all around. You spot the entrance to the event area, where a stream of reporters and photographers are lined up, their cameras ready to catch the next big arrival.

Glen’s parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., are already waiting by the elevators, talking to a few other familiar faces. The moment they see you both, Cyndy’s warm, motherly smile lights up her face.

"There they are!" she says, walking over to give Glen a hug. "Glen, you look so handsome!"

Glen returns her embrace with a chuckle, his broad shoulders relaxing in her hug. "Thanks, Mom. You look amazing, too."

Cyndy pulls back, giving you a quick once-over with approving eyes. "And you, sweetheart, look just breathtaking."

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly, feeling a wave of warmth at her words.

Glen Sr. gives you a small nod of approval before turning his attention to the growing crowd. “Ready to go, son?” he asks, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the bright excitement in the air.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Glen replies, squeezing your hand once more before stepping forward.

As you step toward the doors, the weight of the night becomes palpable, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Glen’s hand slips from yours, but not before he gives it one last, reassuring squeeze. His gaze meets yours for a moment, his eyes soft with affection despite the flurry of activity around you.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a wave of warmth through your body. 

"Stay close to my parents," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, a mixture of affection and quiet command. "I’ll talk to you after the red carpet, okay?"

You nod, the reassurance in his words settling your nerves just slightly. His presence, even in these small moments, brings you an unexpected sense of calm. You watch as he straightens up, giving you a final, comforting smile before turning to head towards the first section of the red carpet. The flashing lights of the cameras immediately focus on him, the buzz of voices rising as they call out his name.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that tonight isn’t about the spotlight on you—it’s about being there for him, supporting him as he steps into this moment.

Before you can fully process the next rush of energy, you feel a light nudge at your elbow. Glen’s dad, with his ever-so-gracious demeanor, offers you his arm. 

"Shall we?" he asks with a warm smile, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks toward his son, now posing for the cameras ahead.

You slip your arm through his, the two of you walking in step with Glen’s mother beside you. The hum of the red carpet fills the air, the cameras flashing in bursts like strobe lights as people call out names, photographers jockeying for the best shot. It feels surreal, watching Glen move through the chaos so effortlessly, a magnet for attention, while you remain just behind him, tucked safely in the background.

The red carpet is a world of its own—a whirlwind of lights, flashing cameras, and excited chatter. You stand a few feet behind Glen, walking with his parents as you watch him effortlessly navigate the chaos. From the moment he steps onto the carpet, he’s in his element, greeting reporters, posing for the cameras, and smiling with a confidence that seems almost innate.

He moves with such ease, each step deliberate, his velvet jacket catching the light with every turn. The photographers call out his name, the clicks of the cameras almost deafening, but Glen is unfazed. He’s a natural—tilting his head slightly, flashing that signature smile that’s made him a favorite among fans and critics alike. Each pose is perfectly executed, like he’s done this a thousand times, and yet you know it’s all real, all part of the moment.

Glen interacts with the reporters as though they’re old friends. He laughs at their jokes, asks how their evening is going, and never misses a beat. It’s impossible not to feel proud as you watch him—this man you love, who has worked so hard to get to this point in his career, now being recognized for his talents. The genuine warmth in his smile, the way he listens to each person, makes them feel like they’re the only one in the room.

You catch snippets of conversations, little flashes of Glen’s humor and grace as he talks to the interviewers. “It’s an honor just to be here with such incredible talent,” he says to one, giving a humble but genuine answer that makes the reporter smile brightly. The cameras click furiously as he poses once more, a wink in your direction as if he’s sharing a private joke with you amidst all the attention.

He walks past you briefly, pausing to stop and chat with one of the other nominees. The other actor greets him warmly, their handshake firm and friendly. Glen’s laughter rings out, the two of them talking animatedly. It’s clear they’re both enjoying the interaction, and you feel a swell of pride as you watch him effortlessly charm everyone around him.

As Glen continues walking down the carpet, interacting with other actors and actresses, you steal quick glances at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker toward you, checking in even amidst the chaos. Every so often, he pauses—just for a moment—and looks back to where you’re standing with his parents, catching your gaze in a fleeting moment of connection.

It happens once when he’s posing for a photographer. He turns just enough to meet your eyes, his smile softening, just for you. Then, as he moves toward the next group of reporters, he sends a quick wink your way—casual but filled with meaning.

As he’s walking towards the interview section, he reaches out briefly, brushing his hand against yours. It’s so subtle, so quick, but the warmth of it lingers, making your heart skip a beat. You smile to yourself, feeling like you’re the only one in the crowd who understands the quiet moments between the flashes.

Every now and then, he checks in with his parents, his dad offering a gentle nod or a pat on the back, and his mom giving him a quick hug, congratulating him on the moment. As he walks past you again, he places his hand lightly on your lower back, the touch firm but gentle, like a silent reassurance. He leans in, his voice low but carrying just enough for you to hear, “I’m almost done, I promise.” You smile softly, nodding, grateful for the little check-ins.

With each moment, you feel more in awe of him—his ability to navigate this world with such grace, his kindness, and his generosity toward everyone he meets. You’ve always known how hard he’s worked for this, but seeing him shine like this, being recognized for his talent, makes your heart swell with pride. The man standing before you, talking to the crowd, was once just a guy with a dream—and now, he’s living it.

As Glen steps off the red carpet, the flurry of flashing cameras and excited shouts start to fade away. The soft hum of conversation inside the venue fills the air, and for a brief moment, you feel like the world slows down. You catch his eye just as he spots you standing at the edge of the carpet, watching him. His smile lights up his face—genuine and warm—and your heart flutters just a little bit at the sight of it.

Without a second thought, Glen strides over to you, his presence commanding yet soft, as though the spotlight of the red carpet hasn’t followed him. He leans in, pressing a quick, simple kiss to your lips—one that might be so brief to anyone watching that they’d miss it, but to you, it feels like a promise. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers just enough to remind you that you’re still in his thoughts, even in the whirlwind of the evening.

Pulling back, Glen smiles at you, his eyes soft but intense. Without missing a beat, he reaches down and takes your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of everything. His parents, ever gracious, follow behind as Glen begins to lead you into the venue.

As you step inside, the atmosphere changes. The venue is filled with a sea of familiar, and very recognizable, faces. A sea of stars, each more dazzling than the last. You glance around, and your nerves spike just a little—this is the world Glen belongs to, and even though you’re used to being by his side, it feels a little more overwhelming now. The glitzy chandeliers above, the hum of voices, the clicking of glasses... all of it is a far cry from the quieter, more intimate moments you’ve shared together.

Instinctively, you bring your free hand up and curl it around Glen’s arm, drawing just a little closer to him. It’s subtle, a small gesture, but it makes you feel grounded in a room full of people you don’t quite know. Glen notices immediately, his eyes flicking down to you as if checking in to see how you're holding up.

“You alright?” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low but caring.

You give him a small smile, nodding, but he can tell there’s a flicker of nervousness in your eyes. Glen squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, reassuring rhythm. 

“We’ve got this,” he says with a quiet confidence that you know is meant as much for you as it is for himself.

His smile is enough to settle your nerves, if only for a moment. You take a deep breath, and as the two of you move further into the room, the sight of the grand tables, the gleaming crystal glasses, and the fancy place settings begin to feel more familiar. Glen leads you with an easy grace, guiding you toward your assigned table with a worker who’s waiting to escort you.

The worker gestures toward your seats, and Glen holds out his hand as you approach. With a flourish, he pulls your chair out for you, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes you feel like the most important person in the room. You smile at him, grateful for his quiet care in a setting that could easily feel overwhelming.

As you sit down, Glen takes the seat beside you, his presence as steady and comforting as it has always been. He straightens his jacket and settles into his seat, and for the first time in hours, the two of you share a quiet moment, just the two of you. The world outside might be full of glamour, fame, and recognition, but here, in this little bubble you’ve found together, it’s just Glen—being the perfect gentleman, just as he always is.

The award show begins with a grand flourish. The host steps onto the stage, the lights dimming just slightly as the audience settles into their seats. You glance around, taking in the bustling room—famous actors, actresses, and directors sitting nearby, the whispers of excitement as the event officially kicks off.

Glen’s hand rests lightly on the back of your chair. The touch is small, but it anchors you in the midst of all the grandeur surrounding you. Without thinking, you lean into him just slightly, your head tipping toward his. The warmth of his body is a comfort, grounding you as the opening monologue begins.

The host captures the crowd’s attention with a series of jokes, and the sound of laughter ripples across the room. Glen smiles at the moment, but his attention is mostly on you. Every now and then, his fingers gently tap the back of your chair as if offering his quiet reassurance. You can feel his eyes on you, checking in with a glance when he thinks you’re not looking, making sure you’re comfortable in your seat.

The first few awards pass by quickly, the names of the nominees and winners announced with the usual anticipation, but you can feel the clock ticking in your mind, each passing moment heightening the tension in your chest. Glen is nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture—Musical or Comedy, and the weight of the moment is starting to sink in.

You can feel your nerves rising with each passing category. With each announcement, the tightness in your chest grows as you anxiously glance down at your program, running your fingers over the pages in a distracted rhythm. Every now and then, Glen’s hand brushes against yours, either adjusting his position or offering an unspoken gesture of comfort. When his fingers meet yours, it’s as if the connection between you both is the only thing that grounds you amidst the flashing lights and the build-up.

The host’s voice rings out again, announcing the next presenters. You force yourself to take a slow breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves that’s started to settle deep in your stomach. You can’t help but glance up at Glen, who, despite the chaos and the nerves building up inside him, is still looking at you with that same steady calmness. His eyes meet yours, soft but intense, and he gives you a small, quiet smile.

“You good?” he asks under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the audience.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. “Yeah, just a little anxious,” you admit quietly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your program.

Glen gives you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder and leans in closer. “You’re doing great,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember I’m right here.”

His voice is a steady comfort, and for a moment, you let yourself relax into it, but the closer you get to the moment of the award announcement, the harder it is to ignore the nerves prickling in your chest. You try not to let it show, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that your whole body seems to tense with every name called.

The tension is almost unbearable as the next award category is announced. You can feel your heart beating faster as the presenter walks to the podium, the lights dimming slightly on the stage as the camera pans over the audience. You glance at Glen, your hand still lightly resting on his knee, both of you anxiously waiting for the moment to unfold.

The announcer opens the envelope, a brief pause lingering in the air, and then the name is spoken.

“Sebastian Stan.”

The name hit you like a soft punch to the gut. You’d been hoping, praying that Glen’s name would be called. But it’s not.

You exhale, the breath you’d been holding escaping in a slow, almost deflated sigh as the applause fills the room. Everyone around you begins clapping, but you feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach. You try to join in, your hands moving in sync with the crowd, but it feels automatic, hollow.

Glen’s gaze shifts downward as he claps politely, a professional smile plastered on his face. The joy that had been there moments ago, when he’d been watching others celebrate, is now gone. You notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens just slightly. It’s so faint, but you see it—his disappointment, quiet and swift.

Without hesitation, you place a gentle hand on his knee, your fingers curling softly around the fabric of his suit. It’s a quiet gesture, one that says everything without words.

Leaning in closer, you whisper just for him. “I’m still so proud of you,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “This doesn’t change anything. You’ve had an incredible year.”

His eyes flicker to you for a moment, and though his smile is still warm, there’s a shadow of something behind it. He nods, as if trying to convince himself. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice carrying the faintest hint of regret. “It’s all right.”

The cameras still hover near your table, and Glen turns slightly, giving his trademark charm for the audience, though you can see the subtle strain in the movement. It’s a mask, and you know it.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of disappointment had settled in, he shrugs it off, the professional smile back in place. He straightens his shoulders and waves at the camera as if nothing’s wrong.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, your thumb brushing gently against the back of his hand, offering him one more piece of quiet support. “You’ve worked so hard. This is just the beginning.”

Glen looks at you, his eyes softening, and he offers a genuine, albeit faint, smile. “I know. It’s just... I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and in that instant, you both share a fleeting connection—one of understanding, of being on the same page. You see past the façade, knowing the true weight of his disappointment.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of applause, speeches, and glimmering smiles, but the air feels different now. Glen seems to slip back into his polished, charming self, laughing with others and posing for photos as if nothing had happened. But you know him too well. Every now and then, when the laughter dies down or when the lights shift in a way that makes everything feel softer, you catch glimpses of that quiet vulnerability he’s tried to hide.

You continue to offer him your presence, your unwavering support. Your hand resting on the top of his hand which rests on his thigh, fingers gently tracing the skin on the back of his hand during the dull moments between awards. You don’t need to say anything—he knows you’re there. And though he’s the one in the spotlight, it’s in these moments when you share the unspoken strength that makes you feel so connected.

The show drags on, the anticipation building as the categories shift, and eventually, the evening winds down to its final moments. You barely notice the presenter’s voice over the soft murmur of your own thoughts, a quiet hum of gratitude settling in your chest. Glen may not have won tonight, but you know—this isn’t the end for him. Not even close.

When the final award is presented, everyone stands in applause, their excitement contagious, but you find yourself leaning back into the comfort of the moment. Glen’s hand, warm and steady on your back, guides you as you both move toward the exit, his parents trailing behind you.

You glance over at him—his face now a perfect mask of grace and poise. His earlier disappointment seems to have faded into the evening's glow. And though you know it might still sting for him later, for now, you’re here. Together. And that’s all that matters.

After the award show ends, Glen gives you a small, reassuring smile as you both make your way toward his parents, who are chatting with a few other guests near the exit. You and Glen share a brief exchange of looks—silent understanding passing between you before you approach them.

“Well, I think it’s time to say goodnight,” Glen says, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of exhaustion as he hugs his mom first, then his dad.

You follow his lead, offering a warm hug to Cyndy and Glen Sr., both of whom have been incredibly supportive all night. You exchange a few words, with his mom offering you a knowing smile and his dad patting Glen on the back, offering him a quiet “You did good, son. We're proud of you.”

Once the goodbyes are said, Glen takes your hand, leading you away from his parents to a quieter corner.

“Let’s get this night wrapped up,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently toward the after-party.

The after-party is lively but not too overbearing. The usual crowd of actors, producers, and influencers circulate the room, laughing and enjoying the last moments of the night. Glen and you share a few casual conversations with some of his industry friends, but the two of you stay close, mostly content in each other's presence.

You don’t stay long. Glen’s energy is starting to dip, and you can see the weight of the night catching up to him. When he whispers that he’s ready to leave, you’re more than ready to head back to the hotel as well.

As the elevator doors close behind you, the sounds of the bustling venue fade, replaced by the soft hum of the ride up. You catch Glen glancing at you from the corner of your eye, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You were great tonight,” you say quietly, your voice a soft reassurance.

He shrugs, but the smile never fades. “It’s just part of the job.”

As you and Glen exit the elevator, the hallway feels quieter, almost like a contrast to the energy of the evening. The weight of the night—of the red carpet, the award show, the after-party—seems to melt away as you make your way down the hall toward your hotel room.

Glen’s hand is warm around yours, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion settling in now that the cameras are no longer flashing and the attention is no longer on him. His smile, though still present, is more tired than it had been earlier. You can tell he’s ready to unwind, just the two of you.

Reaching the door, Glen digs into his pocket for the room key, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. As the door swings open, the familiar scent of the room hits you—slightly musty, but comforting, like the feeling of stepping back into a private space after a long, public day.

He holds the door open for you, letting you walk in first, before following closely behind. The room is dimly lit, the night sky outside casting a soft glow through the windows. You drop your clutch on the bed, watching as Glen kicks off his shoes with a tired sigh.

You turn to face him, standing there for a moment, both of you silently taking in the quiet that fills the room. Glen moves toward you, his hands finding yours, pulling you gently toward him.

“I’m glad you were here tonight,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smile up at him, the flicker of pride you feel for him still alive in your chest. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

Glen’s lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he steps closer, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, as if silently thanking you for being his anchor. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s finally allowing himself to relax fully. The warmth of his breath against your temple sends a shiver through you.

Then, he lifts his head and looks at you, his hazel eyes holding something deeper. He reaches up, tilting your chin with his thumb and forefinger so you meet his gaze fully.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll say no.

Your chest tightens at his vulnerability, and you smile softly, shaking your head.

“Of course,” you whisper. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping in your own room anyway.

His shoulders relax slightly at your answer, and his lips curve into a grateful smile. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering at your temple.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice still low, intimate. “Let’s take a shower.”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on fills the space as Glen leans over to adjust the temperature. Steam begins to curl in the air, softening the edges of the brightly lit room.

Turning back to you, Glen steps closer, his hands finding your waist. His velvet jacket is the first to go. You reach up, your fingers brushing against his shoulders as you slide it off. It drops to the floor in a heap, revealing his silk shirt underneath. Slowly, your hands move to the buttons, undoing each one with care.

As you work, Glen leans down, pressing soft kisses along your lips, jawline and down your neck. The gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver through you, but the moment isn’t rushed. It’s deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of closeness he missed earlier.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to touch you all night,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You pause for a moment, your hands resting on his chest, and look up at him with a small smile. “I think I might have an idea,” you tease softly, earning a quiet laugh from him.

Once you’ve finished unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off in one smooth motion, letting it pool on the cool tiled floor beside his jacket. Then, his hands find your hips, and he gently spins you around. His fingers trace the line of the zipper on your dress, slowly sliding it down. The fabric loosens, slipping over your hips and down your body until it gathers at your feet.

Glen wraps his arms around your bare midsection, pulling you back against his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, before moving to press another kiss to your neck. “I love you.”

Your breath catches at his words, and you rest your hands over his where they’re wrapped around you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

After a moment, he releases you, stepping back so you can both finish undressing. Once you’re both bare, Glen takes your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you into the shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the long evening.

Inside the glass enclosure, it’s just the two of you, cocooned in the sound of the rushing water and the heat that envelopes you both. Glen reaches for the shampoo, lathering it in his hands before gently running them through the strands of your hair. His touch is slow and deliberate.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur as he works the product into your scalp further.

He pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you. “Not even close,” he replies softly.

You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes hold yours for a long moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightens at his words, and you reach up, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “You already do,” you whisper.

For the rest of the shower, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, intimate exchange of touch and unspoken promises. By the time you step out and wrap yourselves in the plush hotel robes, the connection between you somehow feels even stronger, solidified by the quiet moments you’ve shared.

Steam still lingers in the air as the two of you step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and relaxed. You pad over to your suitcase, rifling through it for something to wear, but instead of choosing one of your own shirts, you make your way to Glen’s bag. Pulling out one of his well-worn t-shirts, you slip it over your head, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. You pair it with your favorite underwear and turn to see Glen already pulling on a pair of black boxers, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He glances at you and his lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Looks better on you,” he murmurs, nodding toward his shirt. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest. 

The two of you crawl onto the plush mattress, settling in side by side. The headboard provides a comfortable backrest as Glen grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, aimlessly scrolling through channels. The faint glow of the screen fills the otherwise dimly lit room, but neither of you are paying much attention to what’s on.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that only comes with familiarity. Without a word, Glen shifts, leaning over to lay his head on your lap. His strong arms wrap loosely around your waist, anchoring himself to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. He exhales deeply, his breath warm against your leg, and you feel the tension in his body begin to melt away.

Instinctively, your fingers find their way to his hair, gently combing through the damp strands. He sighs at the touch, the sound soft and vulnerable, and it makes your chest tighten. You know Glen is always composed in public, but here, in the quiet of the hotel room, he lets his guard down.

For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just holds onto you like he needs the connection to keep himself steady. You can feel the weight of the evening still lingering in the air between you, though. It’s not just physical exhaustion; it’s the emotional toll of the night—the highs and lows, the constant smiling, the conversations that required too much energy.

Finally, Glen breaks the silence, his voice low and raw. “It was a lot, you know?” he murmurs, his face still pressed against your lap. “The whole day… the prep, the red carpet, the cameras… smiling so much my face hurt. And then sitting there, waiting for them to call my name.”

You hum softly in acknowledgment, your fingers never faltering in their soothing motions through his hair. “It’s okay to feel disappointed, you know. You worked so hard. Anyone would feel the same.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

“It’s not even about winning,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think… I think it’s just everything leading up to it. The expectations, the pressure. And then when they didn’t call my name, it was like all of that hit me at once.”

You glance down at him, his face partially hidden in the soft fabric of your borrowed t-shirt.

“It’s okay to feel this way, Glen,” you say softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he buries his face back against you.

“I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. My parents, the team that worked on this movie with me…” His voice trails off, and you can feel the vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Your parents are proud of you. I’m proud of you. I know Richard and Adria and the rest of the team that worked on this are proud of you too. Being nominated is a huge accomplishment, and everyone knows how much work you put into this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel him relax a little more against you. Your fingers continue their rhythmic motion through his hair, and the tension in his body seems to dissolve with every gentle stroke. The room is quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV in the background and the even sound of his breathing.

“You make everything better,” he finally whispers, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

You smile softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Glen doesn’t say anything else, but his arms tighten around you, holding you close like you’re his anchor in the storm. And in that moment, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—right here, grounding him when he needs it most.

[honeyedfate]

operation: no hate, just date | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

the objective is clear—make both of your fans believe that you and jake, in fact, don’t hate each other by convincing them that you’re actually in love. which you are. sadly, jake doesn’t get to shout it from the rooftops like he desperately wants to. instead he’s trapped in an elaborate plan that’s moving at a snail’s pace, but one night on weverse with the boys might speed things up.

genre. fluff & very very mildly suggestive

a/n. this is the second part to loverboy! you can read it by itself if u want but it might be more fun if u don’t lol enjoy! x

it’s been a week since jake and you were pulled aside and shoved into a meeting room where an unforeseen entourage informed him that he sucks at being your boyfriend but makes for a great arch nemesis. he had left that intervention feeling annoyed and his privacy violated, but at least they had a plan. whether that plan is a good one is still up for debate.

grey sweater guy from pr keeps responding to yuki’s plentiful emails with stupid roundabouts of how patience is a virtue and playing the long game always benefits the player. the problem is jake has no patience, and the only person who seems to get it is you.

which is likely why even after the fourth facetime call of the day, his darling-angel of a girlfriend has yet to tell him to piss off. he keeps peeking at his phone, which he has propped up against his pillow, only to begrudgingly return to his scattered lego set, positive he’ll crash out if he doesn’t hear your voice soon.

when the call finally connects and you appear on the screen, it’s like watching the sun rise. jake can feel the tension leaving his body and a lopsided smile curving over his lips. he’s hopeless, really.

you grin through the phone, hands in your hair as you tie it back, and say by way of greeting, “yunjin showed me a tiktok earlier.”

abandoning whatever he was building, jake scoots closer to his phone. “what was it about?”

“us, of course,” you say cheerily, and jake swears his heart skips a beat. not because he’s anxious of what you’re about to say but because it happens every time you refer to him and you as an item. an entity. it’s embarrassing but he kind of likes it. he likes being an idiot for you.

“someone put together a bunch of clips of everything we’ve been doing this week and it blew up on twitter.” you gently rub your oil cleanser over your face.

jake perks up at your words. he didn’t think anyone would’ve noticed any of the stuff he was told to do as part of the stupid plan. an unsettling concoction of excitement and terror swirls in his stomach. “what did they say?” he asks, fiddling with a lego piece.

you take a moment to wipe off your eye makeup, scrunching your nose when jake calls you a panda. “apparently people have been noticing how close we stood on the encore stage and that we kept looking at each other. it’s funny—i didn’t realise in that moment, but when i watched it back it looked like you’re either creeping up on me or you’re extremely terrified.”

jake tilts his head. “terrified of what? you?” he furrows his brows. “i just looked at you a couple of times like they told us to.”

“i know you did.” you turn off the faucet and grab a towel to dry off your face, trying to keep the amusement in your voice at bay. “but, babe, you’re either staring me down—unblinking—or you’re casting glances at me like you’re scared i’ll turn around and jump you.” you can’t help but giggle. “someone commented, ‘i can’t tell if jake is contemplating if he should push y/n off the stage or if he should throw himself off it.’”

jake gawks at you with his mouth agape. “that’s what they’re saying?”

you nod. he falls backward with a groan and covers his faces with his arms. “i can’t believe it. that’s what it looked like to them? really?”

“i know.” you say, more amused than empathetic.

“that’s crazy,” he says, pushing himself upright again, hair sticking out even messier than it had before. “i’m actively trying to act like a lovesick fool—which i am! don’t even—and people still think i’m trying to break your neck? that’s insane.”

you hum supportively. “at least some people believe you were offering to break your own neck for me. that’s romantic, right? we might be on the right track here.” you keep your tone playful, but jake looks at you with his starry eyes and pouty lips, resembling nothing short of a kicked puppy.

“i’m sorry i keep messing this up,” he says and the thinness in his voice makes your heart break.

“jake, you’re not messing anything up.” he looks at his hands, avoiding your gaze. “you can’t control these things, people will interpret and perceive it however they like. it’s always been this way, and it’s always been out of our control. doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“i don’t know, y/n,” he says quietly, and the sight of him hanging his head has you nearly sneaking out of the dorms and going over to his. you’ve never seen him look this miserably at a lego set before. “if i wasn’t so awkward and knew what to do, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“no one’s perfect and all-knowing.” you pick up your phone with a frown. “and why do you keep calling it a mess? is that what you think this is?” you enter your room and get into your bed. jake looks up at the sounds of your blanket and wishes desperately he was there with you.

instead, he loosens a breath and sweeps the lego pieces onto the manual, placing it on the floor and going under the blanket as well. “what else should i call it?” he says. “it’s not a blessing.”

you ponder his words. “a mess would be our sex tape getting leaked or people making up rumours that we’re drug dealers or cannibals.”

jake cocks his head. “like hannibal?”

“i meant more like in ‘bones and all’ but sure.”

“oh.” he scratches his face. “well, we’re neither of those things. we also don’t have a sex tape.” the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“no, we don’t.” you pout, forcing a mock sigh. “but we could always make one? ‘operation: no hate, no date,’ am i right?” you waggle your eyebrows at him, prompting a wry smile to flicker across his face.

“they’ll watch it and come to the conclusion that i hate you even more.”

you huff a laugh. “we will probably also get kicked out of hybe and have to start slinging fishcakes on the street. which sounds like fun, to be honest. oh! we could make our own jingle and sing it for our customers. maybe we won’t even have to make the fishcakes if we’re successful enough.”

this earns you a laugh. “that’s just busking, baby. what you want to do is busk.”

you gasp in fake surprise before settling for a rueful sigh. “i am but an artist.”

jake presses his lips together as if to say ‘good riddance, what tragic calling’ with a saddened face before the two of you dissolve into giggles.

“okay, i get it.” he turns to lie on his side, face squished against his pillow. “going from idol to man with leaked sex tape who sings on the street and runs an unsuccessful fishcake stand would be a mess. but this is not?”

“correct.”

“i’m so relieved then.” he grins toothily at you and, of course, you reciprocate it. an involuntarily yawn slips through your lips and jake coos at you.

“is my girl tired after working hard all day?”

“she’s exhausted,” you affirm with bleary eyes. “you seem chipper for someone who’s usually drooling on his pillow by midnight.”

jake shrugs. “i’m not sleepy yet.”

you hold back another yawn. “do you want me to stay awake until you are?”

he smiles at you fondly, relishing in the softness of your drowsy voice. “it’s all right. you should go to sleep, baby.” he glances at the clock on his phone. “i think i’ll go live for a bit. haven’t done one in a while.”

“aren’t we feeling chatty tonight,” you tease, eyes fully closed now. jake swears he actually dies at how cute you look and smashes that screenshot button repeatedly. “i’ll leave you to it then. greet engenes for me.”

he grimaces. “if i do that, you’ll get your jingle and fishcake dreams fulfilled by tomorrow morning because we’ll both be unemployed.”

“sounds lovely.” you rub your eyes.

“yeah,” jake merely whispers, attention span momentarily off the rails as his doting gaze traces your face. he takes another screenshot for good measure. “good night, pretty girl,” he says tenderly, raspy voice and all. “see you tomorrow for the dance challenge and the fishcakes.”

a giggle bubbles out of you, and you crack your eyes open to offer your best, dozy smile. “and the busking. don’t forget the busking.”

“i would never. i’ll even steal one of jay’s guitars.”

you nod, pleased. “we’ll be on the run like bonnie and clyde. except for all the atrocities, of course.”

jake helplessly swoons. “i love you.”

“i love you too. good night, baby.”

the intensity at which his pulse quickens and his stomach tumbles needs to be studied because it should not be humanly possible to be so goddamn whipped. he’s not ashamed to admit that he could write lines upon lines of poetry right now just to ode your every quality and marvel at the curve of your mouth.

again, hopeless. but he’s more than okay with it.

so what if he flips onto his stomach right after the call ends, smiling blissfully into his pillow and kicking his feet? he might not be a lover boy, but he is in love.

with that same crooked smile that is probably etched onto his face forever, he opens the weverse app on his phone and opts for a voice live. as the first few people pool in, he gets lost in mindless chatter. it’s always nice to do lives at night. mainly because they make him drowsy.

at some point, he gets up for the bottle on his desk, hoping that chugging some water will wake him up. but when he returns to his bed and glances at his phone, comments keep flooding in at a speed that make them very hard to read.

“what’s this?” he chuckles nervously. “what happened? i just went to get some water.”

enhaswife: jungwon is live!! go live with him plss

sim hitomi: jungwonnie is live~~

xo, liz: CAN U GO LIVE WITH JUNGWON ‼️

“jungwonnie is live?” jake raises a brow. “that’s actually pretty early for him. it’s not even one yet.” he settles back into his bed. “i was here first though, so you guys have to tell him to come. tell him to come send a request.”

he watches the number of viewers decline rapidly, all of them seemingly leaving to do his bidding. he wields too much power and it might actually go to his head, he thinks to himself in amusement. “i told him,” he reads out loud. “i told him, he’s coming, i told him. you guys are so cute.”

not long after, the request pops up and jake is quick to accept it. his screen splits in two before jungwon’s eager face appears before him.

“yooiii,” jake greets him with a wide smile.

“yoooiiii,” jungwon practically shouts into his phone with excitement that is more appropriate for daylight hours. “what’s this? why aren’t you showing your face, hyung? are you naked?”

“what?” jake guffaws, adjusting his phone. “no, my hair’s just all over the place. engenes don’t need to see me like this.”

“oh, okay.” jungwon nods understandably as his eyes flit over the computer screen before him. the song that’s currently playing in the background changes to a more calm melody, and jake sinks further into his blanket, nearly letting out a moan at how snug he feels. “he’s bald, by the way.”

jake jolts so hard he nearly tumbles out of his bed.

“jungwon!” he watches as the comments explode into chaos. “oh my god, what have you done.”

the younger boy ignores him. “ni-ki shaved his head after practice, you know. he got the clippers from hair and makeup and went right at it. they weren’t too happy about it, but it went well. thankfully, i am so happy to announce that our hyung does not have an egghead.”

jake burst out laughing, glimpsing how jungwon’s smile expands with delight when he hears it. “i nearly lost an ear, but yes. all’s good.”

“he gave his hair to jay,” jungwon continues for no apparent reason except to bring jay into this. “he put it in a nice ziplock bag and gave it to him. jay almost cried. he was really touched.”

jake is clutching his sides, trying to keep his laughter down. before he can speak, a highlighted message pops up in the comments.

JAY: Ya! Why are you ruining my image

JAY: When jake gave me his bag of hair I wept

JAY: I wept.

JAY: Get your facts straight punk

“hyung!” jungwon says delightfully. “you’re here too. what’s going on, why are we all awake? is this a party?”

“it’s just us three here,” jake remarks, still chuckling. “what party only has three guests?”

jungwon shrugs. “i’ve never been to one.”

JAY: Me neither

jake cups his neck, deciding to join them despite the fact that there are plenty of pictures of them at several afterparties. “me neither.”

JAY: Wow

“wooow,” jungwon echoes, lips tugging into a smirk. jake frowns. did he miss something? before he can address it, a comment stands out to him.

“yes, we are a sad bunch,” he says jokingly in response to it. “you’re breaking my heart, engenes. no need to rub it in.”

jungwon snickers. “these comments are so fun tonight. i usually only get song recommendations. seriously, what’s happening? where are all my engenes who ask me to play chamber 5 for the eighth time?”

JAY: It’s because I’m here

JAY: I bring the smart ones

JAY: Also can you play chamber 5

“it’s my live.” jake scoffs when he reads jay’s comments. “they were here before you two came, and we always have very stimulating discussions.”

that’s not true. earlier’s heated topic of conversation was whether a tiger or a tiger shark would win in a fight. but jungwon and jay don’t need to know that.

“oh, hey, we’re tripple j,” jake randomly observes while suppressing a yawn.

“we are!” jungwon says enthusiastically. “the moment jay came in, all the comments were saying tripple j. imagine if all of our names started with a j. septuple j!”

JAY: Junghoon

JAY: Jeeseung, junoo, ji-ki

JAY: Annyeonghasaeyo, jenhypen-imnida

jake snorts. he glances at the time and lets another yawn overtake him. “guys, i think i’ll go to sleep. i can barely hold my eyes open.”

“i was waiting for you to say that,” jungwon quips.

“oh?” jake pushes himself up to fluff his pillow. “why? do i sound tired?”

JAY: Ow hay weor wibble j

jake furrows his brows, nearly suffering a stroke trying to read that. “hah. you’re funny.”

JAY: yoar wonny

“ahjussi, please go to bed,” jake says fondly and pulls his blanket up to his ears, letting it almost swallow him. “you’re talking gibberish again.”

JAY: :(((

jungwon ignores them, typing away on his keyboard. “i think i’ll continue my live for a bit if engenes want to join me.”

“yes, keep him company, guys.” jake yawns once more and quickly skims the comments one last time. his mind has become delirious, not really making sense of any of the words on his screen. he’s no longer thinking straight. he’s not thinking, period. which might be why his focus zeroes in on your name as it passes by.

he scrolls back up, looking for it, and finds himself reading it out loud without a second thought.

“do you want me to fight y/n for you?”

he lets his arm fall over his eyes with a funny expression on his face that no one can see and that he’s not even aware of. a mental image of you occupies half of his mind while the other half has simply shut off.

chuckling, he replies, “nah, i can take her.”

it goes quiet in the room as jake’s breathing evens out and jungwon’s typing slows down.

“hyung,” he says with emphasis, a warning tone laced in his voice. jake blinks an eye open, way too tired to grasp the gravity of what he has done. jungwon, on the other hand, is close to breaking out in hives as the comments go ballistic.

jay is not of much help either. he has left the live to message the group chat, asking if they’re now in trouble and if they’re going to kidnap you and jake again. from what jungwon can gauge based on the rapid fire notifications he’s getting, jay’s coming in clutch with quotes and screenshots of the comments, and heeseung’s immediate reaction is to cackle away.

enhaswife2: wiat whaT DID HE JUST SAY

myseven: oh REALLY >:( y/n count ur days

sunoo’s gf: you sure about that? I can fight

xiiuu7: leave y/n to me, i can handle her for you

jake reads the comments through fluttering eyes, somehow finding it all very entertaining. “oh, i take her just fine, thanks.” he rolls onto his stomach, eyes closed, smiling like an idiot, and mutters into his pillow, “i’ve handled her in more ways you can—”

his door slams open.

not a second later, jungwon stands before him in his pyjamas and snatches his phone out of his hands, breathing heavily. it lands next to jake on his pillow with a thud. screen now black.

“hyung, have you gone mad?!” jungwon stares down at him in bewilderment, his own phone in his hand lightening up every microsecond. “are you actually insane? why would you say that into the microphone?”

jake blinks up at him. “what?”

another person joins them. “what’s going on?” sunoo’s socked feet pad over the floor as he pulls down his headphones, regarding the two of them carefully. “i heard doors slamming.”

wordlessly, jungwon passes him his unlocked phone. it’s opened to a twitter account transcribing and translating in real time what had just been said on their live, including jake’s slurred but still perfectly understandable words. in other words, stan twitter is going insane.

sunoo gasps, eyes widening with each tweet as he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. he’s reading all kinds of things—engenes who are losing it and speaking of you, your group, and your fans as if there’ll be a sword fight at dawn.

your fans who are thoroughly disoriented and confused but ready to go for blood anyway because ‘what does he MEAN he can take her?? take her WHERE?????’

and people who don’t even listen to either group but are dying over the comedic timing of jake uttering those words, jungwon hurling himself out of his chair, his footsteps thumping in the hallway, the doors banging, and the live ending all under two minutes.

some people also seem to believe that jake is bald for some reason? sunoo shakes his head in disbelief. it’s like the internet has been bored for too long, and this has revived them.

an eternity must’ve passed now, and jungwon is still lecturing a very sleepy jake whose words and actions have finally caught up to him when sunoo suddenly yelps. he practically tosses the phone in the air, and both boys turn to their attention to him. with a gulp, sunoo flips the screen around and holds it at an arm’s length.

“yuki is calling.”

jungwon exchanges a look with jake before he grabs his phone. “hello?” he says, clearing his throat. sunoo leans in to try and listen. jake, on the other hand, stays frozen on his bed, not even daring to breathe.

a heavy sigh sounds on the other line. “jungwon?”

“…yes?”

“there’s a change of plans.”

[darlinluxx]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 ౨ৎ

pairing : kang sae byeok x fem!reader

warnings : nsfw

warnings for sfw : tiniest mention of sickness

warnings for nsfw : dom!saebyeok, sub!reader, tiny mention of knife play, degradation, strap

a/n : just thought i’d start off with some headcannons <3 if you have requests, feel free to message me <3

- Saebyeok probably wouldn’t be the first one to say “i love you”

- when she did say those three words, she would feel relieved. after all, she has been holding it in since she laid eyes on you

- and she doesn’t say it much, instead, she shows her love through different ways

- like remembering the smallest details — like how you take your coffee (or if you don’t like coffee), which side of the bed you prefer, or your favorite movies

- she has a habit of “borrowing” things of yours and never returning them

- she absolutely loves seeing you in her clothes

- the first time Saebyeok fell asleep on the couch with your head on her chest, it’s a bigger milestone than your first kiss

- Saebyeok struggles with accepting help or care when she’s sick. she’s used to acting like she’s fine. the first time she calls you because she has a fever is a huge moment of trust

- gives you a spare key for her apartment

- she’s not big on pet names, but i think from time to time she would call you, “darling,” “baby,” or “princess”

- always saying things like “i missed you,” “did you eat?” or “are you warm enough?”

- she expresses worry more through actions since she’s not the most comfortable with saying things. she’ll fix the bow on the back of your hair when you’re walking ahead of her

- when she’s upset, she goes quiet rather than angry

- Saebyeok’s love language is 100% quality time

- i think we can call come to an agreement that she’s not a fan of pda

- she will hold hands with you while walking though

- in private, she would like physical contact though. she’s always finding small ways to touch you

- loves to give you hugs — her arms wrapped around you as she holds you in her embrace, resting her chin on your head as she murmurs sweet words to you

- her favorite form of physical affection is playing with your hair while you lay on her chest as you two watch movies

- we can also all come to an agreement that this woman is PROTECTIVE !!

- is always near you out in public like a personal bodyguard

- carries her pocket knife everywhere

- while walking together, Saebyeok always positions herself on the street side of the sidewalk

- and what if i said she memorizes your schedule (without meaning to) just to know you’re safe ??

- the first time you meet Cheol, she’s more nervous than either of you

- Saebyeok doesn’t even realize that she leaves things at your apartment

- the first time she calls your apartment “home,” she doesn’t even notice—it feels natural

- she has a specific spot on the couch in your living room that becomes “her spot”

- Saebyeok is always the first to wake up. she’ll make coffee for herself and attempt to make toast but burns it. so once you wake up you’ll have to help her with cooking

- she keeps track of important dates, she never needs a reminder for your anniversary or your birthday

- she’s surprisingly good at domestic tasks. years of self-reliance made her practical

- she stress cleans when anxious. you can tell when something’s bothering her

- she loves late night talks. whether it be sharing goals in life or random thoughts, she’ll always enjoy it

- Saebyeok’s protective but not possessive, having learned the difference between love and control

- has trouble accepting gifts but puts incredible thought into giving them. no matter how many people she has to pickpocket, she will get you something she knows you’ve been wanting for a long time

- never makes promises she’s not absolutely certain she can keep

- she always keeps her promises

- Saebyeok keeps a journal of things that make you smile (she won’t ever admit it)

- is secretly good at video games but pretends to be bad so you can “teach” her

- loves sharing airpods with you when you two are on the subway or walking

- has a (secret) playlist of songs that remind her of you

nsfw ౨ৎ

- she’s a top / dom !!! anyone who says different is a liar

- okay and what if i said she’s lowkey into knife play ?? then what

- Saebyeok really focuses on making you feel good. gets satisfaction on seeing you cum

- she’s usually more on the rougher side, but if you want her to be gentle, she will be no questions asked

- “don’t get all shy now. it’s just me.” when you’re getting shy or nervous with her

- mix of praise and degradation !! “you’re so dirty for me.” “you look so pretty cumming on my fingers.”

- could eat you out for the rest of her life

- loves when you wear dresses or skirts cause it gives her the opportunity to slide her hand closer and closer to where you need her. and she knows. but she can’t resist teasing you

- loves fucking you with a strap just because ?? especially in front of a mirror

- sweetest aftercare, so so gentle with you. as if you’re made out of glass

[ladybirdswritings]

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at, and now he’s whisking you away on a date. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

three;

Your skin was drowned in amber and cashmere—rich, silken, and sparkling. Your hair was tied up in a bun, allowing a few mischievous ringlets to escape, highlighting the curve of your slender neck, and the pulse racing there.

Your dress was a deep violet, so deep that only under fluorescent lights could you see the purple hue—otherwise, it appeared black.

You looked gorgeous.

And nervous.

Entirely nervous, as you reapplied your gloss and paced the tile floor, where Kate and Axel eyed you suspiciously.

“Y/N, you really need to stop pacing. You’re making me anxious,” Kate snapped, having had enough of your shaky tirade. Axel nodded in agreement. “Calm down, you’re going to scare him away before he even gets here.” You scowled at that.

In the time since you and Clark had shared a quiet moment by the fire, when he trapped a ruby berry between your joined palms and blurted his desire to take you out, you’d texted sporadically and awaited a jolt to snap you from this dream.

“He’s definitely a serial killer,” you decided, and Kate pinched the space between her brows, shaking her head.

“Y/N, if he was a serial killer, don’t you think he would have killed you when you were alone at the bonfire?”

You huffed. “Ted Bundy had a girlfriend he adored. He didn’t chop her up into tiny pieces.”

“Oh my God…” your brother sighed, and Kate snorted.

Vera, Kate’s strawberry-blonde bombshell of a sister, stood and pressed warm palms against your shoulders. “Or maybe… you’re a really pretty girl, and he wants to take you on a date because he likes you. Duh.”

You gazed into the sincerity swimming behind her cyan eyes, nodding hesitantly. No, she was right. Your doubt, your pacing—it was just self-deprecation that had burrowed into your bones over the years. It had been so long.

Your ex was a jerk. Beyond that, he was cruel. His words still echoed in your mind.

You won’t find anyone else like me…

No one can deal with your baggage like I can…

No one else would want you like I do…

When you first dumped him, you were confident—until that confidence slowly evaporated, as time passed. Two years, in fact, with no strong man to keep you warm. All the boys you looked at were either taken or vile creatures who only wanted in your pants. Or worse—they didn’t want you back.

Vance was a great example.

Flirty, but noncommittal.

Yet for some reason, you still pined, and it made you feel pathetic.

The hum of the doorbell made your eyes widen to saucers. A cold chill kissed your skin.

“Do I look okay?” you nearly shouted in a whisper, anxious.

“You look great,” Vera promised, and you nodded, dragging your kitten-heel-clad feet toward the door.

The scent of pine from January’s chill lingered with honeyed whiskey, chai, and… flowers.

Flowers? Oh, you were definitely dreaming.

His glasses were lopsided and fogged, and he bumped them up with his wrist before offering the bouquet of creams, mauves, and navies toward you.

“Hi,” he breathed, furrowing his brows in frustration as the fog filtered his perfect view of his date. But he could smell you, and hummed a low, satisfied sound in his throat that you just missed.

“Hi.” You offered back, glancing anxiously at Vera and Kate, who hid their smiles behind their palms. You gently grabbed the flowers, fingertips grazing his, and brought them to your nose, inhaling their lovespelled scent.

“They’re… lovely. So lovely. Thank you, Clark.” He grinned, less lopsided than usual, and you handed them to Kate, who promised she’d find a vase before waving goodbye as you stepped outside.

A chill ran across your skin, and though Clark couldn’t see you clearly through his foggy lenses—too big for his face—he felt the ice linger on you. Without a word, he draped his suede blazer over your shoulders. It smelled of him, just like the bonfire, and you inhaled deeply, wrapping it closer.

Who taught him to be so… bookish?

“Come on,” he urged gently, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to his sparkling navy truck.

You felt every bit the Miss Bennett to his Mr. Darcy as he offered you a warm, far larger than yours, palm and helped you into the elevated truck. Once inside, he quickly rounded to sit beside you. After buckling, he cleaned his glasses with the cloth of his navy shirt before tucking it back into his onyx pants.

Then he faced you and grinned again.

“Well, don’t you look purdy.” He teased, amplifying that Kansas twang, making a flush kiss your cheeks.

He was handsome. So handsome behind those glasses and his books and—well, everything. And here he was, on a date with you, one he initiated.

You’d been anticipating the night to go horribly wrong.

But it hadn’t just yet.

“So, I was thinking, I want to give you options. Mellow, casual—or fancy and… schmancy? Trust me, I don’t mind either. Especially not with you looking like that… uh—not that you don’t always look like that, I just mean—”

You arched a brow, watching the pinch return between his own chocolate brows. He met your eyes, catching the glint of mirth there. He huffed a laugh at his own expense. “I’m bombing this already, aren’t I?”

He tilted his head, his lazy grin making your head spin. You pursed your lips.

“Just a little,” you whispered, grateful that the moonlight cast enough of a shadow over your lips to show him you were joking. He laughed softly. A moment passed, and you realized you hadn’t answered his question.

“Is this another test of yours?”

His brows shifted upwards, and he smirked.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm…” Fancy schmancy restaurant sounded… exhausting. As pretty as you were, you knew very well you couldn’t keep up a tiresome charade for the entirety of the date. It wasn’t you. His pretty car and his Pinterest-worthy face made him seem like the type to prefer that option. But you decided that after you spoke your next words, he’d likely kick you out of his truck— and maybe that was okay.

“Mellow. Casual,” you whispered, and your heart dropped when his mouth turned into a thin line.

There it was.

Too good to be true.

Your palm itched for your seatbelt before that lopsided grin slid back onto his face.

“You’re trying to steal my heart, huh?” he whispered, perhaps more to himself, eyes roaming over your glossed lips. He offered a satisfied nod. “Okay, Y/N, hot chocolate or chai?”

•••

By the time you reached your destination, your eyes widened in awe at the glowing fluorescent letters.

THE WANDERING QUILL;

A bookstore.

You blinked, glancing toward Clark, who flexed his palm in an anxious manner whilst stepping out of the truck. Before shutting the door, he ducked back through it.

“Stay there,” he ordered, and you had to purse your lips together to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat when he circled to open your door and offer you a veined hand.

Maybe this was a trap. Maybe this perfect stranger was leading you into a slaughterhouse, ready to slice your skin and pick his teeth with your bones.

“C’mon, purdie,” he whispered as you hesitated, grabbing his hand. He led you down with ease, his fingers twitching in your grasp, but he let go, not wanting to push you before he even had you.

“I’m taking you book shopping,” he said, his hand on the small of your back as he guided you through the doors. You were admittedly overdressed, but his suede jacket hid that from view.

It didn’t matter, though. The moment the scent of aged parchment and spiced chai kissed your nostrils, you almost melted in contentment.

“This is my favorite place,” he said, his voice snapping you back to your senses. You looked up, and he was already peering down at you with an anticipatory expression.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, and his lips twitched as he turned you sharply right and led you to a quaint café beside all the books. He was amused, perhaps because it was maybe the third word you’d spoken all evening. A flush spread across your skin at that realization. You were being too shy. He’d undoubtedly grow bored of you, tire of your muteness, and—

“What’re you thinking about?”

Your eyes snapped to attention, and his expression softened when you spoke.

“No one’s ever taken me to a bookstore,” you said, catching yourself. The barista handed him two warm cups of molten chocolate that made your mouth water. Goosebumps erupted as you wrapped your hands around it.

“Do you like it?” His voice carried hope, and you were far too naive to catch it. Your beaming face melted something in him—like a puppet freed from its strings.

“I do,” you promised, and his lips twitched again. He blew on his drink and led you to a corner behind the café, surrounded by gold-dusted pages and crimson and violet-bound books, like something straight out of a storybook. He swapped your cups, less scorching than before, and then grabbed his own. He tilted his chin, signaling you to take a sip.

You did, and when the molten chocolate coated your tongue, you nearly melted too.

Christ.

If he dumped you on the side of the road after this, at least you’d die with a stomach full of this delicacy.

He laughed—a subtle, joyful sound. “That’s good, right?”

You could only nod, sipping again in tandem with him. His eyes wandered over the books around you. Then you blinked when you read the cursive sign that displayed “romance” in bold letters.

“Okay,” he began, taking your cup gently from your hands, making you pout. As if afraid to wilt you, he guided you forward. And god, if your neck wasn’t so close—so suckable—he might have stopped there. “Um…”

You tensed, wondering if maybe your amber-and-cashmere scent was off, if you’d forgotten deodorant. Christ, your stomach dropped.

Then you felt it—his hand at your hip, warm and firm, much firmer than you expected from his sweaters and flannels. Slowly, it snaked around your waist. He was asking permission, not demanding anything.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, so low you almost missed it. His touch wasn’t sexual; it was exploratory, as if seeing just how the pretty, shy girl—who he’d seen in ridiculous hedgehog pajamas before this—could feel in his arms. You exhaled shakily and nodded.

“And this?” he whispered again, guiding you a step back, treating you like the delicate flower you were. You were back to chest with the bookish stranger you’d met just a week ago. Held. Wanted.

And though your paranoid, self-saboteur mind screamed that this would be disastrous, The gentle thrum of your heart told you this was exactly where you needed to be.

A breathy giggle escaped you as he tested a gentle squeeze on your hip.

He felt almost barbaric, on the verge of losing control as he buried his nose into your honeyed locks with a not-so-subtle inhale, followed by a grin. You smelled like fresh linens and gourmands, and if he were a lesser man, he’d tilt your chin up so to taste you with his starved tongue.

But you were shy, and he wasn’t a lesser man. Raised well by his parents, he only swayed you slightly, loosening the tension in your sharp bones.

“Alright,” he whispered, amusement in his voice, dipping his head low as if to shut out the noise of the world around you— as if to trap you both in this moment. He handed you your cup back, warm, though his body was warmer, and it took all your strength not to shiver and melt into him.

“How about this: you pick a book for me, and I pick one for you. We’ll read them, then when I take you out again, we’ll talk about them.”

When.

Already… when.

You swallowed hard, wondering for a moment if he was seducing you or if he was just a little mad. You were shy, quiet, and painfully awkward, yet he was planning a second date already.

Despite your racing mind, how you felt in that moment told an entirely different story. Maybe playing along wouldn’t be so bad.

“Deal,” you murmured, a mirrored grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. He swayed you again.

“Yeah? Okay. Romance only.” You nodded, “Romance only. Got it… close your eyes.”

And he did. His lashes brushed against your silvered ear as he lowered his head to steal another inhale. It took all his restraint not to pull you closer, not to lazily lick at the vanilla coating your skin.

Your fingers skimmed over the book spines for a long moment before settling on the first one that came to mind— Book Lovers by Emily Henry. Fitting, the title alone was enough, but beyond it— the meaning. Girl doesn’t believe in love, boy changes it… maybe this little game he had you playing could be more than just fun— maybe it could tell him something deeper.

For a moment, you considered playing it safer, but in the end, you decided against it, tucking the book to your chest. “Okay, your turn.”

His grin grazed the place just below your ear as he tilted his head up again, moving his hand from your hip to cover your eyes. You giggled, the sound light and sweet.

“No cheating, y/n,” he murmured, waiting patiently as he plucked a gold-trimmed book from the rattan shelf.

“I’m sure you know this one,” he added, tucking it to his side as you turned to face him, free from his warm grasp. You felt cold again.

“On three?” you offered, and the corner of his mouth lifted, a lazy grin spreading.

“Three,” he said, and your eyes widened as you quickly turned your book to him— and he did the same.

The Notebook.

“Oh, Clark.” His gaze shifted from your chosen book to his own, brows furrowing. “You’ve read it,” he concluded, but you shook your head. “Never even seen the movie.”

His brows lifted, blue-gray eyes widening slightly as he processed your words. A ringlet of onyx hair fell across his forehead as he checked his watch.

“Can I steal you for another… two hours?”

You just didn’t have it in you to say no…

[aquaglow]

confidence guide for awkward girls 💫

LEARN TO SHUT UP. this is the first advice because it is probably the most important one, but the one that took me the longest to comprehend and master. girl, literally just shutting the fuck up does wonders. most of the times I was embarrassed out of my mind was coz I said something completely avoidable, only because I believed that being quiet was either rude or more awkward than whatever I rambled at that moment. bzzt, WRONG! being quiet means first of all being non-reactive, which gives you time to really reflect on what's being said and whether or not it even requires a response, and guess what; like 80% of the time, it does not. you are allowed to not respond, nod along, go "hmm" or "oh!" and leave it at that.

LEARN TO "FAKE" SMILE. this may seem controversial but it helps me so much. I've always been accused of looking mean, bitchy or just too serious, especially since I started to shut the fuck up (see previous item). and I am guilty as charged: I do have a RBF and when I am focused my eyebrow goes ò_o and I look judgemental and almost evil, and when I tried to balance it out by being funny or witty, it just came off even more awkward. the solution? I've started practicing a fake smile in front of the mirror when I was about 13 years old until I got the muscle memory of it so perfectly that now it's my response to nearly everything that I don't want/can't respond to. throwing an easy smile into a conversation will make you seem relaxed and in control even if you're bubbling anxious inside, and people will feel more at ease with you. also: learn to be generous with compliments, and try to make them your auto-response as well!

STOP COMPARING YOURSELF. comparison is the mark of insecurity and envy, and it's one of the ugliest and most useless habits you can have. yes, useless: what benefit do you get from comparing your face and body and circumstances to somebody else's? and please don't pretend you're getting "inspiration" from them. listen, you are your own lane. you are your entire universe. there is no other life to be lived, no other body to embody. this is it. these are the cards you were dealt with. the longer you try to peak into somebody else's cards, the longer you'll be ignoring yourself and neglecting your game. abandon ideas such as comparison, imitation or judgement towards others. confidence starts and ends with focusing on yourself.

LEARN TO CUT PEOPLE OFF. accumulating people in your life like they're pokémon is gonna be your downfall, because it's obvious not everyone can stay. imagine if a growing tree held onto all its leaves and branches, even the ones in obvious decay, how ugly and weak that tree would be, how much energy those dying parts would steal from the new ones in need of flourishing. it's the same with relationships. when someone disrespects you, hurts you, or simply doesn't align with you anymore, and you find excuses to keep this person around, what you're doing is betraying yourself, and how are you gonna have confidence in someone who betrays you? learn to cut people off or to simply let them go, and watch yourself become lighter and brighter.

QUIT BEING A BITCH. something people don't seem to understand is that the rude, conceited, mean girl persona is always revealed to be a small, petty and insecure rat on the inside. I've wasted years of potential connections trying to emulate the Blair Waldorf-y, Regina George-y vibes, trying to balance out my awkwardness with what I thought was their fierceness, because I was missing the whole point that their confident selves were lies. no girl or woman who is confident in herself spends any amount of time being a bitch, scheming to take people down, minding everyone else's business to make sure she stays on top. true confident people are kind even in the face of rudeness, they glow in shadows; their strength lies in tenderness. the sooner you give this mean girl show up, the better.

ABANDON YOUR NEED FOR APPROVAL AND COMPREHENSION FROM OTHERS. seeking approval is a very obvious trap but seeking comprehension is also dangerous, because the second people start doubting or questioning you – which is always going to happen when you decide to make a change of habits, traits, lifestyle etc – and you decide to explain yourself, you're accepting the premise that what you're doing is incomprehensible. if you're truly sure of yourself, there will be no need to assure others of yourself. if your peers or strangers don't understand it, so what? that's their enigma to sort out. respond to yourself and yourself only. if you understand and approve yourself, that's all you need, period. live for your damn self.

GOOD LUCK, LITTLE STARS 💫

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (11)

originally posted on my old account. Trip loading twice weekly :)

Alexia’s pov 

“Ale please stay. Don’t leave me, please.” Hearing her beg for me not to leave her broke my heart. 

“I’ll be right back bebé, I’m just getting some water.” 

Alba and Mami were sitting on couch when it went out to the kitchen. 

“She asked me not to leave, so I’m going to go back in there. You should go home. Thank you for your help.” I set back off to Amelia’s room. The heart breaking scene of her curled into a ball, her eyes red and swollen, and the sound of sniffles through the air. 

I put her phone on charge and her water bottle on her bed side table, quickly making my way to the other side of the bed and climbing in. Pulling her into my arms and holding her until she fell asleep. After she had been asleep for half an hour, I messaged Keira and Lucy. Telling them I had Mil and asked them to come to her apartment. I didn’t know what to do. Im not good with my own emotions, and helping someone who is so deeply hurt is new to me. 

Keira Walsh: I’m here. Let me in please. 

Reluctantly, I got up, slowly in hopes to not wake Mil. The afternoon sun has lit up the apartment, it was bright and golden, a solemn contrast to the way Mils room felt. Opening the door, I was shocked to see someone else with Keira. Leah Williamson. 

“Hi Alexia.” The England captain shyly said. I opened the door further to let both women in. 

“Sorry, I thought it would be best to call Leah. She knows everything that happened with Milly and she got on the first flight here.” I nodded my head in understanding, that was smart in Keira’s behalf. 

“Is she asleep?” 

“Yeah. She was at the beach surfing and Mami bought us back here. She was just sitting in the shower with boiling water on her, she looked.” I had to take a second to compose myself, I would not be crying in front of Leah. “She looked broken.”

Keira and Leah just looked at each other. Sharing knowing looks and then Leah spoke up. 

“She said she loved you, right? That’s what caused this?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think we should all sit down. You need to hear this Alexia.” 

There were a few things in this world that make me anxious. Meeting my sisters new girlfriends, doing interviews in English, teenage boys and Amelia Higgins. 

“Okay so obviously you know the public details of what happened with Emily and her?” 

“Si” 

“Emily was going to end things. She had written down on a piece of paper everything she wanted to say. Basically consisted of that she was still in love with Mil. Mil was still her favourite person and that Mil was her soulmate, but Emily wasn’t hers.”

“Right? Okay?”

“Emily always knew that Mils heart didn’t completely belong to her. I think she hoped that over time it would change but it never did. Mil has always loved you.” 

I didn’t say anything. This was a lot to take in, her own friends telling me she has always loved me? What could’ve happened if I had said something earlier? Ended things with Jenni earlier? 

“Ale.” Keira grabbed my hands, taking my attention away from ripping my nails off. “She doesn’t want to love you because she’s scared. After being given the note, she blamed herself. Mil thinks she caused this. She doesn’t want anything to happen to you or to your family. If you truly love her like I think you do, you’ll need to let her come to you. There’s nothing more I want than to see you both happily together but that won’t happen unless she comes to you.” 

“I’ll wait for her. I don’t care how long it takes but I won’t leave her.” 

We didn’t talk after that, the sun started setting and they were talking about ordering food for dinner. 

“I think I’m going to go home. I think it’ll, uh, it’ll be better if I’m not here when she wakes up.” 

Before Leah or Keira could reply, Amelia yelled out from the bedroom.

“Alexia? Alexia? Fuck ale please come back. I need you to come back.” her voice broke, thinking I’d left her when she needed me the most. Running back into the room, I quickly climbed into the bed and pulled her into my chest. 

“No amor. I’m here. I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m here.” I felt her nod her head against my chest, then her tears slowly wet my shirt. I didn’t care about Keira or Leah in the lounge room, all I cared about was Amelia and making sure she felt safe and comfortable. 

Leah came in a short while later, letting me know she would be staying in the spare room and to yell out if either of us needed anything. As I lay there with Amelia’s head on my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, and mine around hers, the only thing I could think of is how I could get used to this feeling. Selfish I know but it’s the truth. 

By 9pm, the house was completely quiet and dark. Everyone was sleeping or enjoying the peaceful evening. 

As the sun came through Amelia’s bedroom curtains, I felt lighter. Slowly opening my eyes I noticed she wasn’t in the room, the side of the bed she slept in was cold, her phone was gone and her favourite hoodie and wetsuit that hung on the back of her door. She was surfing. Of course. Deciding now was the best time to leave and go back to my own house, I quickly made her bed, opened her bedroom window and got the bottles of water to put in the bin. 

I had forgotten Leah was there, Keira seemingly had come too. 

“Morning capi” Keira handed over coffee. 

“Gracias.” Inhaling the smell of coffee before taking the first sip. 

“Is she awake?” Leah jerked her head towards the door. 

“She’s surfing.” No one said anything for a moment. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later.” Turning quickly , before either could stop me. 

I sat in my car contemplating what to do, I thought about messaging Alba, but it was too complicated. Mapi was next, but again, complicated. The only person I truly wanted to talk to was Amelia. But I wasn’t sure if she wanted that. Despite the thoughts telling me to leave her alone, I made my way to the beach. Stopping to get her a coffee so she could have it when she got out. 

Since it was still early, it was easy to park and find her stuff. I made myself comfortable and waited. I didn’t have to wait too long because she had noticed me and started making her way back to the shore. 

“I got you a coffee. Caramel latte right?” I asked as I handed it to her. 

“Thanks Ale.” She sat down, closer to me than usual. 

Silence engulfed us. 

“So Leah’s here huh?” She said more as a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. She came last night. Keira rang her apparently and she got on the first flight.” 

“I don’t know how to do this Ale.” She whispered, I turned to look at her, confused. 

“Do what?” 

“Us. It was easier when I lived in England. I didn’t have to see you everyday, be close to you, listen to you laugh at something Mapi said or watch you with Vicky and Jana. I could watch you from a distance, love you from a distance. But now? Now I’m here and it’s almost too much. It’s so-“ 

“Overwhelming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I feel the same way.” She rested her head on my shoulder, my arm wrapping around her shoulder. 

We stayed like that for a while. It was nice. But it wouldn’t last. 

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ REMEDY ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you help patch up your significant other’s injuries.

CHARACTERS. gorou, kaedehara kazuha, kujou sara

CONTENT. gn!reader. canon-compliant. established relationship. fluff. 0.5k wc. rewrite of remedy at my old main blog @/verxsyon. reader is a medic. injuries. war between the watatsumi army and the shogunate (gorou and kujou sara).

VERA. happy new year, everyone! first fic of 2025! tbh I wish inazuma gets rewritten (i would personally do that if i had enough brain cells but sadly i have none), but i’m glad the story stepped up on how it's been told since sumeru.

��༉‧₊˚. GOROU

“i’m fine.” general gorou is too prideful to admit that he got shot on the shoulder by a shogunate archer. with the presence of medical staff in his tent, you know too well that he won’t tell the truth. so you instruct them to leave to tend to the other soldiers.

“you can fool the medics, but not your partner.” he growls when you roll out a bundle of bandages. “dear obarashi. gorou, it’s just me.”

gorou remains cautious of your movements. then he hesitantly reveals where the arrow had struck, and you proceed to treat that spot. “i don’t want my men to worry too much about me.”

“but i do if you don’t tell me,” you enunciate every word with a poke on his skin. “from now on, can you please be more honest? i want you to be okay.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, burying his face into your neck when you embrace him as your forgiveness. “i’ll try, for you.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

“seems like you had them on for a while,”  you remark, noticing a strip of his bandages hanging out from his hand. “here, i’ll put on fresh ones for you.”

despite being in a relationship for quite some time now, there are things kazuha isn’t comfortable sharing just yet, such as the burnt scars on his hand. he follows you into your shared cabin at the crux, anxious of your thoughts about his injuries.

“wow.” your thumb traces the trail of ridges from his palm to his wrist, making him wince. he doesn’t sense disgust from you, which is a relief. “give me a moment; i need to fetch ointment from my drawer. tell me if it hurts, okay?”

the process is mostly painless. his palm stings a little bit, but watching you tend to his wounds with care makes him forget the pain. after you finish patching up, you kiss the area where his scars are. “better?”

humming in affirmation, kazuha leans forward to kiss your forehead as thanks for taking care of him. “much better.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KUJOU SARA

“let me guess. that oni again?” you know what caused her injuries, but having a good laugh or two is something that may lighten up the mood. general sara is not amused, so you drop the cheerful act immediately.

“sorry, i was trying to make you feel better.” she doesn’t respond, rather staring at you with blank eyes. “i’ll just shut up and get my first-aid kit.”

treating someone of high authority like her feels awkward, acting as if she’s judging you. on the contrary, she tries to formulate an explanation of her injuries. “i apologize for the inconvenience. the resistance bested us again.”

of course, the divine priestess and her army. troublesome and a force to be reckoned with. you tap her shoulder, signaling her that you finished. “don’t apologize. just be careful.”

with a squeeze on your forearm, sara leaves without looking back. you keep praying that the war will be over soon, and that she will come back to you safe and sound.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part thirteen

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 2.9k (2996)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part fourteen!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

The black jacket, elegantly finished with silver stitching, seems to be so tight right now. It's a paradox for you to be anxious about being the center of attention, given that for a good part of your life you've always been on a catwalk; but tonight, with an audience in front of you for the first time since the very first scandal, and the evidence that Gabriel has lied, it's a whole different situation. Since you came home last night, nervous but happy, you haven't had a second to rest: obviously Micheal had heard the audios he found on his chat, and had no qualms about picking you up from work earlier than necessary. It was evidence so important and incriminating that not even he knew if it was true or not, but seeing you so happy after so long was the confirmation that finally the nightmare was in its final stages. And that evidence had to be heard

And so now you're in the dressing room of the most watched and important television network in the country, ready to go on air. You had called some local TV stations saying that, if they wanted, you would make your first TV appearance after the scandal with them. Many had accepted, but you had chosen the biggest and most important one. And so now, agitated, you were about to tell the world the real truth after weeks of suffering, the real Gabriel

"You don't usually wear lipstick. Did they force you?" Kaiser says chuckling, leaning against the wall. You nod rolling your eyes, while you check yourself in the mirror once more "Sort of. They told me if I didn't let them put it on, they'd give me 25 seconds less time" you say, and his laughter gets louder "I don't understand the logic of this, but as long as I can see you with lipstick on, I like it" he says, running a hand through his hair. You raise an eyebrow at his comment, surprised "Does it look good on me or bad?" you ask. With a gentle push he pushes himself away from the wall, walking towards you “You could put dirty rugs on you and I’d be as in love as I am in my letters. Be thankful they put too much makeup on you or I would have kissed you” he says, taking your face in his hands, and you rest your cheek against his palm, a small smile appearing on your red lips "Too bad. Although I don't think they mind that much if I ask the makeup artists to put my lipstick back on" you ask in a suggestive tone, and he nods "You could. But what would you say as an excuse? That you drank too much water and everything was ruined?" he asks, closing the distance between you a bit "I could say that, yes"

It doesn't take much to have his lips on yours, a gesture you've become accustomed to since you returned to Germany. His hands leave your face to rest on your hips, holding you tight without letting you the chance to escape, something you wouldn't do even in your worst dreams. Squeezed between the wall and his body, you end up clinging to him while tightening your arms around his neck, not giving him the chance to move away. Aggressive as he is on the field, his natural habitat, Kaiser seems to go heavy as the kiss becomes more and more needy, his hands move to your lower back. You know what he has in mind when he does that, you know him all too well by now, but doing that here is definitely not an option, at least not before the interview. You regretfully break the kiss, noticing that the lipstick is now all over his lips; you giggle slightly at him in this state, looking down as he looks confused "You don't want to?" he asks, even though he knows the answer would always be yes, but right now it's no "Not now, at least. You've got lipstick on your lips" you say, still giggling "Imagine if Ness or your teammates saw you in this state" you say, and he lets out a sigh "Ness would be simping like usual and the others would be afraid to comment" he says, then runs his thumb over your bottom lip "But if this is the reward for getting dirty, I don't care. We could try on all the lipsticks you have at home, once we're done here" he says, and you nod, looking into his eyes "If you mean it that much, Mihya" you say amused

He holds you tight, but at the same time you can't be completely calm. You're about to do something extremely important for yourself, but who gives you the certainty that everything will go as you think? How do you know if Gabriel hasn't already predicted this step of yours too?

You're afraid. You can't not admit it, it would be lying to yourself. You're afraid of simply seeing all the effort go to pieces, without having a third chance to put everything back together, because if this time it goes badly, the pain will probably be too much. But you have to do it now, in less than twenty minutes you will be on TV in front of the whole Germany. So, other than taking courage on your own and finding comfort in your boyfriend, you can't do anything else. Just wait and see

"Anxious?" Kaiser asks, running his hand up and down your back. You nod, leaning against his chest. "It would be stupid of me to lie. I am and I just want to go home right now" you admit, and he seems to understand. "I know. It's a big thing, but you have to do it. You finally have the chance to send that monster packing for good, and you have to make the most of it. You finally have to show the world that you were never a traitor in the first place" he says, and you can't help but nod again "It's just that it's so important that I'm scared. No one gives me the security that people will believe me, once I tell the truth about the past. I could go back to how I was before I went back to Germany" you admit, then feel his hand stop halfway up your back "It won't all go wrong, you literally have everything to win this time. And then, even if it goes wrong, who cares? This time you don't just have a hotel room to comfort you, you have me in full. And if comforting you means I have to take you with me on my next soccer tour, I'll be more than happy. And if they find out we're in love, I'll be even happier" he says, and you look up at him "If it goes bad, I'm here. If it goes well, I'm here anyway. Stop worrying about sinking if you finally have someone who wants to grab you"

If you could cry now, you would, since it happened the last time you no longer feel ashamed if you do it in front of your boyfriend, but now there is no time to do it. Smile because it is the only thing you can do, because in fact you do not know how to express in words how much you really love this boy. It's not a given to be there for someone, especially when they're at their lowest point of life. But Kaiser wouldn't leave if you were the one at the lowest, and you wouldn't leave if he ever needed help, even if you've had the opportunity to comfort him in the past about his family situation. If this isn't love, the one what you dreamed of as a child, you don't know what it is. And if you had to do it all over again to get the same result, suffer and fall, you would do it without even thinking twice

"Will you watch me?" you say, while he has one hand on the doorknob. He has to go, you'll be on the air soon, it's finally time, your time

"You'll find me in the front row, Schatz"

Sitting on the sofa in the study, the anxiety you had before has completely gone away, leaving you only with a sense of boldness that you have rarely had in your life. You've been on the air for about minutes now, and beyond the usual questions, you still haven't talked about the reason why you're here tonight. The interviewer is polite, nice, quite friendly, and Kaiser is in the studio audience

"So... it's time to get a little more personal. We all know it wasn't an easy time and you even had a break from work before you entered the TraumLaufsteg. What happened, Y/n? Tell us" the woman says, as the camera pans solely towards you. You take a deep breath as you smile nervously, but it's time, finally. It's your time

"You know Ingrid, I think the whole world has a different idea of what happened to me. I don't blame them, I have to be honest, I would also have an opinion on such an interesting situation that was handled so badly by the media" you say, convinced "But it was a really bad time for me, I think everyone knows that. I changed house, country, fashion agency and above all I no longer have the same person by my side who remained by my side for three consecutive years. But now I only have to say that I should have made these changes a long time ago, a very long time ago" you say smiling, and the interviewer is surprised "What do you mean? Can you tell us better? You know, the whole world now sees you as the woman who betrayed the genius of Italian fashion" she says, and you nod "For many, if not for all, I am as you described me. But there is a small difference that only Gabriel and I know the truth, that now we are no longer a couple, as he continues to make people believe. I left Gabriel after three years because enduring yet another of dozens of betrayals had led me to a situation of continuous discomfort that forced me, fortunately I would say, to leave him" you say, and the studio audience and the interviewer burst into a surprised murmur. Kaiser smiles satisfied, while everyone doesn't seem to believe the words they just heard from you, the one who actually betrayed him in the man's story

"Cheating? Y/n, can you tell us more?" the woman says, and you nod happily "Of course. As you know, this is my first TV appearance, at least wanted and not forced, that I'm doing after the scandal. I've kept many things inside, things that have destroyed me to the point of exhaustion, things that I wouldn't wish even at my worst enemy. But now I want to tell everything and show the truth, because unlike Gabriel, I don't just talk, I also demonstrate. Please pay attention" you say, and your phone comes out of your pocket

"Gabriel started cheating on me two years ago. The first was the beginning of a long list of women who work in the same field as me, others who aren't in the fashion world and others whose names I don't even know, but I know they exist. I've always kept quiet about this subject, because I always thought that if he came home to me he didn't really love these women. It hurt me to think about it, but he kept me going" you say, and show some photos of the women Gabriel has cheated on you with over the years "I also suffered psychological violence. I was manipulated to the point of not even being able to see my best friend, Michael Kaiser, who has always been a point of reference for me. Gabriel also forced me many times to do things I didn't want to, like fashion shows with clothes I didn't feel comfortable in. After all, I was his star model, right?" you say

"I never had the courage to say anything against Gabriel, because I seriously loved him. So, how could I ever cheat on him? Think about it. He painted me as a monster because he knew he had the power to do it. But maybe I have to thank him, it's thanks to him that I understood that I couldn't continue to go on like this. So I took everything and came back here to Germany, a place that has had my heart for years. I thought I could start something different here, something that would finally bring me back to being well, but I didn't know that the second part of my nightmare was about to begin. When I thought about starting over, I just realized that my past was coming with me. I discovered things about Gabriel that I didn't even think were humanly possible, and yet I saw them before my eyes. Can I have a microphone? I have to play some audios" you say, and before you finish the sentence you already have your microphone in your hands. The recordings begin and slowly everyone becomes aware of what you have heard, of Gabriel and of Ursula. After eight minutes of recording, the studio is completely silent, while you clear your throat "This is why I asked to finally speak in front of everyone. I've had this thought for a long time, but I never had the courage to do it. And yet here I am, serving you the truth on a silver platter, and I should thank someone who is here, since it was he who gave me the courage to do so. Believe what you want, it is not my goal to change your opinion, but I ask you only to think about it, and not to make accusations that are hard to handle. I only speak when I have proof, unlike someone"

Silence. Pure silence. The studio audience stares at you in shock, and you think that more or less the same is true for those watching from their homes. Then a round of applause, another, until everyone ends up applauding for you, including the interviewer. And it is from this gesture that you understand that now it is seriously all over, that now you can really start to be happy. People believe you. People who were previously confused or against you finally know the truth. The truth, so hidden by Gabriel, is finally given to the public

"Wow. Just wow" the woman says, still paralyzed "That's really something to show. You must be so scared, and yet you did it. You have courage, you really have a lot of it" he says "And yet, in your speech you mentioned someone. Would you like to tell us about it?" he says, and you smile spontaneously "I would love to"

For a few seconds you turn to Micheal, looking at each other with a look that only the two of you can understand "This someone is the boy I've known since I was 16, famous as well as unpleasant, but he has a heart of gold if you know how to handle it. He's the point of reference I've had as a girl and that I will have for a long time, at least until the day I die. Everyone knows who I'm talking about, our relationship has been talked about since we were still two teenangers. He is someone who gave me so much courage in moments when I didn't know what else to do but let myself sink, and in other moments when I just needed support he was there. Micheal Kaiser, the pearl of Bastard Munchen, the one everyone loves and hates at the same time, the one many would kill themselves for to spend an hour with, is my point of reference. Kaiser Micheal is my... he's my best friend. Forever" you say, even if the last sentence leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth: you are much more than best friends, he is your soulmate, he is your lovely boyfriend. But the world, you believe, is not ready for this yet

The audience erupts into yet another round of applause, louder and more vigorous. Kaiser applauds, and you know he's thinking the same thing you're thinking. You would seriously like to tell the truth, you know he would too, but it's not the right time yet, at least not now and here

"It's nice to know that someone helped you. It's also nice to know what he means to you, since you just confirmed that you are best friends, practically the same status for ten years now. By doing so, you confirmed that the speculation of a possible romantic relationship between the two of you is not ongoing, right?" says the woman, and you are seriously in trouble

You want to say it, but not now

Kaiser wants to say it, but he'll wait for you

"Think of us as you like. Best friends? Couple? Whatever you want, we accept everything" you say, and for the umpteenth time the audience erupts in a scream of amazement. Michael, amused, glances at you, and you can't help but smile at him as if nothing had happened. You want to compromise, and something like this seemed like the perfect option for both

In the immense room of the television studio, you finally feel seriously free. Free to speak, to no longer be afraid, to go back to being the same person you have always been. Free to finally love Kaiser in a way he deserves. For the first time in your life, you seriously believe you've passed Gabriel, passed by kilometers ahead

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan ; @sabrina-senpai ; @vannilaa16 ; @kaz-0e ; @tamashithe2nd ; @x3nafix (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

[shecriestotheclickingoftime]

i'm here - 1.8k words

bf!patrick zweig x shy!socialite!reader

two fics in two days?? who even is this??

this is gossiping, girly, sweet soft boyfriend patrick zweig fic 😭😭😭😭

ok so basically in this one you're a socialite girl, socially anxious and shy, and you always have to go to your parents' events and have endless small talk to impress their friends. and you hate it. but this time, you have your sweet boyfriend patrick there, with his "zweig charm", to handle it for you.

fluff, soft!patrick zweig (as always w me), and just basically yeah. i imagined it as college era patrick zweig, and classes/academics get mentioned once, but in general it's not set in a super specific time period.

partially inspired by a conversation i had with @grimsonandclover and a bot that she made, so creds to the loml annie for that!! and for inspiring me to write patrick “one of the girls” zweig because he is very much present in this fic. and also a million thanks to @newrochellechallenger2019 for discussing the idea with me earlier <333

and i wrote this with fem!reader in mind, and like you wearing a dress and heels is mentioned, and patrick is taller than you, but if you ignore that this could generally be read as gender neutral? but do be aware of that!

ok that's it! i hope u enjoy!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

you'd always hated going to your parents' events. you were already shy and more on the introverted side, so having to spend the whole night in a crowded place full of your parents' coworkers and friends, and being expected to greet all of them and "make the rounds" felt like pure torture. the music was always bad, the guests were always obnoxious, and your social anxiety always went through the roof.

luckily for you, your boyfriend was the complete opposite. patrick zweig thrived in social settings, always having his loud, cocky persona on, and it seemed like he never ran out of things to say. so, when one of your parents' dreaded events was coming up, it was a no-brainer fro you to invite him as your plus-one. 

he always seemed to understand you, and your nonverbal cues, in a way that not even you could fully understand. he could always tell when you were anxious. 

so, there you were, in your bedroom, slipping on your red-bottomed heels in your silky black dress, patrick sitting on your bed waiting for you to get ready.

"i really, really don't want to go," you sigh, slipping on your shoes and sitting next to patrick on the bed. you lean your head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around you, rubbing circles on your back reassuringly. 

"you look nice. and it'll be fine, i'm here with you this time," he says gently, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "if you get overwhelmed, i can take over. i'll do all the talking."

you smile softly at his reassurances, resting against him for a moment before your parents call you down, saying that its time to leave. 

you get up, as patrick slips on his suit jacket, and intertwines his hand with yours as you walk down the stairs, and out of the house into the car that's taking you to the event. you sit in the third row with patrick, your parents in the row in front of you, as the driver begins to pull away to take you all to the gala.

the silence of the car is only interrupted by the sound of the heater blowing and your parent's quite, idle chatter. you leg bounces as you anxiously anticipate the event, going over names in your head and trying to craft the introduction and greeting you'll give everyone, like you're trying to memorize lines in a script. you look out the window, spacing out, when you feel patrick scooting from his seat on the opposite side of the row to the middle seat. he intertwines his hand with yours, lifting them to press a kiss to the back of your hand, whispering affirmations like "it's ok" and "i'm here" to you under his breath. 

you look over at him with a nervous smile, him meeting you with a wide grin. "i like that i get to take you to one of these," he whispers, quiet enough that no one else in the car could hear it, as his thumb rubs circles in your hand. "we can be judgey together, you know? i know how much you like to gossip about the outfits. i'll make it actually fun to be there, you know," he murmurued, his grin turning smug as he watched your anxiety break a little as you let out a quiet laugh. 

"yeah, yeah, sure," you whisper back, rolling your eyes withy a smile as you lean your head onto his shoulder. "i'm glad you're coming with me to this," you say sincerely, as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head in response.

"of course i'm here. that's my job as a boyfriend isn't it?" he laughs, letting you relax against him, sitting comfortably in the silence of the car ride as you near the venue. "you look beautiful tonight, you know."

he feels you smile as you hide your face in his shoulder. even though you guys have bee dating for a while, you still get shy at patrick's compliments, and he loves it. 

you nuzzle into his shoulder, trying to find some peace in the quiet, as the car pstarts to park in front of the venue. the event is some sort of charity gala and auction, being held in the ballroom of some sort of museum. as you climb out of the car, patrick holding your hand as you climb out, you feel the cold winter air nipping at your skin. but patrick is quick, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you in as you walk up to the door and go in. 

the music is boring and loud, and the lights are dim and blue. the chatter is dull and business-oriented around you, and you see your parents walking up to a group of "friends" with fake smiles pressed on their faces as you take patrick's hand, letting him guide you near a corner of the room.

"i hate it here already" you whisper to him, as he looks down at you with a sweet grin. "i know you do, baby," he says, placing his arms around your waist again, resting it there as you stand near the wall and look into the room. 

"god, that suit is ugly," patrick whispers to you, a cocky grin on his face as he motions toward a man is a vibrant purple velvet suit, brown shoes and a matching purple velvet tie. "who dressed him? who let him leave the house like that? they should be ashamed of themselves," patrick says, his voice getting a bit louder as he looks down at you, trying to read your face.

his smile grows wider when he sees you break into a soft smile, giggling under your breath. he himself didn't know too much about fashion, or care too much in general, but he knew the light gossip put you at ease, so he tried to learn from your preferences, memorizing the little fasion rules that you'd set. and, to be fair, even he could tell that the man's suit was fugly. 

you whisper back, "and that lady... she looks like she's pushing 70, wearing a sequin mini-dress to a black-tie charity event. what is she doing?" you say, your grin widening, as patrick squeezes your hip gently, both of you trying hard to stifle your laughter.

patrick bends down to press a kiss to your head, a force of habit of his, rubbing your back as you two look around the room, pointing out and nitpicking random outfits, or hairstyles, or lame song choices from the dj. 

“what's the point of even hiring a dj if he's this shitty?" you whisper up to patrick, your words engulfed in laughter as you try to get them out, "i could play better music for free, just give me an aux cord and a spotify playlist" you giggle, as patrick nods his head, laughing a little too loud for a formal event like this. 

"shhhh... people might look" you say, playfully scolding patrick as he looks down at you fondly. 

of course, the moment had to be interrupted by your parents waving you over to their little group of work friends, as you sigh, pressing a fake smile to your face and nodding as the group looks over at you. "fuck, not this again" you whisper through your teeth at patrick, trying your best to keep your smile from falling into a frustrated grimace. it wasn't that you disliked your parents, or their friends for that matter, but it always felt like the same routine every time. you getting singled out, asked about school, grilled about random future job prospects, as you slowly felt your insides cruble further into an anxiety-fueled despair as you repeat the same lines, over and over, to every other little group that your parents want to "show you off" to. 

but patrick just grabs your hand, squeezing it gently, pressing an easygoing samile onto his face, and nodding at you reassuringly. you're not sure what he means by that, but you know he's going to try and take caare of you like he always does. patrick zweig, always the charmer.

you greet the group, introducing patrick as your boyfriend, seeing his smile turn a little smug as you claim him.

you squeeze his hand as the adults around you start to ask questions, and you answer, trying to turn it into some sort of conversation instead of just an itnerview. and patrick follows along perfectly, using his "zweig charm" (as he calls it) to cover for you, squeezing your hand every so often as he talks you up to your parents friends, raving about the newest classes you're taking, and the advanced concepts you explain to him. he makes sure to give you space to speak whenever you want, always jumping in whenever you get overwhelmed, always able to keep up his social, smug act flawless, even when you get shy.

you finally get to a point where you're able to break off the conversation, smiling and excusing yourself from the circle, letting out a breath as you step away from your performance.

"that wasn't so bad," you say to patrick, hands still intertwined as you pull him to the edge of the room again, taking a breather from the crowd of people conversating about business and whatever, turning around to face in again and just get some time to talk with him. "but i still want to go home," you complain, a joking smile on your face, as the two of you stand at the edge of the room. 

you feel him pull you into his arms, your back pressed against his chest as he snakes his arm around your waist, both of you looking into the room. he towers over you like this, resting his chin on the top of your head as he holds you tightly.

"you're doing great, baby" he affirms, his voice soft and sweet. "the cocktail and dinner time will end soon anyways, so we can be done with small talking with everyone soon. when the auction starts we can just sit down and gossip again," he says in a low voice, giving you a gentle squeeze as he holds you. 

and the night continued like that, patrick holding your hand through it all, jumping into conversations when you got overwhelmed, letting you cling to him around the room. and every time your parents called you over to talk to some other friends, the process felt a little easier, a little lighter, because you had patrick there.

"always the charmer," you whispered at him, teasing, as you walked away from yet another conversation about your future and politics and whatnot, with some of your parents friends you couldn't even remember the names of anymore.

and when you sat at the table, as the speeches and charity auction started, you and patrick sat, whispering to each other quietly andf stifling laughter. 

and this night felt easier than any other event you'd had to go to before. because patrick was there for you, always. and as the night ended, and you walked out, you thought to yourself, "maybe these event's aren't always so torturous after all" 

:)))

[littlefaefae]

little faefae!

This is a profile about faefae, written with a little help from one of the fairies and all of faefae's closest friends!

Development and Personality:

As faefae is often heard saying, faefae is just little! Coming in at a solid 3 years old (hosted in a 40 year old) fae is especially tiny. Despite this, faefae is incredibly brave for one so small and anxious about the world around faer. fae is quick to tell others when fae's scared, and still faces the things fae fears with the kind of tenacity only a three year old can muster.

faefae is also quite dutiful, tending to faer daily routines reliably. faefae also has a good understanding of faerself, and is able to stand up for faerself even when it is really difficult. faefae is a very genuine little cutie! fae is still very small and refers to faerself with the pronouns fae/faer instead of using words like I or me, and has difficulty with big words. As an autistic little, fae can be quite quiet and struggle with words as well as interacting with others, but fae is very polite and nice to everyone fae talks to. faefae is especially nervous in busy places and with groups, but a little coaxing will bring faer right out of faer shell!

Given faefae's young age, faefae has yet to grow out of faer need for pacifiers and diapers, and is still completely reliant on them. fae is not in any hurry to leave them behind either: faefae needs faer diapers and finds faer pacifiers very soothing! While us fairies deal with faer diapers on a day-to-day basis, it's faefae's biggest wish to find a mommy or caregiver who would love to change faer diapers.

Activities and Interests:

Like most littles faer age, faefae likes colouring and drawing, and often engages in little arts and crafts. faefae is very good at choosing the right colours for the picture's fae's colouring. faefae still needs a lot more practice at writing, but fae is getting quite good at staying in the lines while colouring! As you can see above, faefae is quite attached to faer stuffie family, with Mr Froggie being faer closest companion for nap and bedtimes. It's clear to everyone that faefae loves and cherishes all faer stuffies immensely and does faer absolute best to take care of them! faefae especially loves froggies, and loves being sent pictures of them!

Precious and little as fae is, fae still has some very special interests! faefae quite likes the restraints that littles sometimes find themselves in, and things like spankings are something that faefae quite enjoys sometimes, making them both little treats you can give little faefae for being so good. The things that make other littles afraid to misbehave don't scare faefae in the slightest! Luckily for all you caregivers, however, faefae is sweet and adorable and exceptionally well behaved. fae listens well and is incredibly obedient!

faefae also likes to spend time nursing at faer caregiver's breasts (and has fallen asleep on them in the past). faefae is very cuddly and snuggly, and loves affectionate tickling from faer caregivers. faefae's level of obedience means that if you're so inclined, faefae also makes an exceptionally pliable little hypnosis subject, so if that's a skill you want to develop or practice, fae might be the little for you! As a curious little thing, you'll find faefae receptive to all kinds of special play!

Testimonials and Engagement:

Us fairies do our best to take care of faefae while we wait for someone to take care of faer, but faefae is a great and delightful little who is cute, kind, caring, pleasant, bright, warm, sweet, silly, and adorable little fairy faerself! faefae is well loved by all faer friends, who were all exceptionally willing to lend their kind words to help us write this profile for our beautiful and amazing little fairygirl. Near everything we've written has come from others' observations of our dearest little faefae!

If you want to get to know faefae better, remember faefae is quite small and don't be afraid to take the lead with faer! You'll find faefae a delight to talk to if you keep faer engaged and provide faer with prompts and questions to get faer inquisitive little mind flowing! fae is exceptionally affectionate to those who get close to faer, but faer cautiousness sometimes leaves faer feeling on the edge of things: give faer things to do and talk about, and you'll quickly draw faer into your arms!

We hope this has given you an insight into darling little faefae!

[faithlia]

⋆｡˚ Jᥙᥒ᥆ ୧˚｡⋆

english ins't my first lenguage.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, kind of friends to lovers.

a/n: this was a request for a sequel to something about you, however, this story doesn't tell much about what happened in its premise, although it has the same characters and their respective interests. also I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been very busy lately, but I hope you like it 💓

"you're make me wanna falling in love" - sabrina carpenter.

I don't know how to react to this or how to talk about it. After a series of meaningless flirtations and arousal-ridden insistence, I have Matt sitting on my living room floor, pretending he knows how to put the puzzle together properly. It's what? Eleven o'clock at night? Maybe he won't be leaving anytime soon.

I'm intrigued and anxious about what might happen if he comes over to my place. He wants to fuck me, and I know it; I have no objections to it, just thoughts of endless possibilities. I mean, I can't help myself, hormones are high.

When we arrive, I thought he was going to grab me and I would forget everything to focus on the moment, but that's not what happened.

I grab two glasses of wine, taking them to him in short steps.

"Thanks", he says as he reaches for the drink. I sit a little closer to him, but on the couch, watching him sort the pieces out to line them up in their proper place.

“How long have you been putting this together?” he asks, pointing with his finger.

“I don’t know. I think it’s been about two days,” I say. I really don’t know where I got the patience to put together a puzzle with a thousand tiny pieces, but the idea seems brilliant. “It helps me relax,” I sigh. I drink some more wine and then find myself staring at the empty glass – like a professional drunk.

Seriously? You relax with that?" He downs the rest of his wine, looking at me with slanted eyes.

"Of course I do," I say, smiling like an idiot. It seems that half a glass of wine is enough for me to feel comfortable with each leg on either side of his body. He doesn't mind; in fact, he even drops his head back - right into my lap.

"I can't imagine you relaxing; You're always so anxious about everything." He looks at me with such serene eyes that I have to make sure that it's not a figment of my imagination and that his eyes and expression aren't the most attractive thing I've ever seen.

"I think I'm pretty relaxed now." It's not entirely a lie, but part of me feels like my heart is almost in my mouth. I bite my lip and dare to run my hands through his messy hair; it's soft, but at the same time it looks like he hasn't washed it. I don't think he's the kind of guy who spends time worrying about what products to put in his hair. It makes me want to wash his hair like he's a doll, which is kind of weird.

"Okay," he says. He sighs and closes his eyes, feeling very comfortable, and I like that. Little by little, a feeling settles in my chest, and I don't think so much about what might happen. Of course, yes, I really want to kiss him, because his mouth is so attractive, and everything about him makes me surrender to a simple touch or a bold tilt.

Without thinking, I start to trace his face with the tip of my finger, delicately. He doesn't open his eyes and this allows me to be more evasive, pinching the tip of his nose lightly.

"Wow" I say, laughing.

"What is it?", he asks, still with his eyes closed, settling his head more into my lap.

"It's just... Have you noticed that your nose is really big?", I think I'm drunk because this is the first time I've said something about his appearance. It's not an insult, but rather something that has always strangely attracted me to him.

Contrary to what I thought, Matt laughed.

"Fuck you", he says. I lean a little closer to his face and say, "I like it. I find it quite... useful." I smack my lips and Matt opens his eyes. Damn, again those damn eyes so beautiful they look like they're going to eat me alive.

Now everything seems sneaky. He whispers to me, "Really?", knowing exactly what I mean. And before I can say anything else, he pulls my head down and kisses me. It's a sloppy kiss, but neither of us cares. He caresses the back of my neck and lifts his body up to take my lips. The feeling of his mouth on mine is delicious. I feel like I'm Spider-Man wearing pink panties

Matt lets out a moan and it drives me crazy. I pull away from him from the discomfort of being so bent over.

"That was our first kiss", I point out.

"Yeah" he nods, turning to face me — still between my legs. "Was it good?" he asks, so relaxed that it makes me comfortable with what we just did.

I lick my lips and say "Yeah" too, but the sound is more like a moan.

"Do you want to do it again?" he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

"I do!", and that's absolutely true. "But I know where this is going," I think out loud. For some reason, I'm not reluctant to tell him what I'm thinking. Maybe the nervousness went away when I started drinking, and that's fine with me. I like to tell him what I think and I don't think he minds. I think he likes being teased by my words – especially since I like it when he does it to me.

"What? Sex?", he gives me a wicked smile. And looks directly at my breasts.

"Yes!", I lean back on the couch, feeling the softness of the upholstery. "And what's the problem, I thought you wanted it", he looks at me like a puppy. I move my hand to stroke his hair again.

"I don't know. Won't it be weird?" I ask, thinking about an idea that has crossed my mind many times.

"Why would it be weird?" he asks back and now we're playing this little game that I kind of like. I shrug and he's quiet for a while. "We don't have to have sex if you don't want to", he says, lowering his gaze to between my legs.

"Okay",I say it like I'm not dying to have him. I think he wants to eat me out and I wouldn't deny it, I'd just be annoying enough to make him tired of trying. "Are you upset?" I ask.

This isn't the first time you've said no to me," I smile at that and he drags his hand up my thigh. "I want to wash your hair," I say and he rolls his eyes. "What? I really want to!"

"Do you want to give me a bath too?" I do, but I don't need to say it.

"Well, if it's to wash your hair..." I won't say it directly.

He shakes his head and sighs heavily, thinking about what to say, but before I do I reconsider. "But actually, I think it's better not to! I don't want you to get excited in the middle of everything," for a moment I regret what I said.

"Juno", he bites his lip, calling me.

"Hm?" I look at his mouth; it looks so soft.

"I've been hard for about two minutes now," I open and close my mouth, looking at the considerably large bulge in his pants. I don't know what to say. "Oh my God. I managed to shut your fucking mouth. Awesome!" he says as if it's the best thing in the world, but I don't take offense; he's said worse to me. With a little difficulty, he stands up and stretches his entire body with his back to me. I'm a little intimidated about what he's going to do; however, he sits down next to me and, at the same time, grabs a pillow to cover his "problem".

He doesn't say anything and I shift to get closer to him. Now, from how much I've played with his hair, he's slightly disheveled. "How are you going to fix this?" I ask, knowing he's going to give me an expected answer.

"Do you want to fix it for me?" Before I can answer, he kisses me, and this time with tongue, and it's so automatic that I gasp. He grabs my ass and squeezes the flesh hungrily. I moan into his mouth and he pulls me to sit on his lap – and I realize he's quickly removed the pillow, feeling the openness of the bulge. I'm not going to lie or be hypocrite; I've been wet for a while now. When he forces me against his cock, I feel my pussy throb – it feels so fucking good.

"Matt", I hold his face with both hands, almost crying. "I don't know if we should have sex now", I say, separating myself from his mouth and feeling a delicious longing as I move over his intimacy.

The truth is that, although I would like to have his mouth all over my body and his cock inside me, I'm insecure about everything. This concern invades my head when the realization that it's Matt who's there watching me moan like a whore on his lap. The fact that he's already seen my breasts weighs this stigma even more.

"Okay! I know you haven't had sex with guys in a while", it's true, but wait.

"How do you know that?", I frown.

"Because you tell me everything, idiot", he seals our lips quickly. Matt lowers his mouth to my neck, saying: "But at least let me eat you out or just suck your tits, or just watch you touch yourself; I would love that." He thrusts his hips against me, catching me off guard, making me gasp loudly with my mouth open.

I take a deep breath and gather the courage to tell him: "I want to, I really do! I'm just a little insecure..." I look down, trying not to rub myself against him. "I shouldn't, because you're so hot! And you know that's true." He lifts my chin with his hand and bites my neck, biting until he reaches my cleavage, sticking his face in there. "And, fuck, I've seen those tits, and they're even more beautiful up close." He squeezes my breasts with his big hands, intensifying a delicious sensation in my lower abdomen. "Do you want me to tell you about your pussy that's wetting my pants, too?" Matt looks at me, his eyes shining. It was true, I'm making a terrible mess.

Fuck.

"Do you still want to wash my hair?" Matt asks, with his naughtiest smile. I nod and he lifts me easily onto his lap and heads to the bathroom.

He's quick to take off my clothes and he's also quick to make me go crazy. He pushes me against the shower wall and kneels down to eat my pussy. I like the way he knows how to eat me and how grotesque he is in the sense of making a mess on his own face just to devour me. When he runs the tip of his nose over my clit and almost shoves his face inside me, he says in a very slurred voice: "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" and he takes saliva on the tip of his tongue to join my lubricated clit and satisfy me a little more. And, when I squirt on his face from the accumulated stimulation, he opens his mouth with his tongue out, swallowing everything, panting: "You're delicious, babe".

Matt is the kind of guy who likes to fuck dirty and knows how to be thirsty for it.

I swore every moment that he wouldn't fuck me tonight, but after cumming in his mouth and knowing how naughty he is, the urge got worse and he fucked me the way he wanted, moaning loudly that I take him well, that he would cum inside me and he didn't care at all and he did; I like how he keeps his words.

And you can bet that I really like the fact that he takes me to bed, still wet, and makes me sit on his sensitive cock with my back to him, murmuring how hot I am and pinching my nipples between his fingers. I don't bother to scream when he hits my sensitive spot. I love the way he starts to feel overwhelmed and whimpers in my ear; I aggravate my movements and grip the back of his neck tightly just to hear him closer. He cums inside me once more, both of us letting out moans from the sensitivity caused in our bodies. He masturbates my clit and I release myself too, rolling my eyes in pleasure.

The last thing I remember is being in his arms, and after that, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I feel unimaginably tired. Matt's eyes are open, sleepy; he says, "Good morning," and for me, talking at that moment is not an option. He kisses my forehead and smiles, touching my cheek, being so gentle.

"We weren't supposed to do this," I say, my voice unrecognizable. He presses his lips together and smacks, murmuring, "I know!" I sigh, stretching. "Do you want to do it again?" he asks.

Well.

No need to ask!

I must say that Matt and I fucked hard all day, in every possible position. And a few times, he asked me which ones I had tried; he was surprised by some of them.

He kissed me tenderly at each end, assuring me that it was very good. And surprisingly, after cumming on his cock so many times like a slut, I actually washed his hair when we showered – leaving it nice and wavy.

We finished putting the puzzle together – even though we argued a lot about where the pieces should go. He also felt motivated enough to tell me that he likes me since I started to feel comfortable insulting him, but that he finds me annoying and sometimes insufferable. I told him he was an idiot and teased him: “Does this turn you on, Matt?”

“Oh my god. I’m so fucking horny.” He laughs and kisses me and I know for sure that I want his touch for the rest of my life.

The End

a/n: Yeah, I know. It doesn't have much to do with the song, but if you're really fucking horny, I wouldn't hesitate to make a one-shot with all the positions that Juno and Matt did before putting together puzzles, and, who knows, after that too.

[suicideassistance]

just a genuinely curious question here. do you get overwhelmed with your inbox and sometimes consider closing it for a while? you said you've got a lot in the box, especially since that one person won't leave you alone. so I wondered if the number makes you anxious or worried or even tired.

No, but I have considered deleting tumblr due to that one person. I hold a lot of honor in my word, and due to spamming, I can no longer answer asks as I used to. Overwhelmed is not the word, but I have considered creating a new account. The reason I haven't is because I don't want to lose a single angel by switching over ( again ) and I'd have to message over a thousand of you to ensure this spammer can't follow us. I do hope this person can find the maturity to leave me be, and I can return to my typical program. As of now, I don't see any of your notifications due to them being overran by this person.

I want so badly for it to return to how it was before, a continuing discussion equally divided for each individual. I miss you guys, a lot. I understand that this person wants my affection, but that doesn't mean they can prevent affection towards others. Being a minor, and sexually positive, I cannot correspond with them. As much as I'd like to reassure them, this account is 18+.

Though, generalized, none of you overwhelm me. I enjoy your company, each and every one of you. Including my little stalker, I just wish they'd give my other angels a chance.

[vampyr3wife]

I'm asking with honesty and curiosity, why do you love vampires so much? 🌹

I could genuinely write a book about my love for vampires n everything they represent to me but I will try my best to condense it into something .. something . forgive me if I ramble . which I will .

I think it all started when I saw Bram Stokers Dracula at a concerningly young age n I very quickly fell in love with gothic horror .. I was lucky enough that my (at the time) very religious parents had good taste in movies lol . It was my first vampire movie and I had a tendency to rewatch my favorites a million times .. I remember I had Dracula , Interview with the vampire , and Sleepy Hollow technically a ghost movie but I couldn’t leave it out recorded on the family tv and everyone knew to never delete those recordings . I was a rlly anxious child n always had a bit of a morbid curiosity, I felt “other” .. and something about those concepts really comforted me . even dressing up like a vampire made me feel Right .. not so scared of everything .

As I got a bit older vampires started to represent more for me because of what I was going through growing up . I could not accept being alive . I find vampires can be an allegory for a lot of things .. for me it had to do with coping with abuse , self harm and suicidal ideation , confusion when it came to my religion and sexuality , mental + physical illness , loneliness , and shame . I was very young and trying to make sense of everything, I looked to my fantasies for comfort . So many things were happening that I could not control, I felt like a monster not of my own creation and I wanted to be my own .. if that makes sense .. I wanted to be something horrifying and beautiful and most of all untouchable . vampires could protect themselves , vampires could scare people away , vampires were different and inhuman and stuck just like I felt .. and they could make all of that suffering look beautiful in a way . my relationship with vampires has only become more and more complex over the years, n it’s hard for me to explain all of the details as to why I love them so much . I will probably end up making more posts about this eventually .. but . They will forever be a comfort for me .. I hope this explains some of why :]

[flaneur001]

Broken Promises

Pairings- Caleb x Fem!Reader

Word count- 805

Tags- Angst with comfort/Fluff with angst.

A quiet afternoon. The balmy sun highlighted the figures on the floor, accompanied with the soft swish of warm air that ruffled your hair and fluttered the pages of the comic you were reading.

You couldn’t resist the occasional sigh, the fleeting upward glance at the looming figure of your friend, scrolling on his phone as he littered your head with pats, and the shell of your ear with absentminded squeezes and caresses.

You snuggled further on his lap, turning your head so your nose brushed against the firm muscle of his pajama clad thigh, mentally chastising your intrusive thoughts which were goading you excessively into leaving a satisfying chomp on that fleshy meat.

“Don’t even think about it” He mumbled, as if he had sniffed out your intent. Leaving a sharp pinch on your neck in warning.

“Shut up. I’m just…sleepy” You shot back, rubbing the spot, which was beginning to develop a red splotch on your neck.

“Oh yeah?” Caleb paused his scrolling and tilted his head, looking down at you, trying to catch your gaze that went berserk under his pointed scrutiny.

“You better behave, I am already quite busy, what with the announcement of acceptance letters from the academy”

“Busy? Or anxious?” Your eyes hardened a little, teeth chewing the inside of your cheek in a curiously defiant display of bitterness.

“You know constantly refreshing the page won’t make it appear any sooner”

“Mmhm, just like constantly being catty isn’t gonna stop me from going away either” He replied, oddly measured for someone, who had been suffering at the hands of your various snarky antics the whole month.

Your mouth opened and closed, tears stung behind your lashes, and the worries in your stomach welled up your throat, wanting to unleash them at this obtuse hulk of a man you grew up with.

He was sweet. So caring and understanding that being mad at him was in itself a chore. Half the month you had struggled to process this weird separation anxiety that you had developed, and the other half was spent making it known to him as discreetly as possible.

But by the looks of it, you weren’t so discreet afterall.

You sprung to your feet, leaving this safe cocoon of warmth. The idea of this room, his room, being empty. Devoid of his belongings and scent was maddening.

“Wait— where are you storming off to young lady—“

“Anywhere that’s not near you stinky”

He laughed, amused and entertained as he rose too, heavy footsteps padding after you.

“Oh we're resorting to cheap insults now, pipsqueak?”

“Ohh badger off Caleb I—“

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence as he caught up to you. His evol slamming the door shut, turning the lock as his hand found purchase on your wrist, holding it in an iron grip.

He spun you, reeling you back flush into his chest. A waft of oranges and woodsy calm immediately washed over your senses. You buried your face, hiding from his triumphant, frustratingly attractive grin.

“Just say that you’ll miss me, you goofy little tsundere” His words muffled against your hair as he breathed them in, pressing kisses on the top of your head.

“I don’t lie”

“Sure you don’t. You don’t, but your words do.” His hand slipped from your neck to lower back, playing with the fabric of your oversized hoodie.

“The rest of you, darling? It gives you away…pathetically. That pout on your lips. That crease in your brow, those stormy eyes, blinking up a hurricane when they glare at me”

You were locked in his embrace now, never realizing when you had stepped on his toes, and when he had started rocking you side to side in an impromptu dance.

He hummed, fingers brushing your nape, while his hand stealthily found the hem of your hoodie.

“Sure, there will be days when you don’t hear from me. There will be days when you despise me. For leaving you here. For neglecting you. But then…”

He pulled back, only a smidge, just enough to peer at your face, his voice a heady murmur in the scant gap between your faces, “that’ll make moments like these so much sweeter no? Meaningful”

You said nothing. Rendered speechless by the adoration and love reflecting in his gaze.

He smiled, sunny as ever.

And you hated how that’s all it took.

One flick on your forehead, one kiss on the tip of your nose, and two warm hands cupping your cheeks.

That was all it took to ruin you forever.

Because while you waited, and waited, and waited…

He didn’t come back.

Gone was the sun shining down, gone was his room surrounded with that familiar scent of oranges and woodsy notes. Gone was the promise of forever.

And gone was the person that you called home.

[arislary]

First: Han Jisung x f!reader Drabble

synopsis: You start to feel overly anxious at a party, but Jisung notices

pairing: established Han Jisung x f!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst (not really), slightly suggestive, comfort

warning: anxiety (reader just needed a break), finger-sucking (shhhh)

WC: 553

A/N: inspired by a TikTok I saw, we all deserve to be seen and put first. Jisung just seemed like the perfect candidate in my eyes, but also because I really needed it. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jisung looked over at me from his spot across the room, seeing the crease in my eyebrows as I nibbled harshly at my bottom lip. 

I was currently surrounded by some acquaintances, however my social battery for that night had run low. I was ready to leave and desperate for a way out when I felt a hand wrap around my waist, resting against my stomach.

I looked to my right as lips pressed against my temple. Jisung nuzzled into the side of my head and murmured lowly in my ear. 

“Come with me to the bathroom for a second?”

I was nodding my head even before he finished his sentence, excusing ourselves from the group before us with polite smiles. 

Jisung led me towards the bathroom upstairs. I leaned into his side, breath coming out in slight pants from the amount of people inside the house. 

We quickly entered the bathroom, grateful that Chan had restricted the upstairs area. Jisung locked the door behind us, lifting me up onto the counter. He moved to the sink, washing his hands for a while before drying them on the towel. 

I could feel myself start to breathe easier in the closed off space, the plug-in fragrance providing a calming scent. 

Jisung invaded my space, his hand coming up to rest against my face, thumb pressing on my lips. I immediately opened them, inviting his thumb in and enclosing it to suck. 

My eyes closed, hands coming up to hold on to the arm currently being used to anchor me back to reality. Jisung’s other hand landed on my thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles as I sucked on his thumb. 

His other fingers fanned against my cheek and neck, tightening as I sucked harder to calm down. I blearily opened my eyes to meet his concerned and caring ones. A small and patient smile on his lips. 

“Do you feel better?” 

I stared at him for a beat, storm past, but the comfort in this enclosed space still keeping a grasp on me. 

“Can we stay here for a few more minutes?” I murmur around his finger, hands moving to hold onto the strings of his hoodie. He nodded and shuffled closer, lips pressing against my forehead. 

“Yea, baby, we can stay here for a the rest of the night if you want.” 

I hummed around his appendage, eyes closing again, as I tipped forward to rest on him. His free hand moving towards my butt, rubbing and squeezing at his leisure. 

We stayed in the bathroom for another five minutes before we unraveled from each other. Jisung washed his hands one last time, quickly grabbing a hold of mine as we exited. He stayed at my side for the remainder of the night. The times where I dropped my hands from holding onto his or his clothes, I would immediately feel the heat of his hands coming to run over me. 

Pinches to the fabric of my leggings, the glide of fingers underneath my sweatshirt or how they would rub into my hips, he made sure to make his presence known. Jisung made it his mission for everyone, specifically me, to know that he picked me in every regard and every chance given, I was it for him. Just as he was for me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to make it clear that I do not condone plagiarism in any form. All of the work I create is original. Please do not copy or reproduce my work without proper permission or attribution. 

[graciousdragon]

OH MY FUCKING GOD

I JUST WENT TO MY LOCAL HOT TOPIC THAT I'VE BEEN GOING TO FOR LIKE. 5 OR 6 YEARS NOW RIGHT??

I GOT SOME MCR STUFF BECAUSE. OF COURSE. IF YOU'VE SEEN MY RECENT POSTING HABITS YOU KNOW. THE BRAINROT IS REAL

I WAS TALKING WITH THE CASHIER ABOUT THEM BECAUSE HE WAS ALSO A FAN AND HE FUCKING SAYS "you wanna know a fun fact? this is the hot topic the lead singer used to work at! :D"

FUCKING WHAT

GERARD WAY USED TO WORK AT MY LOCAL FUCKING HOT TOPIC?!?

AND AFTER I LEFT I LOOKED IT UP TO MAKE SURE HE WASN'T FUCKING WITH ME AND YEAH. HE WAS RIGHT. WHAT THE FUCK

SORRY FOR THE ALL CAPS THIS IS LIKE. WORLD-SHATTERING INFORMATION TO ME AND HE JUST DROPPED THAT SHIT SO CASUALLY WHAT THE HELL BRO. I NEEDED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS SOMEWHERE