#it's been overwhelming and hard but I like it

[ellieputellas]

just do it | alexia x reader

Your roommate Alexia catches you staring at her abs so she lets you experience them firsthand. (TLDR: you ride Alexia's abs) — inspired by this caitvi fanart and this other caitvi fanart

tags / contains: wc: 4k+, MINORS DNI!, smut, roommate!Alexia, playful!Alexia, grinding on Alexia's abs, fingering r!receiving, some dirty talk and teasing, petname usage, just absolute sloppy smut, not proofread

masterlist | do not repost or plagiarize!

“What are you staring at?”

You nearly jumped out of your seat and spilt your oatmeal as Alexia’s teasing, breathy voice reached your ear. Her hands poked at your waist, and you instinctively flinched, startled by her sudden presence. You turned around to see her, still in her workout gear, glistening in sweat from her morning jog. She smirked, pleasantly surprised by your reaction.

You clutched your phone close to your chest. "Nothing," you blurted out a little too quickly, avoiding her gaze as you tried to act casual. "Just scrolling through Instagram."

Alexia furrowed her eyebrows, looking at you suspiciously. "Yeah?" She tilted her head. "Then why are you holding your phone like it’s some kind of secret?" 

She raised an eyebrow. "Looking at something naughty, huh?"

Without warning, Alexia lunged, reaching for your phone with that playful grin of hers. Despite being older than you, she often acted like a mischievous child with you. It wasn’t unusual for her to sneak up on you and pinch the side of your waist just to catch you off guard. Sometimes, she’d tickle you or wrestle you for the remote control whenever she wanted to watch a football game and you were hogging the living room television to watch Temptation Island – which you found ridiculous, considering she had her own TV in her room. She was always so touchy and playful, and it only made your crush on her that much more complicated.

There was no denying that you had a crush on Alexia. When a friend mentioned that someone from her high school was looking for a roommate, you never imagined that person would be none other than World Cup winner, double Ballon d'Or holder, and FC Barcelona superstar, Alexia Putellas. You were already a fan of hers, but living with her? That was something else entirely.

Especially when she was so effortlessly comfortable around you, showing a playful side you never expected — one that only made your crush grow even harder.

Alexia was relentless as she tried to grab your phone. To prevent you from running off, Alexia straddled you to trap you to your seat, her legs brushing against yours as she closed the gap. She laughed at your futile attempts to keep the phone away from her. For a moment, you forgot about the teasing and how annoyed you should’ve felt by her persistence. Instead, your heart raced at the proximity. Her scent, fresh from the jog, her soft laugh — everything about her was just... overwhelming.

Taking advantage of your distractedness, Alexia got the better of you. She snatched your phone from your hand and bolted into her room before you could even realize. You sat there, wide-eyed and stunned. It all happened so quickly; you should have known Alexia – with her relentlessness and her athleticism – was not going to let you win this. 

You bit your lip as you began pacing your living room, waiting for her to get out of her room. Well, I have a password on my phone. There is no fucking way she’s going to open it. You paused and sighed, plopping down on the couch. Unless she guesses it.

Moments later, Alexia emerged from her room with an exaggerated smirk, holding your phone up like a trophy. By the look on her face, you can just tell that she guessed your password correctly.  "So, looking at my Nike photos, huh?" She laughed softly as she flipped your screen to her, showing you the photos of her you had saved.

Uh oh.

Your face heated instantly as you swallowed hard. You had, in fact, been ogling her latest Nike ads – the one where her abs and sculpted back muscles were on full display. When Alexia told you that her new ads were coming out earlier that week, you hadn’t expected the photos to be… of this nature.

Sure, Alexia was often just roaming around your place in just a sports bra post-workout. But you always made sure to avert your gaze, pretending you weren’t affected or even paying attention to her. Because looking directly at her in real life? That would be too obvious. Too dangerous. You didn’t want to get too flustered and even more infatuated with your roommate; it would mess up your dynamic.

So, really, you could only admire her from a distance, through the safety of a screen. And those photos… were something else. They were everything you’ve ever needed.

"Uhh, I—" you stammered, suddenly hyper-aware of how flustered you were. "I-I mean, the ad is really good. Y’know, woman empowerment and stuff. That’s so…feminist of you. It’s great."

Alexia's eyes sparkled with amusement at your stammering. "You think so?" She took her time, casually handing your phone back to you with a knowing smile. Her voice was low and teasing.  She took another step closer, just enough to make your breath hitch.

"Feminism, huh?" She arched an eyebrow, letting the words linger in the air before she casually lifted the bottom hem of her tank top, revealing the sharp definition of her abs. The sheen of her sweat accentuated the contours of her flexed muscles. 

“Was it the feminism that moved you, or…” The smirk on her face grew as her voice trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. You tried so hard to not be affected but your traitorous eyes flickered downward before you could stop them. You felt your chest tighten, blood rushing to your face as you quickly shook your head, trying to clear the fog that was quickly filling your brain. Shit.

Alexia had initially only meant to tease you for a reaction — like she always did — but the way you were responding now… this was something else.

She loved riling you up; she found endless amusement in the way you’d scrunch your nose and swat at her hand whenever she pinched your side or poked at your waist. Sometimes, you’d smack her lightly on the arm and tell her to piss off, which only made her laugh harder. Alexia loved the way you always got worked up, looking like an angry kitten.

She had grown addicted to getting that look from you. It was playful, endearing, and gave her an excuse to do more… tickle you, mess with you, annoy you just enough to keep the game going. There were even times when you’d return the teasing, and that made her laugh even harder. She loved it. The back-and-forth, the way you’d both get caught up in it, made her feel close to you in a way that was fun, lighthearted.

But this? This was new.

Now, instead of rolling your eyes or teasing her back, your cheeks were flushed and your breath unsteady. You weren’t pushing her away or scowling at her; you were caught off guard, flustered and flushed in a way she had never seen before

“Huh,” It came out of her mouth in a breathy, curious tone.

She stepped forward and you instinctively moved back until your calves hit the couch. Alexia smirked slightly, the edges of her mouth tugging up, but she quickly wiped the grin off of her face. She decided she was going to push this, test the waters, and tease you in an entirely new way.

Alexia pouted as she moved impossibly closer.  “Are you mad at me? You look awfully red.” She asked with a softer voice, feigning curiosity as she put a hand under your chin and tilted your face up to force you to look at her. “Hey, cariño, you know I’m just teasing.”

You swallowed, nodding stiffly before swatting her hand away. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you muttered, grasping for an escape. “I just… don’t like it when people grab my phone like that.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but you just needed to shake her off and stop her from staring at you so intensely. Something about those beautiful hazel eyes... it was just too much.

Before you could step away, Alexia snaked her hand around your waist and pulled you flush against her. You tensed as you felt the warmth of her body against yours. “Hmm,” her soft voice vibrated against your ear. 

“You know,” she murmured, her voice a low-toned whisper, “I only tease you because you look so damn cute when you’re all riled up.” You swallowed hard as your pulse quickened. Alexia lingered close, her lips brushing against your ear before she pulled back just enough to study your face. 

Just wanting to get whatever this was over with, you nodded, still refusing to look Alexia in the eyes.  Alexia smiled slightly. “If you really wanted to look at my abs,” she mused, her fingers pushing under your top to trace circles into the skin of your back. “You could’ve just asked.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes and pushed her away slightly but Alexia’s grip on your waist tightened. 

“Ooh, there’s my feisty kitten,” Alexia teased. It wasn’t foreign to Alexia to call you silly, teasing nicknames but now it just felt charged. She leaned in, voice dropping just enough to make you shiver. “Don’t you wanna look at it now?”

The low timbre of her laugh sent a shiver straight down your spine, leaving you vulnerable and weak in a way you weren’t prepared for. 

“Well, if you don’t want to look at them…” she murmured, her fingers grazing yours. She delicately took your hand, slowly guiding it towards her exposed abdomen. “…you can touch them instead.”

Your breath hitched, coming out in uneven, hot puffs as Alexia guided your trembling hands over her flexed abs. The sensation of her firm, sweat-slicked stomach against your clammy fingers was driving you insane. 

You had spent so much time and effort avoiding anything that would cross the line. You were always diverting her touchy nature with playful swats or annoyed gestures to keep things uncomplicated. You thought maybe that was enough to keep your feelings at bay, enough to avoid turning your little crush into a full-blown infatuation. The last thing you needed was to complicate your relationship with your roommate.

But here she was now, undoing everything you worked hard to do.

“Hmm,” Alexia hummed, her voice dripping with amusement. “Better than you imagined?” 

Her smile widened as she watched your chest rise and fall with shaky breaths. She tilted her head, eyes flicking between your lips and your slightly parted lips. She followed your gaze, which was now fixated on the firm muscles beneath your fingertips.

“Staring at me like that, cariño?” she teased, tilting her head as if examining you. “Not very feminist of you.”

The teasing tone in her voice should have snapped you out of it, but instead, it sent a pulse of heat straight through you. You forced yourself to shake your head, mustering just enough strength to lift your hand to smack her in the arm.

But Alexia was faster. She caught your wrist with ease, and before you could react, she twisted both of your arms behind your back, restraining you and pulling you closer to her. The sudden proximity left you breathless, her firm grip keeping you upright as you nearly stumbled back onto the couch. Then, suddenly, her lips were pressed against yours.

You let out a sharp inhale against her lips, body stiff with shock. Alexia’s mouth moved against yours with a confidence that made your head spin. You tried to protest and push her away but with her holding your hands behind your back, you were completely trapped.

A million thoughts surged through your mind as the anxiety filled you. This was Alexia. Your roommate. Your friend. The one person you swore you wouldn’t complicate things with. But the way she kissed you, like she had been waiting for this just as long as you had, made every single reason you had for resisting dissipate.

Sensing your hesitation, Alexia pulled back just enough to breathe against your lips. “Stop fighting it,” she murmured, her voice low, slightly breathless. Her nose brushed against yours, and she tilted her head, lips grazing over your cheek in a way that made you shudder. “I know you want me.”

And god, did you.

The last thread of restraint inside you snapped as she kissed you again, deeper this time, her grip on you loosening just slightly. You pushed forward, pressing into her, completely melting into her kiss.

“Let me go,” you whispered against her lips, voice unsteady and muffled.

Alexia chuckled, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Mm, I don’t know,” she teased, fingers tightening as she firmly pulled on them one last time before finally letting your wrists slip free. Without missing a beat, you slid your arms around her neck, pulling her closer against you as you kissed her back, properly this time. 

Alexia kissed better than you could have ever imagined. She was intense, passionate but still careful and measured with her hands delicately holding you at the waist, fingers tracing small circles against your skin. As the kiss deepened, Alexia started moving you and pulling you towards her bedroom. She barely broke away from your lips as she fumbled with the stubborn doorknob, cursing softly in frustration before finally pushing the door open.

She swiftly sat on the bed, pulling you on to her lap. Her lips left yours to trace along your jaw, slow and deliberate, before trailing down the length of your throat. The first drag of her tongue against your pulse made you whimper, and when she latched onto the soft skin at the base of your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave her mark, you moaned outright. 

Alexia chuckled, the vibrations spreading through your skin, setting every nerve in your body alight. You barely realized you had started grinding against her lap until she tensed beneath you, her hands tightening around your waist.

“Fuck, get this off,” you moaned out as you tugged on her shirt. “I need to see you properly this time.”

She smiled, wasting no time pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Your breath hitched as you put your hands on her abs, tracing every curve and contour. Alexia chuckled as she leaned back, propping herself up with her elbows firm on the mattress, further engaging her core. You cursed under your breath as you felt them firm up beneath your fingertips. “Fuck.”

Alexia watched you, amused, letting you admire her. She loved the way your eyes were taking every bit of her in. You were practically devouring her with your eyes. But before you could fully enjoy admiring her, she leaned in, pressing her lips to the shell of your ear. “Why don’t we try something?” she murmured, voice dripping with something dangerous. “Just… indulge me.”

You cocked up an eyebrow as you looked at the older woman who had a playful smile on her face. Without explanation, Alexia sat up from her leaned-back posture and caught your lips in a deep kiss again.You barely had time to react before you felt her hands at the waistband of your pajama shorts, fingers toying with the elastic.

The second she tugged at them, you broke away, standing swiftly so she could pull them off without resistance. The heat between your legs was undeniable now. Alexia swore she could feel her mouth water as her eyes fell upon them in a dark gaze.

“Fuck,” Alexia cursed. She grabbed you by the hips, moving her head towards your hips to plant a kiss on the dip of your hips. “Look at that… so wet for me.”

A breath escaped your lips. “I want you to do something for me, cariño.” She murmured, pressing another lingering kiss on your bare hip.

“Yeah?” It came out softer and more submissive than you thought.

Alexia smirked at that, her eyes darkening slightly as she leaned back against the pillows propped up on her headboard. You hesitantly crawled onto the bed, feeling awkward and self-conscious about your nakedness. But the moment you were within reach, Alexia’s hands found your waist, strong and firm as she pulled you back into her lap.

She looked at you with a slight sparkle in her eyes. “I want you to grind on my abs.”

Your eyes widened and you nearly choked on your own breath. “W-what?”

Alexia chuckled, running hands over your thighs, brushing impossibly close to your center but never quite touching. The teasing gestures had your eyes fluttering in pleasure, desperate for more  “Go on, cariño,” she purred, tilting her head as she watched you. “I want to feel you riding me.”

You didn’t have to think too hard. In fact, you didn’t have to think at all. It was as if your animalistic instinct took over. You put your hands firm against the headboard, gripping it tightly as you lowered yourself on her, gasping as you felt contact. A wave of pleasure shot through you.

“Wait, let’s get this off.” Alexia hummed, pulling off your top, and exposing your bare chest to her. “Now, that’s a sight.”

A blush crept across your cheeks, but before you could react, she pressed a slow, lingering kiss just between your breasts. She moved her mouth from the center to your right breast, capturing the erect nipple with her warm, wet mouth. You swallowed hard and hesitantly rolled your hips against her abs, testing the friction. Moans threatened to spill out of your mouth as soon as you moved your body against her. Your slick covered Alexia’s stomach with every movement, which the Catalan absolutely loved. Finally, a moan escaped your lips as your swollen clit dragged against the firm muscles beneath you. The sensation had you shivering in pleasure already.

Your movements started slow and hesitant, testing out the water. But Alexia was growing impatient; she wanted to see you fully riding her out and screaming her name in pleasure. She had enough of this slow grind nonsense. Her hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as she pressed you down harder against her.

“Come on,” Her voice came out with a rasp. “Show me how much you want me.”

You obeyed without thinking, your hands sliding from the headboard to grasp at her arms for support. You rocked your hips harder, faster, feeling the delicious friction of her muscles against your aching clit. Alexia guided your hips, pressing you down against her. With your full weight against her, each movement and roll of your hips was rewarded with a warm pleasure that filled your body. 

You managed to open your eyes momentarily to take a look at Alexia. And the way she was staring at you… it was intense. Her gaze had turned feral with sharp hazel eyes fixated on every inch of your body, watching your hips roll and your boobs bounce with every hip gyration. Her lips were parted slightly, left breathless by the insane sight of you grinding against her, leaving her soaked in your sweet nectar.

“Fuck,” she groaned, one hand leaving your waist to glide up your body. They settled at the middle of your back, supporting your weight. The shift in angle had your clit rubbing directly against the hardest ridge of her abs, and your whole body trembled as a string of sloppy moans and whimpers spilled from your lips.

“That’s it,” Alexia murmured, her voice nearly a growl. “Keep going, cariño. Use me.”

Her words alone were enough to drive you insane. You picked up the pace and held firmly against Alexia to grind against her, chasing after the pleasure that was developing inside you. You threw your head back as you continued to recklessly ride your roommate’s abs, letting each ridge graze against your bud. With each movement, your moans got louder, more lewd. If you weren’t so brainfucked, you would have taken a moment to thank god for the fact that Alexia’s apartment had thick walls or else all the other neighbours would have heard you.

“Alexia…” It came out breathily and weakly. “I’m going to– I’m going to—”

“I know, cariño.” Alexia purred, her voice smooth and intoxicating. “I’ll give you a reward as soon as you do.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, biting your lip. Alexia’s hands gripped your waist firmly, holding you up effortlessly so you could thoughtlessly grind against her abs. Your thighs were burning and you were growing sloppier with each hip movement but the way Alexia stared at you – lower lip tucked in between her teeth, eyes dark with desire, letting out low groans as she felt the drag of your slick against her stomach— kept you going.

Your arms were shaking and your legs were growing weak. The pleasure was building up almost to a peak. "Come on, just a bit more,” she urged, voice thick with hunger.

And suddenly, the pleasure was rippling throughout your body. Your body shook as warmth flooded every inch of you. You would have gone completely limp if Alexia had not propped you up with her strong hands.

Your brain was still foggy and your body was still weak when she suddenly flipped you over, pressing you into the mattress. Before you could catch your breath, Alexia was between your legs, her fingers pushing inside you in one smooth motion. A strangled cry tore from your throat as you felt her long fingers enter you, hitting every spot that sent pleasure all over your body with every thrust. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek — so tender, so deceptively sweet — while her fingers moved in contrast with rough but deliberate thrusts.

You held Alexia close, clawing at her back, nails sinking into the exposed parts of it. Alexia moaned against your ear. Even if you were roughly clawing at her back, the pain felt more like pleasure; the sting only fuelling her desire. She picked up the pace, her movements rough and unrelenting, thrusting deeply inside you. Her fingers were longer than yours and they were reaching parts you could never reach; it was a novel experience that you were starting to grow addicted to.

Soon, your vision was starting to blur as heat pooled low in your belly. You just knew another orgasm was building. “You feel so good, cariño.” She hummed against your ear, breathy and warm. “Love your tight pussy.”

You groaned out. Alexia smiled agaisnt your neck. “Fuck, you sound so good.” She was once again dragging her tongue against your neck before biting and sucking against the flesh. The sensation of her mouth against you and your fingers inside you was driving you over the edge. “Yeah, cum for me, baby.”

You felt yourself tighten around Alexia’s fingers. You held onto her tightly, involuntarily moving your hips to match her movements. “Ale… Alexia, fuck.” You moaned in her ear. “Fuck!”

Alexia firmly thrusted deeply one last time. You arched your back, feeling your orgasm fill you once more. Alexia thrusted a few more times, letting you ride out the sensation before completely pulling out. 

You blinked hazily, still trying to gather your thoughts as your body slowly came down from its high. Your limbs felt like jelly, your breath uneven, and your brain was struggling to piece together anything coherent. Meanwhile, Alexia looked completely smug, smiling at you.

You let out a heavy sigh to admire her for a moment. She looked impossibly gorgeous even with her hair tousled and a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. Her hazel eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint to them. 

“So… remind me again,” she asked as she lowered her face to plant a kiss on your collarbone. “What was it you liked about my ad? You said something about… women empowerment?”

You rolled your eyes and groaned. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Alexia merely smirked. “Yeah?” she hummed, tilting her head as if deep in thought. “Maybe you should punish me for being so annoying.”

Alexia planted another kiss between your collarbones and neck before moving up to plant a kiss below your jaw then to the side of your ear. Her fingers trailed lower once more, settling at the dip of your hipbones. She whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “You can shut me up if you sit on my face.”

You lightly smacked her shoulder, causing her to chuckle. “Now?” You looked at her incredulously. “You just fucked my brain out and my legs are practically jelly. I’d probably end up suffocating you.”

Alexia chuckled, her voice low and amused. “Mmm, I don’t think I’d mind that.” She pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Just can’t get enough,” she said with another kiss. “I really can't help it... my roommate is so hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the statement even if it did turn you on a little bit. “Alexia, I haven’t done that before. I’m seriously gonna suffocate you with my butt.” You groaned, trying to make light of the situation to mask your self-consciousness. You never really slept with much women so you weren’t sure how face-riding worked. Hell, it was a miracle you were somehow able to pull off riding her abs. “I just don’t wanna disappoint you.”

Alexia furrowed her eyebrows. “Cariño, you could never disappoint.” She said with a firmer tone. “Besides, I’m seriously so desperate to taste you.”

You hesitated, unsure if your body could even take another orgasm. Alexia leaned in to kiss your lips tenderly. “Don’t overthink it,” she said before giving you another kiss. You could feel her smile against your lips just before she pulled away, looking at you with a playful smile and a sparkle in her eyes. “Just do it.”

a/n: again not proofread! please be nice! (also sorry for disappearing AGAIN! just a tad uninspired to write lately! i promise i'll be back... at some unspecified time... to write more substantial fanfics) | masterlist

[rosiecosy]

come back home୨ৎ

(ot13 x reader) — angst, comfort

fights weren’t common between you and the boys, but when they happened, they always felt big.

tonight was no different.

you weren’t even sure how it started—something small, something dumb. maybe you were feeling overwhelmed, maybe they were frustrated too. but words were said, voices were raised, and suddenly, the walls of the dorm felt too tight, their voices too loud, the weight of their concern too heavy.

so you left.

you barely registered the way the door clicked shut behind you, barely noticed the cold bite of the night air against your skin. all you knew was that you needed space.

—

your feet carried you to the nearest park without much thought.

it was mostly empty at this hour, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. the only sound was the distant hum of passing cars, the occasional rustling of leaves. it was quiet. peaceful. a stark contrast to the suffocating tension in the dorm.

you wandered over to the swings, hands shoved into your pockets as you let out a slow breath.

maybe you had overreacted. maybe you should’ve just stayed and talked things through. but it was hard—being the youngest, the only girl in a dorm full of overprotective boys. they meant well, you knew that, but sometimes it was exhausting. too many opinions, too many voices telling you what to do, too many people hovering, worrying, questioning.

and you knew they only did it because they cared, but sometimes… sometimes you just needed to breathe.

you sat down on the swing, the chains creaking softly as you pushed off the ground. the rhythmic motion was soothing, the cool air helping to clear your mind. you closed your eyes, letting the weight of the night settle around you.

—

meanwhile, back at the dorm, the boys were spiraling.

"she’s not picking up," minghao muttered, lowering his phone.

"maybe she just needs a minute," vernon offered, though he sounded unsure.

"what if she doesn’t come back?" seokmin blurted out, eyes wide.

"don’t be ridiculous," woozi sighed, though his grip on his phone was tight.

"what if something happens to her?" mingyu asked, looking way too close to panicking.

"okay, enough," seungcheol cut in. "jun, jeonghan, joshua—you check the streets. hoshi, woozi, dino—stay here in case she comes back. the rest of us will check nearby cafés or parks."

"we’re not splitting up like a horror movie," jeonghan muttered, but he was already grabbing his coat.

—

you didn’t know how long you had been swinging when you heard footsteps approaching.

you blinked, slowing your movement, turning your head just in time to see seokmin and mingyu jogging toward you, relief washing over their faces the second they spotted you.

"there you are!" seokmin huffed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"we’ve been looking everywhere," mingyu added, slightly breathless.

you blinked at them, a little guilty but mostly just tired. "i was just getting some air."

your phone buzzed in your pocket—seungcheol’s name flashing across the screen. you hesitated before answering.

"…hi?"

"where are you? are you safe? why didn’t you answer your phone?"

"i’m fine," you sighed. "i just needed to clear my head."

"stay where you are. we’re coming."

you didn’t get a say in it.

—

when you got back to the dorm, thirteen pairs of eyes were on you.

seungcheol looked like he wanted to lecture you. seungkwan looked like he wanted to cry. dino looked like you had personally betrayed him.

"i was literally gone for, like, twenty minutes," you pointed out.

"twenty minutes too long," hoshi muttered.

"don’t do that again," jeonghan sighed, pulling you into a hug.

"we thought you left for good," dino mumbled.

your expression softened. "what? why would i do that?"

they all exchanged awkward glances.

"…because of the fight?" jun said hesitantly.

you blinked. "guys."

"you left without saying anything," joshua pointed out.

"because i knew i’d come back," you said. "i just needed some space, that’s all."

seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temples. "just—next time, tell someone, okay?"

guilt crept in at the worry in his voice. "okay. i’m sorry."

they all nodded, still looking a little shaken but relieved.

"now, group hug?" seokmin suggested.

before you could protest, you were pulled into a mess of arms, warmth, and way too much body heat.

"okay, okay, i get it!" you laughed. "i’m not going anywhere."

"good," woozi muttered. "because that was awful."

"never again," seungkwan mumbled into your shoulder.

and despite everything—despite the fight, despite the worry—this felt like home.

[prettyangellllll]

Makeup

Summary: you want to do his makeup and he lets you under condition that you will cockwarm him

Warnings: cockwarming, implied smut, unprotected, horny rafe, needy reader,

----

The movie had been playing for the past hour, but neither of you were really paying attention. Rafe sat back against the couch, legs spread wide, lazily scrolling on his phone while you laid across his lap, staring up at the ceiling in pure boredom.

"I have an idea," you announced, shifting to sit up.

Rafe barely glanced at you. "Yeah? And what's that?"

A slow grin spread across your face as you reached for your makeup bag on the coffee table. "Let me do your makeup."

That got his attention. His brows furrowed, and he shot you a look that was equal parts disbelief and amusement. "Yeah, not happening."

You pouted. "Come on, it'd be fun!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

You huffed, but just as you were about to try again, Rafe smirked, tilting his head at you. "I'll tell you what," he said, voice dripping with amusement, "I'll let you do it… but only if you cockwarm me."

Your stomach flipped at his words. "What?"

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "You wanna play dress-up with me? Then you’re gonna sit on my cock and stay still while you do it .No moving. No whining. Just sitting pretty on my cock while you do my makeup.” ."

Your face burned, but the way he was watching you—like he already knew you'd say yes—had heat pooling between your thighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to,” he teased, his fingers gripping your chin. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

You swallowed. "Fine."

A dark chuckle left his lips as he leaned back, gesturing for you to come closer. "Atta girl."

Your hands trembled slightly as you straddled him, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support as you lifted yourself just enough to align with him. He watched you the entire time, his blue eyes dark with hunger, his grip tight on your hips. Slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by inch, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. A choked whimper slipped from your lips, but Rafe only groaned, his hands flexing against your skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his head tipping back against the couch. “So fucking tight.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through the overwhelming fullness. It took a moment to adjust, your body clenching around him involuntarily. When you finally stilled, he exhaled a slow, satisfied breath. “Good girl.”

Swallowing hard, you reached for the makeup bag you had abandoned earlier, hands slightly shaky as you pulled out a foundation brush. “Okay,” you said, trying to steady your voice. “Let’s get started.”

Rafe chuckled, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, his thumbs stroking lazy circles against your skin. “Yeah, let’s see how well you can focus, sweetheart.”

Your hands shook as you dabbed the brush against his cheek, the warmth between your legs making it nearly impossible to concentrate. Every tiny movement sent a spark of pleasure through your core, making it harder and harder to focus. And Rafe? He wasn’t making things any easier. His hands never stopped moving, his grip tightening every time you tensed around him.

“So quiet now,” he mused, voice laced with amusement. “Having trouble, baby?”

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how wrecked you already were. “I’m fine.”

His smirk deepened, his fingers grazing up your spine. “Sure you are.”

He taunted, voice smooth and teasing. "You gonna be a good girl and finish? Or you gonna give up and start riding me like I know you want to?"

You glared at him, determined. "Shut up."

He chuckled, tilting his head back as he let you work, letting you try—try—to keep your composure.

With shaky hands, you picked up the eyeliner, trying to steady yourself as you leaned in closer. But the moment your chest pressed against his, he let out a deep, satisfied hum, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter. The movement sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you inhale sharply.

“Better not mess up, baby,” he taunted, his voice dripping with smugness. “I’d hate to make you start over.”

You wanted to snap at him, to tell him to shut up, but you knew that if you opened your mouth, all that would come out was a desperate moan. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, determined to finish what you started.

By the time you were done, your legs were shaking, your breath uneven, and your core a dripping mess around him. But you had done it. His face was flawless, eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, his lips a pretty shade of red.

You bit your lip, admiring your work. "There. All done."

Rafe opened his eyes, glancing at himself in your compact mirror. He grinned. "Damn. I actually look kinda hot."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything, his hands tightened around your waist, and in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him.

"Now it's my turn to have some fun," he murmured, grinding his hips into you. "You were so good for me, princess. Time to give you what you really want.

[valeriapryanikova]

ominous

(itsy-bitsy fanfic concept/idea/? under the cut)

[A page ripped out of a journal; the owner’s handwriting is messy and barely legible.] 

february, 29th

i'm surprised i'm not dead now.

yesterday, in the late evening, as i was painting, it started storming. suddenly and hard. one second the dark sky is clear from any clouds, and the next moment the droplets are pelting me with a surprising force. i rapidly abandoned my easel and canvas (not like there would be anything lost—the piece was dull and not working out the way i desired) in favor of seeking cover.

i was still near the village, on its outskirts, but just a bit too far from my house to reach it quickly before my whole being was drenched through and through. so i ducked into one of the huts, all of which stand empty, desolate… or so i thought, at least.

only once inside did i spot the dim, ominous, red glow of the overhead lamp; the sound of a muted conversation; the overwhelming sense of “wrong”, like i was not meant to be here. abruptly silence fell and two sets of bright eyes stared me down.

terror froze my body. i felt like a prey caught in between two predators, i could practically feel their jaws snapping around my neck.

the dredger slowly smirked at me, barring her sharp, sharp teeth. (since when are they sharp? i may not have crossed path with her often, but i swear i would’ve noticed if she had shark teeth before.) i did not stay to see if the fisherman would further react to my presence too. the control of my body returned, allowing me to let out a panicked apology for interruption and bolt out of the hut, running home at full speed.

it’s been hours since then. i couldn’t fall asleep. i’ve been up the whole night, haunted by fear. the scene of those two beasts in the darkness, ready to snap me like a twig for overhearing something (i don’t remember what exactly, all the horror of the situation evaporated all my thoughts), got stuck in my mind’s eyes. so i’ve been doing what i know how to do best—painting.

[Attached to the diary entry is a typewritten note.] 

That painter fellow is an impressionable and imaginative type. Needless to say, the actual interaction with the two fish merchants was likely a lot less… Dramatic.

The painter was reluctant to show me the painting mentioned in the last paragraph, but after some convincing I did manage to take a quick look on their recollection of the witnessed scene: it seems mostly useless for my research, but I noted down some details that might be of use in the future (refer to “AudioLog#143” transcript for more information).

Collecting data on “The Fisherman” continues to prove itself annoying. The subject is allusive: there’s not many sources mentioning him, and folk around here rarely witness him out and about. Currently the only lead I have is finding that one old newspaper article about the docks that, if I recall correctly, mentions him in an interview with workers. Perhaps, when I have time, I’ll try asking the collector from the other side of the river if he has a copy of that newspaper issue.

However, for now, I’m significantly more interested in “The Dredger” subject. There’s more than plenty info about her—I would actually say there’s too much info about her, all inconveniently inconsistent. In an attempt to get more reliable data I’m getting in contact with Mined since they have done scientific observation of this area and the people of interest. My request for access to their data has gone unanswered so far and, if shoving my anthropology degree in the faces of those bumbling idiots won’t work, I’m sure that that city nearby has enough hackers willing to do some dirty work for a pretty diamond.

I will get the data I want, one way or another.

[professorcloak]

Beneath the Bloodstains

warnings: gore, injuries, fluff, weapons

The first time you meet Daryl Dixon, he barely spares you a glance.

You don’t take it personally. He’s like that with everyone—gruff, distant, always half a step away from disappearing into the trees. It’s been that way since you joined the group a couple of weeks ago, scavenging supplies and keeping your head down. You weren’t looking for friends, and neither was he.

But then you save his life.

It happens fast—too fast to think. One second, he’s tracking a deer in the underbrush, the next, a walker barrels out of nowhere, snarling and snapping, its decomposed flesh sloughing off in thick, putrid chunks. The stench is overwhelming—rot and bile mixed with the sickly-sweet scent of decay. Its yellowed, broken teeth gnash inches from Daryl’s throat, gnarled fingers clawing at his jacket as it forces him to the ground.

Before he can reach for his knife, you’re already there. Your machete arcs through the air, sinking deep into the walker’s skull with a sickening crack. The blade splits bone and brain matter, a spray of dark, coagulated blood splattering across your hands and face. The creature twitches violently, its fingers convulsing before going limp. A thick glob of rancid gore dribbles from the caved-in skull, pooling on the dirt.

When you turn back, breathing hard, Daryl’s staring at you. Really staring. There’s a flicker of something in his blue eyes—surprise, maybe. Or something deeper. Then, just as quick, it’s gone. He shoves the corpse off with a grunt, wiping gore from his face with the back of his hand before nodding once, a gruff sort of thanks, and retrieving his weapon without another word.

After that, something shifts. It’s small at first. A nod when you pass each other in camp. A second portion of whatever stew is cooking over the fire, left near where you sit. An extra knife, slipped into your gear without a word. Daryl doesn’t say much, but he’s always watching, always nearby.

You don’t push. He doesn’t like questions, doesn’t like people getting too close. That’s fine—you’re not looking for anything, not really. In a world where survival is everything, attachments can be dangerous.

But some nights, when the firelight flickers and the world feels a little less doomed, you catch him watching you again, something unreadable in his expression. Like he’s figuring you out. Like maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to let you in.

Then the next attack comes.

It’s a routine supply run gone bad—too many walkers, too fast. The group is scattered, forced to fight in pairs or alone. You and Daryl are back to back in an abandoned store, the air thick with the rancid stench of the undead. The walls are splattered with dried blood, shelves overturned, their contents long since raided. Rotting bodies are slumped in the corners, their eyeless sockets staring into nothing. The faint buzzing of flies hums through the stale air.

Your blade is slick with gore, your breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The floor is a slick mess of crushed skulls and decomposing viscera. The moans of the dead echo off the ruined aisles, growing louder, closer.

Daryl’s crossbow fires with deadly precision, each bolt punching through rotting flesh and bursting out the other side, leaving gaping holes dripping with congealed black blood. But there are too many, and when one lunges from behind a toppled shelf, you barely have time to react. Its clawed hands rip into your shoulder, jagged nails peeling away fabric and flesh, the pain instant and white-hot.

The walker’s breath is a rancid, wheezing rasp against your ear, its teeth snapping inches from your neck. The coppery scent of your own blood floods your senses, mingling with the putrid stench of rotting flesh.

Before you can scream, Daryl is there, his knife flashing in the dim light. He drives it into the walker’s temple, the blade sinking in with a sickening squelch. The thing spasms violently before collapsing, its ruined face twisted in a permanent grimace.

Daryl grips your arms, steadying you, his hands warm and firm despite the blood smearing between you. His eyes dart to the wound, his jaw tightening.

"Ain’t deep," he mutters, but there’s an edge to his voice, something almost frantic beneath the gruffness. His grip lingers, fingers pressing just a little too long against your skin before he pulls away. "C’mon. We gotta move."

He doesn’t let go of you until you’re safe again.

The moment you’re back at camp, he pulls you toward the fire, his grip rough but careful. He pushes you down onto an overturned crate, then crouches in front of you, fishing a bottle of alcohol from his pack. He doesn’t say a word as he douses a rag with the harsh liquid, pressing it against the torn flesh of your shoulder. The pain sears through you, sharp and blinding, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

Daryl doesn’t meet your eyes, but you can feel the tension rolling off him. His hands are steady, but his jaw is locked tight, his breath coming in slow, measured exhales. The firelight flickers, throwing shadows across his face, making the lines of worry stand out sharper than usual.

"You should’ve been more careful," he grumbles finally, voice low, almost accusing.

You huff out a tired laugh. "You’re one to talk."

His gaze snaps up to yours, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes—frustration, maybe, or something deeper. He doesn’t answer, just presses the rag harder against your wound, making you hiss through your teeth.

"Daryl—" you start, but he shakes his head.

"Don’t," he mutters. "Just—" He exhales sharply, looking away. "You scared me, alright?"

The words are barely above a whisper, but they hit you harder than any walker ever could. You stare at him, heart pounding, the pain in your shoulder momentarily forgotten.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Just finishes wrapping your wound, then stands abruptly, muttering something about needing to check the perimeter before stalking off into the darkness.

You watch him go, fingers curling over the fresh bandage on your shoulder, and for the first time in a long while, you feel something other than just survival. --

just a short lil fluff story :)

[bloomzone]

📕 𝟓𝟎-𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

March 1st ! If you’ve been slacking, if your study habits have been messy, or if finals are creeping up way too fast this is it. I did a 20-day productivity challenge before, but now, with finals staring me down and less than 90 days to go, I need to actually get my flip together.For the next 50 days, I’m locking in. This isn’t about aesthetic study sessions or fake productivity or like those 10s filming study routine 💁🏻‍♀️ . It’s about deep focus, real progress, and making sure you n i walk into finals prepared, not panicked.

before we start! what are the ..

🔴 Things You Need to Avoid

When you’re pushing yourself to study, it’s easy to fall into traps that make the process feel harder than it needs to be. One of the biggest things to avoid is procrastination. It’s tempting to delay tasks and distract yourself with less important things, but the truth is, the longer you wait, the more overwhelming it becomes. Putting things off only builds stress and leaves you with less time to focus on what truly matters.Another major pitfall is burnout. While it might feel like working non-stop is the key to success, the reality is that exhaustion doesn’t lead to productivity. If you push yourself too hard without breaks or balance, you’ll find your focus slipping, and your energy drained. Instead, aim for deep, focused study periods with scheduled rest to recharge. The key is working smart, not just hard.u also NEED to stay away from passive studying. Reading over your notes without actively engaging with the material might feel like you’re making progress, but it’s not enough. True learning happens when you interact with the content whether that’s through active recall, practicing problems, or teaching the concept to someone else. It’s about getting the information out of your head, not just in.And then there’s multitasking, which can be deceiving. You might think that juggling multiple tasks or subjects at once is a sign of productivity, but in reality, it dilutes your focus. Instead, concentrate on one subject at a time and give it your full attention. By focusing deeply, you’ll achieve better results in less time.Finally, avoid over-planning. It’s easy to get stuck in an endless loop of scheduling and rearranging without actually doing the work. While having a plan is crucial, it’s more important to take action. Don’t get paralyzed by perfection; start moving forward, and adapt as you go.

💡 What You Need to Succeed

Success in a challenge like this comes down to preparation, mindset, and consistency. First and foremost, you need to set yourself up for success by organizing everything you need. Having your books, notebooks, and study tools ready at your desk isn’t just about being prepared—it’s a psychological trigger that helps you get into the right mindset. When you see your space ready for work, it subconsciously tells your brain that it’s time to focus.But it’s not just about the materials. Your environment matters. A cluttered space can lead to a cluttered mind, so make sure you have a clean, quiet place to study. This is where you’ll spend most of your time, so make it a space that supports your work rather than distracts you. Even something as simple as proper lighting and a comfortable chair can make a huge difference in your ability to focus.It’s also essential to have the right tools. Flashcards, sticky notes, mind maps, or even physical planners whatever helps you engage with the material actively is what you should have at hand. You don’t need to follow a one-size-fits-all strategy, but it’s about finding what works best for you. What will make the material stick? What will make you more engaged and less likely to zone out?Consistency is key, too. This isn’t a sprint y'all u need to commit to a study schedule that’s manageable and realistic. Establish a routine that you can stick to every day thats what my teachers say everyday whether it’s an hour in the morning or a few hours in the evening. Building consistency will help you develop the discipline needed to push through tough moments, especially when motivation runs low.Finally, don’t forget about your energy. Sleep, food, and overall well-being are the foundation of any successful study routine. Without proper rest, your brain can’t absorb or retain information. Make sure you’re getting enough sleep to let your brain recharge and consolidate what you’ve learned. Likewise, pay attention to your body when you're well-rested and nourished, you’ll feel more alert, focused, and motivated. Let's cb !

📕 𝟓𝟎-𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧

( starting March 1 – May 9)

0️⃣1️⃣ Week 1: System Reset & Strategy (March 1-7)

🔹 List everything you need to study before finals.

🔹 Identify weak areas & high-priority topics.

🔹 Create an adaptable study plan (structured but flexible).

🔹 Set non-negotiable study hours per day (📚 2< hours).

🔹 Organize notes & resources so you’re not scrambling later.

🔹 Test different study environments & methods to maximize focus.

0️⃣2️⃣ Week 2: Deep Focus & Active Recall (March 8-14)

🔹 No passive studying (no just reading or highlighting).

🔹 Prioritize active recall (practice papers, Q&A, teaching concepts).

🔹 Use visual memory aids (mind maps, charts, bullet points).

🔹 Track distractions & eliminate what kills your focus.

🔹 Keep a focus log: What breaks your concentration? Fix it.

0️⃣3️⃣ Week 3: Technical Subjects and theory based subjects (March 15-21)

📜 Literature, history , philosophy... and theory-based subjects:

➖ Read critically, summarize, and debate ideas (not just memorize).

➖ Work on structured arguments & analysis for essays.

📈 Math ... problem-solving subjects:

➖ Use timed practice to simulate exam pressure.

➖ Write key formulas & rules on flashcards.

➖ Break down problems into step-by-step solutions.

🔹 Study difficult subjects when your energy is highest.

0️⃣4️⃣ Week 4: Writing & Expression (March 22-28)

🔹 Summarize topics in your own words every day.

🔹 Create one-page cheat sheets for major topics. (for revision nothing else 💁🏻‍♀️)

🔹 Write mock essays & structured answers (practice depth).

🔹 Focus on clarity & argument-building (make your writing strong).

🔹 Challenge: Can you explain this concept in 3 sentences?

0️⃣5️⃣ Week 5: Self-Testing & Performance Check (March 29-April 4)

🔹 Take full practice tests under exam conditions.

🔹 Time yourself: Work on speed & accuracy.

🔹 Identify weak spots and revisit them.

🔹 Grade your own work harshly—improve where needed.

🔹 Find patterns in mistakes and create strategies to fix them.

0️⃣6️⃣ Week 6: Memory & Retention (April 5-11)

🔹 Daily mini-revision of past weeks’ topics (keep everything fresh).

🔹 Use mnemonics, stories, & memory associations.

🔹 Sleep optimization for memory consolidation (good sleep = better recall).

🔹 Try retrieval practice before checking notes.

🔹 Apply concepts in real-life situations (where possible).

0️⃣7️⃣ Week 7: Peak Productivity & Stamina (April 12-18)

🔹 Push study hours (without burnout).

🔹 Use study sprints: 2-3 intense sessions per day.

🔹 Reduce fake productivity (low-value tasks don’t count).

🔹 Prioritize high-impact topics.

🔹 Simulate exam pressure—train yourself to think fast under stress.

0️⃣8️⃣ Week 8: Advanced Questioning & Strategy (April 19-25)

🔹 Study past exam patterns : what do they repeat?

🔹 Learn what examiners actually want in answers.

🔹 Debate answers with yourself or others (argue both sides).

🔹 Find alternative explanations for complex topics.

🔹 Challenge: What’s the hardest question you could get? Be ready.

0️⃣9️⃣ Week 9: Mastery & Confidence (April 26-May 2)

🔹 Final review: Focus only on weak spots.

🔹 80/20 Rule: What 20% of topics will help the most?

🔹 Do “last-minute style” studying—but without panic.

🔹 Take simulated exams with time limits (test performance).

🔹 Train your brain to stay confident under pressure.

🔟 Week 10: Exam-Specific Prep (May 3-May 9)

🔹 Prioritize final polishing, NOT cramming.

🔹 Review summaries, key formulas, & essay structures.

🔹 Optimize sleep & energy (don’t mess this up now).

🔹 Have a "cheat sheet" in your mind for each subject.

🔹 Last 3 days: Light review, no stress, trust your prep.

last tip !

There will be moments when u feel like giving up, when the material seems overwhelming or the effort too much. That’s when your mindset needs to kick in. The difference between success and failure isn’t about natural talent or born smart it’s about your ability to keep going when things get tough I'm talking about the material not burnout out .The truth is, hard work, perseverance, and adaptability are what lead to success not innate ability.Think of each week as a building block, each day as a step forward. Every time you study, you’re not just learning the material you’re evolving. You’re becoming more disciplined, more capable, and more confident. Even on the days when you feel like you’ve made little progress, remind yourself that you’re making small, consistent strides. These small changes compound over time

good luck !

@bloomzone

[bu3ck3r]

wrapped in you

paige bueckers x reader

summary: you’re having an off day and paige is the sweetest and cheers you up

You weren’t sure when the heaviness settled in your chest, but it had been there all day—pressing down, making everything feel dull and overwhelming. It wasn’t one specific thing, but a mix of small disappointments, stress, and exhaustion stacking up until it felt like you were sinking.

And no matter how much you tried to hide it, Paige noticed.

She always did.

It started in the morning when she caught you staring off into space at breakfast, your spoon lazily stirring your cereal until it went soggy. Then at lunch, when you barely touched your food, only offering a half-hearted smile when she asked if you were okay.

By the time you were curled up on the couch in the afternoon, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, she had seen enough.

Paige plopped down next to you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Alright, what’s up?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Paige poked your side gently. “You’ve been in a funk all day. Talk to me.”

You sighed, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”

Paige wasn’t buying it. “Baby, you can’t fool me.”

You chewed your lip, debating whether to just brush it off again. But the way Paige was looking at you—soft but serious, like she wasn’t going to let this go—made it hard to keep up the act.

“I just feel… off,” you admitted finally. “Like everything is too much, and I don’t even know why.”

Paige was quiet for a moment before shifting closer, putting your legs on her thighs. She reached for your hand, running her thumb over your knuckles in slow, comforting strokes.

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to explain it if you don’t know how. But you don’t have to deal with it alone either.”

Something in your chest loosened slightly. Paige always had a way of making you feel understood, even when you didn’t understand yourself.

But the heaviness was still there, lingering like a storm cloud.

Paige studied you for a beat before standing up abruptly.

“Okay, we’re fixing this,” she declared.

You frowned, confused. “Fixing what?”

“Your mood,” she said matter-of-factly. “Stay right there. I have a plan.”

Before you could protest, she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving you sitting there, bewildered. A few minutes later, she returned, her arms full—blankets, her hoodie, a bag of your favorite snacks, and even her laptop balanced precariously on top.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “What are you doing?”

“I want to cheer up my favorite person ,” she announced proudly. She draped the hoodie over your lap first. “Put this on.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped the oversized hoodie over your head anyway. It smelled like her—like fresh laundry and vanilla, warm and familiar.

Paige grinned when she saw you relax slightly. She threw a blanket over both of you, pulling you close so you were practically in her lap. “No escaping. You’re officially trapped.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at making you feel better? Yeah, I know,” she said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but Paige caught the way your lips twitched into the tiniest smile.

She handed you a bag of your favorite chips before opening her laptop. “We can watch a movie, or I can show you funny TikToks, or we can talk about something completely random. Your choice.”

You hesitated before murmuring, “Can we just stay like this for a bit?”

Paige’s expression softened. “Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as you rested your head against her shoulder. She didn’t try to force you to talk or pretend everything was fine. She just stayed there, warm and steady, letting you take whatever comfort you needed.

After a few minutes, she started absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair. “You know,” she mused, “whenever I have a bad day—like when my shots aren’t falling, or I feel like I’m not doing enough—I try to remind myself of the good things. The little things that make everything worth it.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “Like what?”

Paige smiled, her fingers still tracing soothing patterns in your hair. “Like how my dad always texts me before every game. Or how the team hypes each other up even on our worst days. Or…” She paused, her smile turning softer. “Or how you always wait up for me, even when you’re tired. And how you steal my hoodies but somehow make them look better than I do.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Paige nudged you playfully. “See? Smiling already. My plan is working.”

“You’re something else i swear” you murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” she said dramatically. Then, in a softer voice, “But seriously… I love you. And I’m always gonna be here, even when you’re feeling off.”

Your throat tightened—not with sadness this time, but with gratitude. Paige didn’t need grand gestures or fancy words to make you feel loved. She just knew you. Understood you. And that was enough.

You squeezed her hand. “I love you too.”

Paige grinned. “I know.”

You groaned, nudging her. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning her laptop screen toward you. “Alright, since you didn’t pick a distraction, I’m putting on a rom-com, and you have to deal with it.”

You shook your head but didn’t protest. Paige hit play, and soon enough, the movie was filling the room with cheesy dialogue and over-the-top romance.

But your focus wasn’t on the screen. It was on Paige—the way she absentmindedly played with your fingers, the way she laughed at all the dumb jokes, the way she kept sneaking glances at you like she was making sure you were okay.

And somehow, without you even realizing it, the heaviness that had weighed you down all day didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It didn’t fix everything. But sitting there, wrapped up in Paige’s warmth, her heartbeat steady against your ear, you realized something important.

Even on the hardest days, you weren’t alone.

And that was enough.

@melpthatsme hope u like it!

[aspenmissing]

hello hello !! glad to always see your work on my tumblr :DD is it possible to make arcane characters (mainly viktor but the rest is good too >:)) x s/o that just got really good grades after working so hard the entire semester ? maybe its them telling the reader how proud they are of them ! (totally not inspired by irl events rn) once again i love your work ! <33

ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4645 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ! ᴡᴇʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ!!! ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

The moment the grades were posted, Y/N nearly stopped breathing.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through the list, her vision scanning over names and numbers, heart hammering against her ribs like a drumroll. This was it—the culmination of months of effort, of sleepless nights hunched over textbooks, of ink-stained fingers and exhausted sighs. Every moment of struggle had led to this exact second.

Then—there it was.

Her name. Her score.

Top of the class.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Her brain barely processed it at first, as if her eyes were playing some kind of cruel trick. But no, the number didn’t change, her ranking didn’t shift. She had done it.

A sharp inhale. A flood of emotions.

A joyous laugh bubbled up in her throat, a mixture of relief, disbelief, and overwhelming pride. The weight of stress and self-doubt she had been carrying for weeks suddenly lifted, leaving her light, almost dizzy.

She didn’t even think—her feet were already moving.

Jayce. She needed to tell Jayce.

She knew exactly where to find him—his lab, where he spent hours buried in research and blueprints, half the time forgetting to eat because his mind was too occupied with hextech. The moment she reached his door, she didn’t bother knocking. She burst through, panting slightly from the rush.

"I did it!" she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could catch her breath.

Jayce, who had been bent over his workbench, straightened in surprise at her sudden entrance. A wrench clattered onto the table as he turned, brows raised. But the moment he saw her face—her wide eyes, the way she was practically glowing with excitement—a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

"You did it?" he echoed, stepping toward her.

"I got top grades!" She was breathless, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. "All that studying, the late nights—it paid off!"

For a moment, he just looked at her, taking in the sheer joy radiating from her. Then, without a second’s hesitation, he moved.

Jayce scooped her up effortlessly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he spun her in the air, laughter rumbling deep from his chest. She let out a surprised squeal, clutching onto his shoulders as the room spun around her, but all she could do was laugh.

"Y/N, that's amazing!" he exclaimed, setting her back down but keeping his arms locked around her. "I knew you could do it!"

She was still dizzy, still floating, both from the spinning and the sheer happiness surging through her. "I worked so hard, Jayce," she murmured, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "There were times I thought I wouldn’t make it."

His hands found her face, warm and gentle as he cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were soft, filled with nothing but admiration and pride.

"I saw how hard you worked," he said, his voice low, sincere. "I saw you push yourself, even when you were exhausted, even when you doubted yourself. And I never doubted you for a second." His thumb brushed her cheek, a soft caress. "You're incredible, Y/N."

Her heart clenched, warmth pooling in her chest.

"I couldn’t have done it without you," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "You kept me sane. Every time I wanted to give up, you were there."

Jayce chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. "I was just reminding you of what you were always capable of," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "This? This was all you."

Her throat tightened with emotion. The exhaustion of the semester, the pressure, the nights spent doubting herself—it had all built up to this moment, and now, standing here in his arms, she felt seen. Truly seen.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but they were happy ones.

Jayce noticed and let out a soft laugh, brushing his lips over the top of her head. "Hey, no crying," he teased, his tone light, but his grip on her was steady, secure. "This is supposed to be a celebration, not an emotional breakdown."

She let out a watery laugh, playfully swatting his chest. "Shut up, I’m happy!"

"I know," he grinned, his arms still wrapped firmly around her. "And I’m happy for you."

Then, his expression turned mischievous, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

"So," Jayce drawled, tilting his head. "How are we celebrating? Fancy dinner? A whole day off where you don’t think about education? Or maybe—" he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, "—I just kiss you until you realize how insanely proud I am?"

A delighted laugh escaped her as she tugged him down by the collar of his coat, her fingers curling around the fabric. "Why not all of the above?"

His grin softened, his eyes filled with something deeper, something tender. "Sounds like a perfect plan to me," he murmured before pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was warm, lingering, filled with everything he couldn’t say with words alone—pride, admiration, love.

And with that, the celebration began.

VIKTOR

Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the paper in her hands as if it were some sort of mirage. The bolded letters at the top confirmed what she had hoped for all semester—she had done it. A perfect score. The highest marks she had ever received.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she set the paper down, exhaustion weighing heavy on her bones from countless sleepless nights. It had been worth it, every long hour spent in the dimly lit library, every page of notes scribbled in frantic handwriting.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Before she could even respond, Viktor stepped inside, his cane tapping softly against the wooden floor. His golden-brown eyes were filled with their usual warmth, but when he saw the stunned expression on her face, his brow furrowed.

"Y/N?" He limped closer, resting his weight on his cane as he glanced down at the paper in her hands. "Is everything alright?"

Instead of answering, she turned the sheet toward him. Viktor's gaze flicked over the numbers, and his lips slowly curled into a proud, affectionate smile.

"You did it." His voice was gentle, full of something deep and unwavering.

"I did it," she breathed, the weight of all her effort suddenly crashing into her at once.

Viktor set his cane against the desk and, without hesitation, pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around her securely, as if he could shield her from all the stress she had endured.

"You worked so hard for this, láska," he murmured into her hair, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "I knew you could do it." (Love)

She melted against him, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. "I just… I was so scared I wouldn't make it."

Viktor pulled back slightly, just enough to cup her cheek. "Nonsense. You are one of the most brilliant minds I know. Your dedication, your passion—it is inspiring." His thumb brushed against her skin, a silent reassurance. "I have seen the way you push yourself, how much you care. You earned this, and I could not be prouder."

Her throat tightened with emotion, and she managed a shaky laugh. "You're going to make me cry."

He chuckled softly, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Then let me give you another reason to cry—with happiness, of course."

Before she could ask what he meant, Viktor carefully pulled out a small, wrapped package from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

"You got me a gift?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course," he said, nudging her hands gently. "Go on. Open it."

With a mixture of curiosity and excitement, she peeled away the paper to reveal a beautifully bound leather notebook, its cover embossed with delicate golden designs. She ran her fingers over it in awe.

"It's for your next journey," Viktor explained softly. "I figured you would need somewhere to record all your brilliant ideas."

Y/N's heart swelled with warmth. "Viktor…"

Before she could even think, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips. He hummed in surprise, but his hands immediately found her waist, pulling her closer as he returned the kiss with soft, lingering affection.

When they finally parted, his forehead rested against hers, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"You are incredible," he whispered. "And I will always be here to remind you of that."

Y/N smiled, gripping the notebook to her chest as happiness bloomed within her.

"Thank you, Vik. For everything."

He kissed her forehead one last time, the warmth of his love wrapping around her like the safest embrace in the world.

And in that moment, with Viktor by her side, she knew that every late night, every ounce of effort, had been worth it.

Because she wasn’t just celebrating alone—she was celebrating with him.

JAYVIK

The crisp evening air of Piltover carried a gentle hum of celebration. Inside the shared apartment of Y/N, Viktor, and Jayce, the atmosphere buzzed with warmth. A small table was adorned with a modest spread—your favorite pastries, a bottle of sparkling juice, and a single candle flickering in the dim light. It was a celebration of your incredible achievement.

"To Y/N! The smartest and most hardworking person we know," Jayce declared, raising his glass. His golden eyes shimmered with pride as he looked at you.

Viktor, sitting beside you with his cane propped against the chair, gave a small, pleased chuckle. "I believe you may have outdone even Jayce's old Academy records. And that is quite the accomplishment." His amber eyes softened as he gazed at you, his voice filled with warmth.

You grinned, cheeks heating up under their combined attention. "I just... worked really hard. I wanted to make you both proud."

Jayce scoffed playfully, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "As if we weren’t already proud of you every single day. But this? Y/N, this is huge! You pushed yourself so much, and now you’re top of the class." He pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "Of course, we’re celebrating you."

Viktor nodded, his hand settling gently over yours. "Hard work should always be acknowledged, moya lyubov'. And you, můj drahý, deserve nothing less than admiration." His thumb traced absent circles over your skin. "I hope you know that no matter your grades, we would still be immensely proud of you. But seeing you achieve what you set out to do—it is remarkable." (My Dear)

Your heart swelled at their words, the exhaustion from months of studying melting away under their praise. You had worked tirelessly, pouring over textbooks late into the night, attending extra lectures, and pushing past the limits of your own endurance. But in this moment, with their unwavering support surrounding you, every sacrifice had been worth it.

Jayce nudged the plate of pastries toward you. "C'mon, indulge a little. You earned it."

You picked up a pastry, savoring the sweetness as it melted in your mouth. Viktor watched you with a satisfied expression, sipping his drink as he relaxed beside you. "You should allow yourself to enjoy moments like these more often," he mused. "It is easy to get lost in ambition, but balance is just as important."

Jayce nodded in agreement, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair. "Exactly. And besides, we’re always here to remind you to take a break when you need it."

You smiled, warmth filling your chest. "I know. And I appreciate it more than I can say."

Viktor smirked. "I would offer to carry you to the couch to rest, but, ah…" He tapped his cane lightly against the floor. "Perhaps Jayce should do the honors."

Jayce laughed and easily scooped you into his arms, earning a surprised squeak from you. "Your wish is my command, Y/N." He grinned, carrying you toward the couch while Viktor followed, shaking his head with a fond smile.

As you settled between them, Viktor leaning comfortably against you while Jayce held you close, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

Jayce rested his chin on top of your head, sighing happily. "You know, we should make this a tradition. Whenever you accomplish something big, we celebrate like this."

Viktor chuckled. "I like that idea. And perhaps, next time, we go beyond our apartment—dinner at a fancy restaurant, perhaps?"

You giggled at the thought. "I’d like that. As long as you both are there."

Viktor and Jayce exchanged amused glances, their hands entwining with yours. "Always," Jayce assured softly.

Viktor pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles. "Forever."

You had worked hard, you had succeeded, and most importantly—you were loved.

And that was worth celebrating.

VANDER (PLATONIC)

The Last Drop was always full of energy, but tonight it had a different kind of buzz. The usual clinking of glasses, shouts of drunken laughter, and the occasional scuffle were still there, but they were mere background noise to the excitement at the far end of the bar. Vander’s kids—Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder—were huddled around Y/N at their usual table, their expressions ranging from amazement to skepticism.

“You really got all top marks?” Mylo leaned forward, elbows on the table, his brows furrowing in suspicion. “Even in math? No way.”

Y/N grinned and waved the parchment in front of his face. “Yes way, Mylo. Do you want to check my work?”

“Like I’d understand any of that nerd stuff,” he scoffed, crossing his arms in defeat. “But I’m just saying—this is a first. We should get this framed or somethin’.”

Powder practically vibrated in her seat, her hands clutched into excited fists. “I knew you’d do it! You worked so, so hard! Vi and I saw you studying all the time. Even when we told you to take a break, you just kept going.”

Vi smirked, reaching over to nudge Y/N’s arm. “Told you it’d pay off. Look at you, all fancy with your grades. Might as well start teaching the rest of us now.”

Claggor let out a chuckle, shaking his head in admiration. “That’s some real dedication right there. You’re gonna be the smartest one in all of Zaun at this rate. Maybe even Piltover. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at their praise. It wasn’t easy balancing everything—living in the Lanes, helping Vander with errands, keeping up with Vi and the others, and still pushing herself through every late-night study session. But hearing them all acknowledge her effort made it all feel worth it.

=

From behind the bar, Vander had been listening the entire time, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He watched as Y/N beamed under the attention of her found family, pride shining in her eyes. She’d worked herself to the bone for this. He knew it better than anyone—how she’d sit by the dim lantern light long after the others had gone to bed, muttering formulas under her breath, scribbling notes furiously, erasing and rewriting when she didn’t get something right. He’d caught her nodding off over her books more than once, always too stubborn to admit she needed rest.

Now, seeing her finally celebrate, he couldn’t be prouder.

With a deep chuckle, Vander stepped forward, setting down a fresh round of drinks on the table—nothing too strong, just something sweet to mark the occasion. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I always knew you had it in you,” he said, his voice warm, steady, and full of pride. “Hard work like that—it ain’t easy. Takes a strong heart, real discipline. But you stuck with it, and now look at you.”

Y/N swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She had looked up to Vander for so long, seeing him as the father figure she had never really had. He had taught her so much—how to hold her own, how to keep going even when things got tough. And now, hearing the pride in his voice, seeing it in his eyes… It meant everything.

“You deserve to celebrate,” Vander continued, ruffling her hair like he always did when he was particularly proud of her. “And I don’t wanna hear about you locking yourself away with books for at least a few days, got it?”

She laughed, swatting his hand away. “Okay, okay! I’ll take a break.”

“Good.” Vander chuckled, before lifting his glass high in the air. His voice carried through the room, firm and unwavering. “To Y/N—the smartest, hardest-working kid in all of Zaun.”

“To Y/N!” the others echoed, clinking their drinks together.

Vi gave her a one-armed hug, Powder practically tackled her, and Claggor and Mylo smirked as they raised their glasses. The warmth that spread through Y/N’s chest was unlike anything she had ever felt before. In this moment, surrounded by the people she loved, she had never felt more seen, more valued.

This was her family.

And more than anything, she was proud to have made them proud.

SILCO

The dim glow of Zaun’s neon lights flickered outside the window, casting long, hazy shadows across the polished surface of Silco’s desk. The Last Drop was quieter than usual tonight, the usual raucous laughter and clinking glasses replaced with a soft murmur as patrons indulged in their drinks. The scent of whiskey and smoke lingered in the air, but Silco was hardly paying attention to any of it.

No, his focus was entirely on the woman in front of him—the woman who had just burst into his office, eyes bright with excitement, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her trembling hands.

"You did it," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly over the parchment as he scanned the grades printed across it.

All top marks. Every single one.

"I did it!" Y/N practically beamed, barely able to contain the joy bubbling inside her. "Silco, I actually did it! After all the late nights, the stress, the headaches—I passed everything! And not just passed, I did well!"

Her breathless words filled the space between them, and for a moment, Silco simply studied her. He had watched her work herself to exhaustion, nights spent hunched over books and notes, fingers stained with ink, pushing herself beyond her limits. He had seen the frustration in her eyes when things didn’t come easily, the way she fought to understand, to be better.

And now, she stood before him, victorious.

Silco’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile as he set the paper down and turned his full attention to her. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his movement deliberate as he stepped around the desk, closing the space between them. His gloved hand reached up, fingers tracing the side of her face with uncharacteristic softness, his mismatched eyes gleaming with something deeply fond.

"I never had any doubts," he said, voice low and warm, the rasp in his tone softer than usual. "You are brilliant, my love. Determined. There was no other outcome for you but success."

Y/N felt her heart swell at his words, emotion tightening in her throat. The weight of months of effort, the exhaustion, the overwhelming pressure she had put on herself—it all unraveled in that moment. Because for all of his sharp edges, for all of the ruthlessness he displayed to the world, she had always known this side of him. The part that cared. That cherished. That loved.

And right now, that love was focused entirely on her.

"I wanted to make you proud," she admitted, voice quieter now, her hands gripping the lapels of his coat. "I wanted to prove to myself—and to you—that I could do this."

Silco exhaled softly, amusement flickering in his gaze. "You’ve always made me proud, darling," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "This only proves what I already knew."

His words unraveled something deep inside her, a relief so profound it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She rested her forehead against his chest, and for a moment, he simply held her there, one hand resting at the small of her back, the other tangling in her hair.

Then, a smirk tugged at his lips as he murmured, "I suppose this calls for a celebration."

Y/N sniffled slightly, looking up at him. "Oh? And what exactly does Silco consider a celebration?"

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he guided her toward the door, his fingers lacing with hers. "I was thinking dinner. Something special. Something worthy of my brilliant, hardworking girl."

Her laughter was light, warm. "Well, when you put it like that, how could I refuse?"

=

He led her out of the office, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten as they stepped into the night together. Zaun stretched out before them, its streets a mix of neon haze and deep shadows, but for once, Y/N wasn’t thinking about anything beyond this moment.

Silco didn’t take her to one of the usual places in the Undercity. Instead, he led her to a quiet, tucked-away restaurant near the industrial district, one she had never been to before. It wasn’t grand, nor was it flashy, but it was private. The kind of place where Silco could let his guard down, even if only slightly.

The owner, an older woman with knowing eyes, greeted Silco without surprise, leading them to a secluded table in the corner. The lighting was dim, the scent of warm spices lingering in the air, and as they sat down, Y/N realized that Silco had planned this.

"You knew I’d pass," she accused playfully, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Silco leaned back, smirking as he picked up the wine glass the waitress had placed in front of him. "Of course I did. I don’t waste my time on anyone less than extraordinary."

Y/N flushed, biting her lip as she shook her head. "You have too much faith in me."

"No," he corrected smoothly, swirling the wine in his glass before meeting her gaze. "I have exactly the right amount of faith in you."

Something about the way he said it—the confidence, the absolute certainty—made warmth spread through her chest.

The rest of the night was soft, quiet, intimate in a way that very few moments in Zaun could be. Silco indulged her, letting her talk about everything—the stress of her exams, the moments she doubted herself, the overwhelming relief when she saw her grades. And he listened, truly listened, in a way so few people did.

=

And when dinner was over and they returned to his office, when she curled into his arms on the worn leather couch, exhaustion finally catching up to her, Silco pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and whispered, "I will always be proud of you, my love."

She fell asleep with those words settling deep in her heart, safe in the knowledge that, no matter what came next, Silco would always be in her corner.

And she would always fight to make him proud.

SEVIKA

The dim lights of The Last Drop flickered overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the corner booth where you sat. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and liquor, the usual hum of rowdy patrons filling the space, but all of that faded into the background. Because tonight wasn’t about the undercity’s chaos—it was about you.

Your heart still fluttered from the moment earlier today when you’d opened your results. The anticipation, the fear, the months of grueling effort—it had all built up to that single second, where time seemed to freeze before relief crashed over you like a tidal wave. You’d done it. You’d pushed yourself beyond limits you didn’t even know you had, buried yourself in work, and proved to yourself that you were capable of more than anyone—maybe even you—had expected.

Now, here you were, still feeling the remnants of that high, pressing your lips together to keep from grinning too wide as Sevika slid a drink across the table to you.

“Go on,” she urged, her gruff voice laced with something softer, something rare.

That was the thing about Sevika. She wasn’t the kind of person to throw around affection easily, nor did she waste words on empty praise. Everything she did, everything she said, was deliberate. And that made moments like these all the more meaningful.

You picked up the glass, your fingers brushing against hers briefly, and even through the cool metal of her cybernetic hand, a shiver ran up your spine.

“Can’t believe you dragged me here for this,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest only grew.

Sevika leaned back against the booth, a lazy smirk playing on her lips. She looked at you like she always did—like you were something worth admiring, worth protecting. The sharp edges of her usual hardened expression softened just enough to make your heart clench.

“Damn right I did,” she said, voice brimming with pride. “You worked your ass off all semester. You deserve to celebrate.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. The burn was smooth, comforting in a way that reminded you of her—strong, steady. “Guess I do,” you admitted, still getting used to the feeling of accomplishment.

Sevika tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “No guessing,” she corrected. “You do deserve it. Smart, dedicated, and still got enough fire in you to keep up with me? Damn impressive.”

Heat rushed to your face, and you rolled your eyes to cover it. “Oh, so now you’re a fan of my brain, too?”

Her smirk deepened, her fingers lazily tracing the rim of her glass. “Always have been.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dipping lower, meant only for you. “Brains and beauty? Deadly combination, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

She always did this—always had this way of catching you off guard, slipping under your skin in a way no one else could.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re proud of me,” you murmured, trying to play it off, but your voice betrayed you.

Sevika exhaled, tilting her head slightly, gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Damn right I am.” A pause, then, softer, more sincere, “Proud as hell, Y/N.”

The words settled deep in your chest, warm and reassuring, more intoxicating than any drink in this bar.

A lump formed in your throat, the weight of it hitting you all at once. Maybe it was the exhaustion from all the work catching up with you, or maybe it was just Sevika—her presence, her unwavering support, the way she always stood in your corner, even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it.

Unable to resist, you reached for her hand under the table, fingers tracing over the smooth metal of her cybernetic arm before lacing them with her other, warm and calloused. She didn’t pull away.

“Thanks, Sev,” you murmured, squeezing gently.

She looked down at your joined hands for a moment, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, lazy circles. A quiet kind of tenderness that most people never got to see from her.

“Always, babe.”

She didn’t say much more after that, but she didn’t need to. The noise of the bar faded into a dull hum, the laughter and shouting of patrons becoming nothing more than background noise. Because right now, nothing else mattered—just you, her, and the quiet understanding that, no matter what, Sevika would always be there.

And that? That was better than any grade you could ever earn.

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 40/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, age gap

Word Count: 8374

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Still, you found yourself moving, your feet carrying you upstairs as though on instinct. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to see him, to try one last time before the space between you became too wide to bridge.

When you reached the doorway of the bedroom, you paused, your heart sinking at the sight of him standing by the bed, zipping his suitcase shut. His shoulders were hunched, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to make it easier on himself. As if there was a way to make this easier at all.

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the doorframe for support. “Jensen”, you said softly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

He froze for a moment, his back still to you. Then, with a deep breath, he turned, his green eyes meeting yours. They were tired, conflicted, but still the same eyes you’d looked into this morning, the same ones that had held yours so intently as he touched you, as he kissed you like he didn’t want to let go. Now, though, they carried a weight you hadn’t seen before—a heaviness that made your chest ache.

You bit your lip, feeling small and exposed under his gaze. “Are you really going to leave like this?”, you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “After everything?”.

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of his own frustration and guilt was too much to bear. “Of course not”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching up to gently cup your face. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver through you despite the tension still hanging in the air.

Your lips parted, but you couldn’t find the words to say. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, and his eyes softened, the storm in them momentarily quieted. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I’m overwhelmed, (Y/N). And I hate that I’m making you feel like this”.

You searched his face, your own emotions swirling in a chaotic mix of anger, hurt, and longing. “Then why?”, you asked softly, your voice trembling. “Why does it feel like you’re pulling away? Like I’m losing you?”.

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly as though trying to steady himself. “You’re not losing me”, he said firmly, his hand still cradling your face. “I just… I have to go back. Filming’s starting again, and there’s so much I have to handle. But… I didn’t want to leave like this, not with things feeling… broken”.

“Then don’t”, you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Don’t leave like this, Jensen. I can handle you being away for work, but not if it feels like you’re running from me. From us”.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he sighed again, his forehead leaning against yours. “I’m not running”, he whispered. “I swear I’m not. I just… I need to get my head straight. This isn’t fair to you—not when I’m like this”.

You closed your eyes, letting his proximity ground you, even as his words stung. “You think I don’t feel the same?”, you asked, your voice cracking. “This is hard for me too, Jensen. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I just need to know you’re with me in this”.

“I am”, he said quickly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I am with you. Even when it feels like I’m not, I swear I am”.

You bit your lip, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill. “Then show me”, you whispered. “Don’t just say it. Show me”.

His eyes opened, meeting yours, and you could see the conflict still flickering in them. But there was something else too—something steadier, deeper. “I will”, he promised softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll do better. I’ll find a way to fix this”.

You nodded against him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if holding onto him could keep him from slipping away.

The two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet, fragile peace of the moment. It wasn’t a perfect fix, and you knew there were still cracks that needed mending. But as long as he stayed true to his promise—as long as he kept fighting for you—you thought maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

The next few days were a small but noticeable shift. Jensen texted more—little check-ins, asking how you were doing, how you were feeling. He called during breaks on set, his voice quieter, softer than usual, but still trying. It wasn’t the same as having him there with you, but it was something. It was an effort, and that meant more than you could say.

But right now, sitting in the stiff, too-bright office of your new gynecologist, nerves twisting in your stomach, you felt the absence of him acutely. You wished for him so badly it hurt. Wished for the comfort of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice grounding you when the anxiety felt like too much.

Even if he weren’t in LA, though, you weren’t sure he’d want to be here. His emotions were still so raw, a whirlwind of fear, doubt, and guilt that neither of you fully knew how to navigate. You didn’t blame him, not entirely. This was hard for you too—an uncharted territory that neither of you had been prepared for.

Still, as you sat there, staring at the framed prints of flowers on the wall, you couldn’t stop the small pang of resentment that crept in alongside the longing. You were here, facing this, and he wasn’t. That fact alone felt heavier than it should have.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?”.

The nurse’s voice pulled you from your spiraling thoughts, and you looked up to see her standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand, a warm smile on her face. “Dr. Carter is ready for you”.

You nodded, standing on unsteady legs and following her into the exam room. The nurse chatted with you as she took your vitals, but the words blurred together, your mind too preoccupied with what was coming. The unknown of it all felt overwhelming.

When the doctor finally entered, she was kind and professional, her demeanor calm and reassuring. She asked questions—about your health, your symptoms, how you’d been feeling emotionally. You answered as best as you could, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest.

“I know this can be a lot to take in”, Dr. Carter said gently, her eyes kind as she finished jotting down notes. “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay”.

Dr. Carter offered a reassuring smile as she set her clipboard down and pulled on a pair of gloves. “Alright, (Y/N), I’m going to need you to take off your jeans so we can do an internal ultrasound”, she said gently. “This will give us the clearest view of the baby and help us confirm how everything is progressing”.

You nodded nervously, your hands already moving to unbutton your jeans. Your fingers trembled slightly, but Dr. Carter’s calm presence helped steady you.

As you slipped out of your jeans and settled back on the exam table with a thin sheet draped over your lower half, she chuckled softly, her tone light. “And while we’re at it, I have to say—those tight skinny jeans? Probably not the best idea moving forward. Baby’s going to need some room to grow”.

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, grateful for the break in tension. “Noted. Guess it’s time to retire my denim collection for a while”.

Dr. Carter grinned as she adjusted the ultrasound machine. “I promise, stretchy pants are going to become your best friend. Maternity leggings, flowy dresses—they’re all lifesavers. You might even find yourself wondering why you didn’t switch to them sooner”.

Her easy humor helped relax you, and you managed a small smile as you adjusted the sheet over your lap. “I’ll keep that in mind”.

“Good”, she said warmly, positioning the probe and applying a generous amount of gel to it. “Now, you might feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t hurt. Let me know if it does, okay?”.

You nodded, gripping the sides of the exam table as she began the procedure.

“Alright, let’s take a look. A little pressure again, but we’ll be done before you know it”.

Her calm, professional demeanor helped you relax again, and within moments, the discomfort faded as your attention turned to the screen. The tiny, flickering shape appeared once more, and all your nervousness melted away, replaced by awe.

"There it is”, Dr. Carter said softly, her voice steady and warm as she adjusted the angle on the screen. “That’s your baby. Strong heartbeat, measuring right on track”.

You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat. There it was—a tiny flickering heartbeat, impossibly small yet so powerful. You were really pregnant. Even though you’d known it logically, seeing it on the screen made it real in a way that took your breath away. And yet, part of you still couldn’t quite believe it.

Dr. Carter continued to move the probe gently, taking measurements and pointing out details. “Everything’s looking good so far. Your little one is tucked in right where it should be. No signs of any complications at this point, which is exactly what we want to see”.

You nodded numbly, your eyes glued to the screen. “It’s so… small”, you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of wonder and disbelief.

She smiled, her gaze flicking to you. “They won’t stay small for long, trust me. You’ll blink, and suddenly you’ll wonder how on earth they managed to grow so fast”.

Dr. Carter chuckled softly, her tone filled with the wisdom of someone who had witnessed this moment countless times but still found joy in it. "It’s amazing, isn’t it? That tiny heartbeat, that little flicker—it’s a whole new life just starting out”.

You nodded again, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. “It’s… overwhelming”, you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “I mean, I knew, but this makes it… real”.

“And it’s okay to feel that way”, Dr. Carter said gently. “First pregnancies tend to bring out all the feelings—the excitement, the fear, the disbelief. It’s all normal. You’re allowed to feel every bit of it”.

She adjusted the probe slightly, her voice turning a bit more clinical as she continued. “So far, everything looks perfect. You’re about eight weeks along, right on track. The baby’s growth is exactly where we want it to be. Heart rate is strong—about 160 beats per minute, which is ideal at this stage”.

You nodded, though the details were a blur compared to the sight of the tiny life on the screen. “It’s so much to take in”, you whispered, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your stomach.

Dr. Carter smiled, finishing the measurements and setting the probe aside. “It is. But you’re doing great. This is just the beginning, and you’ve got a lot of exciting—and maybe overwhelming—milestones ahead”.

She handed you a towel to clean off the gel, giving you a moment to process everything. “You’ll get used to it. Well, mostly. There’s always something new to surprise you in pregnancy, and eventually parenthood”.

You managed a small laugh, wiping your stomach and pulling the thin sheet over your legs. “I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready, but I guess no one really is, right?”.

“Exactly”, she said warmly. “No one’s ever fully ready. But you’re already doing the most important part—showing up, caring, and making sure your baby has everything they need”.

Her words were reassuring, a balm to the nervous energy that had been swirling in your chest since the appointment began. As you got dressed and prepared to leave, she added one more thing, her tone light and teasing.

“And remember—plenty of rest, eat well, and start embracing the stretchy pants. Trust me, they’re a lifesaver”.

You laughed softly, some of the tension melting away. “Got it. Stretchy pants, check”.

Dr. Carter smiled warmly, handing you a small envelope with printed images of the ultrasound. “Take these with you. It’s a big moment—share it with the people you care about, and let yourself enjoy it. You’re doing just fine”.

You looked down at the black-and-white images in your hands, your heart swelling at the sight of the tiny form captured there. “Thank you”, you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

She gave you a final nod, her voice kind. “You’re welcome. And remember, I’m here if you have questions or concerns. We’ll take it one step at a time”.

As you walked out of the office and into the fresh air, you felt a mix of emotions—hope, fear, awe. Clutching the ultrasound photos tightly, you hesitated, staring down at your phone for a long moment before finally pressing on Jensen’s name. Your heart thudded in your chest as the line rang, the tiny ultrasound photos still clutched in your other hand. You didn’t even know what you were planning to say—just that you needed him to hear this, to be part of this moment, even from a distance.

The line rang and rang, and then his voicemail clicked on. You sighed, trying not to feel disappointed. Of course he didn’t answer. He was probably in the middle of filming, lost in the demanding schedule that kept him so far away from you. You knew it wasn’t intentional, but in this moment, the distance felt impossibly large. Again.

The evening had slipped into night, the house dim and quiet except for the soft hum of the television in the background. You lay stretched out on the couch, one hand resting on your bare stomach while your other hand clutched the ultrasound photos. Your shirt was pulled up just slightly, and you found yourself absentmindedly tracing circles over the small, still-flat curve of your belly.

You stared at the black-and-white images, your mind swirling with emotions. Excitement, fear, hope—it was all tangled up in your chest, making it hard to focus on anything else. The faint vibration of your phone on the coffee table startled you, and you quickly reached for it.

Jensen’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a FaceTime call. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting, the screen filling with his familiar face. He was in his trailer, the lighting dim and shadows playing across his features. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked tired—but the moment his green eyes locked on yours, they softened.

“Hey”, he said, his voice quiet but warm. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. It’s been crazy today”.

“It’s okay”, you murmured, shifting slightly to sit up. “I’m glad you called back”.

Jensen hesitated, his green eyes searching your face through the screen. “How did… the appointment go?”, he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid to step into a conversation he wasn’t ready for.

You shifted slightly, your gaze dropping to the ultrasound photos in your lap. “It was fine”, you said curtly, your tone clipped. “Everything’s good. Healthy baby, strong heartbeat”.

There was a beat of silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You knew he could tell you weren’t giving him the whole story, but you didn’t know how to explain what you were feeling—the mix of emotions, the desire to share every little detail, and the fear of overwhelming him when he already seemed stretched so thin.

Jensen’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressing together as he studied you. He knew you too well to let it slide, but he also knew better than to push right away. “That’s good”, he said softly, his voice measured. “I’m glad everything’s okay”.

You nodded, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the photos. “Yeah”.

He stayed quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful, as though he was trying to decide how to approach this. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his tone gentler this time. “You don’t have to hold back with me, you know”.

You glanced up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”.

He knew you well enough to see right through your clipped responses, to know that you were holding back. But what if he didn’t want to hear it? What if hearing every little detail only made this harder for him? What if he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the ultrasound pictures because, deep down, he still didn’t want this baby?

The thought sat heavy in your chest, threatening to choke you, but Jensen spoke before you could spiral any further.

“(Y/N)”, he said softly, his voice steady but warm. “Talk to me. I can see it—you’ve got so much to say, and I want to hear it. I know I haven’t been… the best at showing it, but I’m here. I’m trying to be here for you”.

Your throat tightened, and you stared at the photos in your lap, your fingers trembling slightly as you traced the outline of the tiny shape on the glossy paper. “I don’t know if you want to hear it”, you admitted quietly, barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if you want to look at these”.

His face softened, guilt flickering in his eyes as he leaned closer to the screen. “Hey”, he said gently, his tone filled with sincerity. “That’s not true. I do want to hear it. And I do want to see the pictures. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t. I just… I’ve been struggling, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care“.

Jensen’s voice softened further, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “C’mon”, he said gently, his green eyes warm despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “Show me the little pudding swirl. I probably won’t recognize anything anyway—a damn foot would look like a nose to me”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a soft, unexpected sound that bubbled out of your chest and eased some of the tension in the room. “Pudding swirl?”, you repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, his smile growing just a little. “Well, yeah. Isn’t that what ultrasounds always look like? Just a bunch of swirls and blobs that doctors magically translate into arms and legs”.

You shook your head, your lips quirking into a real smile now as you held up the ultrasound photos to the camera. “Okay, well, this blob has a heartbeat”, you said, your voice lighter than before. “And right here”—you pointed at the faint outline on the screen—“this is the head. Not a foot or a nose, for the record”.

Jensen leaned closer to the screen, squinting as if to make out the details. “Ah, okay. Head. Got it”, He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Wait, are you sure? That could totally be a nose. Or, like, an elbow”.

“Jensen”, you said, your voice catching between amusement and exasperation.

“What? I’m just saying!”, he defended, though the teasing glint in his eye betrayed him. “I need a guide for these things, alright? Don’t expect me to be an ultrasound expert overnight”.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head as you set the photos back in your lap. “You’re impossible”, you muttered, though the warmth in your tone took away any sting.

“But I’m your impossible”, he said softly, his teasing smile fading into something gentler as he looked at you. “And I’m trying, (Y/N). I really am”.

Your chest tightened at his words, but it wasn’t with sadness this time. It was with a cautious kind of hope, the kind that told you maybe, just maybe, things could get better. “I know you are”, you said quietly. “And it means a lot”.

Jensen nodded, his gaze dropping back to the screen for a moment before he met your eyes again. “So, uh… pudding swirl, huh?”, he said, his tone lighter again. “Is that what we’re calling it until we figure out an actual name?”.

You rolled your eyes, though your smile stayed in place. “We’re not calling the baby ‘pudding swirl’, Jensen”.

He grinned, the tension in his face easing just slightly. “Fine. But you gotta admit, it’s kinda catchy”.

You laughed again, shaking your head as you leaned back against the couch. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt lighter, the weight of your fears not entirely gone but easier to carry with him by your side—even if it was just through a screen.

Jensen shifted on his end of the call, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it out of view, leaving him in just his t-shirt. He settled back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled hair, his gaze never leaving you. “Alright”, he said, his voice soft but encouraging, “tell me everything. How’d it go with the doctor? No holding back, alright?”.

You hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the corner of the ultrasound photo. “You really want to hear it all?”, you asked, still unsure if he was just saying it to make you feel better.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning a little closer to the camera. “C’mon, Baby- I asked, didn’t I? Spill it. The whole deal—what did the doctor say?”.

You smiled faintly, his eagerness pulling you out of your own head a little. “Well”, you began, sitting up straighter on the couch, “Dr. Carter was great. She was super kind and made me feel a lot less nervous. She, uh, might have made a joke about how tight my jeans were and said stretchy pants are in my near future”.

Jensen snorted, shaking his head with a grin. “Stretchy pants, huh? Told you, those skinny jeans were never gonna last. Baby’s gotta have room to grow”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, she did an internal ultrasound to get a clear look, and that’s when we saw this little one”, You held up the photos again, your smile softening. “She said everything looks perfect. The baby’s right where they should be, strong heartbeat, measuring exactly on track”.

“That’s awesome”, Jensen said, his voice sincere. His gaze lingered on the photos, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he added, “So, uh… anything else I should know? You know, like special baby dos and don’ts?”.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “You probably know most of it already”, you said, your tone light. “It’s not your first rodeo”.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Sorta”, he admitted, his voice quieter. “But I wasn’t around much for… you know, most of it. Filming Supernatural kept me away during a lot of the pregnancies, so I only know the basics. The doctor appointments, ultrasounds… I wasn’t there for most of that”.

Your heart ached at the subtle regret in his tone, and you softened, leaning closer to the camera. “Well, if you stick around this time—even if it’s just like this—I’ll keep you in the loop for everything”, you said gently. “Every little detail”.

His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he nodded. “I want that”, he said, his voice steady. “I want to know it all. Even the stuff I missed before”.

You smiled, feeling the knot in your chest ease just a little. “Alright, then. You’re gonna get so much information, you’ll be an expert by the time this baby gets here”.

“Good”, he said, his grin widening slightly. “Bring it on. Even if it’s about stretchy pants and cravings”.

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t in this alone. Jensen might still be figuring things out, but he was trying. And right now, that was enough.

The conversation naturally slowed, a comfortable quiet settling between you both. Jensen leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering to something off-screen before returning to you. His expression softened, more vulnerable now, and he hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Are you happy?”, he asked, his voice low but steady. The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just asking about the baby—he was asking about everything. About you. About the life you were building and how this unexpected turn had changed it.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your first instinct was to deflect, to brush it off with something light, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you. He really wanted to know.

“I…”. You paused, your fingers brushing over the ultrasound photos in your lap. “I don’t know. I think I’m… getting there”. You looked down for a moment, trying to find the right words. “There are moments where I feel happy. Like when I saw the baby on the screen today, or when I think about what’s ahead. But it’s… complicated”.

Jensen nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Complicated how?”.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch. “I mean, everything’s different now. This wasn’t the plan, and I know it wasn’t what you wanted. So, sometimes, I feel guilty for being excited about it. Like… like I’m forcing this on you, even though it’s just as much your reality as it is mine”.

His jaw tightened slightly, and he let out a slow breath. “You’re not forcing anything on me, (Y/N)”, he said firmly. “Yeah, this wasn’t what I planned, and I’ve been… struggling with it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel happy about it. You don’t have to hold back for me”.

You studied him, the sincerity in his voice settling over you like a fragile warmth. “What about you?”, you asked, your voice softer now. “Are you happy?”.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know yet”, he admitted. “I’m still trying to figure out how to be okay with all of this. But I want to be happy. I want to get there”.

His honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him through the screen. “That’s enough for me”, you said quietly. “That you want to try. That’s all I need”.

He nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll get there”, he promised, his voice steady. “For you. And for.. the baby”.

The flight to LA had been uneventful, but your nerves had been in overdrive the entire time. You sat by the window, clutching your small bag tightly and watching the clouds roll by, your thoughts bouncing between excitement and anxiety. After five weeks of being alone, of feeling the silence in your house stretch endlessly, you couldn’t take it anymore. You missed Jensen—his presence, his voice, even the way he’d tease you just to make you smile.

But now, as you sat on the couch in his temporary apartment, waiting for him to come home, the doubts began to creep in. Would he be happy to see you? Or would he feel blindsided, caught off guard by your unannounced arrival? You glanced around the apartment—it was neat, but impersonal, lacking the warmth of home. It made you ache even more to feel closer to him again.

Your nausea wasn’t helping. The smell of whatever detergent he used on his couch cushions had been tickling your stomach since you sat down, and the bag of crackers you’d brought with you was already half-empty. You placed a hand on your still-flat stomach, murmuring under your breath, “You’re really not making this easy for me, you know that?”.

Your stomach growled as you stood, the nausea mingling with hunger in a way that made you feel lightheaded. Quietly, you wandered toward the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes of finding something—anything—that might settle your stomach.

But of course, Jensen being Jensen, the fridge was nearly empty. A single, lonely protein bar sat on the top shelf, alongside two bottles of water. You stared at the sparse contents for a moment, letting out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Seriously, Jensen?”, you muttered under your breath, shaking your head.

You grabbed one of the bottles of water and twisted the cap off, taking a slow sip to keep your nausea at bay. The protein bar stared back at you mockingly, and you reluctantly grabbed it as well, knowing it was better than nothing.

Leaning against the counter, you unwrapped the bar and took a small bite, immediately regretting it. It was dry, overly sweet, and tasted vaguely like cardboard. “How does he live like this?”, you mumbled, grimacing as you forced yourself to swallow.

You glanced around the kitchen, noting the lack of any real groceries or supplies. It wasn’t surprising—Jensen had always been the type to live off takeout and whatever was easiest when he was in work mode—but it made you miss the comfort of home even more. At least there, you could whip up something that didn’t make you question your life choices.

As you stood there nibbling reluctantly on the protein bar, the sound of keys jingling at the door caught your attention. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you quickly set the bar down on the counter, wiping your hands nervously on your jeans.

The door opened, and Jensen stepped inside, his hair slightly tousled from the wind. He froze when he saw you, his green eyes widening in surprise.

Jensen stood frozen in the doorway, his green eyes scanning you from head to toe. His expression quickly shifted from surprise to concern as he noticed how pale you looked, the exhaustion written all over your face. He closed the door slowly, without taking his eyes off you.

“(Y/N)”, he said, his voice low and cautious, as though he were bracing himself for bad news. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”.

You blinked, startled by the intensity of his reaction, and quickly shook your head. “No—yes! I mean, we’re fine”, you stammered, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I promise. I just… I couldn’t stay at home alone anymore. I missed you”.

He let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he stepped further into the apartment.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to reassure him further, but before you could get a single word out, Jensen moved. His hands grabbed your hips with a firm but gentle urgency, lifting you effortlessly onto the small countertop. You barely had time to process it before he stepped between your legs, closing the space between you.

“Jensen—”, you started, but his lips were on yours, cutting off your words with a kiss that was far too hard, far too hungry. It wasn’t gentle or measured—this was pure need, raw and desperate. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you flush against him as though he couldn’t stand the thought of even a sliver of space between you.

You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, clutching at his shirt as you tried to ground yourself. The kiss was overwhelming, stealing your breath and silencing every doubt you’d carried with you all the way to LA. Jensen wasn’t just kissing you—he was telling you something without words, something you hadn’t been sure he could say.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip firm, grounding you. “You scared the hell out of me”, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m so damn glad you’re here”.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words never came. Jensen was already back, his lips crashing against yours with even more urgency than before. His hands moved with a desperate kind of impatience, one fumbling with the buckle of his belt while the other tugged at the button of your jeans, his touch igniting a heat that spread through you in seconds.

“Jensen”, you breathed against his lips, your voice shaky as your hands gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His breath was ragged, and the need in his movements matched the hunger in his kiss.

“Missed you”, he murmured against your mouth, his words muffled by the press of your lips. “Missed you so much”.

You barely had time to process his words before he tugged your jeans open, his fingers brushing against your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands slid up into his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with just as much urgency, your own longing taking over.

Jensen’s lips trailed down your jawline, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. One hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers finding you with an expertise that made your breath hitch. He groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through you as his movements became more deliberate, more focused.

“Fuck, I missed you”, he muttered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. His other hand moved to free himself. With practiced ease, he unzipped his jeans, his hand wrapping around himself as he began to stroke, his breaths growing heavier with every movement.

The dual sensations of his hand on you and the sounds of his need—raw and unfiltered—sent your mind spinning. Your hands tightened in his hair, tugging slightly as your body arched against him, seeking more, needing more.

“Jensen”, you gasped. Your head tilted back, giving him better access to your neck as his lips found a spot just beneath your jaw, sucking gently while his fingers worked magic between your thighs.

His hips pressed forward instinctively, the heat of his body making you feel consumed, utterly surrounded by him. “You feel so good”, he rasped, his voice low and thick with desire. “I can’t—”. He cut himself off with a groan, his hand on himself quickening for a moment before he forced himself to slow down, clearly trying to hold back.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body trembled slightly as he tried to keep control. “Jensen”, you whispered, your voice shaky but certain, “I need you”.

This was all it took. Jensen didn’t hesitate for a second. In one swift motion, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down just enough, the urgency in his movements making your breath catch. He didn’t waste another second—his hands settled firmly on your hips as he positioned himself, his body pressing closer to yours.

When he pushed inside, the sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and intensity that made your head fall back with a soft gasp. Jensen groaned, low and guttural, his hands gripping you tighter as he stilled for a moment, clearly savoring the connection. “Fuck”, he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice heavy with emotion and need. “You feel… incredible”.

Your hands slid down his back, clutching at his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. The intimacy of the moment, the rawness of his touch—it was more than just physical. It was everything you’d been longing for, everything you’d missed.

“Jensen”, you breathed, your voice trembling as you moved your hips slightly, urging him on.

Jensen didn’t hold back this time. He began to move, his thrusts fast and hard, filled with a raw intensity that left you breathless. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer with every movement, as if he couldn’t bear to be even the slightest bit apart. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, and you clung to him, your nails digging into his back through his shirt.

“Shit, (Y/N)”, he groaned, his voice rough and low, filled with desperation and something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. The intimacy of the moment, the sheer closeness, made everything feel even more intense.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he poured everything into every movement—his frustration, his longing, his love. It was all there, tangible in the way his body moved against yours, in the guttural sounds that escaped his lips.

His lips brushed against yours, not quite kissing but staying close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “Needed this. Needed you”.

You couldn’t speak, the intensity of his movements stealing your breath and leaving you trembling. Your fingers dug into his back, clutching his shirt desperately to keep yourself steady, to stop yourself from slipping down the countertop. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, but it wasn’t just the physical sensation—it was the way Jensen clung to you, the way his body pressed against yours as if he couldn’t bear even a moment of separation.

You could sense it in him, the desperation, the need that went far beyond the physical. Jensen needed this—needed you—in a way that was raw and unfiltered. It wasn’t just about passion; it was about grounding himself, finding something steady and real in the chaos of everything you’d both been facing.

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, your nails grazing the back of his neck as you held onto him, your body trembling under the sheer force of his need. You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but meet his movements, your body responding to him instinctively, your breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

Jensen’s movements became even more desperate, his hands gripping your hips like they were the only thing anchoring him to the moment. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shock of pleasure through your body that made you cry out, your head falling back as you clung to him even tighter. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you came with a force that left you trembling, your body tightening around him so intensely that it drew a low, guttural groan from his throat.

“(Y/N)”, he rasped, his voice rough and unsteady as his rhythm faltered, his body reacting to the way you clenched around him. He pressed closer, burying his face in your neck as he thrust into you one last time, hard and deep, before he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he spilled into you.

For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, heavy and ragged in the quiet kitchen. Jensen stayed pressed against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tried to steady himself, his hands sliding up to cradle your waist gently now, his grip no longer desperate but grounding.

You ran your fingers gently through Jensen’s hair, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. His face remained buried in your neck, his breaths warm against your skin, his body still pressed close. His grip on your waist softened, but he didn’t move away, as though the connection was something he wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

“What was that for?”, you asked teasingly, your voice breathless and light as you let your fingers trail down to his neck. “Not that I’m complaining or anything”.

He let out a low, almost embarrassed chuckle, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Shit, I don’t even know”, he muttered, his voice muffled and still a little hoarse. “I had such a shitty day. Everything went wrong on set, I was exhausted, pissed off, and just wanted to shower and crash”. He finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes soft but still heavy with emotion. “Then I walked in and saw you standing there, looking all beautiful and… like you belonged here. And everything else just disappeared”.

You smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “So, I have good timing?”, you teased, your voice warm.

“The best timing”, he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You were exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it”.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you let your hands slide down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Well”, you said softly, “I’m glad I could help. You seem pretty relaxed now”.

He chuckled again, the sound deeper this time as he shifted his hands to your waist, holding you gently. “That’s an understatement”, he admitted, his smile growing.

Jensen let out a small grunt as he reached for a nearby tissue, still holding you steady with one hand as he carefully pulled out of you. His movements were gentle, but the slight grumpiness in his expression was impossible to miss as he glanced down. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about that anymore, huh?”, he muttered, his tone laced with dry humor as he pressed the tissue against your sensitive skin, his touch still surprisingly tender despite his teasing words.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your fingers against his jawline. “Guess not”, you replied, your voice warm but a little shaky from the lingering aftershocks. “Perks of being pregnant, right?”.

He rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he cleaned you up, taking his time to be as gentle as possible. “Yeah, real perk”, he muttered, his tone teasing but affectionate. Once he was satisfied, he discarded the tissue and began adjusting his own jeans, fastening his belt with a practiced ease.

You watched him, your heart swelling at the way he moved—still a little flustered but trying to keep his usual calm. “You okay there, Jensen?”, you teased lightly, raising an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his slightly messy hair.

He glanced up at you, his green eyes sparkling with warmth despite the grumpy facade. “I’m fine”, he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you again, his hands resting on your thighs. “But are you okay? I didn’t… I wasn’t too.. much, was I?”.

You smiled, reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I’m fine”, you reassured him, your voice tender. “Better than fine, actually”.

He relaxed at your words, his shoulders loosening as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good”, he murmured. “Because the last thing I want is to hurt you—or, you know… the little invader inside you”.

You laughed softly at Jensen’s words, though the underlying meaning wasn’t lost on you. “The little invader, huh?”, you teased gently, resting your hands on his forearms. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”.

Jensen let out a breath, his lips quirking into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “I mean, it feels accurate”, he muttered. His hands sliding down to your hips as he gently helped you back into your jeans, carefully tugging them up and fastening them. His touch was gentle, almost absentminded, but his expression carried a hint of grumpiness. As he worked, he mumbled under his breath, half to himself, half to you.

“Soon enough, no more sex for me”, he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Just bottles and diapers, and you exhausted as fuck, with sensitive nipples and all that shit”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his grumbling, your hands moving to rest lightly on his shoulders. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine”, you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling sorry for yourself already?”.

He straightened, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused. “I’m just saying”, he grumbled, his hands resting on your hips now, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your jeans. “Everything’s going to change. No more lazy mornings, no more spontaneous countertop moments. Just us covered in spit-up, and you ready to kill me for not doing enough”.

You chuckled, leaning in a little closer with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Well”, you teased, your voice low and sultry, “we’d better make the most of the time we do have, then. I mean, who knows when you’ll get another chance to pin me against a countertop and have your way with me?”.

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, he just stared at you, clearly caught off guard by your boldness. Then, a slow, wicked grin spread across his face, his hands tightening on your hips. “You’re really going to say something like that when I’m already thinking about round two?”, he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer.

You laughed, playfully swatting at his chest. “Relax, cowboy. You just got done complaining about how little sex you’re going to get. Can’t have you wearing yourself out too early”.

He rolled his eyes, but the amused spark in his gaze told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were. “Wearing myself out? Sweetheart, I could go all night if I wanted to”, he shot back, his tone dripping with confidence.

You raised an eyebrow, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “Oh, really?”, you challenged, your smile growing. “Careful, Jensen. That sounds like a promise”.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “It is”.

And it was.

Jensen had made good on his promise, proving with every touch, kiss, and whispered word that he wasn’t kidding about going all night. Two hours later, you found yourself sprawled on the bed, your body a delightful mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

Jensen was currently between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs gently but firmly as his tongue worked its magic. His stubble tickled against your skin, but you barely registered it over the waves of pleasure that were building with every deliberate movement. His green eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, and the intensity in them made your breath hitch.

You were just on the edge, your body trembling and your hands clutching the sheets, when it happened. Your stomach growled. Loudly. Loud enough to break through the haze of bliss Jensen had been so expertly creating.

He froze, his head lifting slightly as he looked up at you with wide, amused eyes. “Did your stomach just roar at me?”, he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and humor.

Your face flushed instantly, and you slapped a hand over your stomach, letting out a embarrassed laugh. “I—I guess it did”, you stammered, unable to stop laughing as the tension of the moment shattered completely. “I think it’s trying to tell you I need food before I pass out”.

Jensen pushed himself up onto his elbows, grinning wickedly as he crawled up your body. “Sweetheart”, he teased, his voice low and playful, “I thought I was keeping you satisfied. Guess I’ve still got some competition”.

You rolled your eyes, still laughing, as you smacked his chest lightly. “Don’t make me feel worse about it! It’s your fault for not feeding me properly when I got here”.

“My fault?”, he repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. “You’re the one who showed up unannounced and distracted me before I could even think about dinner”.

“Well, clearly, I wasn’t thinking about dinner either”, you shot back, grinning as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jensen let out a deep laugh, his forehead pressing against yours as he smiled down at you. “Alright, truce. Let’s get you something to eat before your stomach declares war on me”.

You giggled, nodding as you nudged him. “Good idea. I don’t think either of us wants to see how hangry I can get”.

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before rolling off the bed and grabbing his sweats. “Stay here”, he said, pointing at you with a mock-serious expression.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

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[writtenbyan-aries]

heyyy i heard you needed some fluffy requests and I've got one!! Any chance I could get one with sam where y/n is having a panic attack (if you're comfortable writing that) and sam calms her down? If your not comfortable with writing that o totally understand!! love ya!

∶ Summary: While doing an investigation, reader gets a little too freaked out

∶ Warnings: reader has a panic attack, haunted investigation, ghosts, spooky themes, reader gets targeted by spirits, crying, fluffy Sam calming reader down

∶ Word Count: 1.1K

∶ I know panic attacks can be triggering for some, please don’t read if you aren’t comfortable with it. I love you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It wasn’t like you to get overwhelmed easy, especially with doing as many investigations with Sam and Colby as you have in the past.

You were always able to hold your own, speak out if something was bugging you. But as soon as you stepped foot inside this house, something was off.

This place was different.

You felt a heavy weight sink into your chest the moment you crossed the threshold. You felt paranoid, like something was always behind you or watching you from a close distance. You kept looking around, wiping your sweaty palms on your thighs every few minutes.

You were scared.

“Hey.” Sam nudges your arm, “Are you good?”

You stare at him, trying hard to hold it together, “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” You force a smile and he furrows his brows, “Are you sure? You aren’t really saying much.”

You swallow, looking around, “This place.. Sam..” you take a deep breath, “This feels different than all of the other places I’ve been to.”

He furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Colby pushing open the door causes you to jump, “Fuck.” You sigh, “I feel more.. on edge here. We’ve only been here two hours and from the time we got here, I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Sam’s face drops, “Why didn’t you say anything? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to do this.” You nod, more or less trying to convince yourself, “I can do this. I’ll be fine.”

Sam wasn’t one to tell you what to do, he didn’t like doing that. He glanced at Colby and back to you, “If you can’t, don’t.”

You nod, “I won’t.”

Another hour into the investigation and you were worse than before. You felt sweaty. The camera in your hands was shaking like a leaf in a storm. Every time you looked anywhere, you could have swore you seen something move.

You took a few deep breathes, trying to ground yourself, but it just wasn’t working.

As soon as you took a step forward to follow Sam, it’s like someone grabbed your shoulder to keep you from waking. You gasp loudly, whipping your body around, but no one was there.

You were starting to break.

Sam walks up behind you, “what-“

You gasp again, shaking your head as you lay a hand over your eyes, “I-I can’t-“ you look around, your heart beating faster and louder in your chest, you could hear it in your ears, “Out.. I-I..I-i need out.”

You shove the camera into his hands and make your way out of the room. You fly down the steps, running towards the front door.

You struggle to get the door open, but when you do, you pull it open and go. You clear the three steps, landing on your feet and slowly down as you move further away from the house.

Your face was covering your hands, your breathing was quick, shallow. You were sniffling, sobbing on top of it, and your chest felt tight. No matter how hard you tried, it’s like you couldn’t get air into your lungs.

You were having a panic attack, something that hasn’t ever happened to you before. You slid a hand down, clutching your sweatshirt over your chest.

It felt like you were on the verge of dying, and that scared you even more.

“Hey..” Sam whispers, “Hey.” He gently lays his hand on your back, “It’s okay. I’m right here.” He rubs your back gently, “I’m right here.”

You stand up, slowly turning before falling into him. You were sobbing into his neck, arms wrapped around him as you balled up his sweatshirt in your hands. His arms wrap tightly around you, his one hand pressing to your head as he whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.” He tightens his arms, “You’re safe, sweetheart, I got you.”

You sniffle hard as you try to regain control, only to end up breaking again.

Sam shushes you gently, rocking back and forth as his arms stay snug around your shaking body, “I got you. I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

After a few minutes, you were finally able to get a full breath.

You stay within Sam’s arms, that really being the only place you felt safe right now. He hums lowly, his fingers running back and forth over your hair, “it’s okay.”

Your grip on his sweatshirt starts to loosen and his does the same as you teach up to wipe your face. His hand slide up to your cheek as he looks down at you, “Are you okay?”

You nod, “I think so.” You wrap your arms back around him, your voice quiet , “Thank you for doing that.” Sam tightens his arms around you, “Of course, you’re my number one priority.”

“I should..” you take a deep breath, “I should have said something sooner, I just- I didn’t want to ruin it for you guys.”

His grip tightens slightly, “When you’re with me doing these things, you’re the most important thing. I couldn’t care less about getting footage it if you aren’t okay. I should have called it quits the second you said something to me about it the first time.”

You shake your head, “It’s not your fault Sam, I pushed myself when I shouldn’t have. That was on me.” You sigh, “But, if you want to keep going, you can, but I’m just going to go back to the hotel. I think I’m done here tonight.”

“We’re done, too. I already told Colby to gather up the stuff, I’m not doing this, I can’t with knowing that you’re not okay.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry this happened.”

You tighten your arms around his torso, “It’s not your fault, Sam. I promise.”

He presses a kiss to your head, “I’m going to go help Colby, you get in the car. I’ll be right back, okay?” You nod, pulling away from him. You get in the car, watching as he walks to the house. A minute later, him and Colby come walking out.

Sam gets into the passenger seat, reaching back to lay his hand on your knee. You lay your hand overtop of his, and that’s how it stayed the whole way back to the hotel.

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If you struggle with panic attacks, anxiety attacks, or any other kind of mental health struggles - you are not alone. None of that defines you. It happens to even the best of us. I love you so much. 🖤

Thank you so much for reading, as I said - I love you so much. I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter ten Hiori finally finds the courage to meet his mom and her new family, with Miss Journalist, his self proclaimed emotional support girlfriend, by his side as he faces the inescapable reality he’s been running away from blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains fluff, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, very hiori centric piece masterlist

Hiori has been staring at his phone for almost ten minutes now. His grip tightens around the device, as if the pressure alone could somehow alter the words on the screen.

"Are you free for dinner this weekend, Yo-kun?"

A simple invitation. A casual question. A few harmless words.

But to Hiori, they might as well be a ticking time bomb.

Dinner with his mother. To catch up. To talk about life. To finally meet her new family. To face the reality he's been avoiding for months.

Just dinner.

Ever since she remarried, she has been persistent about him meeting them.

Every few weeks, another invitation. Lunch, dinner, brunch. Whatever excuse she could find to get him to sit at the same table as her new husband and the kid who aren’t his family.

She even hinted once about bringing them over to his apartment. That was when he started dodging her calls more often.

I’m busy.

I have training.

I’m too tired.

Some of those excuses were true. Most of them weren’t.

And his mother, perceptive as ever, never called him out on it. She knew. Of course she knew. But she let him have his distance, never pushing too hard.

Because in the end, they both understood the truth—this wasn’t just about a meal.

This was about moving forward.

And that terrified him.

He knows it’s selfish, but the thought of seeing her with a new family, a new life—one where he isn’t the center of her world anymore—feels like a rejection. 

A confirmation that while she has turned the page, he is still stuck in a chapter that no longer exists.

The only thing tying his parents together anymore… is him.

Just a lingering reminder of a failed marriage and a legacy that was never fulfilled.

How ironic.

Because when he was younger, he hated being their world. He resented the weight of their expectations, the suffocating pressure of their broken dreams forced onto his shoulders.

But now, standing on the outside looking in, he realizes that he wasn’t trying to escape them.

He was trying to matter to them in a way that didn’t feel conditional.

And now that they’ve let go… he isn’t sure where he belongs anymore.

The warmth of your touch jolts Hiori from his thoughts. Your hands rest gently over his, pulling him back from whatever storm had been brewing inside his mind.

“You okay? You’ve been spacing out for a while.”

Your voice is soft, gentle but laced with concern. Your brows knit together slightly as you search his face, eyes filled with warmth.

Hiori glances at his phone, then back at you. He wants to say something—anything—but the words feel like they’re caught in his throat, stuck somewhere between hesitation and the overwhelming urge to let it all spill out.

“You know you can talk to me,” you murmur, squeezing his hands ever so slightly. “But only if you’re ready, okay? No pressure.”

A small, reassuring smile tugs at your lips, offering him an out if he needs it.

You know Hiori. He isn’t the type to just talk about things—not the heavy stuff, not the things that weigh on him in the quiet hours of the night. He keeps them locked away, buried under layers of restraint.

And yet, even without words, you can see the unspoken pain lingering in his eyes, in the way his shoulders tense, in the way his fingers twitch against his phone.

If he wants to talk, you’ll listen. If he doesn’t, you’ll sit here beside him, offering comfort in whatever way he needs.

That’s who you are in his life. His girlfriend.

It still feels a little surreal, calling yourself that. But more than anything, you want to be his safe place, his steady ground when everything else feels uncertain.

And as if he hears your unspoken promise, Hiori finally exhales.

“Yeah,” he says, voice quieter than usual. “My mom just texted me.”

You wait, watching as he stares at his phone again, the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air.

“She’s inviting me to dinner.” A pause. “With her new family.”

There’s a bitterness laced in his tone. Not outright anger, but something more fragile, more resigned.

And when he says new family, there’s an ache behind those words, as if saying them out loud makes it all the more real.

He wonders if they look like a picture-perfect family. Laughing around the dinner table, filling a space he once occupied. A space he wasn’t sure he could ever truly belong to.

Hiori leans back against the couch, his head falling back, an audible sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ve been avoiding it for so long.”

You shift closer, closing the small space between you. “Do you mind me asking why?”

He turns his head slightly, just enough to meet your eyes.

“It’s just…” He hesitates, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly.

And then, barely above a whisper—

“It scares me, y’know?”

His voice cracks, just for a second.

And in that moment, you see it—the weight of everything he’s been holding back, pressing down on him all at once.

"It scares me… because if I go to that dinner and see her new life, it’ll be like accepting that things will never be the same again.”

His voice is raw, trembling at the edges. He puts down his phone, his gaze fixed on his fingers curling into a fist on his lap.

“It hasn’t been the same… not since Blue Lock ended.” His voice wavers, barely above a whisper.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before they divorced. But now… it’s different. They’ve moved on, and I’m the one left behind. It’s ironic, isn’t it?” He lets out a bitter laugh, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I hated being their entire world when I was a kid. I resented the pressure, the expectations, the way they suffocated me. But now… now I’m the one clinging to a family that doesn’t exist anymore.”

His words hang heavy in the air, an open-ended question more for himself than for you. He’s questioning the cruel irony of it all, the way life keeps twisting the knife even when you think you’ve grown numb.

Your fingers find his, gently wrapping around his trembling hand. You give a reassuring squeeze, grounding him in the present, reminding him that he’s not alone. It’s the only thing you could do for him.

Hiori’s shoulders sag, his weight leaning into you as if he’s finally allowing himself to break. You let him, holding him steady as the six-foot man folds into you, his head resting against your shoulder.

There’s a vulnerability in his touch, his fingers clutching yours as if letting go would mean being swallowed by the sea of emotions threatening to drown him.

“I hate this feeling,” he admits, his voice cracking. “It’s like this heavy weight just sits here, crushing me… and I don’t know what to do with it. And I know… I know wallowin’ in self-pity won’t change anything, but… why does it feel so damn hard to let go? Why can’t I just… accept it?”

His words shake and you feel your own heart breaking. You want to take his pain away, to carry even just a fraction of that weight.

But you know better than to promise things you can’t fix. Instead, you offer him the one thing he needs most—understanding.

You run your thumb gently over his knuckles, giving him an anchor to hold on to. Your voice is soft, steady. “Because it’s never easy to take the first step… not when moving forward means leaving behind everything you once knew.”

Your words are gentle, echoing the very fear that’s kept him rooted in place. “And that fear? It’s valid. It might feel ironic, but it actually makes perfect sense.”

Hiori’s fingers tighten around yours, his jaw clenching as he listens.

“It’s okay for you to feel this way,” you say. 

“You were forced to grow up under impossible expectations. They put their broken dreams on you, made you carry burdens that were never yours to bear. And now, seeing them move on, seeing them do better with someone else… it hurts."

"It makes you wonder, ‘Why wasn’t it like that for me? Why did I have to suffer alone?’” Your voice is tinged with pain, echoing the unspoken thoughts he’s been too scared to voice.

“It feels unfair. Because you went through so much. And now it seems like they’ve moved on like nothing ever happened. Like you were just a chapter they’ve already closed.”

Hiori stiffens under the weight of your words. He feels seen and understood in a way he never thought possible. He releases a trembling breath, his head leaning further into you.

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to go,” you whisper.

“We can stay here. We can watch cheesy romcoms, marathon anime or I’ll play Hades 2 while you backseat and critique my every move. Whatever you need, I’m here. We’ll get through it together.”

Hiori stays still, his breathing uneven. He’s so quiet that it makes you nervous, a lump forming in your throat. Just as you’re about to speak again, his voice breaks the silence.

“No.”

You blink, confused. “No?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, “Let’s go.” His voice wavers, but there’s a quiet determination behind his words. “I—I’ll to go to that dinner. But only if you’re with me.”

Pride swells in your chest. You see the fear in his eyes, but you also see his courage—the bravery it took for him to reach out, to ask for help, to take that first step. You nod, your voice unwavering.

“Of course. I’ll be right there with you. Every step of the way.”

Hiori doesn’t see the smile on your face, but he hears it in your voice. He feels it in the way your fingers tighten around his, steady and unwavering.

And in that moment, he realizes that maybe he’s not as alone as he thought.

Hiori checks his phone for the third time in five minutes. 

30 minutes early.

He sighs, glancing at the screen to re-read your text from last night, just to be absolutely sure he’s at the right place. The last thing he needs is to embarrass himself by knocking on the wrong door and looking like a complete idiot.

You haven’t replied to his last text. You’re probably still getting ready.

Hiori shifts on his feet, feeling the awkwardness settle in his bones. If he stands out here for the next half an hour, he’ll definitely look like a creep to any nosy neighbors who pass by.

His fingers tap against his leg, nervous energy bubbling up inside him. Before he can overthink it, he lifts his hand and knocks—three quick taps against the door.

No answer.

The silence stretches. His heart starts to pound a little faster. He’s about to knock again when he hears muffled shuffling from the other side. 

The door creaks open just a sliver, revealing a dark-haired girl peeking through the narrow gap. Her eyes narrow, scanning him up and down with suspicion.

Hiori instantly recognizes her from your descriptions—Miko, your roommate. The same loudmouthed girl who’s apparently a serial yapper and the world’s worst movie critic.

But right now, she’s nothing like you described. She’s quiet, guarded, eyeing him like he’s a stalker.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice low and cautious.

Hiori’s heart stutters, but he quickly recovers, offering her his most harmless, polite smile. “Good morning. I’m looking for Y/N.”

Miko’s eyes narrow further. “And you are?”

The words roll off his tongue easily, almost too easily. “I’m her boyfriend.”

He feels a flicker of warmth at the admission. It still feels surreal, saying it out loud. But each time he does, it becomes a little more real, a little more his. 

Her expression flickers, her eyes widening with recognition. The door opens wider, revealing more of the apartment behind her. Hiori catches a glimpse of your shared living room—messy, cozy, filled with a chaotic warmth that already feels like you.

Miko shouts over her shoulder, her voice louder now, “Babe! There’s a pretty boy at the door! Says he’s your boyfriend!”

Hiori’s cheeks flush at the description. Miko turns back to him, her face breaking into an unnervingly wide smile.

She doesn’t move. She just stands there, her gaze fixed on him, silently appraising him like he’s some sort of artifact.

The longer she stares, the more awkward he feels. His confident smile wavers under her scrutiny. He shuffles on his feet, pretending to dust off an invisible speck from his bomber jacket before clasping his hands in front of him to stop his fidgeting.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoes from inside the apartment, followed by a loud, frantic voice.

“I’m coming! I’m almost ready!”

You burst into view, hair slightly tousled and face flushed. You’re wearing a black skirt that sways around your knees, moving fluidly with your every step.

You practically trip over your sneakers as you shove your feet into them, mumbling under your breath about how you’re never letting Miko wake you up late again. When you look up and see Hiori standing there, a warm smile instantly lights up your face.

“You’re early!”

A chuckle escapes him, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He extends his hand towards you, and you immediately slip yours into his, letting him pull you closer.

Miko’s grin widens, and she leans against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with unabashed curiosity. Her eyes flicker between the two of you, her head tilting in amusement.

You shoot her a warning look, but it only makes her snicker.

“We’re off,” you announce, deliberately ignoring the mischievous look in her eyes. “Don’t wait up.”

You lead Hiori away, your fingers intertwined with his, warm and steady. You’re almost at the elevator when Miko’s voice rings out behind you, echoing through the hallway.

“Have fun, kids! And use protection!”

The drive to the house is nothing but quiet and tense.

Hiori’s grip on the steering wheel was tighter than usual, his posture tense and awfully upright. There’s an unnerving feeling lingering in the back of Hiori’s mind, lurking. As if anytime, it would pounce right at him—this irrational fear of his—and would make him crawl back at home and just chicken out.

He’s played against world class players under the eyes of the world, with his team’s victory hanging in balance where tension is at an all time high. But nothing has prepared him for the crushing pressure of meeting his mom’s new family and accepting the inevitable.

Nothing. 

And when Hiori pauses in front of the house, you can feel his nervousness. His breath is shaky as he exhales, as if he was holding his breath for such a long time during the drive.

Without thinking to much, you reach over and slip your fingers through his. Your presence, your support, is the only reassurance you can give him. 

“You ready?” You look at Hiori. He gives you a strained smile as he nods and presses the doorbell.

The doorbell rings from the inside of the house, the faint sound of it muffled by the closed doors and windows. 

For a brief second, nothing happens. The house remains silent, unmoving. A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. Maybe they’re not home. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this today. Maybe—

A young boy stands there, barely reaching Hiori’s waist, his wide eyes curious and innocent. He looks up at Hiori with curiosity, his head tilting to the side.

Hiori’s heart stutters. The boy’s eyes are so familiar—large and expressive, a shade of brown that reminds him of his mother’s.

Before he can process it, Junko appears behind the boy, her face lighting up in recognition. She’s wearing a pink apron, her hair tied back in a messy bun, a warm, welcoming smile stretching across her lips.

“Yo-kun!” Her voice is bright, affectionate, and she pulls the gate open wider, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m so glad you made it!”

You feel Hiori’s fingers twitch, his shoulders going rigid for a moment before steps forward.

You gently release his hand, giving him space as Junko steps forward and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

He hesitates but then he melts into her embrace, his shoulders sagging, his face burying in her shoulder just for a moment before he pulls away.

Junko’s gaze shifts to you, her eyes widening as she takes you in. She steps closer, her hands reaching out to grasp yours. Her hands are warm, slightly calloused—the hands of someone who’s worked hard her whole life.

Just like Hiori’s.

“And you must be—”

Her words die off as her eyes widen in realization. Recognition flickers in her gaze, and her mouth falls open in a soft gasp. Her head whips towards Hiori, her expression a mixture of shock and delight.

“Oh my! You’re the—” Her eyes dart between you and her son. “And you two are dating?!”

A crimson flush spreads across Hiori’s cheeks, his eyes flicking to the ground as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, we are. So can we go inside before the neighbors hear all about my love life?”

The boy, no older than ten, scurries after Hiori, his small legs working double time to keep up with Hiori’s long strides. You follow closely behind, watching as his tiny steps try to match Hiori’s big steps.

Inside, the house is warm and cozy, sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating the framed photos on the wall.

Your eyes catch on one with a younger Hiori in a Bastard München jersey, standing next to his mom who looks impossibly proud.

You even spot a framed article about him from years ago, back when he first officially joined Bastard Munchen’s starting lineup as a rookie.

Junko’s voice calls from the kitchen, “Make yourselves at home! Lunch will be ready soon!” The rich and savory scent of curry wafts through the air.

Hiori sinks into the couch, his shoulders relaxing as he leans back.

You carry the cake you bought to the kitchen, hesitating for a moment before approaching Junko.

“Um… Mrs. Hio—” You catch yourself, realizing the name might be a sensitive topic.

Junko turns to you, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just Junko, dear.” She reaches out, taking the cake from your hands with a warm smile.

“And thank you for bringing this. You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. Also, it’s nice to finally formally meet you. I’m Y/N, Hi—You-kun’s girlfriend.” Your voice gets a little bit higher, a shy smile breaking across your face.

It’s your first time addressing Hiori by his first name. It does make his ears perk up hearing you say it from the couch.

“Thank you for taking care of Yo-kun, dear. And it’s really nice to meet you under better circumstances.” Both of you laugh at the inside joke that is the exhibition match fiasco.

It somehow thaws the awkwardness you’re feeling. 

“I’m sorry, dear. The curry’s still cooking. I was helping little Ryuu with his homework earlier and completely lost track of time.” Junko apologizes, mid stir of the curry.

“Also, my husband’s running a bit late from a client appointment, but he’ll be joining us for dinner. So please relax and make yourselves at home.”

The words echo in Hiori’s head, bouncing around before finally sinking in.

Her husband.

It feels weird for Hiori to hear his mom call another guy her husband. And it’s definitely weird to be in a house with her other than the house he grew up in with her and his dad. 

It smells like curry and laughter and a life that doesn’t include him. A life his mom built without him.

His fingers tap against his leg, restless and jittery. His knee bounces rapidly, his body wound so tight it feels like he might snap.

A gentle poke to his side breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks over to see you watching him, concern etched into your features.

Your eyes are soft, wide with worry, and your lips are pressed into a thin line.

“You good?” Your voice is low, meant only for him.

He forces himself to nod, his head moving stiffly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

You don’t look convinced, but you don’t push. Instead, you shift closer, your shoulder pressing against his, your warmth seeping into him. The tension in his chest loosens just a little, his knee slowing to a stop. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent thank you.

Every so often, little Ryuu's eyes flicker up to Hiori, wide and curious, while he draws on the paper in front of him absentmindedly. 

It’s funny to him, seeing how looking at the kid reminds him of his younger self, with the same curious big eyes. 

There’s something hauntingly familiar about those eyes—big and innocent, filled with questions he’s too shy to ask. He sees himself in that curious gaze, a younger version of himself who was just as small and wide-eyed once upon a time.

The realization hits him hard. That’s his brother.

Or step brother, right? Since they're not blood related. 

The words feel foreign to him. He’s never been a brother before. He doesn’t know how to be one. Should he introduce himself? Would that be too weird? What would he even say?

His heart hammers in his chest, his fingers twitching at his sides, but before he can fully process his thoughts, you’re already moving.

You slide off the couch and plop down beside Ryuu on the floor, cross-legged and casual.

“Hi, Ryuu!” you greet, your voice warm and friendly. “Whatcha doin’?”

The boy’s head shoots up, his big eyes widening even more. He looks at you, then at Hiori, then back at you, his mouth falling open slightly. You wait patiently, giving him time to process before he mumbles, “Just drawing.”

Your eyes light up with genuine curiosity. You lean closer, watching his tiny hands fumble with the crayons, drawing a person kicking a ball.

“You’re really good at this. I can’t draw well but I can draw pretty flowers.”Ryuu’s lips twitch, the beginnings of a smile forming. He shyly pushes a piece of paper and a crayon towards you.

“You can help if you want.”

Your face lights up. “Really? Thanks, Ryuu!” You take the crayon, carefully drawing sunflowers on the paper. You glance down at your drawing, cringing. You’re pretty sure Ryuu’s stick people look better than yours.

From the couch, Hiori watches the scene unfold, his chest tightening at the sight. You’re so natural with the kid.

Junko’s voice rings out from the kitchen, breaking his thoughts.

“So, how long have you two been dating?”

“Four months,” Hiori blurts out before you can answer. His face immediately flushes, his eyes darting to the floor.

A soft chuckle drifts from the kitchen. “Four months? And you didn’t tell me, Yo-kun?” There’s a hint of hurt behind her words, masked by a strained laugh.

An awkward silence follows.

You sense the tension and decide to break it the only way you know how—by being your usual, chaotic self. You turn to Ryuu, a mischievous grin forming on your lips.

“Hey, Ryuu. Wanna see something cool?”

The boy’s eyes sparkle with interest, his head bobbing eagerly. “Yeah!”

You wiggle your eyebrows dramatically. “Wanna see how cool your big brother is?”

The words tumble out naturally, and Hiori’s chest tightens.

Big brother.

The title is heavy, unfamiliar… but somehow, it feels right. It leaves a warmth lingering in his chest for some reason.

Ryuu’s head snaps towards Hiori, his eyes widening in awe. “Big brother?” His voice is soft, reverent, almost as if he’s been waiting to hear those words.

Hiori’s heart stutters, his breath catching in his throat. He can’t speak, his voice stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. 

Meanwhile, you’ve already grabbed the remote, switching on the TV with practiced ease. You navigate to YouTube, typing in the search bar with a speed that makes Hiori’s head spin.

He squints at the screen, his eyes widening when he sees the search result:

Hiori Yo nasty highlight clips

His face flushes red. “Ehem.” He clears his throat, his eyes flicking from the TV to you. “Seriously?”

You look at him, confused. “What? That’s the title. I’ve watched it before.”

He stares at you, his mouth agape. “That… sounds so wrong.”

He imagines you in your pajamas at home, lounging in front of your pc, your glasses reflecting the videos  of him you watch.

The idea makes him chuckle because he’s damn sure you’ve done it a couple of times. Now he wonders which clips of him you’ve watched countless of times and which ones are your particular favorites. 

The video starts with a close-up of Hiori, sweat dripping down his face as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression intense and focused. Then, the scene cuts to a montage of his best plays.

Perfect passes, impossible assists, and jaw-dropping goals that make even the commentators lose their minds.

The scene cuts to a series of b-rolls—Hiori walking to his position, his body language exuding quiet confidence. Then another shot of him standing on the field, his gaze unwavering, scanning the pitch with laser-sharp focus. 

A third clip shows him conversing with his teammates, his expression serious, his words inaudible but his leadership evident. All the shots are from official match broadcasts, crisp and clear, showcasing Bastard München.

Then the music picks up, an upbeat, electrifying tune that sets the perfect stage for action. The atmosphere shifts, the anticipation building as the video plunges into a sequence of breathtaking highlights.

The first clip is a wide shot of Hiori facing off in a 1v1 with Bachira who makes the first move, his feet a blur of motion as he pulls off a series of feints. But Hiori doesn’t bite. He tracks Bachira’s movements and then, in a flash, Hiori lunges. 

His foot intercepts the ball, flicking it away as he pivots, the ball glued to his feet.

Effortless dribbling, perfect ball control. Hiori’s genius as an offensive midfielder on full display.

You let out a low whistle, fanning yourself dramatically. You look back at him, your eyes wide with exaggerated admiration, mouthing the words, “So hot,” with an over-the-top expression that makes him chuckle.

Ryuu’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping open. “Wow… that’s you?”

Pride blooms in Hiori’s chest, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah… that’s me.”

You turn to Ryuu, your eyes shining. “Pretty cool, huh? Your big brother’s a superstar.”

Ryuu nods eagerly, his admiration evident from his sparkling eyes. He looks at Hiori like he’s the coolest person in the world.

The video keeps going, the music intensifying as the plays get even more spectacular.

Hiori pulls off a Rabona against PXG’s Charles Chevalier, his body twisting gracefully as his foot wraps around the ball, curving it perfectly past Charles. The stadium erupts, the camera zooming in on Hiori’s calm, unbothered face as if the impossible play was just another day at the office.

You dramatically fan yourself again, your head shaking in disbelief. “Okay, now that’s just unfair,” you whisper, clearly mesmerized by his speed and agility.

But the video isn’t done yet. The final highlight is a masterpiece of playmaking—a two-stage fake pass followed by a no-look alley cross.

Hiori sprints down the sideline, his eyes locking with Isagi’s for a split second. His body shifts as if preparing to pass, his entire stance selling the fake perfectly. The defenders bite, their bodies moving to intercept—only to realize too late that the ball never left his foot.

With a quick turn, Hiori spins around his marker, his eyes still on Isagi as his leg swings back. But instead of kicking towards Isagi, the ball flies to the opposite side, curving beautifully towards Yukimiya, who’s unmarked on the far post. Yukimiya heads it in effortlessly, the net bulging as the crowd goes wild.

You whistle lowly, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re so good it’s actually scary.”

Hiori laughs, his cheeks flushing under your praise. But his eyes soften when he notices Ryuu’s reaction.

The boy is motionless, his face a mask of pure awe. His big brown eyes are locked on the screen, his mouth hanging open as he watches Hiori work his magic.

When the video ends, Ryuu doesn’t move. His eyes stay glued to the screen, his little body leaning forward as if waiting for more.

Then, his head whips around, his eyes wide and sparkling. “Can—can we watch it again?”

You grin. You hit replay, and the video starts all over again.

This time, you provide a colorful play-by-play, adding dramatic sound effects every time Hiori pulls off a crazy move. Ryuu giggles, his body swaying with excitement as he watches the highlights with newfound fascination.

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes locking with Hiori’s. You tilt your head towards Ryuu, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon, Yo-kun. Don’t just sit there. Get down here and watch with us.”

Hiori blinks, a little startled by the invitation. But when you pat the spot next to you, he feels his body moving before his mind catches up.

He slides off the couch, his long legs folding as he sits cross-legged beside Ryuu. The boy’s eyes widen in delight as his face breaking into a huge grin.

“Football looks so cool,” Ryuu breathes, his voice tinged with awe. 

It catches Hiori off guard, his mind flashing back to his younger self—wide-eyed and hopeful, mesmerized by the magic of the game. It’s the same look he had when he first fell in love with football.

Then you lean in, your voice playful. “Bet if you ask nicely, your big brother will teach you how to play.” You loudly whisper to Ryuu, making sure Hiori can hear every word loud and clear.

Ryuu’s head snaps towards Hiori, his eyes wide and pleading. “Really? Will you teach me?”

His voice cracks for a bit. “Ask mom if she’s okay with it.” Who can say no to a kid who gives the most adorable face, right?

Without missing a beat, Ryuu scrambles to his feet, his little legs propelling him towards the kitchen as he shouts, “Mom! Big brother’s gonna teach me how to play football! Can I? Can I?”

There’s a brief pause, followed by Junko’s voice, shaky and emotional. “Y-yeah, of course, sweetie. If your big brother is fine with it… then I’m fine with it.”

Ryuu trudges back to Hiori, his small feet pattering against the floor, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He skids to a stop beside Hiori, his chest puffed out with pride as he beams up at him.

His entire body vibrates with excitement, his smile so wide it crinkles the corners of his big, bright eyes.

There’s a strange tug inside him, a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar. But there’s also an uneasy twist, a hollow ache as he looks down at the boy—at those eyes, so full of wonder.

Was I like this before?

He remembers himself as a child, smaller and wide-eyed, standing on a football field for the first time. He remembers the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of kicking the ball, the way his heart soared when he scored his first goal.

His heart throbs, his chest aching as he remembers how fast it all changed.

How the light in his eyes dimmed as football became less about fun and more about perfection. How the joy was replaced with pressure, the excitement overshadowed by expectations. How he became an extension of his parents’ legacy, a vessel for their broken dreams.

How he sacrificed everything—time, friends, childhood—just to be the best. Just to make them proud.

And how, one day, he looked in the mirror and realized the love for football was gone. 

Nothing was left but emptiness.

His eyes flicker to Ryuu, to the boy’s wide, innocent gaze, so full of hope. The wonder is alive in his eyes, glowing brightly, untouched and pure.

An unfamiliar protectiveness washes over him, strong and overwhelming.

Ryuu isn’t even related to him by blood, but that doesn’t matter. Hiori’s chest burns with the desire to protect that light in his eyes. 

To keep that wonder safe. To make sure Ryuu never loses that joy. To never lose himself to expectations and pressure and heartbreak.

By the time dinner rolls around, the warm atmosphere is momentarily interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

Footsteps echo through the hallway, each step growing louder, closer, until a man appears in the doorway.

Junko’s face lights up, her posture relaxing as she walks towards the man, her smile bright and genuine.

She wraps her arms around his waist, his hand resting on her back as he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. He smiles into her hair, his eyes soft, his expression tender and affectionate.

A strange, hollow ache twists in Hiori’s chest.

He watches as his mom giggles, playfully swatting the man’s arm as she glances back at them, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. There’s a lightness to her that he hasn’t seen in years.

She never smiled like that at his dad.

The man pulls away, his eyes flicking to Hiori, his expression warm and welcoming. He steps forward, his movements unhurried, his demeanor gentle. He’s not intimidating, not imposing in any way.

Just… normal.

“I’m Kobayashi Yohei,” he says, his voice steady and kind. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yo-kun.” He extends his hand towards Hiori, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a genuine smile.

For a split second, Hiori freezes, his body going rigid. His mind races, his heart thudding in his chest.

Yo-kun.

The nickname feels foreign and strange when spoken by someone who isn’t his dad.

Hiori stands up and reaches out, his grip firm as his hand meets Yohei’s. “Likewise. And… thank you for taking care of my mom.”

His words come out even and controlled. Not bitter, not overly enthusiastic. Just an honest acknowledgment of the truth.

They break apart, and Hiori quickly steps back, his eyes flicking to the floor. You sense the tension and immediately step in, introducing yourself with a bright smile, your voice warm and friendly.

Yohei’s eyes soften, his shoulders visibly relaxing as you greet him. He thanks you for coming, his voice gentle and sincere, and you can feel the atmosphere slowly thawing.

Dinner is surprisingly lively, mostly thanks to Ryuu’s animated storytelling. He recounts the videos he watched earlier with you and Hiori, his eyes wide with excitement as he describes each move with exaggerated hand gestures.

“And then Big Brother—” Ryuu’s voice falters, his eyes darting to Hiori as if seeking permission.

He meets Ryuu’s gaze, and after a moment, he gives a small but gentle smile.

Ryuu beams, his face lighting up as he continues, “Big brother did this crazy move where he passed the ball behind his back without even looking!” He leans closer to his dad, his eyes sparkling. 

“It was so cool! I wanna learn how to do that someday.”

Yohei’s eyes widen, his brows arching in surprise. His gaze shifts to Hiori, his expression softening. “Is that so?” He ruffles Ryuu’s hair affectionately.

“Well, if your big brother is willing to teach you, then I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

He looks at Ryuu, the boy’s face glowing with excitement, and for a brief moment, he feels something unfamiliar… something like belonging.

When dinner finally ends, you offer Junko help to wash the dishes while the men move to the living room.

Ryuu slumps back in front of the TV, watching more Bastard Munchen clips. 

Yohei looks over at Hiori, his expression thoughtful. “I heard from your mom that you were sick and got benched during a match.” His voice is soft, laced with genuine concern.

Hiori blinks, surprised. “Mom’s just exaggerating. It was an exhibition match, and we were trying new things on the field.” He shrugs, trying to play it off.

Yohei nods, his face relaxing. “That’s good to hear. Your mom worries a lot.” His lips curve into a gentle smile. “She always talks about you… how proud she is of you.”

A lump forms in Hiori’s throat, his eyes dropping to his lap. “Yeah… I know.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

To break the tension, Hiori clears his throat. “Mom mentioned you’re a physical therapist?”

Yohei’s face brightens. “Yeah. I’ve been working with athletes for years, along with the usual cases that come my way. It’s rewarding, helping people get back on their feet.”

Hiori’s interest is piqued. “Do you work with football players, too?”

“Occasionally. Mostly with runners and swimmers, but I’ve had a few football clients. It’s fascinating… the way the body moves during a match, the strain on the muscles.” Yohei’s eyes light up as he speaks, his passion evident.

They fall into an easy conversation about training, stretching, and how to properly take care of his body as an athlete. Yohei even points out Hiori’s posture, teasing him about how Junko mentioned he hunches over while playing video games.

Hiori laughs, his shoulders relaxing, the awkwardness fading just a little.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Junko hands you a plate to dry. 

“Thank you… for being here with him. I don’t think he could have done this alone.” Her voice is thick with emotion.

You smile gently. “He’s stronger than he thinks. But I wanted to be here. For him.”

Junko’s eyes glisten, her lips trembling. “He’s changed so much. And it gives me hope. Maybe we can find our way back to each other.” Her voice cracks just a little and you feel like the damn might break any moment now.

Before you can respond, Hiori appears in the doorway, his face serious. “Mom… can we talk?”

Your heart tightens, knowing he needs this moment. You give him a reassuring nod before slipping out to the living room, joining Ryuu as he replays Hiori’s highlight videos.

Junko gestures to the dinner table, her hands trembling as she pulls out a chair. Hiori follows suit, sitting down across from her, his body rigid, his fingers twisting together in his lap. He can’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the table.

Silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, neither of them speaks.

Then, Hiori lets out a shaky breath, his voice breaking the quiet. “Thanks for dinner. And for inviting me.”

Junko’s lips tremble, her eyes glistening. “I—I wanted to see you. It’s been so long. And… I missed you, Yo-kun.” Her voice wavers, the vulnerability raw and exposed.

Hiori’s chest tightens, his heart aching at the pain in her voice. He swallows thickly, his fingers gripping his knees under the table. “I missed you too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it was easier to stay away.”

Junko’s face crumbles, her shoulders shaking. She drops her head, her hands clenching the dish towel as she fights back tears. “I know. I deserve that. I deserve every bit of that.”

Hiori’s fingers twitch, his throat tightening. “I was so angry. For so long.” His voice wavers, his eyes stinging. “I hated you. And Dad. Even football. I hated everything.”

“I thought—I thought it was my fault. That if I was better, you and Dad would’ve been happier.” His voice cracks, the vulnerability raw and exposed.

“I was the reason everything fell apart.”

Junko’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and horrified. “No… no, Yo-kun. No.” She moves without thinking, reaching across the table, her hands trembling as she takes his.

“It was never your fault. Not even for a second.” Her grip tightens, her voice desperate.

“You dad and I were wrong. For pushing our dreams to you. You were just a child back then and our motivations were in the wrong.”

Junko lets out silent sob, her face buried in her hands. “I failed you as a mother. I was selfish and weak.”

"I wish I could go back and do it all over. I wish I had been a better mother to you.” Junko’s words felt heavy, filled with pain and regret. His chest heaves, his shoulders shaking.

But amidst the pain, he feels something shift, easing the tightness in his heart.

“I’m not mad. Not anymore.” Hiori’s voice is quiet, steady. 

“I—I was. For a long time. But I’m not anymore.” He looks up, his eyes meeting hers. 

“You… you’re good to him. To Ryuu. And you look happy.” He pauses, his voice cracking. “I want you to be happy, Mom.”

Junko gives him a small smile. “I want that for you too. More than anything.”

Hiori takes a shaky breath, his fingers squeezing hers. “I’m 26 now. I’m an adult. And things are different. You have a new family. New priorities.” He pauses, his voice wavering. 

“We’ll just do better and figure things out. But this is a good start, right?”

Tears well up in Junko’s eyes as she tries to hold herself back from crying. Hearing those words from her son felt like a huge weight from her shoulders were lifted.

“Thank you, Yo-kun. And for what it’s worth, no matter how different things are now, I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always be in your corner.”

She stands, her chair scraping against the floor as she rounds the table, her arms wrapping around him. Hiori’s body stiffens, his breath hitching. But then, his arms move, wrapping around her, holding her close.

They stand there, their shoulders shaking as they softly cry in each other's arm. The years of pain, anger, and loneliness still there but slowly melting away, replaced by a fragile hope.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a fairytale ending. The scars will always be there, reminders of what was lost. But it’s a start.

Things can’t be fixed. Not completely.

But that doesn’t mean they can’t get better.

And maybe this is how things get better.

amari's notes: this is the longest chapter by far, thank you for the wait! jan and feb have been so busy for me so i didn't really have much energy to write but now, i'm planning to get back into it! also this chapter is really close to my heart, being a child of divorce who is also an only child and an eldest siblings to my half-siblings an all, i feel like hiori would be the type to be protective of his step brother. a lot to unpack in this chapter but i didn't want to make it longer huhu. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (if you wanna join the taglist, just comment or send me a message!)

taglist: @inu1gf @pookalicious-hq @dontmindtheevie @wannabepoeticischiya @chokifandom @momoriii-i

[sleeplessdove]

— under your spell

♡ amab!jinx x fem! reader

synopsis: sloppy head is stress relief for you and your girlfriend !

a/n: meowmeowmeow

warnings: amab!jinx obvi so DO NOT INTERACT if that makes you upset, not proofread, canonically insane yet caring jinx as well, r! is described as working a job, blowjobs, face fucking, mentions of spit, cum swapping sorta???, r! is pretty exhausted and out of it, descriptions of cum, mentions of choking while giving head, sub! r! & softdom!jinx, praising, degrading, pet names, jinx calls u dollie cause i said so, r! gives head to relax, r! is berry obviously in a submissive headspace so again in case no one was listening to the previous warning: DO NOT INTERACT IF ANY OF THESE CONCEPTS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE !

wc: 2.5k

Every inch of your body is exhausted , your bones aching from a work week that felt all too long. Your eyes are barely half lidded as you rest your body against your girlfriend, the two of you pressed close together on the sofa. 

Most of your nights were spent like this, your body needing the comfort that Jinx provided you with each and everyday. It was always hard for her to sit still enough to let you rest against her, but she’d do anything for you. 

The quiet hum of the television only seems to make you more sleepy, your breathing growing soft and slow. She takes notice immediately, as her eyes have never once left your features. Over the last few weeks, you had taken on more work than you could handle, which meant you were rarely home. 

The brief moments Jinx had with you kept her from losing it completely, as it was unusual for you to be apart from her so often. This meant that when the two of you were together, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. She knew the toll the long hours were taking on you and she wanted to be there to help ease all the overwhelming emotions you were plagued with. 

She lets you play with her fingers as you make a weak attempt to keep yourself awake, smiling to herself due to how sleepy you look. “You ready for bed, dollie?” she questions in the quietest voice she can possibly manage. 

You only shake your head and furrow your brows in response, as if offended by her suggestion that you were even tired to begin with. Instead of questioning you, Jinx simply watches as you use her fingers to trace over your cheek, your eyes glancing up at her every now and then. 

Before she even gets the chance to tell you that you need to rest, you brush her fingers against your plush lips. The contact alone causes a slight shiver to run through your body, her fingertips warm since you had been holding her hand since you got home. She picks up on your reaction within seconds but makes no comment, simply watching as you curiously part your lips and ease her middle and ring finger into your mouth. 

The way you look up at her with those eyes full of adoration, as if she were God himself, has her heart pounding in her chest and her cock twitching as her body registers the heat emanating from your mouth. She feels like a complete pervert for getting off to the simple sight of you sucking on her fingers, but she can’t help herself. 

The weight of her two fingers on your tongue seems to quiet your mind, a soothing silence filling your head as you push her fingers deeper into your mouth. Your brows furrow in frustration when you realize her fingers can only do so much for you. 

With so much tension in your body, you’re craving something that’ll shut your mind up and help soothe you. Jinx coos at the sight of your pout as she gently eases her fingers out of your mouth, her free hand shamelessly palming her cock through the soft fabric of her pajama pants. 

“Not enough, is it? Greedy things like you need something better, huh?” she questions with a faux pout, her body so close to yours that its as if your hearts are intertwined in that moment, beating as one. Blue strands of hair tickle your cheek and you can’t help but smile, soft laughs tumbling from your lips at the sensation instinctively. Jinx’s own high pitched giggles fill the room, the sound breathless and periodically interrupted by lewd moans. 

Her eyes seem to glow as they dart over each curve of your face, so pleased to hear the carefree sounds filling the room around her. As your laughter died down, she mimicked you, which soothes you in a way. It’s almost like each move between the two of you is coordinated. 

You nod and she does the same afterwards with a delighted grin, as if confirming that she knew what you needed all along. She whimpers as she eases her hand off of her dick, instead focusing on guiding your movements so she can put you in a different position. 

You don’t even think to question her, lost in a daze as she places you on the floor, your body kneeling between her slender thighs as if you were nothing more than her pet. You smile up at her, as sweet as ever as she uses a gentle hand to push back your hair so she can take in your pathetic appearance. 

“Look at my poor baby” she whispers, as if truly taking in every last detail of your appearance. She gently pats your cheek to see if it’ll cause any reaction, and when you remain still she makes a split second decision. 

She smacks your cheek, not hard enough to make you cry, just enough that you can feel your skin tingling. The pain of it only makes you lean into her more, as the sensation caused by her provided you with relief you didn’t know you were seeking out. 

She scoffs lightheartedly as you lean your face against her palm, your movements akin to a puppy desperate for their owner’s attention. You only move from the position so you can press your soft cheek against her obvious erection, a pleased hum leaving your lips as you feel her cock twitch through the thin material. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, you know what to do. Show me how pretty girls like you suck cock” she drawls, the words filthy and yet somehow inviting. The mere idea of getting to feel her on a much more intimate level has you squirming, feeling shy under her relentless gaze. 

So you simply huff, nuzzling your face against her lap and mouthing at her cock through the thin fabric that separated the two of you. But Jinx knows she needs to coax you out of your shy headspace by guiding you towards what you want. 

She clicks her tongue, as if reprimanding you. “Use that brain of yours for me, don’t you wanna make me feel good?” she questions in an almost gleeful tone, delighted to have you where she wants you. 

In response, you slowly nod your head, so sleepy and pliant. You whine weakly as she pulls your head up by your hair so that she can raise her hips enough to shove down her pajama bottoms along with her plaid boxers. With shaky hands, you help her get the material off so that it can be discarded off to the side. 

From the waist down, she is completely bare. And you are all too eager to be greeted by your favorite sight. 

Jinx’s cock is particularly pretty to you, the slight curve of it along with the adorable pink flush of it makes you practically tremble from your own eagerness. Her tip weeps precum, a little white pearl forming that makes your mouth water. 

She uses her grip on your hair to bring your mouth closer, a soft fuck falling from her lips as she feels your breath fanning against her sensitive skin. “Give it a little kiss, that’s what good pets do” she guides in a soothing voice, doing her best to keep her own urges under control. 

You don’t even have to think for yourself anymore, as she makes sure you’re close enough that you can easily press a kiss to the head of her cock. Jinx tenses from the sensation, her brows knitting as she tries to stay in her role of power. 

The sight of you, in her firm grasp with your lips now glossy with her own precum smeared onto them just might send her to an early grave, as she can barely handle it. “So smart” she praises, her hips instinctively rolling to seek out more pleasure. 

She doesn’t stop herself from rutting her dick against your cheek, the way you simply let her do as she pleases making more crazed giggles fall from her lips. “Just a little more” she mutters, more to herself than you at this point. 

You just blink up at her, your cheek now sticky from her arousal. But it’s not as if you mind— after all, there was nowhere in the world you’d rather be. 

So you simply part your lips, your pink tongue peeking out as she pushes your head down slowly. The weight of her heavy cock on your tongue makes you moan around her, your arousal only adding to her own. Finally, after a relentless week, you were at ease. 

“Breathe in through your nose” she reminds you in a shaky voice, her mind still working to make sure that you don’t pass out while taking her down your throat. Jinx doesn’t play favorites, she loves your mouth just as much as she loves your precious cunt but God, there was nothing quite like the sound of you struggling to stuff her cock into your mouth. 

You keep your gaze focused on her, your eyes straining a bit to do so but you need to see her reaction to every one of your actions. Your hands remain on her thighs to keep you grounded, your throat constricting as she bullies her way in. 

“Gonna help you now, baby” she stutters, her chest heaving as she tugs your hair upwards slowly until only the tip of her dick lies within the heaven that is your mouth before she pushes your head back down until her whole cock disappears into you once more. 

For a moment you think she’s going to keep the agonizingly slow pace but within seconds she has lost her sanity once more, her hips relentlessly thrusting in order to please herself. 

It takes all your strength not to choke on her cock that was all too big considering her thin frame, although it helps that it’s pleasurable for you to suck her off in more ways than one. “There you go, juuuuust like that” she hiccups, tears welling in her own eyes from the overwhelming sensation. 

The lewd sound of her fucking your face doesn’t bother you in the slightest, the continous shluck shluck shluck mixing with your shared moans. She was a woman lost in the throws of passion, mindlessly fucking your throat as if you were nothing more than a doll. 

For you, this was heaven. There was no thinking for yourself when you were busy getting your face fucked, your jaw aching in the best way as it’s forced to stay wide open. There were no responsibilities that you had to worry about when you were between her thighs like this, reducing you to her perfect girlfriend once more. 

Your lithe body doesn’t resist any of her movements, although your throat constricts and disgusting frothy spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. The sight pushes Jinx closer to the edge, her eyes locking onto yours as she frantically chases her orgasm. 

With your cheeks hollowed, you work her cock effortlessly. Her taste is familiar and soothing in a fucked up kind of way, making the rest of the world slip away for a few moments. 

Well that, or you were beginning to pass out from a lack of oxygen. Either way, you weren’t going to stop her from using you. 

You can feel her twitching in your mouth, a sign that she’s close. So you try to relax your throat, wanting to be able to take every last drop of her load. 

To your dismay however, she pulls out, although she keeps you close, a string of spit still connecting you to her dick. “Lift up your shirt, need to cum on those tits” she demands breathlessly, her infatuation with your breasts never seeming to fade even in the midst of such an intense moment. 

You don’t need to be told twice, tugging up your shirt as quickly as you can when your mind is in the control of someone else. Thankfully there was no bra to block Jinx’s view of your chest, combinations of curse words falling from her lips that you had never even heard before. 

She furiously works her cock, her skin still slick from all the saliva you left behind. Her fist slides with ease, mimicking the feeling of your tight throat to bring her to the edge. “Fuckfuckfuck” she whimpers as she blows her load on your chest, sticky strings of cum landing on your supple skin. 

You focus on the way she bites her lip enough to make it bleed as she tries to control her moans, her balls drawn up tight as she coats you in her release. It pleases you beyond words to be able to be so well behaved for her. 

As she comes back down, her hips still weakly humping the air, she takes notice of your slight pout as you gaze down at your cum glazed tits. 

“Dollie, what's the matter?” she questions, her nerves prickling with fear that she had pressured you into something you didn’t want to do. You look at her with sad eyes, as if you had missed out on an opportunity. 

“I wanted it down my throat, wanted to taste it again” you confess before refocusing on the creamy liquid that coated you. Jinx wants to scoff at how pitiful you truly are but she decides against it, opting to give you what you want. 

Without skipping a beat, she scoops up some of her cum off your chest and sucks it off her fingers. While holding it in her mouth, she uses one hand to grasp your face, forcing your pouty lips to part for her. 

She spits her own release into your mouth, her saliva making it taste even sweeter than usual. The action is vile, yet you are left feeling as if you are floating high above the rest of the world. 

The taste of her cum brings your relief, proof that you had made her feel good enough to get off. You swallow it down eagerly after a while of letting it sit on your tongue, letting her repeat the process until there’s only sticky residue left on your tits. 

She pats your cheek affectionately afterwards, smiling down at you as if she hadn’t just treated you like a rag doll. Jinx could care less about her nakedness, her softening cock still on display as you remain kneeling for her. 

It fills her heart to see you grinning up at her, fucked dumb and perfectly sleepy. “We’ll go to bed, mkay? We can just uhmmm…” she trails off, a huff of her laughter sounding throughout the living room as she takes in your debauched state. “We can just clean you up once you’re more awake” she finally hums. 

She knows you’ll likely crave more relief amidst the long night, but she was more than willing to cater to every little need you have. 

[fudgeez]

Safe in Your Arms - NingNing x Fem reader

Synopsis: Ningning, overwhelmed by practice and self-doubt, longs for the comfort of another's embrace.

The air in the apartment crackles with silence, heavy with exhaustion and unspoken frustration. It clings to Ningning like a second skin, wrapping around her as she stumbles through the door, her body screaming in protest after another grueling practice session. The ache in her muscles is nothing compared to the weight pressing against her chest—a suffocating mix of self-doubt and relentless pressure.

She’s been pushing herself harder than ever, desperate to find that missing spark, that elusive perfection that seems just beyond her reach. With the comeback looming closer, every mistake, every misstep feels magnified, as if the whole world is watching and waiting for her to fail.

Letting out a shaky breath, she tosses her bag onto the couch with a dull thud. The impact barely registers in her mind.

She feels too drained, too consumed by the war raging inside her head to notice anything around her—not the soft glow of candlelight flickering from the dining table, not the delicate scent of fresh flowers perfuming the air, and certainly not the way Y/N has been waiting for her, carefully preparing something special.

Because today is their anniversary.

But Ningning forgets. She’s too lost in the chaos of her own thoughts, in the exhaustion gripping her limbs and the frustration tightening in her chest.

Y/N, who had spent the past hour making sure everything was perfect—their favorite takeout laid out neatly, a small bouquet nestled in the center of the table, soft music playing in the background—sees the exhaustion in Ningning’s face the moment she steps through the door. And in that instant, they know.

She doesn’t remember.

But instead of feeling hurt, Y/N only feels concern.

Ningning looks like she’s on the verge of breaking, and that matters more than any anniversary.

Silently, Y/N walks toward her, their voice gentle as they reach out.

“Hey,” they murmur, their touch feather-light against her arm. “You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

Ningning exhales sharply, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She nods, but words feel too heavy to form.

Y/N offers a small, understanding smile. “Come sit down,” they say softly, guiding her toward the dining table. “I made dinner. Well, ordered it. But it’s your favorite.”

For the first time since stepping inside, Ningning actually looks at the table. Her gaze flickers over the neatly arranged plates, the candles burning softly, the delicate arrangement of flowers sitting in the middle. Guilt tugs at her chest.

She should have remembered. She should have come home excited, with a gift in hand, ready to celebrate the person who had been her safe haven for so long. But right now, she feels like she barely has the energy to hold herself upright.

Still, she sits.

She picks at her food absently, her mind too tangled in frustrations to fully register the taste. But Y/N doesn’t push her to talk. They don’t ask why she’s so quiet, don’t demand that she be present in a moment she’s clearly struggling to stay in. They just sit there, a steady, grounding presence.

And it’s that quiet patience, that unwavering understanding, that finally makes the words spill out.

“It’s just…” Ningning exhales sharply, setting down her chopsticks. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m trying so hard, but something isn’t clicking. And with the comeback so close, I—I don’t want to let anyone down.”

Y/N listens, truly listens, nodding softly as she talks. When she pauses, they reach for her hand, their fingers lacing together with quiet certainty.

“You’re working so hard, Ning,” they say gently. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. But you’re incredible. You always give your best. And I promise you, that’s enough.”

Ningning’s lips press together. “But what if it’s not?”

“It is,” Y/N insists, squeezing her hand just a little tighter. “You don’t see yourself the way I do. Or the way your fans do. You light up every stage you step onto, Ning. Even when you’re struggling, you still shine.”

Ningning’s chest tightens, the emotions of the day catching up to her all at once. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear those words until now.

After dinner, Y/N stands, tugging her gently toward the couch.

“Come here,” they whisper.

She follows without hesitation, sinking into the cushions as Y/N carefully wraps a thick, plush blanket around her. And then Y/N is there—arms encircling her, pulling her close.

Ningning exhales shakily, letting herself melt into the embrace. The weight of the day clings to her, but Y/N’s warmth slowly begins to chip away at it.

“You know,” Y/N murmurs, their fingers trailing through her hair in slow, soothing strokes, “you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

Ningning closes her eyes. “I know… I just—I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You never disappoint anyone,” Y/N whispers. “You give so much of yourself to everyone around you. But even if you don’t feel perfect, your best is always enough. You are enough.”

A lump forms in Ningning’s throat. Her grip tightens on Y/N’s hoodie as a quiet sniffle escapes her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that. To feel this.

“Maybe,” Y/N continues, their voice barely above a whisper, “you just need to rest. To let yourself breathe. You’re not a machine, love. You’re human.”

The words settle deep into Ningning’s chest, warm and reassuring. She lets herself sink further into Y/N’s arms, the rhythmic strokes of their fingers through her hair slowly unraveling the tension in her body.

A few moments pass in silence, save for the soft hum of the music playing in the background. Y/N’s touch is hypnotic, their presence an anchor. The weight she’s been carrying for weeks doesn’t feel quite as unbearable anymore.

She stays like that, wrapped in Y/N’s warmth, in their quiet understanding, until exhaustion pulls her under. But before sleep claims her, she tilts her head slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you,” she murmurs, the words thick with emotion.

Y/N smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too,” they whisper back, holding her just a little tighter.

And as she drifts into sleep, safe and cherished, Ningning finally feels at peace

The Realization

The next morning, Ningning arrives at practice still groggy from exhaustion. She expects another long, grueling day, but as soon as she steps into the studio, her members greet her with mischievous smiles.

“Happy anniversary to both of you Ning!” Karina grins, nudging her playfully.

Her heart stops.

Giselle smirks. “Y/N’s so sweet. What did they do for you last night?”

And that’s when it hits her like a ton of bricks.

She forgot.

Her chest tightens. Y/N never said anything, never even hinted that they were disappointed. Instead, they had spent the entire evening comforting her, making her feel loved, even when she had completely overlooked their special day.

She feels awful.

Her members burst into laughter at the look of pure horror on her face.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “I forgot.”

Karina pats her back. “Better make it up to her, then.”

And Ningning is already pulling out her phone, her mind racing.

She needs to fix this. And she needs to make it perfect.

The Grand Gesture

That evening, Y/N is exhausted from work, completely unaware of Ningning’s plan. They step out of the building, stretching their stiff shoulders, when suddenly—

A sleek, familiar car pulls up right in front of them.

The window rolls down, and Ningning leans out with a playful smirk.

“Need a ride?”

Y/N blinks in surprise. “Ning? What are you—”

“Just get in.”

Y/N hesitates for only a second before climbing into the passenger seat. The moment they buckle in, Ningning takes their hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice soft but filled with emotion. “I completely forgot our anniversary, and you didn’t even say anything. You just—you just took care of me. You always do.”

Y/N squeezes her hand. “You were exhausted, love. I didn’t want to make you feel worse.”

Ningning’s chest tightens. “That’s exactly why I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N frowns. “Hey—”

“But,” Ningning interrupts, flashing a small smile, “I plan to make it up to you.”

She pulls into a quiet, private restaurant, the kind of place hidden away from prying eyes. The staff greets them warmly, leading them to a secluded table with a breathtaking city view. Soft candlelight flickers around them, and the air is filled with the gentle hum of classical music.

Y/N looks around in amazement. “Ning, this is…”

“A surprise.” Ningning grins. “A way to say thank you. And to remind you how much I love you.”

Y/N feels a lump form in their throat.

As the night goes on, they talk, laugh, and reminisce about their favorite memories together. Ningning watches the way Y/N’s eyes sparkle when they smile, the way their laughter fills the space between them, and she feels so unbelievably lucky.

As dessert arrives, Ningning takes Y/N’s hands in hers, her voice turning serious.

“You’re always there for me,” she murmurs. “Even when I don’t deserve it. Even when I’m selfish and caught up in my own world, you never make me feel bad about it. You just love me.”

Y/N shakes their head, their eyes soft. “You do deserve it, Ning. And you’re never selfish. I know how much pressure you’re under.”

Ningning bites her lip, looking down at their joined hands. “Still… I don’t ever want you to feel like I take you for granted. Because I don’t. I love you. So much.”

Y/N smiles, squeezing her hands. “I know. And I love you too.”

Ningning exhales, relief washing over her.

By the time they leave, the night air is cool, but Ningning feels warm inside. She pulls Y/N into a tight hug, burying her face in their shoulder.

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispers.

Y/N kisses the top of her head. “Always.”

And as they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms under the city lights, Ningning knows—this, this is what truly matters.

Their love.

Their home in each other.

And nothing else in the world comes close.

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

78. don’t kick his ass (written)

prev // m.list // next

Looking at the ceiling, still feeling something between numbed and overwhelmed, Yeonjun convinces himself that he did what he had to do. It’s just a little break until he manages to get Yuna to stop harassing him. Once she’s out of the picture, all those feelings will go away. Once she’s gone again, he can go back to the life he’s worked so hard for, right? He knows he’s hurting the person he loves most in the world, but it’s all for a good reason. Surely, you will understand. He will explain and you’ll understand. Just not right now. Not when his old wounds are wide open and you can see his pitiful soul covered in blood. He just needs a few days, maybe weeks, and everything will be okay again.

He really wants to believe that, because it’s been just a couple of days and he’s already dying to talk to you and go back to how things were; how they’re supposed to be.

“Can you please calm down?” Dahyun sighs yet again.

Joshua’s been angry and anxious ever since he saw those posts. Just what the fuck is Yeonjun doing.

“I can’t!” He’s beyond exasperated right now. “She literally said nothing’s going on and yet has gone radio silence ever since. I need to know she’s okay, and she won’t talk to anyone. And I can’t go to Seoul ‘cause we’re closing an important deal and those fuckers insist on seeing me.”

“Hansol says he’s going,” she tries to reassure him.

“That’s way worse!” He complains.

As if sensing they were talking about him, Halson walks into the living room. He looks like he’s ready to kill someone.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there.” He announces while he makes sure he has his passport with him.

“Just don’t kick his ass right away,” Dahyun pleads.

“I’m not making any promises,” Hansol rolls his eyes.

“She’s gonna hate us if you do,” Josh reminds him. “Just make sure to get both sides of the story.”

“We’re literally meddling in her private life, she’s gonna hate us regardless.” Sarcasm drips from his voice. “So I have to at least land a good punch on that fucker.”

Joshua can’t help but sigh again. Contrary to popular belief, Hansol is way more prone to be a lot more overprotective than he is, and that already says a lot. Of, course, Joshua knows he’s intense and kind of abrasive, but he’s never one to resort to violence. Josh admits he’s the bark, and Hansol is the bite. That’s why they make such a good team. And that’s why he didn’t want him to go alone.

“I really hope you guys don’t regret this,” Dahyun says hugging his waist.

“I think we will.”

During the flight, Hansol tries to think about something else. He really, really tries to write a song and even read the book he always carries around which title he’s already forgotten. He can’t. His mind goes back to his little sister and, by extension, to Josh.

He still remembers the day they met, they were both five and trying not to die of boredom at one of the fancy dinners their parents used to host all the time. Joshua’s chubby cheeks and proud grin are still clear in his mind, “I’m gonna be a big brother soon,” he remembers Joshua bragging. That summer, they met every day and Joshua would say he’d be his big brother too. He was bossy, even more than now, but he was fun. Joshua would try to teach him stuff and care for him, he really enjoyed flexing those few months between their birthdays. Hansol has to admit that he was a little jealous of Joshua’s unborn sister, he liked the attention and felt that the little girl would steal Joshua from him.

And then he saw her. So tiny and fragile, she stole his heart. “Can I be a big brother too?” He remembers asking Joshua. And it’s been like that ever since. He was there as much as he could and tried to help here and there. He thought little Yn would interfere with his time with Joshua, but it was Joshua who’d always tried to cut short his time with the little girl. He loved attending her tea parties and letting her and Karina paint his nails. He’s loved her ever since he first saw her, he’d give up his life for his sister. Blood doesn’t matter, that’s his sister. And he’s gonna make sure Yeonjun understands.

That’s what made him lose his mind in the first place. He was the first to welcome Yeonjun to their little family and even encouraged him to finally ask Yn out. He was really grateful for his presence in his sister’s life. He never expected that he would do something like this, especially completely out of nowhere.

“What the hell is going on?” He mutters looking out the window. There’s nothing to see, though, not besides some dark clouds in the distance.

Three days. It’s been three days since Yeonjun said he needed some space. You still can’t make sense out of his words. You tried texting him, calling him. You haven’t shown up to his place, though, you don’t think you could handle such a direct rejection if he refuses to see you even then. Where did it all go wrong? Everything was going great, better than great even. Everything was perfect.

Were you too pushy? Too clingy? Just too much? Or maybe he got scared? This was his first relationship after a really long time, after all. Maybe everything got way too serious way too fast. He did say he wanted to take things slow, see where it goes. But you thought you were on the same page, you thought you both had the same goals and desires. What if he was just trying to please you? What if you were just a means to an end? What if he was just trying to prove that he could be in a relationship?

But he said he loved you? Loved? When did you start to think about him in past tense? Isn’t he your present and future? Fuck. Everything is a little too overwhelming.

“I need to get out,” you say before grabbing your keys and going out.

You walk around for a few hours but turns out that that’s not enough to ease your mind. Your thoughts are still driving you crazy. Your heart still aching. And Yeonjun’s still missing. When did you get so used to him being around? You miss his jokes, his laugh. His yapping, his random stories. Every single part of him became a part of you. How is it possible to love someone that much in such a short time? His little quirks are engraved in your mind. And you miss him.

And then you see the best way to forget about everything. Even if just for a little while. You just want to forget. Life would be easier if you could just disappear until everything is right again.

“Just one drink,” you say before making your way into the bar.

Very bad idea.

notes:

please tell me you get the modern family reference 😭

joshua trying to be reasonable is my favorite thing ever

han is a real one

if you don't hate my writing and storytelling, you can help me choose my next story here lol

taglist: open! (3/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano @zeizeisjy @va1entinaa @beomgyusluver @to-toad @akindaflora @hoefororeo @mandydxndy @nyanamii @delulu4-life @thatonexcgirl @starsunoo @4lndr17 @nbjch05 @borahae-reads @mrsstayfox @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @mrsminseochoi @velvetmoonlght @night-storm7 @lilbrorufr @hyunjinstolemyheart @mangojellyyy @ihrtantn @lausnotverybright @hwangism143 @wa1kinggh0st @skz-ot8-stay @athens-09xx

[keyofmgy]

wip wednesday

this is so rough of a draft it's ridiculous, but I'm currently attemtping to temporarily conquer my executive dysfunction demons enough to put some Emmrook smut out into the world. post-Memorial Gardens date with inexperienced Rook and down-horrendously-bad Emmrich. I'm gonna go throw up now

I do ask that you at least avoid putting pressure on that stiff left wrist, Emmrich had said to Rook during their dinner in the Memorial Gardens, and he was thinking about it again now, as he watched her all but limp into the Lighthouse’s dining hall. She’d gone to the Anderfels with Davrin and Harding earlier, to help clear out some of the blight surrounding Lavendel. By the look of her, the work had gone beyond merely destroying boils and tentacles. Something heavy-hitting. Hopefully nothing worse than a particularly large specimen of darkspawn. Hopefully no more than one. But he doubted it. He sincerely doubted it. “Darling,” he said in greeting, setting his teacup down on the dining table. Rook shot him a weary but warm smile – the open affection in it still new enough that the sight shot a tingle of a thrill up Emmrich’s spine – but didn’t break her stride as she headed directly for the pot-bellied stove in the far corner of the room. “Hey, Emmrich. All quiet here?” “Of course.” He kept watching her, mentally cataloguing what he saw: the slumped set of her shoulders, the stiff line of her back, the leg she was resting a disproportionate amount of weight on. Responsibility exacts a toll on the body. “Are you all right?” “Yeah.” There was the sound of metal on stoneware, and hot water being poured over tea leaves. Then Rook turned around to face him, blowing out a long sigh, carefully cradling the twin to his own teacup in her hands. “Just a little sore. We got jumped by some darkspawn – nothing we couldn’t handle, though.” She grinned. “Evka can pull some serious moves with that hammer.” Emmrich instinctively smiled back (how could he not?) though he wasn’t quite feeling it; not only was Rook definitely favoring the one leg, she was also still favoring her left wrist. Even more so than she had been at dinner, in fact. But before he could open his mouth to say anything, she was pushing away from the stove, already on the move again, though she did make a detour to briefly rest her forehead against his. Probably, she was hoping to forestall any protest he might make about her needing to take the time to slow down and rest, and damn if it didn’t work perfectly. In that moment his senses were overwhelmed by the rush prompted by even that barest of physical contact – the hint of warmth where they touched, the tickle of her hair against his skin, the knowledge that if he tilted his face upwards just so he could kiss her (and she would allow it). The almost-sour drop of sensation from his chest to his gut when he made the split-second decision to deny himself that pleasure.  We can move slowly, he’d also said to Rook, and he had meant it. No matter that she made him feel like the absolute worst example of a besotted fool, like a horribly naive schoolboy after the high of a first kiss even: eager yet terrified and clumsy but wanting more all at the same time. No, he was the older, more experienced party in this wholly unexpected relationship, and he had a responsibility to Rook to conduct himself like it. He had to set an example. She deserved nothing less than a gentleman who would respect and cherish her – and if she ever settled for less, later in her life, it would be through no failing of his. (Of course Rook would have more lovers, after him. Emmrich wasn’t so idealistic as to believe himself her one and only. That blush of first love would pass, and she would move on. Surely she would never give any serious thought to binding herself to a middle-aged professor with delusions of grandeur, not when she was still so young. But oh, how he would treasure her while it lasted.) “I know what you’re going to say,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help the small intake of breath at the tenor of her voice. “But I’ve got some letters to write and send off. They can’t wait. I’ll rest soon. I promise.”

[hansmic]

𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁

felix x gn! reader

summary:

You are convinced that love isn’t for you , but a one of your closet friends insist on trying to set you up with someone. A match turns into an unexpected romance. What are the twists and turns that lead them to fall in love?

genre: fluff, romance

word count: 1.7k

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡

You've always been convinced that love wasn't meant for you. You've seen your friends go through their own relationship dramas, and you were perfectly content being single. But one of your closest friends was relentless in trying to set you up on a blind date with someone they claimed was "perfect" for you.

At first, you were hesitant, resisting their efforts to change your mind. You were used to your comfortable life alone. But your friend was determined, insisting that you at least give it a shot.

"Just one date, please?" they pleaded. "You might actually enjoy yourself, and who knows, this person might be the one for you."

You still weren't convinced, but their relentless persistence wore you down. Finally, you agreed to go on the date just to put an end to their nagging.

The day of the date arrives, and you're feeling a mix of nervousness and annoyance. You begrudgingly dress for the occasion, trying to look your best but still questioning why you're even doing this. You meet your friend who seems more excited for the date than you are.

As you arrive at the venue, your friend leads you inside and you notice a man sitting at a table, his back towards you. He's dressed neatly, his blonde hair contrasting against the crisp blue jacket he's wearing. Your friend whispers in your ear. "That's him. Don't blow it."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you approach the table. The man looks up as you sit down, and you're taken aback by the soft, charming smile that spreads across his face. His eyes are a deep, rich brown, and they're currently locked onto yours.

"Hi, you must be y/n," he says, his voice warm and friendly. "I'm Felix."

You manage a small nod, still feeling a little overwhelmed by the situation. "Hi," you reply, your voice a little shaky.

Felix seems to sense your nerves and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm just as nervous as you are," he says with a chuckle. "This whole blind date thing is a little awkward, huh?"

You can't help but let out a small laugh in response. His honesty and easy-going nature are putting you at ease. "Yeah, it is," you admit. "But I guess we just have to see where it goes, right?"

Felix nods in agreement. "Exactly. Let's just have a good time and get to know each other," he says. "So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do for fun?"

The conversation continues and you find yourself opening up to him, despite the initial reservations you had about the date. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you, and his charm and wit are making it hard to resist.

As the night goes on, the conversation flows effortlessly between you two. You find yourself laughing and enjoying his company, even catching yourself getting lost in his warm gaze.

Hours pass, and you realize that you haven't checked your phone once. Normally, you would be looking for a way out of the date, but with Felix, things feel different.

Finally, as the night comes to an end, Felix looks at you with a smile. "I had a really great time tonight," he says. "Can I see you again?"

You're taken aback by his directness, but there's a part of you that's hoping for this outcome. You nod, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I'd like that," you reply, surprised by your own words.

Felix's eyes light up at your response, and he leans in closer. "Good, because I was hoping you'd say that," he says. "There's something about you that I can't quite explain, but I really want to get to know you better."

As you say goodnight and part ways, you're left with a sense of excitement and anticipation. You thought that love wasn't meant for you, but this date has sparked something in you that you didn't expect.

The next few days pass by in a blur. You find yourself thinking about Felix more and more, his smile and his warmth lingering in your thoughts.

Your friend approaches you with a knowing glint in their eye, asking how the date went. You're hesitant to share your growing feelings, but ultimately, you can't keep it a secret. You tell them that you had a great time, and that you're actually considering seeing Felix again. Their eyes widen in surprise and they give you a sly grin. "I knew it!" they exclaim. "I knew he'd win you over."

Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself eagerly anticipating the next time you'll see Felix. You message each other frequently, and each conversation fuels your growing feelings for him. You learn more about him, and every little detail only makes you like him more.

Your next date arrives, and as you meet up with Felix again, the chemistry between you two feels undeniable. You find yourselves falling into an easy rhythm, laughing and talking as if you've known each other for years. As the night wears on, you find your hand gently resting on his arm, and you feel a spark of electricity at the contact.

The night ends, but this time, there's no hesitation in saying goodbye. You can sense that Felix feels the same way you do. As he walks you to your car, he takes your hand in his, his thumb gently stroking yours. "I can't wait to see you again," he says, his eyes locked onto yours.

The days that follow are filled with excitement and nervousness as you count down the hours until you see Felix again. Your friends notice the change in you and tease you about it, but you don't mind. You're too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that come with falling for someone unexpectedly.

Your third date comes around, and you find yourself spending the entire evening lost in conversation with Felix. The world around you seems to fade away as you laugh and joke, and as the night progresses, you start to notice the way he looks at you. There's a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart race.

You find yourself wanting to be closer to him, to feel his touch and the warmth of his embrace. As the night comes to an end, you walk to your car, hand in hand. Felix stops and turns to face you, his hand gently lifting your chin so that your eyes meet. He gazes at you for a moment, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desire.

"I have something to tell you," he says, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. You feel your heart skip a beat, anticipating his words.

He takes a deep breath and continues, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "I know we've only been on a few dates, but I can't deny how I feel about you. You're unlike anyone I've ever met, and I find myself falling for you more with every passing day."

Your heart swells, and butterflies dance in your chest at his confession. You've been feeling the same way, but hearing him say the words aloud somehow makes everything more real.

He takes a step closer, his hands moving to cup your face gently. "I don't want to rush things," he says softly. "But I need you to know how I feel. I want to be with you and see where this could go between us."

Your breath hitches in your throat, your mind overwhelmed by his words and the intensity of his gaze. You reach up, your hand finding its way to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

"I want that too," you find yourself saying, the words slipping out effortlessly. "I didn't think I'd ever feel this way about anyone, but there's just something about you that I can't resist."

A wide grin spreads across his face, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. "I'm so glad to hear that," he murmurs, his lips brushing gently against the top of your head.

You lean into his touch, feeling safe and at ease within the circle of his arms. The night air seems to grow warmer, and you both stand there for a moment, simply taking in the sensation of being wrapped up in each other's embrace.

You lift your head, your eyes meet his gaze, and you see a mixture of anticipation and desire mirrored in his expression. His hands slide up to cup your cheeks, his touch soft yet firm as he pulls you closer. The distance between you dissipates, and you feel the warmth of his breath skimming across your lips.

His lips brush softly against yours, gentle and tentative at first, almost as if he's testing the waters. But as the moment stretches on, the kiss deepens, and a current of electricity crackles between you.

His lips move over yours with a growing fervor, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. He pulls you flush against him, his body warm and solid against yours. Your heart races as you respond in kind, your own hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, as if trying to anchor yourself to this moment.

The kiss goes on, the world around you fading into the background. All you can focus on is the sensation of his lips on yours, the sweet taste of him filling your senses, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. Time seems to stand still, and for a while, it's just the two of you, caught up in an intimate connection that feels both natural and incredible.

Finally breaking the kiss, you both pull back, a little breathless and flushed, your faces just inches apart. You can see the same mixture of happiness and anticipation mirrored in his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

You find yourself at a loss for words, unable to fully express the emotions swirling within you. Instead, you simply lean in, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms wrap around you once again, holding you close as if he never wants to let go.

Night surrounds you both as you stand there, embracing each other under the starry sky. The world seems to fade into the background, and all that matters is this moment - this connection that neither of you had expected to find but both of you now can't imagine living without.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡

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