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nadvs · 10 hours ago

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hard to ignore (two-shot) (part two)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

content warning parental abandonment

» part one

» masterlist

Zach gets you and his daughter box seats for his next home game.

It happens to be on your first day back at work after his family leaves and he jokes that sooner is better than later, not only because his team might get knocked out of the playoffs, but also because Ella could change her mind about wanting to come.

The private space overlooking the stadium is small, only a handful of other people there, as the late afternoon sun shines over the rich green field.

You learned that Zach is a major league soccer player minutes into meeting him. You knew he had an unusual life and a certain level of notoriety as a professional athlete. But seeing the crowds filling the seats below you makes it real to you.

The music and the announcer’s voice boom through the stadium, fireworks going off as players rush the field. All this craziness doesn’t match the man you know. Zach is kind and humble and beneath his silly sense of humor, he has a gentleness to him that you’d never expect from someone whose last name is sprawled over fans’ jerseys, who’s getting cheered for so loudly that it’s deafening.

Ella excitedly claps when her father appears on the stadium screen, his face hard as he jogs under the bright lights. You gaze ahead in awe, unable to believe that this is the world he lives in when he’s not at the house, running around with his daughter, thanking you for everything you do.

After the game ends in a draw, you take Ella home in time for dinner. As you drive, wipers cleaning away the drizzle that just started to fall, she excitedly rambles about the experience from the backseat. You smile to yourself, glad that she enjoyed herself and proud that you’re the reason she went.

As usual, Ella slips out of her chair with a mouthful of food when she hears the front door open halfway into dinner. You watch her dart out of the dining room, listening to the huff Zach lets out every time his daughter roughly launches herself into his arms.

“That was so cool!” you overhear.

“Really?” he says. “You didn’t get bored?”

“Um, it was kind of too long,” she says, “but I had pictures to color.”

“Appreciate your honesty,” Zach replies with a laugh.

They round the corner to enter the dining room and when Zach’s eyes land on you, your heart does a somersault.

“Hey,” he says to you, nervous.

“Hi,” you reply. “Thanks for the fancy seats.”

“They were alright?”

“Good enough for two princesses,” you tease.

“Princess ballerinas,” Ella corrects you as she sits down again.

“Right,” you say. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that we’re princess ballerinas now.”

Zach mirrors your smile, loving the feeling of sharing a moment like this with you. You stand to clean your plate and it reminds him of what his mother said a couple of nights ago. That you look at him the same way he looks at you.

He hopes that it’s true, because he can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s a little embarrassed that you saw him in a match. He’s always loved soccer, but he never liked how much attention is on him as a major league player.

“Maybe you should wait out the rain,” Zach says to you. “It started coming down hard on my drive home.”

“Good idea,” you say, happy to spend more time with him.

The rest of dinner consists of Ella happily chattering with you and Zach. As she clears her plate, Zach’s phone buzzes on the table top. His lips purse in worry at the notification, and then he shows you the severe thunderstorm warning message on his screen.

“That looks bad,” you say. “How long is it supposed to go on for?”

“It says into the early morning,” Zach answers. “Do you want to crash here?”

“I’m sure I could make it home,” you say. “I’ll just drive slowly.”

Zach’s lips part, and then he closes his mouth, simply nodding.

“What?” you chuckle. His eyes dart away.

“Just worried about you,” he admits. You huff an endeared laugh.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here,” you decide.

He sighs a breath of relief and says, “Thanks.”

Zach takes Ella to bed and you settle on the couch, glad you already have everything you’ll need in your overnight bag in the guest room. You eventually hear his footsteps coming down the stairs over the sounds of the television and the rain hammering down on the roof.

He sits on the other end of the couch next to you, so far that a person could easily sit between you. It’s typical Zach, never getting too close to you. The only time he’s ever touched you is when he shook your hand before your interview half a year ago.

“She fell asleep while I was explaining what offside means,” he says with an adorably puzzled expression. “Trying not to be offended.”

“I can’t believe she’s actually interested in soccer,” you say.

“Ouch.” Zach puts his hand over his heart. “Okay, I’m offended now.”

“I mean because you said she never cared before,” you laugh.

“I asked her so many times if she’d want to come to a game,” he huffs. “But you suggest it once and she’s immediately in. She always listens to you.”

“Not when I’m trying to convince her to leave the park,” you say. He chuckles. “Can you believe she’s starting kindergarten soon?”

Admittedly, Zach’s concerned about it. In less than a month, Ella will be going to school and he never was one to have much anxiety before he became a father, but all he does now is worry. He doesn’t want any teachers or kids to be harsh with his little girl. She’s already been through enough.

“She’ll be okay,” you say.

“What?”

“You have that worried look on your face,” you tell him. “She’ll love school. I’m sure of it.”

“You can read me pretty well,” he says, smiling. You shrug timidly, thinking back to how quickly he’d noticed something was bothering you on the night of Ella’s birthday.

“What?” he asks.

“It goes both ways,” you admit. “You saw right through me after the party.”

Zach’s jaw tightens, the playfulness between you replaced by a fragile air. He takes a breath before speaking. He knows he needs to have this conversation with you.

“Do you feel better about what she said?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. Now that you’ve had some time to process, you’re okay. “How about you?”

“Well,” he begins, nerves tightening in his stomach, “it wasn’t easy to hear. Ella shouldn’t have to wish she had a different mom. Jade should be here for her.”

He’s never said her name. He’s never looked like this before, his eyes avoiding yours, hand trembling a bit as he scratches his jaw. You can tell this is hard for him to talk about. But he’s choosing to do it with you.

“You said ex-wife that night, but she was never my wife,” Zach admits.

“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know I haven’t told you much. When we talked that night, it reminded me of just how much you don’t know about it. I just… I hope you know that you’re… you’re so much more than Ella’s nanny. You’re our friend. And you’re obviously a mother figure to her. And it feels weird that you don’t know what happened.”

His words sink into you, every syllable having an effect on your heartbeat.

“What happened?”

“Ella was a surprise,” he tells you. “Jade and I were dating in our senior year of college when we found out she was pregnant. And then I got drafted into the league and we graduated and everything was happening so fast, but we were happy and… I stayed happy and she didn’t.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, looking at him as his eyes stay trained off of yours.

“We broke up a few months after Ella was born. But we were both sure we could handle co-parenting. She stayed at home while I worked. I could see she didn’t like it, though. She wasn’t a bad mother or anything. She just wasn’t very… affectionate with Ella.”

Your chest tightens. It’s painful to imagine Ella wanting love and not getting it.

“I don’t know. I thought she’d eventually feel how I feel about being a parent. I tried everything,” Zach says, remembering how he’d encouraged Jade to go to therapy or take time away or work while they hired help. It was like she was stuck in her unhappiness. “But then she left and… that was it.”

He finally looks at you and the tenderness in your eyes gives him a breath of fresh air. It’s what you do. Just by being you, you give him the push to stay hopeful that he and his daughter will be okay.

“We weren’t in a good place when you came. But you made things so much better,” he says. “You do an amazing job taking care of her. I really appreciate it.”

Your eyes light up, the smile on your face gentle.

“Thank you for saying that,” you say. “And thank you for telling me the full story. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Zach sighs now that the weight of reliving it is gone.

“I really do love her. I meant it when I said it.” At this point, you’re sure you love him, too, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. “And I feel lucky to get to watch her grow up. This doesn’t even feel like a job to me anymore.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you don’t want the pay?” he says. You find relief in his joke, tossing your head back with a laugh. “Seriously, though, let me know if you need me to keep things the same while you’re part-time during the school year. I don’t mind.”

“Wait, are you offering to pay me for hours I’m not even working?” you chuckle. “Zach, no. I’m good. I have other things lined up. But thank you.”

“What? Everyone knows you should always accept free money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say. “How do you even have the energy to joke around right now? I just watched you run around for ninety minutes.”

Like always, Zach blushes when you bring up his job. He’s intense and focused on the pitch, but he’s different when he’s at ease at home.

“There’s a break in the middle,” he replies.

“I stand corrected,” you say. “So, how’d you get into soccer?”

Your conversation quickly and easily drifts into topics you hadn’t explored before, the storm raging outside as you learn more about him and he learns more about you. He’s still on the other end of the couch, but soon, his arm is resting against the back of it, his hand inches away from you as you sink into the soft cushions, beaming at each other as you talk.

You don’t want to stop, but eventually you can’t stifle your yawn, prompting Zach to check his watch.

“Jeez,” he says. “Ella went down three hours ago.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up. “That flew by.”

Zach knew that the more he learned about you, the more of a goner he’d be. It feels like he just went on the best date of his life and all he did was sit on his couch and talk.

There’s something between you and he hopes that it’s not just his infatuation misguiding him.

────୨ৎ────

You were right. He had nothing to worry about. Ella’s more than happy at school. It’s only a week into the year and she’s already naming all her new friends when Zach picks her up Friday afternoon.

Her first dance recital is tonight and he’s looking forward to seeing you and his family there. Ella had even mentioned that her other grandparents could come. They were elated to get the invitation.

And of course, when he arrives at the studio that evening, you’re already there, reliable and steady like you always are. You greet him and his family warmly and introduce yourself to Jade’s parents.

It feels wrong to hear you refer to yourself as Ella’s nanny. You’ve been in his life for eight months now and you’ve nestled your way into his soul so deeply that he knows you’ll stay with him forever.

He’s been grappling with this since he first realized he had feelings for you; this bothersome sense of wrong. He can’t pursue you. Technically, no matter how much it doesn’t feel like it, he is your boss. He pays you to take care of his child. If things went sideways, it could push you to leave.

Although he’s never felt this much love for a woman in his life, it’d be selfish. He can’t do it to Ella. He didn’t even want to date other women when Jade was still around simply because it could confuse his daughter.

But you’re different.

His thoughts are interrupted when you look at him, pulling him out of his haze.

“I saved us seats,” you tell him.

Zach’s sitting between you and his father when the recital starts. Eventually, Ella drifts across the middle of the floor between the other dancers.

“This is the part she’s nervous about,” you whisper to him, recalling how she’d told you that this part in the choreography makes her trip sometimes.

You watch her hop sideways, focused as the music grows faster. You’re so on edge that you don’t realize your hand slips into Zach’s, squeezing nervously. She lands her last skip and rejoins the group. You let out a sigh of relief. Then, you look down, seeing your fingers wrapped around Zach’s.

“Sorry,” you say, trying to laugh it off as you pull your hand back. “I think I’m taking a five-year-old’s dance recital a little too seriously.”

Zach can only offer a tight smile. His team’s inching closer to advancing to the championship semi-finals and the pressure has never been heavier, but even that hasn’t affected him like the tension he’s feeling right now. His whole body is on fire from your touch, and it won’t go away.

When the recital comes to an end, Zach leans closer to you to murmur over the applause surrounding you.

“You going out to dinner with us?” he asks.

“Do I have to?” you quip.

“What, you got a date or something?” He worries that the joke was too much. Too flirty.

But you laugh and say, “I haven’t had a date or something in forever. Yeah, I’ll come.” Although it’s hard to believe that a woman like you is single, he’s glad you are.

The eight of you sit in the busy restaurant, making conversation. As Zach expected, Ella insisted she sit next to you. You have endless patience for her, listening to her talk, answering her questions, letting her pick off your plate. He would move mountains for his child. He can tell you’d do the same.

Zach picks up the bill and you all say your goodbyes to Jade’s parents, who insisted they didn’t need to stay the night. Before you head out, you tell his family it was nice to see them again. He can tell you’re a little surprised when his mother pulls you in for a hug, but you kindly return it.

Connie obviously appreciates everything you’ve done for her son and granddaughter. Zach tries not to daydream too much, but he likes imagining being your boyfriend and telling you that his mom called that you’d become something one day.

When you say bye to Zach, your gazes meet like you’ve been waiting for a private moment for ages. Things changed on the night you stayed over. You went from friends to a gray area of something more, neither of you acting on it but knowing it’s there.

Only an hour after Ella falls asleep, Zach’s parents and sister turn in for the night, tired from their drive in. Zach is too wired, silently sitting in his living room, his tea not having its usual effect of soothing him.

He goes through his camera roll, wishing he could go for a drive to relax, but not wanting to leave his daughter in case she needs him. He stares at a photo his mother took of you and him and Ella earlier tonight after the recital, Ella’s hair frizzy from all the jumping around she did.

His smile is wide and so is yours and you look like more than just someone he hired to help take care of his daughter. You look like a family.

He opens your conversation and sends you the photo. It’s nearing 10 p.m. and he’s not sure if you’re already asleep, but you respond a minute later: Aw I love this. Thanks :) How’s your night going?

Zach responds: Good… but everyone’s asleep and I’m still wide awake. Yours?

You reply: Is your tea not working?

He smiles to himself and texts back: Not this time.

You text: I’m kind of wired, too.

How come?

Not sure.

He replies with a joke: Could be Ella’s fault. I saw her eat a lot of your dinner. It’s probably hunger keeping you awake.

Once again, his mind drifts to the way your palm felt against the back of his hand tonight. Then, he hears a door open upstairs. In case it’s Ella, he quietly rushes up the stairs to run into his mom, who’s leaving the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he whispers when he startles her. “I thought Ella woke up and I didn’t want her to think I was gone.”

“I’m sure she’ll be deep asleep until the morning,” Connie says. She notices he’s still in the clothes he wore to the recital. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I’d go for a drive, but I–”

“If she wakes up, I’m here and if she needs you, I’ll call. Go. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go for a drive,” his mother insists. “She’s okay. I promise.”

Zach considers it. With work and Ella and you, his mind has been sort of chaotic. A drive, even a short one, will give him some relief.

“Thanks,” he finally says, giving his mom a grateful smile.

The streetlights plunge him in and out of darkness as he drives through town. When he got in the car, the impulse to go see you seemed ridiculous. With every minute that passes, it feels less and less silly.

Zach eventually pulls over and looks at his phone, staring at the text message he sent you ten minutes ago. How could he even ask to come over without coming on too strong or crossing a boundary?

He’s not sure if he believed in signs from the universe before, but when you text him right when he’s considering if he should text you, he takes it as his answer.

Nothing is ever her fault. But now I’m having a midnight snack lol. Are you still awake?

He replies: Yes. Just driving around. Do you want company?

He’s nervous as he waits. But then you send him your address.

Minutes later, you open your door to gentle knocks, heart skipping when you see him. At this point, being apart from Zach is starting to hurt. You lied when you texted him. You know exactly why you’re wired. It’s because he won’t leave your mind.

“Hi,” he says, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Kind of crazy that you’ve been to my house a million times, but I have no idea what your place looks like.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “You need to see it that bad?”

“I think it’s what’s keeping me awake.”

You laugh, stepping back, inviting him in. Zach’s eyes travel over your apartment, taking in every little piece that you’ve put into it. Being here is more intimate than he expected. And then you shut the door behind him, thickening the tension, both of you now sharing complete privacy in a way you never have before.

“Is that an Ella original?” he says, pointing to a drawing stuck on your fridge.

“Yup. That’s me and her and the castle we live in,” you tell him. You lead him into the kitchen as you gaze at the bright crayon marking the paper. “And that’s her horse. She was very adamant about it being her horse. But I can pet it if I ask nicely.”

He laughs and gazes at the drawing, touched that you’d keep something his daughter made up on display. Even when you’re not at the house, you want to be reminded of her.

“Where am I?” he asks in mock offense.

“I’m sure she meant to include you, but the horse took up too much space,” you explain, looking over your shoulder up at him. He’s inches away from you, towering above you. You’re so close to him that you can see the stubble growing over his jaw.

“The tutus are a nice touch,” he says, pointing to the pink skirts drawn on both of you. You laugh and turn to face him all the way. You clear your throat, smitten that he’s really here.

“She was great tonight, huh?” you ask.

“She was.” Zach’s smile is bright, the same way it always is whenever he talks about her. “And she wanted all the grandparents there.”

“I think that’s progress.”

“Me, too.” He exhales. “It was an almost perfect night.”

“Almost?”

“My hand still hurts,” he mumbles, face pinching as he looks down at his hand.

“Listen…” you say with a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stressed.” Zach laughs and it takes everything in him not to hug you. “Was it really that bad?”

“So bad,” he teases, flexing his hand. “You’re too reckless.”

“Reckless? Is that what you think of me?”

Zach cocks his head, staring down at you with a look that burns through you, and soberly says, “No. It’s not.”

His gaze drifts over your face, taking you in slowly. You think back to the first time you saw those eyes, sad and distant. Comparing the way he looked that morning to how he’s gazing at you right now is like comparing black and white.

The light atmosphere has quickly been replaced by a somberness hanging over both of you. Your heart is thumping against your chest. Hard.

“What, then?” you ask.

How can he even find the words to describe how you make him feel? You fit perfectly in every way. You settled into his life like there was always a place waiting just for you. Even tonight, when you grabbed his hand for only a moment, it felt like he was born to be touched by you.

You’ve brought light to his life. He always looked forward to coming home to his daughter, and now he looks forward to coming home to you, too. And having to continue to live like this, acting like his heart isn’t completely yours, is torture.

“I think you’re…” Zach’s tone is low, lids dropping as he looks at your lips before he speaks again. “Perfect.”

Your breath catches. You’ve been able to keep yourself away from him for what feels like ages. You’re not sure you’ll have the strength for much longer. This is the moment where everything can change. You know you both feel it.

“Should I not be here?” he says quietly.

It’s his way of making sure you’re okay. That you want him to be here as badly as he wants to be here. That even though maybe this shouldn’t be happening, you have faith that it will only bring you both joy, and you don’t need to consider the risks because you’ll never have to face them.

He looks so painfully unsure that you long to comfort him. Your hand finds his and he laces his warm fingers between yours the instant he feels you. He exhales slowly, never having felt so vulnerable before.

Too much is on the line. He’s only thinking of himself right now. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn’t have given in, he shouldn’t have–

“Stay,” you whisper. Your simple word untangles the knot in his chest. You step closer to seal the distance that remains between you. His eyes finally drift back up to find yours.

“I can’t help how I feel about you,” Zach murmurs. “I don’t want to mess up how good things are, but I just…”

He trails off into silence, sighing shakily.

“I know,” you say. “Me, too.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says with a note of pity. You breathe a sad chuckle.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you here.”

Zach’s grip on your hand tightens, his heart feeling like it’s just been put together after being fractured for years. His lips part and while he doesn’t know how to say how much your words mean to him, he knows how to show it.

He leans closer, cupping your face, capturing your lips with a soft and impatient kiss. You dissolve into bliss, eyelids fluttering closed as his hot mouth presses against yours, head swimming, body buzzing.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, eyelashes overlapping as you kiss deeply, hungrily tasting each other in adoration. His arms circle around you and surround you in warmth.

He lets out a short, almost silent moan against your lips, relieved and assured and grateful that you want him this badly, too. Everything about this feels right. He’s where he’s supposed to be, standing here, kissing you, baring his soul.

You’re breathless when you eventually pull away, eyes slowly opening as he tilts to plant a lazy kiss on your forehead, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“I kept telling myself that I can’t like you,” he says against your skin. “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”

You exhale a contented sigh, afraid that you did actually doze off and that this is all just a dream.

“I think I do,” you reply.

Zach’s laugh is breathy, leaning back just enough to look at you. He’s in awe, his lips tender from pressing against yours, his knees weak as he holds your face in his hands. Now that he doesn’t have to hide it or force himself not to stare, he lets himself drown in your eyes.

He brushes his lips against yours again and you smile under the kiss, placing your palm over his hand.

“Is this the hand I hurt?” you tease, gently squeezing.

“Ow,” he playfully winces, making you laugh. You nuzzle your cheek against his palm and smile up at him.

“You sure you like me?” you say. He’s sure he loves you, but it’s too much, too soon to say at this moment. “You know you can’t afford any injuries right now.”

“Worth it,” Zach plays along.

“I keep wanting to ask you about work,” you say. He hasn’t spoken much about playoffs, but you did a little research on his team’s standings. “How has it been? Are you stressed?”

“Pressure’s on, but I’m fine,” he says simply. Your words won’t find you at first. It’s sort of unbelievable how he doesn’t ever flaunt his success, not even a little bit.

“That’s it?” you laugh.

“What?”

“Your team could go to the finals and you’re just fine?” you say.

“How’d you know that?” he says, his heart warming.

“Had to look it up. Not like you’ll tell me,” you quip, pulling away, his hands falling off of you. Zach chuckles, following you into your living room.

“Are we fighting already?” he asks.

“We won’t be if you tell me why you get all cute and shy whenever you talk about your job,” you say, settling on the couch.

He sits to face you, his knee bumping yours. You love that he’s as close as you want him to be, instead of keeping a distance like before. He finds your hands, holding them in his.

“Just a second,” Zach mumbles. “I need to process that you called me cute.”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle against his chest.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice muffled by his shirt. “We talk about my job all the time.”

“Oh, come on. Because we have to. That’s the whole deal.”

“Is it?”

Zach sighs, kissing the top of your head, loving the way your body slightly shakes with your laughter. You sit up again, looking down as you interlace your fingers with his, playing with his hands as you wait for him to speak.

“I love soccer,” he says, “but I never expected I’d be good enough to go pro. And somehow, I did and all the attention that comes with it is just… it’s not me. I’ve never been the loudest guy in the room. Never wanted to be.��

You nod. You could tell soon after meeting him that while he’s confident and loves to joke around, he’s not one to demand the spotlight.

“And now the more attention I get,” he continues, “the more people might want to know about me and I’d rather keep Ella safe and give her a normal life.”

He scratches his cheek, uncertainty flashing on his face.

“And… I’m not exactly proud that I’m not working a normal job. I’m always thinking that maybe it’d be better for Ella if I had a nine to five, but the pay is great and I can’t play forever, so I just want to save up as much as I can for her. Then I’ll find something more steady.”

You're sure you’ve never met a person this humble. It’s nice to know what goes on in his head after having wondered for so long.

“Will you still even need a nanny then?” you ask lightheartedly. Zach purses his lips as he nods.

“I will if she’s you.” You smile as he pulls you in, holding you as your cheek rests against his shoulder.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you shouldn’t be proud of,” you tell him. “You’re an amazing father.”

“You don’t know how nice it is to hear you say that,” he admits. The worries that he’s being selfish have been gnawing at him for a long time. He’s always concerned he’s making the wrong choices for his daughter.

“I think it every time I see you with her. I know you said she was a surprise, but you treat her like being her dad is all you’ve ever wanted.”

Zach leans to kiss your forehead over and over again, palm gently pressed on your cheek, like he’s making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you but couldn’t. You start to giggle under all the kisses, hugging him tighter.

“Speaking of,” you say, “I’m sure you’re thinking it, too, but we should keep acting like we’re just friends when we’re around our boss.”

He breathes a chuckle, nodding as he looks down at you lovingly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it slow. She’ll be so happy when we tell her.”

“You think so?” you say, your heart blooming from the certainty in his words, from the way he unabashedly intends on being with you and telling his daughter.

“She’s always asking me if I like you.” Truthfully, Ella asks if he loves you, but again, he doesn’t want to use that word until he’s sure you’re comfortable with it.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “She actually asks if I like you yet. It’s like she knows it’s inevitable.”

You realize that the way you’re wrapped up in each other does feel like it was always inevitable. You know that your heart would never have been able to resist him. You’re glad he feels the same way about you.

────୨ৎ────

A week after the night in your apartment is the semi-final. You’re sitting in the living room playing with Ella with the game on in the background. She’s partly interested, whereas you can’t ignore the ball of nerves sitting deep in your stomach.

Zach’s been opening up more about his job when you get time alone, admitting that the pressure can give him tunnel-vision sometimes. You’ve taken on the workload as much as you can so that he’s not too stressed.

You’ve kept things the same when you’re around Ella and you’ve already determined that if she asks why you’re so invested in what’s on tv, you’ll simply say you grew an interest in soccer after the home game you both attended. But she’s too busy playing with clay to care.

The first half ends with no goals scored. You set up an afternoon snack for Ella, letting her help, your mind elsewhere as you imagine Zach in the locker room, wondering what his coach is telling him and what he’s thinking about at this moment.

Five minutes after half-time, the opponents score. Your heart sinks. Twenty minutes later, Zach scores. You have to stifle how loudly you want to cheer.

Then, the game goes to penalty shoot-outs. Zach had told you how much he hates when a game comes down to that. It’s a nail-biting few minutes, but Zach’s team wins, securing their spot in the finals. In his next game, his team could take the cup.

Right before dinner, you and Ella change into the jerseys you’d secretly bought a few days ago. Zach already told you that even if his team wants to celebrate a win together, he’d prefer to see you two, so you know he’s coming straight home.

He steps through the front door to see you in his team’s jerseys, rushing to give him a hug. Your arms are around his shoulders while Ella’s are around his hips, both of you excitedly cheering. Zach’s heart has never felt so full.

“So, I take it you watched it?” he mumbles into your hair, reveling in the familiar aroma of your shampoo. It takes everything in you not to kiss him when you pull back.

“You did amazing,” you tell him.

“Daddy, do cats ever come to your games?” Ella asks.

Zach looks at you, puzzled.

“There was a commercial with clips of animals crashing soccer games,” you explain, laughing. “It’s a valid question.”

“I haven’t seen any,” he tells her, kneeling to meet her eyeline. “But I hope we get one so I can tell you all about it.”

“Could we keep it?” she asks.

“If a cat comes onto our field and it doesn’t have an owner, sure, we can keep it,” he says. She jumps excitedly, then runs off to play. Zach stands up again, grinning at you.

“Don’t let her watch any more matches,” he says. “If a cat shows up, I’m done for.” You laugh, crossing your arms simply to keep yourself from touching him.

“Congratulations,” you say. “I know you don’t like the attention, but you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” He looks down at your jersey. “It looks great on you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, turning to show him the back. It’s his last name and number. He almost can’t believe this is really happening, that he met someone like you who cares about him this much.

“Better on you, I think,” you say.

“Impossible.”

You face him and he gazes at your lips in the way you know means he wants to kiss you. In the few private moments you’ve had since you confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve shared warm hugs and sweet kisses. You can’t wait until you don’t have to hide your love for him anymore.

“Dinner in twenty,” you tell him. “I bet you worked up an appetite.”

Zach’s legs are heavy as he trudges up the stairs, partly from fatigue, but mostly because the last thing his body wants to do is be away from you.

────୨ৎ────

Zach’s family drives in to watch the championship game at the house. You weren’t all that nervous around them before, but now that you and Zach are privately dating, you’re eager to impress them.

He had mentioned to you that he hadn’t told them about you yet, but he’s hoping to the next time he sees them. He also told you how his mom had a suspicion about you two, which makes you hope you’re not too obvious.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since you decided to date, but every moment you get alone with Zach isn’t long enough. You knew he was kind-hearted, but now that he’s not holding back, he showers you with affection and compliments, reminding you of how much he appreciates you every day.

Just like it is with Zach, it’s easy with his family. You talk and snack and take turns playing with Ella while you watch the game. The game starts off as promising, but unfortunately, the final ends with a loss for his team.

“He did tell me they were kind of the underdogs,” you say to his family sadly, watching the screen. “I still think it’s great that he got this far.”

The stadium he’s playing in is hours away and he won’t be getting home until after midnight. You spend the rest of the evening with Zach’s family, wishing you could see him and give him a comforting hug.

When Zach gets to the locker room, dejected and disappointed, he checks his phone to see a text from you. I know it’s not how you wanted the season to end, but you played an amazing game. We’re all so proud of you, no matter what.

It’s ten minutes past midnight when you hear the front door open. You’ve been sitting in the kitchen, staying awake on your phone after everyone turned in for the night. You turn on the kettle you already filled with water and find Zach in the dim hallway, meeting his eyes with sympathy.

“You’re here,” he mumbles in surprise. You only close the distance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

“Wanted to see you,” you whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had better days,” he admits, kissing your neck. “This feels good, though.”

“I’m making you some tea if you want it,” you tell him, “but if you’d rather go to bed, I get it.”

“Tea sounds good.” He pulls back, stroking your cheek. “You’re really proud of me? Even though I’m a total loser?”

You half-chuckle, nudging him.

“Never call yourself that again,” you say.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll stop ‘accidentally’ making too much food,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.

You settle in the kitchen, reminded of the first time you sat together like this all those months ago to plan Ella’s birthday party. Now she’s halfway to six years old, growing faster than you could have ever anticipated.

After you put the steaming mug of tea in front of him, Zach puts his hand over yours, squeezing.

“I tried to be positive but I saw it coming,” he admits to you. “They were the stronger team. We’ll just train harder and hopefully get them next year.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you say. “Just don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? You’re not a loser.”

“Baby…” Zach breathes a chuckle. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m always winning. It sucks to get this far and to put so much work in just to lose, but knowing you and Ella are waiting for me at home… That's what my life is really about.”

You stare at him, awestruck, heart beating so hard that you can hear it in your ears.

“I love you,” he says. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say, but I’ve loved you for a long time.”

You bite your lip, giving into the urge to lean closer and kiss him. When you pull back, palm resting on his cheek, you smile.

“I love you, too,” you say. “It’s not too soon.”

“Phew. I was more nervous about telling you than I was about the game,” he says. You laugh, pinching his cheek.

“Stop being so cute,” you whisper.

“I can’t help it,” he quips. “I didn’t forget how you said you haven’t been on a date in forever. What do you think about tomorrow night? Ella will stay with my family and you and I can go out for dinner.”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. You chat a little longer before you head home.

When Zach tells his mother he’s taking you out for dinner the next morning, she’s overjoyed to hear that you’re an item now and throws in a few ‘I told you so’s. When the evening rolls around, he tells Ella he’s running some errands and instead drives to pick you up from your place.

Sitting across from you at a restaurant on a real date feels like a dream. He holds your hand on the table and nudges your knee with his every so often, unable to keep his hands off of you like usual. It’s like talking with a best friend, the conversation flowing so naturally that he refuses to believe he’s only known you for just shy of a year.

When he drives you home after dinner, you lose track of time kissing him goodnight.

────୨ৎ────

You and Zach had discussed that today would be the day. Now that you’ve been together for over eight months, he’s ready to tell Ella.

It’s a Saturday and Zach’s making lunch while you and Ella set the table. Long gone are the days of spending just a few minutes together, one of you arriving at the house while the other one gets ready to leave. The three of you are almost always a unit now, settled into a routine.

After lunch, you leave as planned so he can talk to her one-on-one. Zach finds Ella drawing on her bedroom floor after he says his goodbyes to you and knocks on her door.

“What are you drawing?” he asks.

She holds up the paper, three figures under the shining sun. When he asks if that’s you, him, and her, she happily nods.

Zach settles on the floor, watching the way she colors in the yellow sun, her legs kicking in the air. He’s seen a change in his child. There’s no doubt about it.

While she was always a happy kid, she’s grown to be much more expressive and affectionate since you stepped into their lives. You bring out the best in her. The best in him, too.

He tries to force down the tears that come up every time he looks at his daughter and thinks about what happened a year ago. She’s too small to have to know the pain of abandonment and betrayal. He pushes away the thought.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Zach says, clearing his throat.

“Do you want another bracelet?” she says.

Zach smirks, looking down at the beaded bracelet on his wrist that she made for him a few days ago. She made you a matching one that you always wear, too.

“Yeah, if you’re not too busy,” he says. “But that’s not it.”

He says it exactly as he rehearsed, telling her how happy you make him and asking if she’s okay with you being his girlfriend. When she grins up at him and asks if that means that you can move in with them, he chuckles, tears pricking his eyes.

Zach always felt like he needed to make up for the love Ella’s mother wasn’t giving her. Now, there’s nothing to make up for, nothing missing. He wishes the circumstances had been different, but he knows he’s lucky that he met you.

He was sure soon after he got to know you that his daughter would grow to love you. Deep down, he was sure that he would grow to love you, too.

────୨ৎ────

It’s past nine p.m. when Zach gets home from training. Now that he’s in the midst of playoffs again, he doesn’t get as much time at home anymore, but he takes it in stride.

When he can’t find you on the main floor, he tiptoes upstairs in case you’ve fallen asleep putting Ella to bed. Sure enough, she’s snuggled up next to you, both of you snoozing.

It’s been a month since he told her about your relationship and somehow, she’s grown to love you even more now that she knows you love her dad. Zach wonders if Ella can see how much happier he is these days. He tried to hide how empty he felt before, but maybe she caught on.

He’d rather not know. He’s rather not think about the past at all, really. Because right now, as he gazes into his daughter’s bedroom to see you hugging each other in your sleep, he knows he’s looking at his future.

(the end)

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#zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader

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justdontaskme · 4 hours ago

Text

Home Sick (Leah Williamson x Reader)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm trying to get back into things but don't be surprised if I dip again, unfortunately. I want to go back and finish some of my WIPs but needed to get something out. Let me know what you think!

Normally, a day off from practice was a godsend, and you’d spend most of the day tangled in bed with your girlfriend. The day would be filled with laziness as you both enjoyed the simplicity and stillness the rare day of no obligations could hold.

Yet, today, at this very moment, you felt as if you were at your wit’s end. And said girlfriend was the source of much of the current frustration.

You’ve been slaving away in the kitchen since you woke up this morning, preparing to feed your whole team as they were scheduled to arrive later today. If you were being honest, there was a part of you that was beginning to regret even deciding to host, but it was too late now.

Ordinary team hangouts were usually chill, with all the girls coming over for drinks and a movie or game night. Today though, you had planned an early Friendsgiving dinner. Well, it was actually Emily’s idea after she heard you were feeling extra homesick this year.

Your fellow American picked up on your sour mood lately, and she hounded you until you admitted that you had seen a bunch of videos about people already planning out Thanksgiving menus. In fact, your family group chat had been going off with your parents asking for a head count for the special dinner and any dish requests.

Since neither you nor Emily were going to make it home for the holiday, it only made sense for you two to celebrate this holiday with your new team. It didn’t matter that they didn’t quite understand the hype of this specific holiday here on the other side of the pond, they were more than happy to learn and eat.

When word got to Leah, she was onboard instantly, wanting to do whatever she could to help alleviate any feeling of you missing home. While you loved and appreciated your girlfriend for wanting to help, right now you really just needed her to get out of your way.

“Leah! Get out of the kitchen!” you said, shooing your girlfriend away before she could knock something else over. You grabbed another dish towel and started wiping up the sauce the blonde managed to get all over the counter.

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, standing right behind you with a bunch of paper towels in hand, causing you to run straight into her when you turned around.

After throwing the dirty towel into the sink to rinse later, you grabbed Leah’s shoulders so you could face her directly, “I know, babe, but right now you are literally stressing me out more than you are helping me.”

The blonde pouted, visibly deflating, her voice mumbled, “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

Your face softened at her words. Leah really was just trying to help, but with a million different things going on in the kitchen at once she was more a hazard than anything else. A hand went up, cupping her cheek.

“I know you want to help, but cooking has never been your strong suit,” you said, your voice light to let her know you were teasing. “How about you help instead by sitting right here,” you patted the kitchen counter that was currently free of anything, “and keep me company?”

“I could do that,” she smiled, stepping away from you just enough that she could hop up and place herself in the open space you had previously cleared for her.

Once she was settled, you took a step forward, standing between her legs, “You’ll be the best helper from right here.”

She dipped her head down, stealing a quick kiss from your lips. “Anything else you need from me?”

“I just need you to sit there and tell me I look pretty,” you told her, your arms slipping around her as you hid your face in her neck.

“Oooo, complimenting my beautiful and gorgeous girlfriend. My speciality,” she grinned, her hands running up and down your back soothingly.

As Leah sat there, with her cheek resting against the top of your head, she whispered all the sweet nothings you wanted to hear into your ear. It helped calm your racing mind as you started to refocus on the task at hand.

Reluctantly, you stepped out of Leah’s embrace, one hand sitting on her thigh as you turned and took in the kitchen, mentally planning out what dish needed attention next. You left Leah to attend to your dishes, asking Leah to taste things here and there. In your mind, since she was the pickiest eater on the team, if it passed Leah’s taste tests, then it would be good enough for the others.

If anyone asked, you would deny it, but you literally almost cried in relief when Alessia and Emily showed up almost two hours later. Your friends being the extra sets of hands you desperately needed in the kitchen. With their help, things started moving much more smoothly.

As the day went on, your teammates slowly started to filter in with drinks, other homemade dishes, or desserts in hand. Now that you had helpers, Leah was free to play hostess, checking in on everyone and making sure you were supplied with drinks that Katie was kind enough to mix for everyone. A few of your teammates offered their help, but with the kitchen being as small as it was, you, Emily, and Alessia were better off handling the food.

Steadily, the house filled with smells of all the different food as things were almost done. The space in your apartment was becoming almost nonexistent, but it was obvious your teammates were enjoying themselves if their laughs and screams were anything to go by. Despite what some would consider chaos, this is exactly what you needed.

As the last few dishes were either finishing up or were being reheated, you three finally took a nice break to catch up on drinks and gossip.

Alessia was telling a story about something Tooney had gotten herself into back in the day when you felt a pair of arms slide around your waist from behind.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You turned your head to find Leah flashing you a bright grin. Her smile was one of the reasons you were enjoying yourself so much despite all the crazy and hard work from prepping and cooking over the past few days.

“Everything is perfect,” you told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing you a little tighter. She held you in her arms, joining in on your conversation with Emily and Alessia, only disappearing once to refill your drink for you.

When the timer went off from the oven, you felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Your friends chuckled as they watched you slip out of your girlfriend’s arms and back to the oven.

With a huge sigh of relief, you slipped on the oven mitts and went to grab the star of the night. While having a turkey was a staple for the holiday, you decided to forgo it to keep your sanity for the day.

Instead, you decided to try your hand at something new that you felt would garner much more appreciation. After triple checking that everything was cooked and ready, you gave Leah a nod to get everyone ready to eat.

“Dinner is ready!” she called, watching as a few of the young ones and Katie started playfully shoving each other in their haste to get first in line for food. You watched as everyone lined up buffet style and served themselves before looking for a space to eat, either at the table, on the couch, or up against the wall.

After everyone else was served, you grabbed a plate and started making a plate for your girlfriend as she went to reprimand the young ones for making a mess on the coffee table.

“This is so good, Y/N! Can you cook for us all the time?” Beth said around a mouthful of food.

You rolled your eyes, “I already do, Beth,” you reminded her, thinking of all the days Beth would show up unannounced, looking for food and company since Viv moved to Manchester.

“True, but you don’t make all this,” she countered, stealing a piece of bread off of Steph’s plate when the Australian was dealing with Kyra trying to overload her plate with food.

“Thanksgiving special, so enjoy this while you can because I will not be cooking like this for some time,” you said, handing Leah her plate of food, when she came back.

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked after thanking you, taking a seat so you could then sit in her lap. It was a little harder for her to eat this way, but she really just wanted you close. She felt like she barely saw you today as soon as people started showing up.

“Maybe later, I just need a sec,” you told her, urging her to eat while the food was still hot. Honestly, you had quite a fill from taste testing and right now you were content to sit back and watch everyone enjoy themselves as long as you had a drink in hand.

“I’m a bit surprised there weren’t Smileys on the menu, with Leah living here and all,” Alessia said, digging into her food.

You chuckled, seeing Leah’s mouth fall upon at the open attack, “We’re working on expanding her horizons on her food.”

Your girlfriend turned to you, her face full of betrayal, “I eat more than just Smileys!”

“Oh, I know, babe. Why do you think I made a ham instead of a turkey? Now you’ll be set with a ham sandwich for like the next week,” you said, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bit of food that spilled from the side of her mouth.

“Lucky! Now you don’t have to cook. Not that you really did much of that before.”

“I can cook!” Leah nearly shouted, sitting back from her food, glaring at her teammates.

“No, Leah. You can heat things up. There’s a big difference,” Lia said, jumping on the train to tease her best friend.

“I would take more offense to that, but you lot are just jealous that I have a girlfriend who is not only insanely pretty but loves to cook for me,” Leah said, sitting up proudly and sending you a quick wink.

“I mean she’s not my girlfriend, but she does keep me fed pretty regularly,” Beth reminded her.

“And for that comment, Beth, you are not allowed to take any leftovers home with you,” Leah asserted, a satisfactory smirk in place when her friend immediately tried to backtrack all statements.

“Are we going to go around the table and say what we’re grateful for like they do in movies?” Kyra asked, switching topics before Leah and Beth’s banter could continue.

You waved your hand, dismissing the idea while you took a rather large swig of your drink. The alcohol started to kick in and relax you more now that all of your responsibilities for the day were now over, “No, not really. I don’t know about you, Foxy, but we never really did that at my house. It sounds sweet in practice, but it was pretty awkward the one year we tried it. You are more than welcome to share if you want, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I, for one, have something to say,” Leah stated, chasing her last bite with a bit of water before she cleared her throat. “It may sound corny and everything, but I want to say I’m thankful for having all of you in my life, especially this one right next to me. After doing my ACL, having you lot support me through it all and being able to share things like this is a dream.”

“Stop being so emotional, you’re going to make me cry,” Katie shouted, pretending to fan away imaginary tears in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, one more thing. Last one to clean up after themself is on dish duty!” Leah exclaimed, taking the last bite from her plate before rushing to put the dish in the sink.

From there it was a mad rush to the sink, as a few snuck around, packing some food to go home with them as the chaos reigned around them.

You continued to watch everything unfold with rapt interest, refilling your glass and cheersing with Foxy who was following your lead. With these people you considered a second family, you truly felt a sense of home, healing that little patch of homesickness you had been feeling lately.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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vickytaa · 22 hours ago

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Music keeps me alive. M.S. Chapter II

summery: y/n's father passed away, and she moved to Boston to finish school. She always keeps her headphones on, only she knows the reason why. What happens when she meets Matt?

Chapter I

As she arrived home, her mind couldn't stop thinking about how lucky she was to have met such kind people as Nick and Anna. She had only spoken to them for a short time, yes, but the fact that they had taken the initiative to approach her when she was alone and had continued the conversation until there was no more time was an act that would undoubtedly remain etched in her memory.

Her mother wasn't home yet, as her new job started at the same time y/n got out of school. Because of that, y/n walked to the kitchen, grabbed a piece of fruit, and returned to the living room. Without hesitation, she grabbed the TV remote, searched for Spotify, and played her favorite playlist. It was moments like these that she loved to enjoy some jazz while doing homework, reading a book, or simply enjoying some alone time to think.

The windows were shut, all the lights in the house were off, the only light visible was that coming from the fireplace in front of the armchair. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the vibrations of the music filling her ears. Everything was perfect... well, almost everything. Y/n had always loved being alone, since she never had anyone to show her the beauty of the moment, or anyone to share it with. Why has this changed now? Should it change? It wasn't necessary, she'd always enjoyed being like this. Y/n thought as the hours ticked by.

After a long time of pondering, Y/n realized it was quite late, so she decided to skip dinner and go straight to sleep. She went to her bed, after putting on her pajamas, and closed her eyes to drift off into a long, deep sleep.

The next morning, Y/n got up as usual, got dressed, ate breakfast, packed her backpack, and got ready for school. "You look very happy, honey. It's so nice that you're enjoying going back to school," her mother said. " Thanks, Mom, Nick and Anna seem like really good people and I'm so glad I met them," Y/n smiled. Her mother returned the smile and hugged her tightly. They said goodbye and Y/n started her journey to school.

On the way, thinking to herself and listening to music, she realized her mother was right. She felt happier herself the day she came back from her first day of school. But this had just started, and it was too early to say that she already liked going as much as when she was little, but you never know.

While swapping a few things in her locker and backpack, Y/n felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around and quickly noticed Nick and Anna standing beside her, and a little further back were Matt and Chris. Y/n took out her headphones and let them hang around her neck. "Good morning, ready for your second day?" Nick asked with his usual kind and welcoming smile. Y/n simply nodded, closed her locker, and started a conversation with the four kids beside her, about some rather irrelevant topic.

Whenever Y/n spoke, she felt everyone's eyes on her, but Matt's were the most noticeable. He looked at her as if he were really listening, paying attention to every detail, every movement. And she also noticed that her cheeks were getting redder and redder, but luckily it seemed like no one had noticed, least of all Matt.

The five of them entered the classroom and sat in their respective seats, except Y/n who switched places with another boy to be closer to her new friends. The class went by normally for everyone, except Matt. Just like yesterday, he was distracted by the figure with straight hair and headphones in front of him, because the seat she had found was right in front of him. Luckily, no one noticed, or so he thought. "Matt, you're going to look obsessed with Y/n if you keep staring at her like that," Chris whispered in his ear. Matt just looked at him with a serious look, as if telling him to shut up. Chris chuckled lightly and went back to paying attention to the class.

“And you will have to form groups of five members to present the first big project of the year," Professor Thomas dictated. And suddenly, Y/n felt four heads turn to look at her, who was thinking about what she was going to do because she didn't know if they were really going to invite her. She was about to stand up to ask the professor if she could do it alone when she heard a deep but soft voice call her name. "Yes?" she asked. "Do you want to... maybe do the project with us?" Matt asked, clearly nervous, but she was too. It was the first time she had heard his voice, and damn, she was going to remember that voice, it was unmatched, its tone of kindness and gentleness, its softness and feelings, all in a simple voice.

She quickly accepted and sat back down at her desk, this time turning around to face her classmates. "If you want, you can come to our house today, my mom will be there and she can make us some snacks," Nick suggested. Anna and Y/n quickly agreed. Y/n's eyes quickly met Matt's and for a second she could swear she couldn't breathe. Her cheeks were burning, and the air was stuck in her throat. It was such an intimate moment, between the two of them, and public at the same time, since everyone could see. Her heart started beating faster, but all she did was smile. Matt quickly returned the smile, and they stayed that way for a few seconds that felt like years, studying each other, without caring about anyone else, just the two of them.

Their little moment was interrupted by Nick and Chris's shouts as they fought over who knew what Mom was going to cook when they arrived. "You don't even know if she's going to cook," Matt said, interrupting their fight. "Don't get involved, Matt," Chris said and went back to arguing with Nick, causing Matt and Y/n to laugh.

Later that day, Y/n sent a message to her mom saying she was going to hang out at Nick's house. It was the first time she was going to someone's house who wasn't family or a friend of her parents. And she was very nervous, it was a little noticeable. The five of them walked to the brothers' house and when they entered, they left their backpacks, Chris and Nick went straight to the kitchen to see what Mom had cooked, while Anna went to the bathroom, leaving Y/n and Matt alone for the first time. "Why are you nervous?" Matt asked, he didn't know Y/n, so he didn't know why she was nervous. "It's the first time I've been to a friend's house," Y/n confessed. As I said before, she never had friends, so this moment was very special to her. "Were your parents that strict?" Matt asked, trying not to sound too surprised, because he was, and Y/n was 17 years old and had never been to any friend's house before, which seemed strange to him. "No, they always let me go wherever I wanted, I just... never had... friends." Y/n said, so low it was almost like a whisper. She had never said it out loud, that's why she was 'ashamed'. Being 17 and having 0 friends was something she felt very ashamed of, not because she thought she was a bad person, she just wasn't very outgoing, or it was really because the place where she grew up didn't let her make friends because of how toxic it was. "I- Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Matt started to say nervously, his words overlapped and his ideas crossed. "Don't worry, I'm so grateful to have met you." Y/n smiled at him and the knot of ideas in Matt's head was undone just by seeing her smile. He returned it and once again they stayed like that for a few seconds, the outside world didn't matter anymore than the two of them. Matt looked at Y/n's lips and then back at her eyes, he wanted to kiss her, and it showed, but he couldn't, they had just met. Y/n noticed and did the same, this time she looked at his lips a little longer than he did. The tension in the air could be felt, and they both felt this push towards each other. "Matt, Y/n!! Come to the living room!!" They both heard Chris shout.

Once there, they started taking out their folders and Nick brought his computer. "Okay, so we have to do a presentation on some monument and recreate it," Nick said. "Uh, I have an idea, what if we do the Statue of Liberty?" Chris suggested, "But so many people are going to do it for sure," Anna said. "Yeah, Anna's right, what about Christ the Redeemer in Brazil?" Nick said, "I don't know, I think we should do something with more history behind it, what do you think?" Matt asked. Everyone nodded and thought. "What if we do the monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park? I think the story is very interesting, I was reading a book about a survivor and it's very moving..." Y/n said but stopped when she saw that everyone was looking at her with a smile on their faces. "Um, is everything okay?" she asked nervously. "If you want, we can do something else..." She couldn't stop talking from nervousness, plus no one was saying anything and everyone looking at her made her even more nervous. "It's a great idea!" Nick said happily. And so, they all started thinking about how they were going to do it, what they were going to say, among other things.

After a long time working, they decided to relax a bit and play board games, as well as chat and chat for hours. They laughed a lot and shared a lot of stories, everyone listening to the other when they spoke. Y/n felt very happy, too much, and comfortable, being there, despite not knowing anyone well enough, she felt like she had known them for years.

At one point, Y/n looked at her watch to realize that it had gotten quite late, and walking alone in a new neighborhood at night... let's just say it wasn't a good idea. Matt noticed her worried face and asked, "Everything okay?" Y/n's gaze traveled from the clock to Matt's eyes, "Yes, it's just a bit late and I don't know if I can walk alone at this time..." "I can take you" Matt said, this took her by surprise, 'being alone with Matt always became... weird' she thought. But she also wanted to spend more time alone with him because she found him an interesting person. "No, it's okay, really" "Guys, I'm going to take Y/n home and I'll be right back" Matt announced. Y/n said goodbye to everyone and headed to the door where Matt was waiting for her. They went outside and got into the car, Matt opened the door for her and quickly ran to his. "Thank you, really, you didn't have to" Y/n said, a little embarrassed. "Don't worry, it's nothing to me. Besides, I want to have some alone time with you to get to know you better," Matt said, looking into Y/n's eyes and they stayed looking at each other again. "Uh, I think we should go" Matt said, interrupting the comfortable silence that invaded the car.

Y/n turned on the radio, as she hadn't listened to so much music all day and already felt like something was missing. "And now we'll be playing 'There's a light that never goes out' by The Smiths" the radio voice announced. "Uh, that's a good song" Y/n said and started turning up the volume. "Do you like The Smiths?" Matt asked, looking at her. "I love them" Y/n replied. The song started and they both began to sing along to it. "And if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die" They both laughed and sang along with the song.

When they arrived, Matt got out again to open the door for Y/n, who thanked him and hugged him without warning, which took Matt by surprise, but he quickly wrapped his long arms around her waist and squeezed her gently. "Thank you for bringing me back." Y/n thanked him, pulling away a little to say goodbye and go into her house. Matt just smiled and watched her go into her house. His heart was beating very fast and happiness overflowed from his face.

V: Uhh I can feel the tension building 👀

Masterlist:))

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #the sturniolos #chris x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #i love chris #i love this man #chris x y/n #christopher x reader #chris sturniolo imagine

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cryptid-killjoy · 3 days ago

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Good memories seemed to be a theme this Halloween, not frights, or jump scares, and horror movies. No. It was a theme. It didn't just seem. Valerie didn't mind. All the memories were wrapped up in costumes and dresses. Valerie felt good memories' warmth every which way she turned all evening. This whole season would be a delight for her actually. Whether it started with on pins and needles or not. This was perfect as far as she was concerned from rewriting over more old memories that could use a boost to reliving some of the best that refuse to be forgotten. What a magical season it would forever remain in her mind. Every step along the path to the car made her feel as light as a Winehouse song in her heart. She loved how floaty she felt right now.

Then the way Eeyore's face lit up seeing her husband's felt like sipping some of her gifted tea customized just for her by his sophisticated tastes. All she could do was smile as the pair conversed for a short moment. Another moment in time gone by. Another story's end finally known. Eeyore was waddling around Feral, possibly the Forbidden Forest of Hundred Acre Wood, maybe around the Nevers? He was still donkey boy-ing around with his emo bangs quiet as ever minding his own business like always, even after death in his ghost state. It was so fitting, probably trailing after Pan barely keeping up 20 feet behind looking for his glasses or his tail depending on his form, like nothing ever happened. So, so fitting.

“It’s snowing still. And freezing. However, we haven’t had a hurricane lately.” Eeyore would say with some lift of his spirits actually looking on the bright side in his Eeyore-type way. So, maybe Thomas was right? Eeyore was in good spirits in spirit form and that did count for something.

But that Eeyore in him couldn't stop himself from saying, "What goes up must come down."

Valerie looked over to Thomas and slipped her arm around his waist under his jacket line. "That sounds perfect. Until next time, Eeyore." She gave him a little wave as they turned to keep going not truly taking in what the donkey had said until they stepped fully out the doors.

Snow? For real.

It wasn't just an autumn chill out there. There was snow out there. Her eyes were catching it just as she leaned into whisper, "Please make sure those hips must come down on me tonight." She was making a little joke of Eeyore's passive gloom when the snow popped her head right back up.

"Oh my. Wow." Her mouth hung open at the sight around them as every hair rose along with goose bumped skin and the shiver she hadn't expected. She shimmied her head at the sight because there was no way that was natural. "Someone's doing maaaaaagick."

"How fun."

She didn't know why, and she honesty didn't care. What she knew was it was awesomely great power and that was always impressive. She couldn't help but give a little head nod of thrill towards it. She loved that magic shit. Not to mention it wasn't hard to deduce there was only so many people who could pull something like this off. Maybe even only one. After all Flotsam had been through with that person it was one more beautiful portrait of a landscape to view, a past picture, an image pulled to the now. She was in control. That felt so good inside somehow even if they weren't part of whatever path she had to follow to make that happen. That's all that went through Valerie's head. They'd not seen anything this grand that wasn't destructive from them since they were a teenager aside from the Battle of the Star People, but that of course was also destructive.

She didn't want to be a monster. Part of Flotsam had the same mentality. Except he embraced the monstrosity within. She learned to love the monster within herself. Maybe Elsa wouldn't think of it that way, but that's all Valerie could see from their experience with all this, and it was one of the most beautiful winter scenes they'd ever seen just because of it. The dangerously beautiful in the most delicate ways. Elsa's voice came into her head when she said. "I see you" to Valerie. It was something that mattered to Valerie on so many levels. She kept that one locked inside special. As Valerie looked out at this magnificent display, she said it softly to herself, "I see you, girl. I see you."

Then she kept walking with Thomas on. Then she'd see Elsa out there. She'd try to wave goodbye despite the large distance between them. Then Valerie would use sign language to pass an I. C. and pointed at her before walking on curled into Thomas. She didn't know if Elsa would even understand the reference or how much that meant to Valerie or what Valerie might be referring to seeing in her, but it was something the Flotsam in them, and Valerie in them just naturally had to pass on.

They'd travel to the inn.

The Inn was one of the places left alone in Feral. It was more or less left as it was pre-Feral. However, Kuzco, Piper, and Maddy had done a lot of altering. It had become Feral's main hub for most imports and exports since there weren't that many guests coming and going to use the rooms. However, ever since Frank started in on letting some randoms in there have been a few people attempting to use the place like a modern society still exists striving to not be lost to the void of abandoned homes in the ghost town left behind. So, the couple that ran the inn did extend the business to the building next door which wasn't a big deal. It was obviously empty too and started to use that for the post office and reverted The Inn back to mostly Inn mode. Call it an extended business model.

All that said, to see Thomas and Valerie walk in, actual guests, this was a grand day for them. So, they'd be treated like VIP guests from the moment the door would open. If anything, they'd get the kind of treatment they get when going to their favorite hotel in New Zealand only they weren't regulars here. They'd act like they were celebrities though. That's how slow business was. They mostly dealt in pizza orders to Funky Town.

Now when Valerie entered the room they were given and gave it a good look over she wasn't disappointed per sae. It was just another blast from the past. Everything about the room said Nola to her.

It was plain and cold. From the hard floors to the brick walls. Even the sheets. The place could use a little jazzing up. She thought to herself the Motel 6 at least put in some tacky photographs to liven the place up. But Nola often had that appeal, the bland and mysterious. Good craftsmanship, architecture with story and history, but to the eyes in her opinion rather cold. It was a rather sad room actually. At least it was until her joy of the night walked into it. There was however an actual chill from the room not being used in some time.

She looked over at Thomas and plopped down in her dress as the most colorful thing in the room, with all her fluffy black and orange, and bright eyes. She wanted to lounge around in whatever she had on underneath sounded just fine to her.

"I'm dying to get out of this thing, love. Help me get the back?"

Then she turned her back to him so he could help her with the zipper so she could be comfortable for the night. This was also when Scout's texts would start coming in for Thomas about whether to eat people or grind people into dust or not in Feral.

Valerie's magic shared sight wasn't focused. Sure, her kids were there behind her eyes somewhere, but with enough practice it was easy enough to zone it out when she wanted to focus on her own window to her own life. So, nothing out of the blue was garnering her attention enough to jar her out of her dazey evening yet. The kids blasting zombies hardly felt like a cause for alarm.

“It’s totally fine, love,” Thomas said, keeping close to Valerie as they started to walk into the night. Going down the mountainside. It was more chilly out here than expected, and unknown to them, it was Elsa on the other side towards the beach, creating something beautiful for Bastien’s and Maddy’s eyes. “Being here makes me want to take you back to our old home too.”

He loved their new house, obviously. It was entirely theirs. No Cinderella. No Jetsam either, other than the small hints of him that were here and there, mostly in Scout’s room. The twins were grown up and with their own houses, so there were pieces of them too but not as big as there had been in the house that they had grown up in. But he did still like the original house, because it was there that he had met Valerie for the first time, where he had seen her all dolled up and performing an Amy Winehouse song, and where he fell in love with Flotsam, and where they planned a war on goddamn Star People and WON. There were a lot of good memories associated there.

He was just thinking about taking off his jacket and putting it around Valerie’s shoulders, give her that extra warmth, maybe even offer to carry her down the mountain with those high heels that she was wearing, when something, or rather, someone, seemed to capture her attention.

Eeyore - now that was a name that he hadn’t heard in quite some time.

His own blue eyes settled on his former pan-pal. They had seen each other a couple of times in person since those letters all that time ago. He still had a few, he thought, tucked away into one of the boxes of sentimental things that he had brought from NOLA during the move over to New Zealand. They weren’t the rough kind of sentimental. He hadn’t had a falling out with the guy.

He lifted up a friendly hand up to Eeyore, a boyish grin on his own face. “Hello, my writing friend. Nice to see you.”

He really hadn’t thought too much about Eeyore in the past couple of years, he was loathe to admit. Hadn’t really thought about where he might have ended up. He knew that the boy was close with Cinderella, and probably had been grieving her loss but… well, not much other than that. He felt a bit bad about it. Of course the poor boy was deceased, but he did look happier now than he had ever seen him. That counted for something, right?

Oh. Poor boy. Poor, poor boy. Didn’t even realize what he was. Without asking Valerie, he was following her line of thought. It was probably better not to push that point.

He gave a little chuckle at Valerie’s cover. “Thomases can’t fly either,” He added. “Though with this lovely lady by my side, sometimes it feels like anything is possible.”

He put his arm around his wife, pulling her in closer, and kissed her cheek as he says this, and then notices her chill. Without a word, he pulls off his jacket and settles it around her shoulders, able to take that bit of a chill. “There you go, love. Let’s get you to the inn and we can…” He raised his eyebrows. “Warm up together.”

#valeriexthomas #eeyorexthomas

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h-ngm-nssluttt · 2 days ago

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Color My World

Jake Seresin x Reader

Ella Kazansky never thought she would be able to find someone to bring color into her world after her boyfriend Max passed away. But someone she least’s expects brings the most vibrant new colors into her world.

This will be a series.

Color My World Chapter 2

Song: If I would have known - Kyle Hume

Chapter 1

I lay in our bed, comforter pulled tightly up to my chin as I lay there and stare at the empty space beside me. The sound of the rain outside is the only sound filling the quiet air. The dark gray sky and clouds swirling outside as the rain streaks down the window like tears. It’s like the sky decided to cry today because the world misses him too. I close my eyes as the tears slide down my cheeks.

2 years.

2 Years since the accident.

2 years since Max has been gone.

The scenery flew by as we drove down the road. The song on the radio playing as Max pretended to air drum as he tapped along on the steering wheel. His smile infectious as we sang and danced to “This is the day” by: The The

(when I think back on it now… how ironic that this is the song that was playing… because this is the day my world got flipped upside down in an instant)

I laugh as Max sings loudly as he looks over at me as he takes his sunglasses off.

“You ready for this weekend?”

“Beyond ready… you and me… good music… friends… and going back to the place we met… how could I not be ready”

Max smiled as he looked back to the road

“Still the greatest day of my life, you know that? Who would have thought that day would have led to us being together for the last 5 years?”

I smile as I look out at the world passing us by

“Oh I knew right away… love at first sight baby”

Max let out a laugh and a smile as he looked over at me. He knew that was true for the both of us. The second we met each other it was like… like suddenly my life went from black and white to full of color in an instant. From that moment on Max brought so much color into my life. It was beautiful. The life we had together was beautiful.

“While these 5 years have been great… I hope you know I expect forever with you”

“Forever with you sounds like heaven”

The sound of the music was taken over by the sound of screeching tires, shattering glass and then my world went black.

I opened my eyes as the harsh white light of the room I was in bombarded my blurry eyes. Various beeping sounds filled the air as I took a breath and looked around. My eyes landed on my mom. She quickly looks up and lets out a sigh as she grabs my hand. My father stood behind her. I could make out the dark blue of his Naval Uniform. My throat felt drier than a desert as I manage to speak

“Wh..what happened?”

My mother grabs my hand as she looks at me and brushes some of my hair out of my face.

“You were in a car accident sweetie.. you’ve been in a medically induced coma for the last week”

I lay there silently as I blink my eyes. An accident. I try to remember what happened. All I remember is smiling at Max and then nothing.

“Is Max okay?”

My mother turns her head to look back at my father before looking back at me as her grip on my hand tightens.

“honey… Max didn’t survive.. the doctors said he died on impact”

Those are two words that should never be in a sentence together. ‘Max’ and ‘Died’.

Those two words… are the words that drained all the color from my world.

The sound of my phone ringing pulls me back to reality as I wipe the tears from my eyes and glance at the screen. My mothers name is displayed. She’s tried calling twice now. I take a deep breath as I try to sound as normal as possible.

“hi mom…. I’m fine… I’m actually about to head out the door to go to work… Can I call you back later today?... perfect… love you too… bye”

Gizmo shuffles up the bed and lays right next to me as he lets out a soft whine. I put my arm around him as I lay there in bed.

“I know Giz.. I know…”

In reality, I didn’t go to work today. I didn’t move from our bed. I laid there until I had no choice but to get up and try to function like a somewhat normal human being for the rest of the afternoon. My phone kept dinging and dinging. Natasha called and texted. Max’s mom even called… but I eventually just shut it off. I know people think that checking in is what I need today… but in reality what I need is for Max to still be here but we all know that isn’t going to happen.

I find myself sitting in that same damn chair, staring at that same stain on the carpet. A few moments later I hear the same question as always

“How are you doing today Ella?”

I sit there and stare at Darla as she grabs her notebook and pen. The same lie coming out of my mouth.

“I’m doing okay”

She gives me a brief smile as she speaks again

“Today’s a big milestone. It’s been 2 years since the accident”

Milestone. I thought milestones were used to measure happy times. Like a baby walking for the first time. Their 1st birthday. Each year they live… another milestone….. but here we are labeling the years without Max as milestones…

“I know. Still feels like it was yesterday though…”

“2 years is still relatively fresh for a loss like you endured Ella”

I sigh as I look out the window of her office like I usually do watching the rain fall from the sky

“I just… I didn’t think I would still be feeling this deeply after 2 years… It’s making me feel like I’m incapable of moving on”

“You are capable Ella. Progress doesn’t always follow a linear path. It’s okay to still be struggling after 2 years.”

I sigh as I pull my legs up onto the couch as I turn my gaze back onto her

“I feel like I’ve been having more good days than bad… but… I just didn’t think it would hurt this badly to miss him”

Darla’s voice comes out soft as she looks at me

“It’s normal to have good days and bad days. It’s part of the healing process. Loss is never easy, and it’s okay to miss him. It shows that you cared. It shows that the love you two shared was real.”

I sigh as I start picking at the edge of my flannel trying to keep my emotions at bay.

“I know it was real… I just… I don’t know if I subconsciously keep taking 5 steps back in my progress because I’m scared that if I do make progress… it will make it feel less real? That I’ll begin to forget him? That I’ll stop remembering him”

Darla nods as she writes something down in her notebook.

“It’s natural to hold onto the memories and feelings of a loved one that’s passed. But it’s important to remember that moving forward and making progress in your healing doesn’t mean forgetting or erasing the memories. It means honoring his memory and allowing yourself to find peace and happiness in the future.”

“That’s the thing… he was supposed to be my happiness.. my future and now I….”

I look back out the window

“I know, and it’s a devastating loss. But you have to allow yourself to imagine a future without him. You deserve happiness, and he would want you to find peace and joy even without him.”

“I feel like he wouldn’t… I feel like.. I don’t know.. if I find happiness that I’m trying to replace him…”

Darla tilts her head at my response as she continues to pry into my thoughts

“And why do you feel that way?”

“I feel like everything was black and white before… and then Max came along and..”

I cut myself off as I take a deep breath and focus on the rain falling down the window

“and then? Can you tell me more about what happened when Max came along?”

My voice shakes as I feel the lump in my throat form and the tears trying to well up into my eyes

“he… he gave my life color and now I feel like everything’s back to black and white since he died”

“I understand. It’s natural to feel like life has lost its color after such a significant loss. But it’s important to remember that there are still beautiful colors out there waiting for you. Colors that Max would want you to see”

My voice comes out in a shaky whisper

“It’s not going to be the same though”

“No, it won't be the same. Nothing can replace what you had with Max. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t still beauty and happiness out there waiting for you. It doesn’t mean you can’t find new colors in your life even if they are different”

I sit there in silence. I know there’s other colors out there but I don’t want other colors. I only want the colors that Max brought into my life. The lump in my throat grows as I try to keep my tears down

“I had the thought again… of why him and not me… it’s been awhile since I’ve had it”

Darla looks at me as her attention to me piques momentarily

“That thought is common for people grieving a loss. It’s a reflection of the pain and unfairness you’re feeling. I’m glad though that you recognize that you haven’t had that thought in awhile. That shows progress Ella”

“It does?”

A small smile forms on Darla’s face as she looks at me

“Yes it does! The fact that you haven’t thought about it in awhile means that you’re gradually moving forward in your healing process. It shows that you’re slowly letting go of some of the pain and anger associated with the thought. It’s a sign of growth and resilience.”

“It doesn't feel like it.. I feel I’m going to be stuck as the girl who can’t get over her dead boyfriend…”

Darla’s expression softens as her voice softens

“No, that’s not true. You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re an incredible person who is going through a very difficult time. Two years is still fairly recent in the grieving process, especially for something as significant as a boyfriend, let alone a boyfriend who you spent 5 years of your life with. It’s okay to still be healing, and it’s okay to still be feeling the pain. That doesn’t make you ‘unable to get over him.’ It makes you human. And you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for Ella.”

I sit there in silence as I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I feel the tears begin to well up and fall down my cheeks. Darla sits there quietly for a few moments before speaking up again.

“Take a few deep breaths Ella. Allow yourself the space to feel the emotions that are coming up. You’re doing an incredible job working through this.”

“I just with it didn’t hurt this much to miss him”

“I know. Missing someone you love is one of the hardest things to go through. And the pain can feel unbearable at times. But it’s a testament to the depth of your love and the beautiful connection you shared with Max. It means he was worth every tear and every moment of hurt”

I quickly wipe the tears from my face

“Yeah.. worth every moment”

Darla shifts in her seat as she leans in a little closer to me

“Alright, let’s shift gears a little. Can you tell me a happy memory you have of Max?”

A soft smile forms on my lips despite the tears falling from my eyes

“There’s so many”

“That’s wonderful to hear. Can you share one that stands out a little more than the others?”

I sit there as I shuffle through the countless memories in my head that I have of Max and I before settling on one.

“My birthday 4 years ago… Max decided to get up early and make me my favorite breakfast…..

I rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty which was unusual. Max never woke up before me. I pull the covers back as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. A faint smile appears on my face as I can hear the soft sound of a record playing downstairs. I walked out of the room and stopped at the top of the steps.

“Max-a-million”

“Kitchen my love”

I quickly made my way down the stairs leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen as I watched him pour pancake batter into a hot pan, towel slung over his shoulder. His soft hums fill the kitchen along with the music. He turned his head and greeted me with his million-dollar smile

“one special birthday breakfast coming up for the love of my life”

I smile as I slowly make my way across the kitchen to him as he smiles and wraps his arms around me pulling me into a soft hug placing a kiss to my lips and telling me ‘I love you madly’ before taking my hand and twirling me away from him as he started dancing to the song playing on the record player. Smiles and laughter filled the kitchen as we danced and he sang into the spatula. We were so wrapped up in the moment and each other we both failed to realize that the pancakes in the pan started burning. The homemade breakfast was a bust after that and we ended up going to our favorite café on the beach instead.

“But it turned into us dancing and singing in the kitchen which resulted in him burning the pancakes because we were just so caught up in the moment together. It’s like I can hear his laugh and how he’d always say he loves me madly”

Darla’s smile widens as she listens to me talk about a memory of Max.

“That sounds like a beautiful memory. The carefree laughter, the dance, the love, the burned pancakes. It’s those little moments, those mundane yet special moments, that make us fall in love and feel truly happy isn’t it?”

“He made it so easy to fall in love with him more and more each day”

“That’s what makes the loss of someone we love so difficult. That daily dose of happiness and love suddenly disappears, leaving a void that feels unbearable at times. But it also speaks to the strength of your love – a love that was deep, intense and beautiful. It must have been incredible to experience that kind of connection with Max.”

“Those 5 years were the most incredible years of my life… and it was because of him”

“It sounds like you two had something truly special. To have a relationship that brought you so much happiness and fulfilled you in every way is a rare find. It speaks to the depth of his love for you, and yours for him. Do you think anything will ever compare?”

I look down at my hands as I whisper out my response as I feel my emotions bubbling up again.

“no”

Darla sets her notebook down and leans forward in her chair

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t feel ready. But I want to explore this topic a little further. When you say nothing will ever compare, how does that make you feel?”

I take a deep breath as I try to think of a word to describe how I feel

“Devastated I guess”

“It’s understandable to feel devastated by the thought that no one will ever compare to Max. It’s a painful realization to come to terms with. Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure”

“Sometimes, in the wake of a significant loss, we can develop what is known as ‘catastrophic thinking’. It’s when we start to think in black and white, all or nothing terms. Have you ever found yourself thinking that you’ll never find love like you did with Max again?”

“Yes.. all the time” I wipe a tear from my cheek as I look at Darla. Of course I think that. How could I ever find someone to love me like Max did. Why would I want to find someone new. Max was my once in a lifetime love.

“It's a normal part of the grieving process to have these fears and doubts. It’s the mind’s way of trying to protect itself from further pain. But it can be a limiting belief that can keep us from fully healing and moving forward. Can I share something with you?”

“Of course”

“When we say things like ‘nobody will ever compare to Max’ or ‘I’ll never love like this again,’ we are not only limiting our own future but also, in a small way, limiting Max’s memory. Love isn’t stagnant, it’s fluid, and it can change and grow in unexpected ways. Do you think Max would want you to live the rest of your life alone thinking nobody will ever measure up?”

“No… he’d probably tell me to find someone who puts color into my world like he did”

I look up at Darla as she smiles at my answer

“That’s exactly right. He’d want you to find joy and love again. We often think about honoring the dead through rituals or momentos, but true honor comes in living a life that they’d be proud of. Do you think he’d be proud of you if you spend the rest of your life closed off to the possibility of loving and being loved again?”

“No… he wouldn’t”

“Exactly. By keeping yourself trapped in a black and white perspective, you're not allowing yourself the chance to experience the fullness of life again. The ‘color’ metaphor you used before is very relevant here. Max gave your life color. Maybe it’s time for you to let other colors back in. It doesn’t mean replacing Max or forgetting him. It means making room in your heart for new experiences and new love”

“But I feel like I’m not ready for ‘new color’ in my life”

“That’s completely understandable Ella. You’ve been through a significant loss, and it’s okay to feel like you’re not ready yet. Grieving takes time and it’s different for everyone. But remember, the point isn’t to replace or move on from Max. It’s about allowing your heart to expand. Maybe instead of looking at it as ‘new color’, think of it as ‘additional color.’ It doesn’t erase or diminish what you had with Max. It just adds to the beautiful palette of your life.”

I look back out the window at the gray sky swirling as the rain stops falling as I mumble,

“Additional Color…”

“Yes, additional color. It’s like adding a new shade to a painting without changing the original picture. That way, you’re not replacing Max or what you had, but you’re expanding on it. It’s about having space in your heart for new love and new experiences that are just as beautiful and worthwhile, even if they might not bring the same exact feeling or color that Max did. Does that make sense?”

“So essentially I’m just adding onto the colors Max has already given me”

“Exactly Ella. You’re not replacing or erasing Max’s colors from your heart. You’re not removing anything. You’re just adding more colors, potentially even brighter and richer than what you had before. It’s not about forgetting or moving on, but expanding your capacity to love and experience life fully, just as Max would want you to”

“That makes sense…”

Darla leans back into her chair before picking her notebook backup and writing a few things down

“So, it’s not a case of ‘nobody will ever compare to Max.’ Rather, it’s a case of ‘nobody will ever bring the exact same color as Max, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other beautiful colors out there that can add to my life in a different, but equally meaningful way.’ Can you see how that perspective might help ease the catastrophic thinking pattern you have?”

I nod my head as I see Darla glance at the clock before looking back at me.

“That’s wonderful. It’s important to remember that the purpose of therapy is growth, not just fixing things. And by challenging your catastrophic thinking, you’re showing a lot of strength. Can I give you some homework for the next time we meet?”

I nod my head yes as I put my feet back down onto the floor from the couch as Darla looks at me

“I’d like you to keep a journal between now and our next session. Every day, I want you to write down something beautiful, something that brings a bit of joy or color into your day. It could be a simple moment, like a bird singing outside your window, or something more significant, it doesn’t matter. The point is to practice focusing on the beauty and positives in life. Can you do that?

“I can do that”

“Excellent. I believe it will help you slowly start shifting your mindset towards a more positive and hopeful future. Is there anything else you like to talk about before we end our session today?”

“Not that I can think of… I think I’ve had enough for today…”

Darla puts her notebook back down before sliding forward in her chair and placing her hand on my knee in a comforting way

“That’s completely understandable. It can be overwhelming to go through these heavy topics, and it’s important to know when to take a break. I’m proud of you for being open and honest today Ella. Start that journal exercise and I will see you in a few weeks”

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. My phone dinging on the bedside table drawing me out from my thoughts. I see a text from Natasha

-Hey, I hope today was okay for you. You never called back and I understand but know I’m here if you need me… You’re coming out with me Saturday night. No excuses…

-okay

I felt bad for ignoring her all day but if anyone understands that I just want to be alone it’s Natasha. I lay there thinking about my therapy session today and her suggestion on letting ‘additional color’ into my life. It’s going to be damn near impossible to find any kind of color remotely close to the colors Max gave me… or so I thought…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 3 coming!

Jake makes his appearance in the next chapter!!!

If you want to be added to the tag list shoot me a message!

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick

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luxcuriousao3 · 2 days ago

Text

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Four)

Summary: “I wonder what color your eyes were…” Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him. Word Count: 3176 Warnings: still no smut, triple asterisk denotes a POV change as usual Notes: Happy birthday @kaya-nets ! Here is a surprise midweek update as a little gift, and a thank you for being the first person on tumblr to leave feedback on Dove! It is greatly appreciated, especially since I had a hard today. I hope you had a great birthday! AO3, Masterlist

“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

Ghost was sure no word had ever sounded so beautiful. To hear someone calling him by his name again, after all this time, was… he had no words to describe it. If he were religious, he might’ve called it a come-to-God moment. But his dog tags said No Preference for a reason, and that reason was that Ghost had stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago.

As he looked at his little dove, holding his tags and giving him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, he thought that maybe he’d finally found one he’d happily worship.

He groaned softly, trying to say hello back, and then gestured at her, cocking his head to the side in question.

“What is it?” She asked. He pointed at his dog tags again, then at her once more. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he grunted, like that would help her understand what he was asking. Maybe it did, or maybe she just remembered how first meetings were typically supposed to go, because her brows went up this time and her pink lips parted, a rosy blush darkening her cheeks. “Oh! Oh, my name, of course. I’m Lelia Par—Addams. Lelia Addams.”

Ghost caught the slip, and the mix of panic and sadness that flashed through her eyes at it. He couldn’t exactly press even if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He had no desire to see his dove upset.

He tried to say her name, despite knowing it was useless. But it was just so pretty. Lelia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

That was one of Johnny’s favorite chat up lines, Simon’s voice in his head said distantly, sounding both exasperated and wistful. Ghost ignored it. He didn't know who Johnny was and no amount of trying to force his ruined mind to cough up the memory of him would work. But staying in his dove’s presence, might. She was the reason he’d remembered the name at all.

“Thank you for saving me, by the way,” Lelia said a moment later, handing him his dog tags back. She still looked faintly embarrassed. “Both times… I— I would be dead without you. I suppose not all soldiers are bad…”

Ghost knew that if she were aware of all he’d done, both before and after he’d turned, she wouldn’t think so highly of him. Nonetheless, he would very much have liked to find whichever soldiers made Lelia decide she was better off out here on her own, instead of back on a base, safe and warm and fed. He thought about the way her eyes had looked broken and glassy as she’d spoken about the place she’d come from, and how she’d insisted she’d rather be ripped apart than go back, not a trace of exaggeration in her voice. Whatever had happened to her there must have been hellish.

Ghost wanted to move forward to comfort her, but he’d seen the way she’d gagged and grimaced when he got close to retrieve his tags, slipping them over his head once more. He knew that he smelled something awful, that he always would no matter what he did, but he would at least try to clean himself, for her sake. She couldn’t afford to lose the little food she’d eaten.

There was a stream not far from here, he’d been near it yesterday before he’d decided to investigate all the noise. And he was fast, faster than he had been when he was human. He could be there and back in half an hour, tops.

Lelia, on the other hand, barely looked like she could make it to the front door.

He was incredibly reluctant to let her out of his sight for any length of time. Even just going around to the back of the cabin to dispose of the body earlier had made him twitchy. And if it was just a matter of his smell, he’d wait until tomorrow, when she was rested enough to make the trip with him. But it wasn’t. He could see just how dehydrated she was—chapped lips, dry skin, a constant tremor in her hands… she needed clean drinking water, now. And if he could get some from the stream for her to boil, she would be set.

He would have barricaded the door for extra protection, but it opened outwards rather than in. Shoddy installation job if he’d ever seen one. So instead, he pointed at her, and then at the bedroom. He awkwardly put his hands under his ear and then closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He bumped his broken jaw as he did, and his teeth clacked against each other loudly.

He heard a little giggle, soft and high pitched. He opened his cloudy eyes to see his dove watching him, a pretty smile on her cherubic face. Her laugh was beautiful, pure and sweet. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. The sunken skin around his eyes crinkled a little bit, the only evidence of his smile.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go take a nap,” Lelia said, still giggling, as she headed for the bedroom. She disappeared inside, the door closing behind her. He waited until he heard her heartbeat slow and her breaths grow steady, and then he quietly moved the couch in front of it, blocking her in. He didn't want to risk her waking up, finding him gone, and getting herself killed while looking for him. If she decided to look for him. She might not—just because she asked his name and gave him a sweet smile didn’t mean she cared about him, the undead soldier who’d inserted himself into her life and wouldn’t leave her alone. That was alright, though. Ghost was so starved for human interaction that he’d take whatever he could get. And hearing his name from her lips was more than he’d ever expected.

Even if it was less than what he wanted.

With his dove secure, he left the cabin, making sure he didn't hear anyone nearby. There were a few infected a ways away, but if she stayed put—which he’d made sure she would—they wouldn't smell her. He was more worried about other people, but he couldn’t smell or hear anyone within range, so he felt comfortable enough to leave. Barely. He grabbed the large, rusted pail he’d noticed behind the cabin where he’d dumped the other zombie’s body, and then he was off.

-*-

When Ghost saw his reflection in the stream, he understood why Lelia had been so terrified to wake up and see his face first thing.

He’d known he looked bad, he wasn't an idiot. Just because his eyes were clouded didn't mean his vision was. He could see how disgusting the other zombies looked, and he figured he looked much the same.

None of that had prepared him for actually seeing himself.

Blood and gore covered every inch of him, bits of flesh stuck between his teeth and blackened gums—his teeth, which were permanently bared in a snarl, because his lips had rotted away.

That was the most horrifying part, he thought. Not the grey, sunken skin, the milky eyes, or all the gore and viscera. It was that his lips were gone, and he couldn’t kiss his dove even if she’d let him.

You’re disgusting.

The words echoed in his head, and he knew it wasn’t just about his visage. He shouldn't have been thinking about his dove like that. It wasn't as bad as his earlier thoughts, but just about. He was dead. A nasty, rotting corpse that happened to be able to walk around. There was something wrong with him to even be contemplating doing more than hugging Lelia. That was bad enough. She’d never want him to touch her in any way, she’d shown him that earlier when she’d kicked him while he was trying to check her for bites.

But maybe she would let him get a little closer, at least, if he didn't smell so bloody horrid.

It was that possibility that had him methodically strip out of his ragged tactical gear. He washed each piece in the knee-deep stream, even his mask and his boots. He laid them out on the bank to dry, moved a little further upstream, and then repeated the process with his body, dumping bucket after bucket full of water over every part of him.

The amount of congealed black blood and pieces of flesh that came off was concerning. He just hoped that none of the latter was his own.

Finally, he was done, and he stepped out of the stream and redressed in his still damp gear. Moving upstream for a third time, unwilling to contaminate his dove’s drinking water, he filled the bucket once more and began his trek back to the cabin, moving briskly but carefully so as not to spill.

Lelia was still asleep by the time he returned, and so he put the bucket down on the kitchen table, moved the couch away from her door, and then set about starting a fire. There was a small stack of roughly chopped logs next to the old, wood burning stove, and he placed a few inside. He searched through some of the drawers and found a book of matches, letting out a triumphant grunt, unable to believe his luck.

Except of course, things couldn’t be that easy.

Ghost’s fingers were far too stiff and clumsy to light a match. Fine motor skills were difficult for him, his muscles permanently locked in rigor mortis. Even piling up the logs in the stove had been difficult, as had carrying the bucket. He’d had to wrap his arms around it and hold it to his chest because his fingers wouldn't quite bend enough to grasp it by the handle.

After finally getting one of the matches to light, only to immediately drop it on the floor and burn a mark into the wood, Ghost gave up. He would just have to let Lelia do this part.

He moved the bucket onto the stovetop before quietly walking over to the bedroom. He reached out for the door knob and hesitated for a long moment, before letting his hand drop as he turned back around. She’d closed it for a reason, and he didn't need to see her to know she was alright. Her heartbeat and breathing were loud enough. So instead, he resumed his position as her zombified guard dog, and barricaded her door with his body while she slept, standing between her and anything that could bring her harm.

***

This time, when Lelia woke up, she knew exactly where she was.

The tiny bed in the cabin smelled of dust and old mothballs, but it was still far more comfortable than either a tree hollow or the bed she'd shared with Andrew back on the military base. She let herself luxuriate in it for a moment, exhaustion still pulling heavily at her no matter how long she had slept. Finally, she got up, walking over to the door and opening it—only to startle when she found Simon standing directly outside.

“Oh!” She gasped, hand clutching her chest, right over her racing heart. Then, she registered the lack of blood and gore on his face—which looked far less decayed now that it was clean—and the lack of a stomach churning odor wafting over her. He still smelled of death, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before. “You’re— you’re clean!”

Simon groaned quietly. He was staring at her, as if waiting for something. She blinked several times, and then spoke again.

“Did you— did you do that for me?”

She knew she hadn’t hid her reaction to his stench well enough. She felt a bit bad, but she also couldn’t help but be relieved he'd noticed and decided to do something about it.

Simon jerked his head up and down in a nod, jaw wobbling. He shifted back and forth a little bit, then tilted his head to the side and let out a questioning grunt, milky eyes downcast. He almost seemed… nervous? Shy? Or like he was looking for her approval. She couldn't quite tell. But the thought was endearing, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “This is much better, really. I appreciate it.”

Despite the fact that he couldn't really make any expression, Lelia got the distinct impression that he was pleased with her answer.

Simon shuffled back, and then stiffly gestured for her to follow him. She did so, curious, and she found she could remain quite close to him without being overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. She still left a meter or so between them, as was proper. She doubted he wanted her crowding his space, after all.

He led her over to the kitchenette, and then gestured to a bucket on top of the stove. She peered inside it, and found that it was full of water. She brightened considerably, licking her dry lips.

“Can I drink this?” She asked, already reaching for the bucket. She was so thirsty, she’d even drink orange juice, right now. And she hated orange juice.

But Simon grunted, reaching out and stopping her hand with his own. His glove was slightly damp, and she blinked, frowning as she looked at him again.

“You’re wet,” she said, finally noticing that his gear was dripping a little bit. He grunted, ignoring her, and then gestured at a matchbook next to the stove. She stared at it in confusion, not knowing what he wanted her to do, before turning her attention back to the trail of water he was leaving in his wake. “You shouldn't walk around in wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold—”

Lelia paused, looked at Simon’s already dead self, and blushed.

“Well. Maybe you won’t, but still. You’re getting water everywhere. You should take them off to let them dry,” she continued, trying to recover. Simon gave her what she thought might have been an amused look, if the little crinkles around his sunken, milky white eyes meant anything. Though it was entirely possible she was just imagining it. “There’s a closet in the bedroom. I’m sure I can find you something to wear while you wait.”

Eager to escape after her blunder, she retreated to do just that. She heard Simon let out a grumble that sounded suspiciously like an exasperated sigh, but she didn't let that stop her. She let out her own noise of victory when she found a set of flannel pajamas that looked like they would fit her zombie.

When she returned to the kitchen, Simon was in the process of removing his gear. Lelia watched as he struggled with zips and buckles—he was making progress, but very slowly—and took a step closer to him.

“Do you need help?” She asked innocently, never one to just stand idly by.

***

Simon froze, damnable buckle falling from his stiff fingers. It had taken him ages to get all this off and back on again at the stream, but he’d managed. He would manage again… but his little dove was offering to help. To stand close to him, to touch him, or at least his clothes… he knew he should have said no, that she was just being kind and didn’t actually want to get anywhere near him—but she sounded so sincere, and he was so fucking desperate. So he groaned quietly, almost ashamed, as he jerked his head in a nod, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

Lelia set the clothes she’d found for him on the arm of the couch and then approached, starting with removing his helmet. She was so small, she couldn’t reach even when she stood on her toes, and he had to crouch down a little bit, knees creaking.

“You’re blonde,” she said, surprised. He looked down at her. She was close enough that he couldn’t smell anything but her, and it was intoxicating. But not nearly as intoxicating as the feel of her body heat, so near yet so far. He sniffed discreetly, once again trying to place the floral scent on her skin. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect that. I wonder what color your eyes were…”

Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him.

She moved on to unbuckling his vest, and then unzipping his jacket once he’d gotten the bulky gear out of the way. Underneath was a plain black t-shirt, the least destroyed item of clothing he had on, but also the foulest smelling. Her delicate little nose wrinkled slightly, and he would have found it adorable if he weren't so embarrassed. He reeked, still, and she smelt so delicious he began to drool again. He reached up to wipe it away, but his dove beat him to it, using the sleeve of the jacket he’d just discarded. She seemed entirely unphased, rather than repulsed like he thought she’d be, just giving him a smile before stepping back.

“No buttons on that,” she said as an explanation. He didn’t dare mention the buttons on his combat trousers, once again disgusted by his own thoughts. He pulled his t-shirt off after a second of hesitation, knowing the grisly sight that lay beneath. Grey, translucent, thinning skin smattered with deep gashes in several places that would never heal. They were accompanied by faded tattoos and dozens of scars, including a patchwork of rough, burnt flesh over his bicep and left shoulder, going all the way down to his hip. He reached quickly for the dry shirt, but Lelia stopped him.

“Your gloves,” she said, staring at his torso with a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't positive, though, he could tell that much. She tore her gaze away a second later, gently grabbing one of his hands and pulling it closer to her as she undid the velcro strap at his wrist. She slipped her fingers beneath the wrist of his glove, and he felt her skin directly against his own for the very first time.

He groaned, resisting the urge to grab her hand and keep it where it was. He couldn’t feel the softness of her skin, his own senses too numb for that, but the heat of it practically scorched him in the most pleasant way. It sank all the way down to his frozen bones, and when it slipped away as she pulled his glove off, it was agony.

She repeated the process with his other glove, and his bare hands twitched as he fought not to clutch onto hers and not let go. Finally, he regained control of himself, grabbing the flannel pajama shirt and pulling it on. It was a couple sizes too small, clinging to him like a second skin and stopping an inch or so above the waistband of his combat trousers, but it would do for now, even if he felt ridiculous.

“You’re shivering,” his dove said, frowning. “I’ll fetch you a blanket.”

She turned around and headed back into the bedroom, and he took the chance to shuck off his trousers. It was almost as if the warmth of her touch had reinvigorated his hands, or perhaps it was just luck, because he managed to get the button on the third try, and the zip on the second. He stepped into the too-small flannels just as she was returning with the quilt he’d given her earlier. He tried to avoid taking it—though he felt cold, he knew it was all in his mind—as he didn't want to contaminate it with the smell of death. But Lelia was stubborn, and she just wrapped the blanket around his shoulders for him, so he looked like he was wearing a flowery, quilted cape.

“There,” she said with a pleased smile, before bending down to pick up his gear and head over to the door. He followed her, a silent, massive, undead shadow, unwilling to let her go outside without him. He stood guard as she hung the clothes over the half-rotted wooden banister of the tiny porch, and when she came back in, he grunted to get her attention again before leading her back to the kitchenette. He tapped the matchbook, then pointed at the pile of firewood in the metal belly of the stove.

“You want me to start a fire?” She asked nervously, and he nodded, pointing at the logs again. She paled. “I don't know… I’ve never done that before. What if I burn myself?”

Ghost didn't like the thought of her getting hurt any more than she did, but they didn’t have a choice. She needed drinkable water, and right now, boiling what was in the bucket was the only way she was going to get that. So he fumbled for the book of matches and then pressed it into her hands—and if he let out another pleased groan when her warm skin touched his again, he hoped she misread it as encouragement.

His dove looked afraid, but she notched her chin and accepted the matches, clearly trying to put on a brave face. He let himself wonder at the fact that she had never used matches before. What kind of world had she lived in, prior to the end of it? Based on her nice clothes, posh accent, and utter lack of survival instincts, he imagined it was something privileged, something sheltered. He would’ve scoffed at the thought if he were still alive—pretty little rich girl with a pretty, perfect life. Had the dead not risen, she likely would have never known pain or fear or struggle. It would’ve angered him back then; the injustice of it all. The jealousy. Now, he just felt sad. She deserved a life like that. Not this hell on earth. She was woefully unprepared for her new reality—and she had suffered for it. The men she had had to rely on to keep her safe had put that haunted look in her eyes that spoke of a pain familiar to him, if unnamable. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. That he couldn’t kill each and every person that had ever contributed to her suffering. But there was nothing he could do about that, now. All he could do was keep her safe, keep her alive. And maybe even make her laugh again.

It took a few tries, and several broken matches, but Lelia finally managed to get one lit without immediately dropping it in fear. She tossed it into the stove, and while Ghost would have advised her to hold it to the corner of one of the logs, first, it did the trick, and the fire caught. He gave her a groan of approval, and admired the way her face lit up with pride, a rosiness dusting her cheeks as she grinned. She was always beautiful, but when she smiled, she looked like an angel. Something far too good and far too pure for this hellish plane and all the monsters that lived on it, both alive and dead.

Together, they watched the water boil. It was about as exciting as watching paint dry, and took only slightly less time due to the old fashioned stove and small flame. He didn't mind, though, as his dove eventually began to fill the silence with mindless chatter, telling him about the meals her private chef—oh, so she’d been rich rich—used to make for her. Ghost was informed very seriously that Román was the best cook in the world and could have had his own restaurant, but he liked hearing Lelia’s in-depth analysis of his meals too much to leave. Ghost thought it was adorable that she believed that that’s why the chef had stayed, rather than the money he was making. Then again, Ghost had stayed because of her too, so maybe there was some truth to her words after all.

When the water was sufficiently clean, he grabbed the bucket and moved it off the stove so it could cool down. Curiously, he didn't feel any heat from it, despite knowing it had to be hot enough to burn. It only made him crave his dove’s touch even more, the only source of warmth in his cold, undead life.

He searched through the cupboards again as they waited, looking for some sort of cup. He found a single dusty mug with a large chip near the rim. It was no crystal champagne flute, like she was clearly used to, but it would do. He handed it over, and Lelia made a face but thanked him nonetheless. She unbuttoned her pink tweed jacket and untucked a section of her still clean white blouse underneath, using it to wipe out the mug. He stared.

Look away, Simon’s voice in his head ordered. Ghost reluctantly obeyed. You’re a vile creature. You don’t get to look at her like that.

Even if Ghost was alive, he'd probably think the same thing. He’d been old and monstrous then. He was dead and monstrous now. He'd never lived a life in which he would deserve a sweet thing like her. But he still wanted, in this life and the last.

So when Lelia smiled at him after drinking her fill of the purified water, lips still wet and shiny, he tried to ignore the phantom sensation of his undead heart pounding in his chest.

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 14 hours ago

Note

So Metallicas biography by Mick Wall states that James got more confidence after his acne went down and he got a few girls. So this inspired my idea: maybe back when he was insecure about his looks he started dating a girl who was “out of his league”, and she really loved him, they were each others firsts and other puppy love staff and she always told him how handsome he is? but he soon broke up with her because of his insecurities and cause Dave was saying that James was a “pity project” for her. So during MoP tour when they are in turn he wants to reconcile, but she’s very upset not only because of break up but because “I told you so many times how amazing you are but that wasn’t good enough but when a bunch of groupies say so you believe them?”

Omg, I love so much James with acne, he's too cuteeee. By the way, I hope you like it❤

Just the way you are

The night I met James, he wasn’t the confident rockstar the world would come to know. Instead, he was the boy who didn’t quite understand why someone like me would even look at him twice. He was still growing, not just in his music but in himself—still insecure, his face dotted with acne, his posture hunched as if trying to hide from the world. I remember how he’d avoid looking into my eyes, always fidgeting with his hands or the sleeve of his jacket, almost as if waiting for me to call him out, tell him he wasn’t worthy of my time.

But I never did.

I could see the real James—the one behind the mask he tried so hard to wear. The one who, when he smiled, looked like he could light up the darkest room. The one who was funny, kind, and so full of ideas. His eyes, though shadowed by his insecurities, always seemed to be searching for something. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was validation.

For months, we spent endless nights talking, laughing, and just being together. I told him, again and again, how beautiful he was—how his soul shone brighter than anything I had ever seen. But no matter how many times I said it, no matter how I held him close, it never seemed to stick. He would laugh it off, shrug, and change the subject.

“I’m nothing special,” he’d mutter, his voice barely audible.

I couldn’t understand it. To me, James was everything. More than just the musician everyone idolized. He was someone I saw beyond the rough exterior, beyond the acne that made him so self-conscious. He was perfect to me. But he couldn’t see it.

One night, after a particularly brutal argument with Dave, something snapped in James. The insults from Dave always made him retreat into himself, but this time it was different. “You’re just a pity project for her,” Dave had said. His words cut deep, and I could see the effect it had on James. His eyes glazed over, a storm brewing behind them.

“James… that’s not true,” I whispered, reaching for his hand. But he pulled it away.

“I don’t know what you see in me,” he muttered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m not some pretty boy you should be with. You deserve someone better.”

It was the first time I truly saw the cracks in his facade. All his doubts, all his fears, bled out in that moment, and I realized just how fragile he really was. I tried to reassure him, to tell him that I loved him, that I always would, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t believe them.

Then, it happened.

One night, right after another heart-wrenching conversation, he pulled away.

“I’m not good enough for you,” James said, barely looking at me. “It’s not right. I don’t deserve you.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to lose him, but he had already made up his mind. The breakup came swiftly, a quiet moment in the dark as if he had already been gone for so long.

I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t fathom how, after everything we had been through—after I’d shown him just how much I cared for him, how much I loved him—he couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t believe in me. He couldn’t believe in himself.

_____

Months passed. The Master of Puppets tour rolled on, and Metallica was everywhere. James became the image of confidence the world adored—his face no longer hidden behind acne, his smile bright as ever. The validation he once craved seemed to come in waves, in groupies, in adoration from fans, and the recognition of the world. He was a star. He was the rock god everyone worshipped.

But every time I saw his face on TV or heard his voice on the radio, my heart sank. It wasn’t the fame that bothered me. It was the truth I had known all along.

It came late one evening, the sound of the knock at my door startling me out of a long, restless sleep. I opened the door to find him standing there, just like he had so many times before. Only this time, it was different. He wasn’t the confident rockstar, he wasn’t hiding behind the world’s expectations. He was just James.

“Y/n… can we talk?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I felt a lump form in my throat. Part of me wanted to slam the door, to tell him it was too late, to shout all the hurt I had kept inside. But I couldn’t. There was something in the way he said my name—something raw that made my heart ache.

“Come in,” I whispered, stepping aside.

He walked in slowly, looking like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were tired, sad, but also determined, like he was willing to fight for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“I’ve thought about everything,” he started, his voice low. “Everything I said… everything I did. I was scared. I was stupid. I didn’t believe you when you told me how amazing I was. I didn’t believe I could be worthy of your love. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I felt my heart race. Those words. They were the ones I had needed to hear for so long, but they weren’t enough, were they? The damage had already been done. He had walked away, and now, months later, he was standing here with nothing but regrets and apologies.

I crossed my arms, holding back the tears. “You know, James, I told you over and over. I told you how beautiful you were, how amazing you were. I told you I loved you, but it was never enough, was it? You didn’t believe it. And now… when a bunch of groupies say so you believe them?”

James looked at me with pleading eyes. “I was wrong. and stupid. I know I was. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me like that,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I need you to know what I said… it wasn’t true. I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now. You were never a ‘pity project.’ You never deserved to feel like that. You deserve so much more.”

The words hung in the air. I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in so long, I saw the James I had loved—the real James—standing in front of me, stripped of his bravado, exposed, vulnerable.

“I told you, James,” I whispered, stepping forward. “I told you so many times. And I know now… I can’t just give you all of me without knowing you believe in us. I needed to know that you believe in us”

He nodded, his eyes sincere. “I believe in us, Y/n. I believe in you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it, if you’ll let me.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, emotions rushing over me all at once. He was still the boy I had loved, but now there was more—so much more. He wasn’t the same James who had walked away. This was the man who had finally faced his fears, who had finally learned to believe in himself, in us.

I felt the tightness in my chest loosen, the walls I had built to protect myself slowly crumbling. I stepped closer, my voice shaking as I whispered, “I was so scared, James. I wanted to hold onto you so badly, but I couldn’t keep holding onto someone who couldn’t see me. You didn’t see me. But I need to know—do you see me now?”

His eyes softened, and he reached for me, his hand trembling just a little. “I do. I see you, Y/n. I’ve always seen you, but I was too scared to look at what you really were. You’ve always been what I needed, but I was too stupid to understand it before.”

I closed the space between us, the weight of everything we’d been through crashing over me. My hands found his, and I could feel the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his grip. “I’m not perfect, James. I’ve been angry. I’ve been hurt. But maybe… maybe I can try again. For us. If you really mean it.”

James pulled me into him, and I could feel the tension that had been between us for so long melt away. His arms wrapped around me, holding me like he would never let me go again. My heart swelled as I rested my head against his chest, hearing the familiar beat of his heart beneath my ear.

“I’ll never let you go,” he murmured, kissing my temple, his voice thick with emotion. “Not this time. Not ever.”

A tear slipped from my eye, but this time, it wasn’t from pain—it was from relief, from the healing I had longed for. I felt his thumb gently brush it away, his lips pressing softly against my forehead.

“I’ve always loved you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we had been through. “And I think I’ve always known… you’d come back to me. ”

James smiled softly, and in that moment, I knew. We couldn’t erase the past, but we could build something new. Something better. The years of pain, the uncertainty, the distance—everything that had torn us apart was now behind us, and all that mattered was what came next. For the first time in a long time, I truly believed that we could make it. I could feel the love between us growing again, like a fire rekindling after a long, cold night.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield one shot #james hetfield angst #angst with a happy ending #nausicaamusiclover20

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smok3ygoth · 1 day ago

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SANCTUARY

Summary: After a chaotic day, you head to the pub and bump into Louis, which blossoms into something beautiful. [1.3k]

—

Tonight, you find yourself at the local pub, seeking solace in your usual escape. As you sip your vodka and Coke, the familiar rhythm of the low music surrounds you, creating a comforting haze that drowns out your racing thoughts.

You swayed gently, letting the world outside fade away, if only for a little while. You'd been inside for hours, drinking and giggling to yourself, realising just how ridiculous your life had become.

"Can't fucking believe this."

After an exhausting eight-hour shift, you were so ready to unwind and enjoy some TV time with your lovely boyfriend, but then everything changed.

Once you got home, you heard squeaking from upstairs, like someone was bouncing on the bed. You didn't bother changing; you stormed up the stairs and burst into your bedroom.

"What the actual fuck?"

There, right in front of you, was one of your best friends getting bent over by your boyfriend—the guy you'd been with for five years, and someone you’d known forever.

"Wait—""I don't want to fucking hear it. You better be gone by the time I get back or you'll regret it." You'd said rather calmly, which is undoubtedly scarier than screaming at them.

And now, here you are at the bar, alone.

"Fuck, I need some fresh air." You grabbed your drink and went to sit outside on one of the empty benches. You reached into your back and you swore you had a pack of fags in there.

"For fucksake, could this day get any worse?" You said this right before someone accidentally spilled some of their beer on you.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" The woman apologised, but you could tell she was very pissed, so you just waved it off with a smile.

"Guess I'll just sit here and sip my drink," you said to yourself, hoping the night would turn around. You pulled out your phone, thinking about what series of movies you could dive into later to forget all this.

Then, a hand reached out in front of you, offering a cigarette. You looked up, surprised at the man standing before you. You took the cigarette and placed it between your lips as his hand came up to light it for you.

Inhaling deeply, you asked, "How did you know I needed a smoke?"

"I've seen you here a few times, crying, and I've always offered you a smoke." You blushed at his words.

Well, that's embarrassing.

Taking another long, deep inhale of the cigarette, you asked, "Aren't you that singer? What's your name?"

"Louis Tomlinson, and what may your name be, darling?" The pet name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Why did it suddenly feel so warm?

"It's Y/N, but you can call me whatever you like. Isn't it a bit risky just hanging out at the pub with no security?"

"A bit. My fans are respectful, though, so I love seeing them when I'm out. I'm guessing you're not a fan?" he joked, a playful glint in his eye.

"I could be a fan, but I might just be hiding it. You'll never know," you replied with a laugh, feeling the chemistry spark between the two of you.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to find out then," he chuckled, leaning in a little closer. The warmth between you felt electric, and for a moment, the earlier chaos faded away.

"So, what brings you out here tonight? Besides, you know, the vodka?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by why you would be here all by yourself.

You took another drag from the cigarette, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Honestly, I just needed a break from everything. It's been one of those days, you know?" You smiled, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.

"But now it seems like I've stumbled onto something a bit more interesting."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"You."

"You're quite bold, you know?"

"I am aware, yes." You giggle as he lights his own cigarette, offering you another since you'd finished yours.

You both sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the comforting silence that you both needed.

"Hey, Lou?"

"Yes, love?" He turned to you, a spark of intrigue in his eyes at the nickname you had given him.

"Would you like to—I don't know—be friends? We could go to my place and watch some TV since it's getting quite chilly out here, and I don't really want to drink anymore."

"Course we can, yeah. Don't want you walking home by yourself either." A smile spread across your face, gratitude shining in your eyes.

"Let's go then." You both finish your cigarettes, and you take his hand, leading the way to your place. It’s closer than Louis expected, but he’s not complaining.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag by the door. You quickly turn on the heating, eager to warm up from the chilly air outside.

"Would you like a drink or something?" you ask as he settles onto the comfortable sofa in the living room.

"Tea, please, love."

"On it." You smile at him as he gets comfortable on the sofa, making himself at home while scrolling through a bunch of different movies.

As you focus on making tea for both of you, your mind drifts, and you momentarily forget about your boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend.

"Y/N?" You spin around, shocked to see him still lingering in your house.

"I told you to get the fuck out."

"Wait—please let me explain!"

"What is there to explain? It was pretty obvious what was happening. I'm just curious about how long this has been going on." He avoids your gaze, mumbling.

"Hmm, what was that?"

"Two years."

"Wow. This all happened under my roof? You're fucking disgusting. Get out. Now."

"You heard her, get the fuck out." Louis spoke.

"Who the fuck are you?" Louis steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist—a protective gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Your replacement. I'm better than you, and you know it, so fuck off." Louis grinned, a mix of amusement and defiance in his eyes as he watched your ex-boyfriend storm out, slamming the door behind him.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Louis' boldness and the way he handled the situation. "Thanks for that. He really needed to go."

Louis shrugged casually. "No worries, love. No one messes with my friends like that."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Louis' unexpected presence and unwavering support. "I owe you one, Lou."

He flashed you a warm smile. "Nah, we're friends now. That's what friends are for, right?"

Right, friends. But did you want to be just friends? Of course not. You didn't know how it happened so quickly, but you knew you had developed some romantic feelings for Louis.

"Lou?" Your voice wavered as you spoke, looking up at him with shy eyes.

"Hm?"

"I think I like you. I know we've only just gotten to know each other, but I like you, and I know you probably don't feel—" He cut off your rambling with a soft kiss on the lips, a smile spreading warmth across your face.

"What were you saying, hmm, love?" You gazed into his eyes, feeling a rush of courage. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time slower and deeper, savouring the moment as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

"I like you too," he whispered against your lips, making you grin and kiss him harder. The world around you faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his body and the electric connection between you.

As you pulled away slightly, breathless and smiling, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"So, what now?" you asked, a playful glint in your gaze. Louis chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Now, we take it one day at a time, together." With that, he leaned in for another kiss, and in that moment, you realised this was just the start of something truly beautiful. He had become your safe haven, your sanctuary amidst the chaos.

—

This is my first fic on this app because I have no idea how to use it, and it needs more Louis fics. I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist and all that, but for now, I'm just going to leave this little thing here. :) P.S. This is my first fic ever, so please don't hate. Thanks! xD

Please send requests! <3

#louis tomlinson fanfic #louis tomlinson x reader #x reader #fem reader #smok3ygoth #one direction #relationship #i don't know how to tag this #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson fanfiction #louis tomlinson imagine #i love him #omgggg #louis tomilson #louis tommo #oneshot #short story #fluff

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rwshfordgirl · 1 day ago

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can we be each other's company?

summary: on a rainy day in london, jude decides to take advantage of his free day before joining the national team and makes a surprise visit to his friend's house. pairing: jude bellingham × reader a/n: i'm inactive due to college activities :( i hope you like it

no weather forecast warned me about the storm that hit today. but then again, how does a person who lives in london leave the house without an umbrella? i got home soaking wet and very angry with myself.

my mom laughed when she saw me walking past her in the living room "you're going to get sick if you keep getting caught in the rain like that." she reminded me that this wasn't the first rain shower of the week. what a horrible week, i just wanted to never leave the house again and i wish jude was here, he would laugh at me but would hug me afterwards. and i would definitely cry in his arms just because i took a shower in the rain twice in a week.

i threw my things on the floor as soon as i entered my room and almost fainted when i heard a loud male voice in the room. "tough day, beautiful?" jude bellingham was in my room just as i asked in my mind, the heavens heard me. he was standing in front of my window and i ran to hug him. "why didn't you tell me you were coming? does my mother know you're here? why didn't she tell me?" jude was wet "and spoil the surprise?" he smiled "go change your clothes" he said.

i went to the bathroom and changed my clothes at the speed of light. it's been so long since i've seen jude and he's one of my best friends.

when i got back to the room, he was lying on my bed and he motioned for me to lie down next to him. and that's what i did, i lay down there on top of his left arm.

"i missed you, you won't see me play anymore and hardly sends me messages." i turned my face so i could look in his direction. "talk to my college professors and my boss, they are the reason behind it." i said "i was feeling lonely without you." he said "i doubt it, your spanish friends must have stayed with you." i said "not for a second." he replied. "okay then, if you say so."

if my mom opened the bedroom door right now, she'd see us in this position and set off fireworks in here. she keeps saying that jude and i are a couple and that i don't want to admit it.

but i laugh when she says that, who would have thought that he and I could be a couple? well, maybe i imagined it sometimes, in the silence of the night when it's just me and the little voice inside my head. i would like to give jude little kisses and... thinking about it now, we already behave like a couple, there really is just no kissing part.

"shut up" i said mentally before getting out of bed. "i need to record a video with you, record this rare moment" i said as i picked up my phone. jude sat on the bed and i approached him, again.

"after two months, mr. bellingham decided to show his face here." i said as i put my arm around his neck. the player looked at me and his face became expressionless. and suddenly, i was surprised by jude's kiss. i went to heaven and came back. jude bellingham kissed me. not on the cheek or forehead like he usually does, jude's soft lips touched my glossed lips.

"i've been wanting to do this for a while now." he admitted. i put my phone aside and brought our lips together once more. "i'm glad you did." i said.

kissing jude had been in my plans for a long time and apparently kissing my mouth was also in his plans. i was dating when i met jude and he was the person who supported me the most after the breakup, it was there that we practically became best friends. i don't think he approached me with ulterior motives, things just came up over time.

"i think we should try, you know?" he said "i agree" i said "you know i like being with you, i like talking to you, i like hearing you talk and i hate not seeing you for a long time. i wish you could stay like this forever, stuck to me all the time." he vented "we can't just be friends." he admitted and i nodded "couldn't agree with you more, baby jude."

#football imagine #football blurb #football one shot #football x reader #footballer imagine #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff

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mimez-meme · 3 days ago

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More nemuri and hizashi headcanons ‼️💜💛 +some individual headcanons, little angst.

They have kissed on the lips atleast three times. One was for a dare, one once when they were drunk and once was just for fun😭

People thought they were dating for a long time, they did pretend to date at some point but that was because hizashi and nemuri wasn’t sure how the public would react to them being gay and pansexual.

Whenever nemuri uses her quirk too much and a lot of skin is showing or just after she uses he quirk in general, if present mic is there he will give her his jacket.

After aizawa left after graduation they would have a lot of sleepovers, stay at each others houses for a while. It was how they would look after eachother. But it didn’t last long as hizashi started to get more closed off. But whenever hizashi had trouble sleeping nemuri would use her quirk on him and sing a little song. And if nemuri was having trouble sleeping hizashi woud cuddle up with her, give her some headphones to listen to some nice songs to help distract her.

Hizashi knows nemuri liked oboro and hizashi was the one to tell her that oboro liked her back after his death at some point. But he kinda regrets letting her know that.

Nemuri once sent hizashi gay corn as a joke.. hizashi was like “wtf. I didn’t know you were into that..” nemuri spent the next couple of days tryna explain to hizashi that it was a joke and that she isn’t into it. Hizashi was just laughing and making jokes about it

Sent eachother ugly characters and goes “bitch this you??” And edits of eachother or of themselves

Has a lot of ugly photos of eachother on their phones. They use them as threats.

for one Halloween they went as Harley Quinn and the joker, another as peach and Mario. (They actually did a lot of matching Halloween costumes, yes some did include Shouta.)

Raised a virtual pet together (they weren’t the best)

Midnight had the CRAZIEST hear me outs. Like she would say “hear me out!” And it would be like an monster or something 💀 Hizashi had to deal with being told hear me out like 24/7

Voiced over Barbie and Ken moments together

Nemuri use to sometimes borrows hizashi’s clothes, he just dealt with it. (Hizashi does own some baggy stuff guys) and also nemuri did sometimes borrow his suits for like days out if she feels like it

Got nails done together and after nemuri died hizashi gets his nails how nemuri did as memory. Obviously not the exact same like not fake nails and everything but same colour and something on some nails or one representing midnight.

Nemuri once dared hizashi to show up to his English class dressed as Michael Jackson, enter the class with his music, enter moonwalking and do his little “Ow!” Thing. You bet his ass mic did it. Hizashi then also dared nemuri to show up in REALLY ugly clothes or clothes that look wrecked/dirty, messy hair and everything. Then tell the class a fake scenario to why she’s like this and play sad music as she’s telling the story. She did it.

After nemuri died hizashi went to build a bear and got a bear with her voice in it. He knows it’s ‘childish’ but it makes him genuinely happy sometimes. It brings him comfort.

Nemuri is a good painter. Nemuri paints stuff and shows them to hizashi (Shouta as well but this is about hizashi and nemuri) and if hizashi likes the painting, he’ll keep it. He has atleast 4 of nemuri’s paintings in his house. Hizashi is a decent drawer, nemuri also keept some of his drawings if she liked them.

Once for Halloween hizashi decided to do a prank on nemuri by dressing up as scream and sneaking inside her house, playing with her lights and doing other scary shit. And since he’s good at impressions as well he managed to do a good scream impression and scare nemuri more. (I suck at explaining but it’s like those basic Halloween YouTube pranks shit idk)

Once nemuri made hizashi dress up as a girl and go to a lesbian club with her

Watched arcane together (yall im so excited for more eps)😍 Nemuri has a crush on victor, Jayce, sevika and Caitlyn, trust🙏

I headcanon that nemuri has an older brother but she doesn’t see him a lot, so once hizashi organised something with her brother and they surprised her.

Rant about their favourite students to eachother

They played dress to impress together and they SERVED.

After Nemuri’s death sometimes hizashi goes to this one specific bar they use to usually go to for memories but he feels this empty void. Like it’s wrong to be there without Nemuri. He feels so wrong when he goes there alone so eventually he stopped because the memories also did eventually start becoming too much for him.

I headcanon that Nemuri use to work as a makeup artists when she was 18-22? And during those times sometimes hizashi would come visit her and ask for a look, mostly as a joke but he doesn’t mind getting makeup put on him. Whenever he did he would either come out looking like a clown or some kind of horror person. Very rarely would Nemuri do a good/basic look on him. Nemuri would always laugh and say “pay back for trying to distract me from work!” Or something idk

Linked to last headcanon, hizashi also use to work at a bar early 20’s and Nemuri would come visit him and either just talk to him or cause a scene/create chaos. Hizashi and Nemuri would have a laugh about it now but back then hizashi would find it annoying but also kinda funny. Nemuri did get banned from the bar for a bit but hizashi managed to get her back and then Nemuri just decided enough chaos and just came to visit. After zashi quit the job Nemuri and him would sometimes come back or just hizashi would.

They would get a lot of jokey stuff for each others birthday. Like sex books, anything dirty or just weird stuff in general but obviously proper presents to. Nemuri loved scented candles so hizashi would always get her one plus other stuff. Nemuri would always get hizashi anything music stuff or things that would help with his radio show ect.

Nemuri use to be able to carry hizashi when they were younger. (UA years)

Like Nemuri use to send aizawa pictures of cats everyday (canon, which is super cute) she also use to send hizashi memes almost every day and before oboro died she sent pictures of furries to him everyday😭

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #present mic #hizashi yamada #idk man #kohei horikoshi #nemuri kayama #mha midnight #nemuri and hizashi #my hero headcanons #headcanons #present mic headcanons #nemuri headcanons #angst?#friendship

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sunnydayaoe · 2 days ago

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{Letting Go}

[CCCC FIC] Contains: Platonic Soul, Heart and Mind; sfw pet regression [~2,000 words]

kitten regressed Soul and dog Mind, with caregiver Heart at the very end. From the prompt: "id love to see 2 of HMS regressed at the same time tbh, imagine the chaos lmao" Soul doesn't like regressing in front of the others, but spending time with puppy Mind makes it impossible not to. He learns that maybe it isn't so bad to show a little vulnerability sometimes.

Fic under cut! or on AO3

Soul knew since the moment the day started up he was going to be having a rough day.

He'd woken up late, something that had started happening much more now that he'd reached concord; no longer did he wake up hours before he needed to, panting and filled with dread, sure that something had gone wrong. His mornings were slower, now.

The sun had long since risen, and warm soft light reached through his window. It seemed Mind had visited and opened them... He stretched, letting the blanket fall off him and exposing more of him to the sun beams. A slight fuzzyness took root at the back of his mind and he froze as soon as he realized what it was.

He tried to shake it off all morning, of course. Going through his daily routine as best he could.

Mind hadn't made breakfast, but that wasn't too unusual; sometimes his Mind just wasn't feeling in the mood for it. Maybe it had slept in as well. The customary bowl of coco-pebbles he went for instead only reminded him of cat kibble though, and the milk definitely made it worse. He had to resist the urge to try and eat it without a spoon.

Even in concord, he didn't know how much he trusted his thirds with him, like this. What would they do if he wasn't at full capacity? A thought he didn't want to explore.

The cereal was done now, leaving only a shallow bit of milk at the bottom of the bowl. He poured it out.

The rest of the day seemed to be similarly conspiring to get him down as well. Blinds were usually kept open in the house, not including the ones in Heart's room, and the weather was perfect.

The entire house seems bathed in a warm glow, everything softer than it really was. The atmosphere just beckoning him to take a little catnap. For just a moment.

He shook his head. He really couldn't be having those thoughts. He could get through this.

---

He could not get through this.

He'd made lunch, his turn today. It wasn't much, he really wasn't in the mood for anything fancy: some sandwiches, ham and cheese. Heart readily excepted it with a few thankful words, grin sweet. {It always relaxed him to see its thirds, safe, unharmed. He couldn't let himself get too relaxed though, complacency led to mistakes.}

That wasn't what had gotten him though, what had gotten him was his Mind.

He couldn't blame it, especially with how embarrassed she looked. Shame wasn't a good look, at least not in concord. He was setting the plate he'd brought aside and reaching for it before he'd had a second thought. Falling to the floor and cupping its face.

It leaned into his hands after a moment, shushing its cheek against his palm, huffy. She always got a bit huffy like this though, so he didn't pay much mind. "Hey Soul..."

He smiled at it, at the cute little paw gloves it was wearing, the collar around its neck. He ignored the blistering jealousy, how hard it was becoming to stay in the right headspace. Now was not the time. "Hey Puppy. Didn't feel like getting one of us?"

It didn't answer for a moment, just pouting. He didn't really need it to answer, the question more for show than anything. Concord had been short so far, and he really couldn't blame it for having the same instinct as himself.

With an indulgent sigh he pulled it closer, "C'mere Apollo. I'm sure you've had a rough day puppy, all alone like that. Something happen?" {He ignored how the words struck a chord in him as well; this was about Mind, it was the one actually regressed, who really needed someone with it right now.}

She let herself get dragged into his lap easily, freezing for just a moment before shoving her face into his neck. "Thanks Soul..." Her nose was cold, but her everything was always cold, so he was prepared. A moment more and she had her arms wrapped around him too. "Nothin' happened, just uhm- a bad dream."

He cooed, peppering a few gentle kisses across its cheek at that. "Oh you poor thing, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. Don't worry though, I'm here now."

Relaxation slowly seeped into its frame, and its arms tightened around him. It seemed she was in a more cuddly mood and not a playful one. A curse and a blessing, because while a rambunctious puppy wasn't the easiest thing to deal with, it certainly wouldn't' be helping his own regression encroaching closer. Not like cuddling would, at least.

Productive, he needed to be productive; that always got him Groping around the desk he managed to grab the plate he'd originally entered the room to give it and bring it back to the floor without pushing Mind off his lap. "Hungry?"

She lifted her face from his neck at that, curious at his shifting, and eyes zeroing in on the sandwich. It seemed the stress from earlier was melting at the mention of food, cute. He giggled, that single-minded focus it got like this was so cute; no longer overthinking things as much as it usually did, pursuing its wants like a bloodhound with a scent.

"I'll take that as a yes," he giggled, letting it happily eat out of his hands. He didn't need to feed it, but he knew if he didn't it would probably tear the sandwich apart and only eat only the meat. It only took a moment, messy as it was, heedless of the normal manners Mind always prided itself on.

Seeming satisfied with that, it went immediately back to trying to get itself as close to him as possible, a difficult task, considering the fact it was already in his lap. It pressed against him, putting more and more weight, and he let it. She seemed to have a plan, and who was he to deny her it?

Now they were both splayed across the floor, and he let a little crooked grin cross his face. "The floor isn't really the best place for cuddling, bud."

It just huffed, ignoring his words, dragging him a bit to the left and- oh. Right into a sunbeam, right on its soft fluffy rug. With that it flopped down beside him, head laid against his chest. It let out a little rumbly noise, and he knew it was just the voice modulator, just it breathing a satisfied sigh, that it was a dog not a cat, but all he could hear was a purr. He rumbled back before he knew what he was doing.

Once he started it was hard to stop though, snuggled up on a soft rug, enveloped by the warmth of the sun. It didn't seem to mind him falling out of that more in charge role. The productivity he was hiding behind was getting less and less required; it was getting harder to remember why he couldn't be doing this.

The world seemed to grow fuzzy, and he let it. He curled up a little, bunching up to fit more of him in the sun than out, and his Mind seemed to take this as cue to stretch out, surrounding him. Safe, protected by his Mind. Maybe he could be a kitten...

Eyes drifting half-lidded, he smushed his face into her chest and let his arms reach out, making biscuits into her side. It arched a little into the affection, maybe the motion was akin to bellyrubs for it? He continued, happy to be sharing the moment with his Mind.

It was a nice, almost ideal, stretch of time.

The two of them just lazily enjoying each others presences on the rug. At some point he'd ended up curled up on its chest, happily tucked against its neck, a reverse of what they had been doing earlier that evening.

Why was he so opposed to this? Spending time with his lovely, darling Mind, cuddled up to her in a way he usually didn't allow himself...

Foot-steps startled him out of his daze though, and his flinch seemed to do the same to Mind, a low growl emanating from it as it curled around him. The sound was much bigger than he liked, but he reminded himself he shouldn't be scared, because Mind might be a dog but he was a dog that was nice to little kittens.

The door creaked open and he did Not like that. Something about being seen like this felt wrong, and he hissed and struggled in Mind's arms until it released him. Before its wide puppy-dog eyes could guilt him, he'd already shoved himself under the desk.

Mind followed, completely ignoring the door to sniff at Soul's hiding spot. He hissed again, annoyed and frustrated with its lack of urgency. Sitting like that, the puppy was totally exposed and definitely making it so anybody who found it would find him next.

"What's going on in here?"

Both of their attention were dragged right back to the door at that, Heart peaking in.

Mind wasted no time in bowling into Heart's legs, jumping up and trying to lick at his face. Soul did the opposite, pushing further back under the desk. A futile effort, because Heart was already looking at him.

Heart gently pushed Mind off of themself, quietly shushing its whines at being ignored, "Just a moment puppy, I need to check in on Soul, okay? Be a good boy okay? Just for a little bit."

She didn't like that, but did quiet down. Unhappily trailing behind Heart as he approached the desk.

"Soul, uh-" They didn't seem to know what to do, drowned in unfamiliar territory. "You too?"

His face burned with shame. He didn't like getting caught like this, didn't like the stress that filled his Heart's voice. He let out a whine. Harmonia, what a mess!

The noise only made it worse, Heart's face scrunching further in concern and panic. "No no no it's not bad! Promise buddy. Can you tell me what you are?"

Soul really didn't want to, but he'd already caused so much trouble, he should make it easier for Heart... "A- a kitten..."

Heart's face seemed to soften at the admission, a little coo escaping his lips. "Good boy, thanks for telling me, bud." He glanced at Mind, impatiently pawing at the ground and starting to whine, before looking back to Soul, "You had fun hanging out with the puppy?"

He nodded a little, it was pretty nice... "Bigger en' me..."

Mind seemed to preen at that, impatience winning out as it shoved itself under the desk with Soul and curling around him. He relaxed at that, that fuzzy safe feeling returning with it pressed against his side.

"Aww, you've got yourself a little guard dog, huh kitty?" Heart giggled, looking at the two of them, before a more serious look came across his face as he backed up, "Let's get out from under there though, it really can't be comfortable... how about the bed? That sound good?"

Mind didn't answer, just pressing its face into the back of his neck, a comforting weight. It seemed Soul was still going to be the decision maker of the two, even as a kitten. Of course that made sense, cats were way smarter than some dumb dog.

The bed certainly didn't sound that bad though, and Mind would definitely follow his lead on his... he nodded, crawling out from under the desk with Mind in tow.

Heart cheered, and through Soul hiked up his shoulders a tad in embarrassment, he couldn't help a little grin. The praise felt nice. He was on the bed a few moments later, settling down and trying to get comfortable.

It was pristine, and the sheets were cool; Mind's bed, so of course it was cold. Annoying though, and even as Mind crawled in too, eagerly getting settled for more cuddling, he pawed at Heart. He wanted something warm to cuddle with, and if Heart was going to interrupt their little sunspot nap, that made them the volunteer.

Startled, Heart let out a little laugh. "And here I thought you were a shy little kitten!" He still joined them though, the perfect pillow to settle against, goofy grin plastered across his face. "I can't say no though, can I." Why didn't he do this more often...? Mind snuffling against his neck, Heart's hands gently carding through his hair, he was out in moments.

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corkinavoid · 4 months ago

Text

DPxDC Summoning Failed Successfully

Imagine a warehouse. Imagine a bunch of cultists in dark robes with all the candles, daggers, ancient books, and chanting. Now add Danny.

Only not as the summoned being, no. As a sacrifice.

He is sitting down, tied to a chair, in the middle of the summoning circle, looking as bored and deadpan as he can possibly be. The cultists are chanting, and he frowns, listening to their chants for a moment.

"Hey, is that Latin?" He questions, but to no avail, "You know you're not actually using those words correctly, right?"

"Keep quiet, child!" One of the cultists snaps. Danny leans back in his chair and shrugs.

"I'm just saying, you ain't summoning shit with wrong grammar," he huffs, seemingly absolutely nonchalant about the whole thing. Oracle, who is watching the whole ordeal through the surveillance cameras, raises her eyebrows. Red Robin and Robin are already en route to the building the cultists chose for their extracurricular activities, but now she almost wants to watch this a bit longer.

Gothamites are pretty used to all kinds of shitshows, but this boy is from out of town. She checked him through facial recognition. Daniel Fenton, a transfer student from Amity Park, Illinois.

A few more cultists stop chanting and turn to Danny.

"Do you know Latin?" One of them asks, and the boy makes a half-nod, making a thoughtful face.

"Not fluently, but, like, it's a dead language, I felt kinda obligated to learn it. Just for the meme, you know?" He chuckles.

The cultists, judging by their confused silence, don't know. Barbara doesn't know what he's talking about, either. But she is almost curious now, so she taps Robin's and RR's comm lines:

"RR, Robin, when you arrive, don't jump into the scene," she asks.

"Understood," Tim answers immediately, but Damian, of course, demands explanations:

"Is there an obstacle?"

"Not really," Barbara humms, "The sacrifice is in the process of de-escalating the situation."

She can almost hear the questioning silence over the comm, but, thankfully, no one argues. Meanwhile, one of the cultists pipes up, voice full of doubt:

"So, you can... like, proofread our incantation?"

"Yeah, sure," Danny nods, apparently fine with being sacrificed, "Who you're trying to summon anyway?"

"Satan," that same cultist answers, and Danny laughs approvingly.

"Classic," he nods and smiles, "I'll give you this. The circle is mostly alright, so you don't need an incantation to summon the fucker, I have him on speed dial." And with that, he leans forward, screaming towards the floor: "Ey, Satan!"

Barbara must say the act was actually convincing, but he went a little overboard with it now. She reaches to tell both Robins to get in, but suddenly, a loud, booming voice reverberates through the building.

"The fuck do you want, kid?"

Cultists fall to their knees - it doesn't seem like an act of worship, more like their knees bucking. The whole circle dimly lights up in red, smoke raising from it.

"Do you see this shit, Oracle?" Red Robin questions, and she mhm's at him, not sure what else to say. If this is still an act or a trick, she must say it's a very good one. Although somehow she suspects it's not a trick. She's seen enough magic in her life to tell the difference.

"Do you want to come to Earth, be gay and do crimes?" Danny asks, almost mockingly.

"Fuck off."

The red light flickers and disappears, and Danny looks back up to cultists, grinning cheerfully.

"Welp, looks like he doesn't wanna," the kid concludes and stands up from his chair. Barbara hadn't seen when or how he got out of his bindings.

The cultists just watch him walk out of the circle in bewilderment.

"Pursue?" Robin's voice comes over the comms, and Barbara thinks for a moment.

"I get a feeling like that's a bad idea," Tim mutters over his line.

Barbara agrees.

#danny phantom #oracle #dc x dp #dpxdc #batfam #tim drake #damian wayne #red robin #robin #barbara gordon #i dunno its probably already been written more times than i can think of #i just enjoy the 'he doesnt wanna' bit #summoning #cork prompts #cork writes

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nightingale-prompts · 3 months ago

Text

Danny adopts himself

It's a common joke in Gotham that Bruce Wayne will adopt any black-haired and blue-eyed traumatized boy he finds. So much so that even he leans into it. But he was completely shocked when Damian confronts him about having a new brother that he did not want.

Bruce could barely get a word in when the rest of the family arrived upset that they weren't told about getting another sibling after Damian texted the family group chat (for once).

Damian had encountered a boy around Drake's age moving stuff into what was an empty room. The room was now furnished top to bottom with glowing green lights, tapestries of stars, random artifacts, several telescopes, and model rockets.

He knew the moment he saw the black hair and blue eyes that his father had taken in another ward.

Apparently Bruce was the last the know about his new "son" who was currently rearranging furniture and asking to help Alfred with dinner.

Said dinner was an uncomfortable as Bruce was grilled by his kids on his addiction to adoption. Simultaneously they tried to get to know the new addition to the family.

It was easy to see that Damian didn't like Danny but it was equally easy to see that Danny could cow the boy like a border collie on a lamb. When Damian thew a dagger the teen caught it with one hand as it passed his face and then slid it across the table back to Damian.

"Try again. " Danny said "And this time don't aim to miss on purpose. If you want me dead you need to do better."

Damian put the knife away and huffed.

Tim and Danny hit it off almost instantly. The way they were able to bounce their thoughts back and forth made Tim believe that he found an equal.

Danny was able to understand Cassie immediately with just look in eachothers eyes like he was reading her mind but not in a creepy way.

Jason of course noticed the strange energy in the air around the kid. It was soothing. Like lavender wafting in the air. Well lavender for everyone else for him it was like opium. His eyes felt heavy like he had eaten a handful of poppy seeds. At the same time he felt full, like he had eating a full meal after starving for a week.

Whatever it is Damian was feeling it too. The demon looked even more his age as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The crease in his brow gone.

Duke on the other hand was more on edge as his eyes flickered towards Danny before looking away. He had something he wanted to ask about the glowing boy but since no one can see it or just isn't saying anything he will keep quiet for now.

Next was Barbara who teased the new kid.

"So how do you like your new family? Ready to be the new robin?" She asked.

"Im robin." Damian mumbled groggily.

The others were waiting for Damian to finally fall asleep and glared at one another in a challenge to be the one to pick up Damian and put him to bed. Dick was winning.

Speaking of Dick, as expected he was off the wall excited to learn more about his new little brother. He wanted the full story as to why Bruce took him in. He could almost certainly guess it was because of a tragic situation and Dick was already ready to handle it as the greatest big brother ever and he wasn't sharing the title no matter what Barbara said. Even if she was Stephanie's favorite.

Bruce cleared his throat and the table went silent. "So, Danny. Where exactly did you come from? Why are you here? And how did you know who I am?"

Everyone went white. Did they all just risk their identities believing that Danny was a new Robin? Why didn't Bruce say something? Not even a signal for the protocol they would use.

Danny frowned looking a bit hurt.

"What do you mean, Bruce? You said you owed me. You said you'd give me anything I wanted if saved your son. I even helped you get back home when you got lost in time." Danny huffed feeling betrayed.

The table went silent.

Bruce made a few calculations in his brain before something must have come to mind. "I lost my memory for a bit so I need a bit of proof."

Danny placed a batarang on the table. The batarang had an engraving on it in a code that only Bruce knew.

"You told me to show this to Alfred when I came. We had a deal, Bruce. You promised me whatever I wanted." Danny huffed clearly insulted.

Just like Danny had said the code was the one Bruce had made. However this code wasn't a promise to grant a favor but to welcome someone new to the family. Past Bruce must have had plans to take the boy in but told Danny something else to lure him here.

Bruce recognized that everyone was right and he has a problem now that he's looking at it like this.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #duke thomas #tim drake #red robin

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lymtw · 3 months ago

Text

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

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