#they’re turning into each other do you understand they became each other

[vorecommunitywoes]

Okay, I don’t want this placed on my own blog as I’ve disowned the whole vore community, but as I was a major voice in my teens I really NEED people to hear me when I say this community is not safe for kids and why.

I was Bioluminescent-Bat. I was the coiner of the tag “extreme cuddling.” I do not think people understand what horrible things they’re getting into, so I’m sharing my story here as a cautionary tale.

I was 15 when I was a big name in the community. I left Tumblr’s when I was 18; the overarching community at 21. I was drawn into the community due to my interest in biology & wildlife science; I’d been pretty consistently writing these tropes for most of my life as a mechanism for exploring mutualistic relationships with species. My involvement, however, started on Deviantart at 13. People over there convinced me that this interest was/had to be vore vs just a STEM/character design interest, and that they kept theirs like a “dirty secret” / not to talk about it with others. I was encouraged to write the subject matter into my works up to almost pornographic detail, with their guise of it just being “detailed” biology discussion. The attention I received became a dopamine rush with each new writing piece, where I was desperate to please an audience. An audience with no respect for my boundaries (kept pressing for fatal/digestion, outright smut, some really weird kinks I wasn’t even old enough to process WERE kinks, etc).

On Tumblr, folks adored the little rambles and blurbs I would do on the subject matter. I was not prepared to be put that much on a pedastal in my mid teens, and deeply regret that I was. Several individuals noticed me as I became more known, and pretended to be mentors within that space. Within a Skype group I was discussing with them, they outwardly discussed vore kink-related stuff (by which I mean folks eating strange & dangerous objects for fun) all while being aware I was a teen at the time. This they denied being kink related because they were “nonsexually interested” but supposedly just “respected those who were kinky” as though they weren’t part of that group. Due to Skype’s automatic deletion/hiding of messages two years back, I cannot retrieve these. But this is more so background than anything else.

The individuals within this group (glowinside, tastylittletiny, and Spartaku17) essentially made me the figurehead of the “sfw” side. By telling me that the vore was nonsexual, I believed them and thought it was fine. I was encouraged by them to continue writing the content, posting the writings and asks, and were more or less my biggest fans at the time. They actively packed around me (especially the first two) and told me to ignore anyone trying to convince me otherwise as it was just “harassment.” I was never once told to avoid the kinky spheres (or told how to identify them), and was often pressured to ignore my boundaries to “not exclude the other sides” and therefore pushed much further than I should’ve. They also showed high interest in “recruitment” type efforts wherein I was pressured to “educate” my peers regarding the trope (to those who were with me on that ride, I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am. I hope you are recovering well and have managed to break your chains from that horrible place.)

When I turned 18, I discovered that I was Demisexual. This was immediately used for blackmail. I was told by the nsx side that I had to essentially keep an “UwU wholesome” energy to myself (nonsexual, not a breath of darkness in theme, etc), because if I so much as looked into anything outside of the “SFW” areas as an adult, I would be “proving” I was lying and essentially lose the rights to my autonomy. This also branched into “having permission” to strip my asexual identity away from me. I should not have to explain how fucked that is.

To people outside of the specific cultlike circle I was in, I was presumed to be much older than I was and accused of being a groomer for echoing my abusers’ beliefs. Instead of asking, this was assumed and pushed me in deeper. This was made worse by said groomers insisting I stay away from anything labeled 18+ only - many of which WERE people my age just chilling out and existing. So I was actively therein forced to either give up the right to my autonomy, or be forced to babysit kids to “protect them from people who would hurt them” for two more years. The call was coming from inside the house the whole damn time. This is when I removed myself from the spaces themselves, but only fully processed and disowned it March of this year. I’m still recovering from the damage of a decade’s manipulation.

Now, I do not believe that people who have nonsexual interest in the concept are lying. I’m amidst this group, where my interest is predominantly thematic & Demisexual in nature. However, there is a difference between sexual and “safe for work.” Plenty of nonsexual things can be mature in nature and need to be left to adults. This is where the community falters. Vore still overlaps way too much with the explicit sides, and is NOT for children. I’ve seen far too many people getting chained into this idea that if they just label their work as SFW they’ll be safe - and no. You’re not. The entire community has a common theme of trashing consent for their own kicks; the place isn’t even safe for the ADULTS in it. Anyone who says otherwise is lying, or has been made to think that way.

I’m begging minors not to listen to people coaxing you into a fetish space. Use your mental energy on making some cool monsters & study biology instead. Just don’t believe the “SFW” side of any kink-based community has your best interests at heart. Trust your gut. You’ll thank me later

.

[newvision]

Every time I drink wine I am will graham looking down at a shot hannibal and we have become each other and he is bleeding out and I am savouring the moment by drinking wine the way he does and I gloat like god often does and he takes the violence the way I did every time he violated me and he almost dies from a distant form of violence but what ultimately really kills him are my hands the way I said I’d do it anyway who wants another glass

[reidrum]

under the mistletoe

note: happy first day of reidrumas! a nice little munch!spencer to keep you warm <3

summary: in which penelope uses a plant to get her friends together, or the time you find yourself under the mistletoe with spencer

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, oral (f receiving), heavy kissing, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.8k

12 days of reidrumas

The annual BAU Christmas Party became an accord Penelope headed all on her own, and was a job she took very seriously. The amount of times the team had been called away on a case near or on a major holiday is too sad a number to count, so whenever there was certainty that there would be no case or bureau event, Penelope went all in.

That is, on David Rossi’s credit card, of course.

Light up sleighs and reindeers adorned the front lawn of Rossi’s mansion, of which was decorated with red ribbons and twinkle lights galore. The silhouette of the biggest Christmas tree you think you’d ever seen was illuminated in the window as you approached the front, rubbing clammy hands down the sides of your dress.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, just that you are. While it had been some time since you had joined the team and you have definitely had some fun nights out with them, the nerves never get easier to deal with when you know a certain genius will be in your presence.

It seemed everyone knew of your crush on Spencer except the man himself. The way your face heats up when you’re near him, the words tripping over each other as you try to speak, somehow are not dead giveaways to him. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

A call of your name from the bottom of the stairs grabs your attention, and you see none other than Spencer coming up the stairs to meet you. He straightens out his sweater and looks at all of you, “You look nice.”

Suddenly you forget what words are, “Um…I.. thanks! I just got this, and I thought the antlers would be cute too.” you gesture to the light up headband. 

“They’re really cute.” he smiles and gestures you to walk in, and you’re both ambushed by Penelope immediately.

“You’re here! Oh, you look so cute with your little reindeer antlers,” she gushes, “And Spencer! Looking so dapper!” You both walk down the hallway with her, seemingly leading you to the kitchen when she abruptly stops halfway.

“You’re too cheery. What did you do?” you squint.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your eyebrows raise, “What did you do?”

“Why would we hate you?” Spencer says at the same time.

Penelope pauses, and with a hint of mischief in her voice, “Look up.”

Your eyes trail upwards to the arch of the door you’re both stood in, and there hanging with its leaves and red and white berries tied in ribbon, is of course, mistletoe.

“Penny.” you mumble under your breath. If she heard you she paid no mind, only beaming at you both with her Cheshire cat grin. You look over at poor Spencer, who’s sheepish smile and red cheeks are breaking through his stoic demeanor. 

“Did you know mistletoe in nature is actually poisonous? It’s a parasitic plant that has to grow on other trees in order to survive. But it’s holiday tradition comes from Norse mythology when the son of Odin is killed and his mother is so upset her tears turn into the berries on the plant, as a symbol of her love for him.” Spencer rambles out of nervousness.

“That sounds nice Spence,” Penelope grabs both of your hands and positions you in front of each other in the doorway, “Okay great, I’m sure you know the rules of mistletoe. Now kiss.”

“Penelope.” you lightly chide. Her persistence is a match for no one, there’s no way of getting out.

“You have to, that’s the rule! If you don’t, Christmas will be ruined!” she sighs dramatically.

You blink at her a few times hoping she understands that she’s out of her mind and that it’s a little cruel to put you and Spencer in this situation. This is probably his worst nightmare. He has that thing with germs you remember and you both are merely friends so there’s no way he’d see you like that, yet alone want to kiss you because a plant said you had to.

Spencer clears his throat in front of you, and says with a soft voice, “Well, if it’s going to ruin Christmas…”

Huh. Maybe not as cruel as you think.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, “You’re okay with this?”

He nods sheepishly, “I—I mean I love holidays, and even though I’d never done this part of Christmas, I’d hate to break tradition….”

You look at him with disbelief, but Penelope’s smile could not be wider and she squeals, “Amazing! Okay, I’m ready.”

You both look at her knowingly, and she immediately puts her hands up. “Alright, fine! I can take a hint. But, I want details later, both of you.” she busies herself off in the kitchen.

Spencer turns his body to face you, hands tentatively reaching out to ghost the curve of your hips. His eyes look to you for permission, and with a slight nod he takes purchase, bringing you closer while resting his hands on your sides. You gingerly place your flat palms on his shoulders, and it’s then you realize just how close you both are. His breath fans softly against your face, and even in heels you find yourself rising a bit further to meet his lips.

Just mere milliseconds before your lips meet he whispers with the softest pitch you’ve ever heard, “You sure this is okay?”

You think you give him a nod and a word of approval, but it’s lost as soon as you press your lips onto his with no hesitancy. His hands pull you closer to him, leaning deeper into the kiss. The endorphins run loose before  being corralled immediately as the kiss ends as quickly as it began.

He pulls back and he stares at your puffy lips, lips that are puffy because of him and it’s enough to drive him insane. He needs to find a way to have you like that again, to feel your lips against his again fearless of a watchful eye, to show you that he really doesn’t give a damn for tradition, but would do rituals and ceremonies on end if it meant getting to kiss you like that again.

You’re about to say something when your name is called from the living room, the other girls now noticing your arrival and waving you over to grab a drink. You look between them and Spencer, “I should go,” you say reluctantly, “Find me later?”.

He smiles softly, “I’ll find you later.”

You hesitate before moving, wondering if it’s even a good idea. But you realize you’re already this far deep, so what difference would it make? Your eyes dart between the girls and Spencer once more making sure they’re not looking, and rise to your toes again to kiss his cheek, “See you later, Spence.”

A blush rises to his cheek as he touches the spot with his fingers, watching you walk into the living room. You might be the death of him, he thinks.

—

The party’s gone on, games of white elephant are played and countless wine bottles are scattered around the place. He finds himself in an aimless conversation with Matt and Luke, he thinks they’re talking about some sport, but all Spencer can think about is you and your damn lips.

You’re addictive, he’s come to find. He’s had a taste of the forbidden fruit and now fully empathizes with Eve, thinking if something was as nectarious as you, he’d also have to go to great lengths to get it again.

He excuses himself from the conversation, not caring if they said anything, and goes off to find you. You’re sat on the loveseat with JJ that’s entirely too small for the two of you, but you certainly look comfy wedged into the seat. He circles around the back, resting a hand on your shoulder to let you know of his presence and bending down to whisper in your ear, “Is this a good time to find you?”

You startle a little at the voice, calming once you recognize it to be Spencer. You’re surprised he actually came and found you like he said he would, and by the look of his face it seemed like a determined mission.

“I’d say it is,” you smile up at him, his body looming over you behind the couch. He holds a hand out for you, “I’ll be back, J.” you tell her as you stand up. She looks between you and Spencer and a smug look rises to her face.

“Okay…be safe.” she winks. You groan.

Spencer leads you away from the bustle of the living room and further into the depths of Rossi’s mansion. You both walk side by side, talking aimlessly about anything and everything, grateful to have moments just walking with each other. You push open on a fancy door, revealing a vastly large room but with the same crown modeling as the rest of the place. A three piece couch set rests in the middle, and bookshelves filled with antiques line the walls.

You’re intrigued by the telescope pointed out the window, bending down to look through it. Spencer looks up from the book he’s holding on the other side of the room and watches you. You’re ethereal, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your figure making you look like an angel from above. You gaze through the lens to look at the stars, and he can’t help but wonder how lucky he is to have you in front of him and not in the sky with the rest of them.

“Can I confess something?”

You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening, “Um, sure.”

“Nothing scary, I promise,” he reassures.

“That’s not concerning.”

He takes a deep breath, “I had an ulterior motive, when I came to find you.”

Your brows furrow nervously, “What do you mean?”

“No no, I meant it, it’s nothing bad,” he confesses, “I just… really wanted to kiss you again.”

Oh. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?” he chuckles.

You stammer, “W—Well, I just wasn’t sure…”

He nods and slowly walks to you, “Would that be okay?”

You look up at him and see that he’s so close again. The waft of his cologne invades your senses. His hair is long again, you told him once he looked good with long hair and he hasn’t so much as looked at some scissors since then. The ends of his curls tickle your forehead when his head dips, lips mere nanometers away.

“Yeah.” you barely muster an audible whisper.

The corners of his lips twitch, “Yeah?” he says in the same pitch, leaning even closer.

“Please.”

His lips press to yours again for the second time this night, and he kisses you with a fervor you couldn’t comprehend. He brings one hand up to cradle the back of your head, padding the impact as he uses the other to back you against the wall. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the roots that makes him fold even more into you.

Kisses travel down the side of your neck to the nape, and he spends time littering the area with lovebites. The soft gasps that leave your mouth only spur him on, but it’s not nearly enough for him.

“Sweetheart,” he pants between kisses, “Need to—fuck—need to taste you, please. Can I?

Your blown out eyes meet his, and it wasn’t even an option to say no when he was begging you so desperately, “Yeah, yes, please.”

His hand snakes through the slit on your dress, tracing the edges of your panties and grinning when he hears your breath hitch. He toys with the edge some more before dipping a finger below the band, never touching you where you really need him but getting awfully close.

“Spence..” you whine.

He groans, “Fuck, you sound so pretty saying my name and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He puts you out of your misery when he finally drags the pad of his index to the bundle of nerves at your center, tracing light circles that draw the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

You grip his forearms for more stability, feeling your legs turn to jelly. Spencer sees your struggle and wraps an arm around your waist, “I got you, pretty girl it’s okay.” A few more minutes of teasing you and marking you relentlessly and he decides you’re okay enough for him to stand on your own, so he can sink to his knees in front of you.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he crouches down, making sure you’re okay every step of the way. His finger is still tracing a line from your clit to your entrance, the wet line seeping through your panties. He bunches up your dress and silently gestures to you to hold it, and steadies his hands on either side of your hips. He presses chaste kisses up your thighs, your breath getting heavier with each one closer to your center. The delirium hits an all time high when he presses a firm kiss to your core.

Skilled fingers hook your panties to the side, revealing you in all your glistening glory, “Look at you,” he marvels hoarsely, “that all for me?”

You nod fast, “Yes, yes Spence please.” you whine out, you’d sound like you were in pain if it were anyone else.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, don’t do that. I’m gonna take care of you, promise.” he coos, calming your pleas, “Come on, leg on my shoulder.”

The new angle opens you up beautifully for him and he can’t help himself when he leans in and swipes a tentative tongue through your folds, satisfied when he hears the sound of a guttural moan leave you.

You immediately slam your hand over mouth as he taunts, “Careful sweetheart, can’t be too loud or someone’s gonna walk in.”

You try to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum as he continues eating you out like a man depraved, like all he was meant for on this earth was to be between your legs. He prods a finger around your entrance and slowly slips it in, you whimper and clamp your fingers into his hair tugging tightly.

Spencer groans into you at the feeling, and adds another finger swiftly moving them in and out. You’re getting close, he can feel it from the way you clench around his fingers, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you’d feel clenching around him.

“Ah—I’m….I’m close.” you whimper.

He speeds up ever so slightly, “Yeah? Okay angel, you can let go, it’s okay.”

Soon your climax washes over you, with you gripping his hair tightly and his fingers never faltering as he rides you through it. He slows down his pace as you come down before gently taking them out and giving you one last lick through your folds before standing up.

You yelp but it’s quickly muffled by him kissing you again. He feels you smile into the kiss and matches you before you both start giggling and pull away.

He can hear the smile in your voice when you rest your forehead on his shoulder, “That was…”

An arm wraps around you again to hold stable, “Good, I hope?”

You press a soft kiss at the base of his neck, “Really good. I guess we have to thank Penny now.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

“I may have been the one to tell her to put some mistletoe up.” He confesses sheepishly.

“You told her? S—So you could…like…” you ramble.

“So I would have a chance to kiss you, yes.”

You get real shy in front of him as if he wasn’t on his knees for you five minutes ago, “That’s really sweet…you could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to! But I thought you might not feel the same way because I notice how you are around me and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but then Penelope told me you felt the same and I just figured one of us had to pull the bandaid off.”

You smile shyly, “I get nervous around you, because I really really like you.” you quietly admit.

He pulls you close into his chest, kissing your forehead softly, “Well that’s good then, because I really really like you too.”

Penelope is obviously over the moon when she finds out, giddy as can be knowing her two best friends are now together. What she doesn’t tell you, is how she sends the mistletoe to a preservation company to be pressed and framed. She’s just preparing to have the best gift ever to bring to your wedding.

[ceesimz]

Her Perfect Delusion

She's carefully curated the perfect lie, and you're at the centre of it.

There’s one thing about life that you don’t quite understand; how fast you can go from loving someone to hating them.

Those two things are a phenomenon that have coexisted together since the start of humankind, though it’s a hard thing for most people to accept. They’re arguably the two strongest feelings, there’s no choice in experiencing them, they come when they’re least wanted. What are you supposed to do when they occur at the same time?

When you first read that text message, the one that kept you up at night and has done for two weeks, it was as if you were the rope in an endless game of tug-of-war, being pulled back and forth relentlessly by an angel and a devil, by the resentment and longing that fought it out in your mind, each pulling with an equally unbearable amount of force. It prevented you from deciphering your true feelings, only making the whole situation a hundred times worse. 

You hated her, with every fibre of your being, yet you couldn’t shake that godforsaken, overwhelming, self-sacrificial pit of love that refused to leave your heart. Your own organs, both your heart and your mind, were entranced by her, betraying your own common sense to despise her and forget her. 

We can’t tell the team yet. I will pick you up tomorrow morning and we will carry on as normal.

That was it. No other explanation, no clarification, no mercy. 

It came mere minutes after she walked out of your apartment when she had broken up with you. Apparently she had the guts to end your year-long relationship in a heartbeat, but was too much of a coward to give you any say in person about telling your friends. 

And you followed her instructions wordlessly.

How could you ignore her, forget her, hate her, love her, when even after she had broken up with you, she forced herself into your life with no care in the world? 

Part of you thought something was wrong with her, because for a while now, you hadn’t recognised her as the woman you loved. Her breaking up with you just solidified that – she was completely unrecognisable. The sympathetic, caring side of you which she once adored, it craved to wrap her up in your arms, lead her back to bed, and talk for hours as the sun set and subsequently rose until you figured out what was going on inside her mind. Before you got together, you spent far too long trying to unlock that side of her. Maybe you never truly saw it in the first place.

You refused to leave the club, even though staying would mean seeing her almost everyday. Alexia might be Barça, but it was your club too. Your family too. Whether you were overstaying your welcome or not, you weren’t about to let a failed attempt to build a life with someone else stop you from keeping a life for yourself. Barcelona was home. Alexia had been too, you weren’t about to lose two at once.

If you told people, you would be alone. It was Alexia’s club before you joined. Your friends were her friends before she introduced you. Barcelona was Alexia’s home before it was yours. There wasn’t a part of you that doubted she’d turn the whole of Catalunya on you if everybody knew the true state of your relationship.

So the morning after that text, you clambered into her car, a suffocating, thick silence seated in the car with you both, and that was that. Weeks passed before you without even realising it. The hate wore off and the love only got stronger.

Every morning for training, she picked you up, you walked in together, feigned smiles on your faces that physically hurt deep in your chest. With Alexia, you had given her thousands, if not millions, of genuine, joy-filled smiles. All you were left with was tear-filled eyes instead, drowning in the love lingering, blinking them away near enough every second you spent with her. 

It took far too much force to withhold the smile, though it soon became second nature. You got a routine down with her, and you were so focused on keeping up the act, you trained on auto-pilot. The scaffolding it required to pin the smile to your face was heavy, and it was like one strong gust of wind, one act of affection that brought back a whirl of memories, whether that be an arm around your shoulders or a kiss to your cheek, was all it would take to knock the bars out and let it all come crumbling down. Perhaps that would be for the best.

Just a shame you were in too deep to realise that.

“You guys want to come over for dinner tonight?” Irene asked from Alexia’s left. You were on the captain’s right, hands swinging between you. It was the image of happiness, of how soft your love had once been, though that was merely a figment of the past. A piece of your heart you’ll never get back, a piece Alexia held onto and flaunted in your face with how she held onto your hand, and you simply let her.

“We have plans already, no?” Alexia turned to you, a look in her eyes that had you agreeing easily. You didn’t have the strength to verbalise your willingness to fall at Alexia’s feet once more, so you settled for a nod.

“Ah, a shame. Another time.” Irene smiled, a genuine one that you envied. 

God, how pathetic. To envy someone over a smile.

“Por supuesto.” Alexia confirmed, waving at her friend as she made her way to her own car. 

Like always, you put your bag in the trunk of her car, and climbed into the passenger side. As you did everyday, with no complaints. Why didn’t you complain? Is that really how weak you are?

“What are you doing on Saturday?” Alexia asked you this time, her lips in a thin line as she reversed out of the parking space. Her voice was cold, stern, distant, completely devoid of the gentleness she once addressed you with. She almost didn’t sound like Alexia. 

“Um, nothing I think, I don’t h-”

“Good. You will come to dinner with me and my family.” 

It was a demand, not a question, not an invite. The shy, heart-warming excitement she spoke with when she asked you to join her family for dinner for the first time didn’t even feel like something that had once happened anymore. It was such a contrast from that treasured memory, you had to cover your mouth to stop the sob that wanted to suddenly escape.

However, that heartbreak of a reminder wasn't even the main thing on the forefront of your mind at that moment. Instead, all you could focus on was the fact she hadn’t told her family yet. This wasn't part of this fucked up ordeal.

There was no way, in good conscience, that you could look her mother in the eye and lie to her. 

“You haven’t told your family about us?” You said in an insecure voice, chancing it and looking over at her. There was no need; she wore the same expression she had adorned since the breakup, one of stoicism and carelessness. One that exuded control, one which relished in that fact.

“Do not start. Do not pick a fight right now.” Was all she replied, and if there were ever two statements to sum up the state of your relationship, it was those. 

Her hands clutched the steering wheel tighter, her nostrils flared in frustration with her lips pursed into a thin line, meanwhile you cowered into your seat like a scolded child. Throughout this whole situation, each day Alexia had slowly beaten down your confidence, a piece of your self-esteem cracking and falling away with every word that she spoke. You were losing yourself in the process, and having already lost the other half of your soul in your break-up, you didn’t know if you would survive any longer. 

There had been one fight so far, but Alexia refused to let it happen again. Any time you showed the slightest bit of disagreement, she’d say something that would silence you in an instant. You knew it was unfair, and toxic. You didn’t do anything about it though. Of course you didn't.

“I’ll pick you up at eight. It’s at my Mami’s house. You will not say a word about us, you understand?” She pressed sternly, glancing away from the road for a second to give you a piercing glare. It only provoked that pit of nausea that cruelly reminded you of your current position every time it made an appearance. 

“I understand.” You whispered in a voice that Alexia knew too well; there was a lump in your throat that you had to fight past to speak.

This time, when she turned to look at you, you swore you saw a hint of regret in her eyes. Before you could get your hopes up though, she was focused on the road in front of her again, brows furrowed and her usual frown on her face. 

You got a physical break from her the next day, but not a mental one. A two day respite had been given to the team, the Friday and the Saturday, and you loathed them. You cursed yourself for that, because why could you find issue with time off but not the vicious cycle you found yourself in? 

Every second of that Friday was spent in bed, submerged by a blanket that faintly smelled like her, in your bedroom that was still decorated as if someone loved you, with pictures all around and traces of small details which only existed as a result of being wholly adored, like you once had been. They were glimpses of the past, evidence of the affection you had a taste of, yet had been pulled away just as the disbelief began to wear off.

Even a year down the line, you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. From the moment you met her, the moment she asked you out on a date with her voice trembling and her hands fidgeting, you were in a near constant state of disbelief. Never in your life did you picture yourself in such an idyllic relationship, with a woman not even your wildest dreams could have imagined. Maybe you were right to cling onto your insecurities, because in the end it did turn out to be too good to be true.

As a matter of fact, it had been your heart that was dropped, shattering into fragments too small to be fixed back together. Instead, you were shoved to the side and thrown to the floor like a child that lost interest in a toy. Even still, Alexia didn’t have the same emotional maturity that a child had to give you your space to grieve, choosing to parade you around on her arm like the pain she’d caused was the greatest achievement of her life. 

You didn’t move, get up, talk to anyone, nothing. Those tasks felt too big to approach, you felt too small, too undeserving. So you subjected yourself to thirty-six hours of nothing but overthinking. What else was there for you to do? You had nothing else going for you except your broken relationship, there wasn’t exactly a lot of options. 

Any memory that came to mind, you thought about it, hashed over every moment of it, looked at every viewpoint you could think of from Alexia’s perspective, until you rinsed it dry and tears soaked your pillow. All these times where her disdain towards you was glaringly obvious, yet you still didn’t have the strength to break apart the love you stored in your bones. You found yourself defending her, coming up with excuses for the way she acted, and no part of you stopped yourself. 

Eventually though, the tears dried out, just in time for you to start getting ready for dinner with her family. 

Her family, who were none the wiser to the despicable actions of their daughter, sister, niece, cousin. They thought the world of her, the star of the family, heart of the city, the best athlete of her sport that could do no wrong, personally and professionally.

Was it wrong to end a relationship out of convenience, yet still pretend to be in love to avoid the dull task of sharing the embarrassment that it hadn’t worked out as planned? They probably wouldn’t think so. They would take her side, paint you as the villain, and shower the Ballon d’Or winner with the support and care they believed you never gave her. You did, Alexia knew that, yet you couldn’t imagine a world where she’d stick up for you anymore.

That was just another example of how lonely you’d be if anyone found out what had happened. You decided, in the end, you had no choice but to continue this act. The realisation that the greatest loss in all this wasn’t the love you had to fake, but the person you became to keep the lie alive, was so soul-crushing. What hurt more was that there wasn’t a thing you could do to fight it.

You had to redo your makeup twice before Alexia texted saying she was waiting for you, not because you were crying, but because your hands trembled with adrenaline, the only saving grace for this dinner. You couldn’t get through it on your own, maybe this was the one time your anxiety would come in handy.

Her mother greeted you warmly, rambling about how long it had been since she last saw you, and how exhausted you looked. Alexia, of course, wasn’t far behind nor out of earshot – you could bet your house on the fact she wouldn’t leave your side for a second throughout this torture, desperate for another glimpse of the wounds she was leaving – with a flash of a warning in her eyes for you to keep your mouth shut, before the warmth came flooding back and she greeted her family with a smile she once gave to you.

Food was passed up and down the table in heirloom dishes, recipes that had been family tradition for longer than any of them could remember filling Eli’s home with a concoction of scents, all of which were heavenly and not an ounce overwhelming. Though, despite the sweetness in the air and the deliciousness on show, you couldn’t quite find your appetite. Alexia noticed and turned her head, her lips by your ear, murmuring about ‘growing up’ and ‘not coming across as rude’ and ‘not making a scene in front of her family’ before pulling away with a kiss to your cheek. Some of her family caught on, grinning and winking and teasing her for such a deliberate display of affection, and she brushed it off with some gently-uttered Catalan, which had them all cooing and smiling brightly at you.

Then, the questions came. Wine, sangria, beer, they’d all loosened the Putellas’ tongues. 

When are you popping the question, Ale?

How many children do you plan to have?

It’s about time you bought a house together, no?

How many carats in your ring, hija?

For reasons you didn’t care to delve into, it was them that snapped you out of the daze you were in. The numbness faded. The emotions came barrelling in. The hate outgrew the love, brewing and simmering, rising, until it bubbled over and erupted.

Though, you still had some decency, where the same couldn’t be said for Alexia.

The questions stopped when you slowly stood from your chair, your adrenaline urging you to move quicker but your sense overshadowing it, as you pulled your hand from Alexia’s grasp. It tightened for a moment, trying to keep you in place and under her control, where she was able to contort and twist your view of yourself, your view of the world and what you believed was acceptable for yourself. But for the first time, you slipped away before she could do anything to stop you. 

Silently, like you should have done weeks ago, you walked away from her and out the front door. As soon as you were out of sight, the door closing softly behind, you ran. 

You ran because you could, because now was finally time for you to relish in the strength that had been out of reach for longer than you could remember. You ran because your adrenaline was shouting for you to, needing an outlet for all that had built up and led to this moment. There were emotions coursing through you again, compared to the numbness that had consumed you, and you didn’t know what to do with the rush that came other than run. It was a madly cathartic feeling, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

Until you crashed. And everything crumbled down on top of you. 

You stopped running. You looked around. 

You were in a neighbourhood just outside of Barcelona that you didn’t recognise enough to be able to navigate how to get home. The reason for that? It was your girlfrie- no, your ex-girlfriend’s mother’s neighbourhood, Alexia’s hometown, where everyone there knew the Putellas-Segura family not just because of the height of the captain’s success but because of how close-knit the community was. They didn’t know you, but they surely would when word would spread like a wildfire about the events you had caused. Yet more people that would be against you.

Your phone was buzzing wildly in your pocket, and that numbness, the anxiety, the mental paralysis that struck whenever Alexia reached out to you tried desperately to take over. But you had made it this far, you weren’t about to ruin all your progress. So, you declined her call, and despite the fear that had your hands shaking and mind racing, you blocked her contact.

The calls stopped immediately, as did the messages. And where you stood then, there were no physical traces of her in your life. No toxicity bleeding through your phone and making a place for itself in your mind. It was the first time she couldn’t contact you, couldn’t force herself into your head, couldn’t control you.

Every decision you made then was entirely your choice.

You called a taxi. You waited on the side of a road, having to stumble through the pronunciation of the street you were on to the poor driver on the other side of the phone, and waited. Your eyes didn’t stop scanning the area around you, worried that Alexia would somehow be right behind you, desperate to verbally lay into you for the rest of the evening.

However, the cab arrived before that could happen, so you clambered into the back of it and slammed the door shut behind you with a little too much haste. The driver glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you smiled apologetically, before relaying the address of your apartment. 

It wasn't relief or gratitude that filled you during that car journey. That would be too good to be true. No, instead it was a deep, burdening feeling of... unknown. These weeks of unsettlement and unfamiliarity hadn’t prepared you for not being the puppet that Alexia controlled with the strings at her fingertips. Your heart beated wildly in your chest, thumping away with the rhythm of your thoughts which were far too convoluted for you to make a clear plan of action.

What were you going to do once you got home? Just... go to bed? Then wake up in the morning and head to training like nothing had happened? As if your life hadn't just burst at the seams, flipped upside down, imploded, for the second time in only a few weeks?

And as it had done for so long now, your mind began to betray you. One could class it as second nature at this point. Because, how could you do this to her? You did cause a scene in front of her family, and in the process, probably burnt every remaining bridge you had in Barcelona.

This wasn’t something to celebrate. That feeling of catharsis earlier? Merely a distant memory. All you felt was regret. A few friends had warned you in the first place about everything to do with your move to the Spanish city. Why move so far from home? Why uproot everything you ever knew? And many more along those lines.

Yet, the ones that stood out the most were all to do with her.

How could you fall in love with your captain? Wouldn't a breakup between you both ruin the team? She's the best footballer in the world, what are you doing with her? Out of everyone she could have, why you? She could have anyone in Barcelona, what is it about you that she could surely find in anyone else?

Maybe all their doubts were right. It really was doomed from the start.

And as you unlocked one door to your flat after arriving, you looked around at the space that once brought comfort, the only thing it gave now was... cold, but deserved loneliness.

All you could do was stare and reflect on how the dull, desolate, dark and dismal space only represented the punishment of your actions. You did this to yourself; there was nobody coming to save you, nor did anyone even want to.

Except one, but help was the furthest thing on her mind.

“Open this door right now!”

You could recognise that angry, demanding voice anywhere.

“Do you know what you have done!?”

Of course you knew. That's what killed you the most. There was no coming back from this, not when she was outside your door with more fury in her words than you had ever heard before.

“Will… will you just let me in? So we can talk?”

When she spoke then, there was an ounce of sympathy in her tone, which you grasped onto as if your life depended on it. She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it. You were pretty certain she revelled in it.

A second passed between her plea and you rushing to let her in. Perhaps even that was generous.

Her shoulder shoved into yours as she rushed in, immediately beginning to rant a tad aggressively in rushed Catalan. For a moment, you feared her, afraid of the capability she had with her words. One of the many things you had learnt about her in the weeks that had passed was that her need for control and her willingness to express that had no boundaries at all.

On the other hand, your earlier discovery that you did indeed have a backbone sparked something inside of you. If you didn't act upon it now, didn't take advantage of the rare situation where you had some faith in yourself, you'd never make it out with your self-worth in tact. You didn't want to build your future on a foundation of lies and deceit. You didn't want to trade in your potential for a lifetime with someone that did nothing but wear you down to the point that you didn't recognise the person in the mirror.

You knew who you could be if you just took your life into your own hands, you saw that earlier, and the figure that looked back at you when you did your hair in the morning and brushed your teeth at night was a brave woman that deserved more than what she had put up with these last weeks. You had a life before Alexia, one full of actual joy and unbridled excitement which had led you to this city in the first place – that same person deserved a life free from the restraints of a shameful, dishonourable relationship that hadn't been real for months, nevermind the weeks of theatrical, Oscar-winning performances that came from a place of hatred, not love. It was never love on Alexia's behalf, not for a single fleeting moment.

“No, Alexia, you do not get to come here and do this. I refuse to sit back and be the punching bag you use for your own fucked up ego!”

Her scathing rambling in her mother tongue came to a halt. The silence that followed was oppressive to Alexia, a feeling she'd inflicted upon you countless times yet never been on the receiving end of. For you, the silence was nothing but an opportunity to finally take back the reins of your life.

“YOU broke up with ME!” You shouted, and instantly felt a rush of adrenaline surge through, just like it had done earlier. “But you won't let me leave your life! You won't let me grieve our relationship! I wa-”

“I told you it was better if we c-”

“No, it is my turn to speak. You have spoken more than enough recently.” The glare you sent her way physically hurt her. She knew she deserved it but it made her sick. This had been a long time coming. “I have spent every second these past few weeks trying to be good enough for you and if anybody asked me why, I don't think I could come up with a truthful answer. Maybe it's because I hoped you would see just how much I loved you, that you would change your mind and say you regret breaking up with me. But now... I just have to thank you.”

Her face pinched together in confusion, and all she wished for in that moment was a chance to explain herself.

When she sent that text, however long ago it was, she never planned for it to end like this. She wasn't in her right mind as she typed it out and hit send. Tears burnt her eyes and dropped onto the seat of her car whilst the regret that tried to save her from drowning was out-strengthed by the shame that pulled her under. If she could take back the break-up, she would in a heartbeat. That was something she realised the moment she saw your first tear drop, when she heard the first poorly disguised sniffle from the person she still loved, whilst she wrecked the beautiful relationship you both had built, in less time than it took to say the alphabet.

That was no excuse, she knew that. It was just far too little, and far too late.

“Wh-what? Thank me?” She repeated. The defeated look on her face would have wrecked you once. On this occasion, you had to stifle a grin that would border on being a little too psychotic. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

“Yes. You showed me your true colours, Ale. I planned on spending the rest of my life with you, so thank you for showing me who you truly are before we were in too deep. You hurt me more than I could ever express these last weeks. You ruined me. But I know I am ten times the person you'll ever be, and I know that I can pick myself up and put myself back together. I don't want you around to see that, you don't deserve it.”

There it was, the statement Alexia had feared for weeks: you didn't want her around anymore.

Those words were the reason why she had barely let you out of her sight, why she always cut you off at the first sign of conflict. If she kept you under her watchful eye and within arms reach, she could pretend, even for just half a second, that the pair of you were still wrapped up in each other's love, like Alexia hadn't broken up with you. ‘Selfish’ hardly scratched the surface in reference to her actions and this one-sided deal. But if it all ended, the two of you would just be teammates again, which somehow hurt worse than being strangers. And should you ever leave the club, she wouldn't even have an excuse to talk to you everyday. Maybe that would be better than playing football together whilst having to pretend there wasn't a year's worth of history, of adoration, of pure and whole-hearted love between you.

You clasped your hands in front of you as you waited for her to process your words, just another grace you gave her that she never did you. Everytime in the past that she had said something that felt like a blow to the stomach, she swiftly moved on before you could compute what she said. She seemed speechless, which was a first.

“I… no, you have the wrong impression, mi amor, I didn't-”

“You don't get to call me that anymore. You lost that right the second you started pulling away before you even ended our relationship. But please, go ahead and try to dig yourself out of this mess.” Every time you spoke and returned the harshness she previously addressed you with, the pained expression to her face only intensified.

“The person you saw since we broke up, that's not me, I swear!" You couldn't help but scoff. “I mean that honestly. I... I don't recognise that person. You must know that, no?”

Her lips could lie, but her eyes couldn't hide her true thoughts. She was clutching at straws and coming up empty for reasons about her arrogant, toxic behaviour. Choosing to stay silent despite the pleading look on her face, you sighed exasperatedly.

“I am sorry, and I will make sure that you know that. I have regretted breaking up with you from the moment the words left my mouth. Even more when I asked you to do this deal. It's not right, or fair, and I don't know why I thought it was acceptable to ask you to do it. All I know is that I did it because I love you. And I couldn't bear to let you go.” She spoke slowly but with desperation clear on her face and in the way she moved. 

Whilst she was talking, her hands never stopped moving in front of her, though she ended her point with the palm of her left hand, the one that always held yours no matter what, landing on her heart. Under her soft skin there, with the lines there you were sure you had memorised, she felt the rapid beat of the organ that was slowly, at a tortuous pace, being torn in two. And it was entirely because of her own doing.

“That isn't how you love someone, Ale.” You said simply, ensuring she felt the full effect of those words.

The first tear of the confrontation fell at that precise moment. It didn't come from you.

“I know.” Alexia whispered, her voice cracking as the dam she’d worked so hard to build for the last however long finally burst. 

Even after all that had happened, all the pain she'd handcrafted for you and the irrevocable damage she'd caused, you would be lying if you said the sight of her crying didn't make you feel guilty. You weren't the type of person that made people cry. It took all the will-power you had to remind yourself that the blonde in front of you had dug her own grave and it was time for her lay in it.

“I’m not going to sit around and be the outlet for whatever identity or moral crisis you're going through. I deserve better.”

“And I know that, I promise that I do." She sobbed. “You do deserve better and I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you.”

“There you are.”

Your words shocked you just as much as they did Alexia, they came out before you had even registered them as a thought. Apparently the adrenaline was doing more work than you assumed. It wasn't ideal, but you weren't sure how you would cope without it. Acting like this was so out of the norm for you, if it wasn't for the addictive rush throughout your veins, you dread to think of what you would have done when the midfielder initially arrived. The most likely outcome was… you breaking down into tears, falling to your knees, and apologising in such a pathetic manner that Alexia had no choice but to take you back into her arms with an awkward, pitiful grimace on her face.

Thankfully, nothing remotely close had happened. If anything, it was the opposite. The tables had turned to an extreme degree. You had every bit of control in this scenario, and though you didn't doubt that Alexia could flip it around whenever she felt like it, it was your opportunity to recover your sanity and make the most of this one time where the cards were in your hands.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alexia questioned.

“The woman I fell in love with, who has a heart and actual feelings." It was a comment that almost crossed an invisible line by your standards. Not like you could take it back though, so you had to settle for pursuing vengeance and continue by explaining yourself to the clueless woman before you. “Who thinks of the person she’s talking to as an equal rather than someone she towers over. Who reali-”

“I have never thought of you as below me, why would you say that?” She interrupted you in a panic, but you ignored her.

“Who realises that her actions actually do have consequences, and that people won’t stick around when she doesn’t show she appreciates their company. Where have you been all this time?” You laughed in spite of her, to which her eyes widened and she took a step closer. She tried to reach out for your hand, but you moved it out of her way.

“I have been right here, I haven’t gone anywhere!” Alexia argued. It was funny really, just how quick her entire façade had subsided and gave way for such a ridiculously victimised mindset.

“You and I both know that’s not true at all. For the last quarter of our relationship, you’ve been a completely different person. So distant and… unbothered. Unbothered about me, you didn’t show for a second that you cared for me and loved me. And instead of a seamless split where we both can grieve in whatever way works best for us individually, you drag me around on your arm, flaunting how detached you are!” You were shouting, you recognised that, but you didn’t care. The neighbours can have their fun and get a front row seat to it all. “I thought you, at the very least, had the common human decency to not be selfish and let me work through my feelings, where I was completely heartbroken may I add, with no distractions and no games. But no, you forced me into this excruciatingly difficult and painful experience that h-has wrecked me!”

Tears hit the wooden slats beneath the pair of you, both looking through blurry vision and barely being able to stomach the sight of the other in such states. Never, in the time you’ve known each other, did either of you think it would ever end like this. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all Alexia could think to say. And it wasn’t good enough, she never had been.

Pulling your sleeves over your hands, you turned away from her for a moment and dried your face from the endless stream of emotion that overwhelmed you. As you did so, you took a few quiet deep breaths in, an attempt to gain back some composure. 

“The last thing you will do for me is telling people the truth.” You began when you turned back to her. “You won’t leave out a single bit of detail. You will tell everybody we had in our life together what you did to me, what you made me do.”

“I already told my family. After you left.”

That caught you off guard. You didn’t expect her to have the guts. 

There was a brief period of time between you getting home and Alexia arriving that you don’t really remember. It was a blur, mostly, not that you were surprised considering the anxious cycle of spiralling you found yourself in. 

You found enough satisfaction from the way she murmured that admission that she felt a deep amount of shame, and possibly a hint of embarrassment, meaning her family had hopefully lay into her about her actions. Maybe they were on your side after all.

“There are still many people to tell. You’re not getting away with this, Ale. I will make sure you never do this to anyone else, ever.” 

For Alexia, who foolishly had a speckle of hope remaining, had all her dreams about the future shattered with that last sentence.

“I cannot get you back? Ever?” 

Even if it did frustrate you, you couldn’t just forget a year-long relationship in a flash.

“I don’t think so.” You told her, because you couldn’t give her a straight no.

She nodded on instinct, until she stopped, because a fresh wave of sobs consumed her, and she had to cover her mouth to muffle the sounds of them. She only allowed a couple to escape, before she forced down all that emotion and glanced back at you.

“I know I deserve that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.” This time, you nodded, because you agreed with her. 

The Barcelona captain had hurt you immeasurably, yes, but after all, love always went in hand with hate. And despite the fact the latter was a much stronger feeling now than it had been since that day in your apartment with a stoic, indifferent blonde in front of you, you couldn’t ignore the feelings you still held for her. They had taken a backseat throughout this, though as the argument gradually came to a natural end, the events of the day depleting both your emotional staminas, those same feelings came creeping back. In all honesty, you didn’t think they would ever fully leave. That was an issue to tackle another day.

“I understand. But you have to learn how to deal with that because I don’t think it will ever change.” You told her, a little less sternness in your voice now that the fight was beginning to leave you.

“I will. I will do everything you have said, I promise.” Her last promise to you.

There wasn’t much else to say after that, apart from…

“I think… I think you should go now.”

So, with a single nod of her head, Alexia slowly made her way to the door and you trailed after her. You saw the tremor to her hand when she reached for the handle, and heard the shake of her breath when she breathed out. Then she opened the door, and with one last look back at you with glossy eyes that held far too many emotions within them to be unpacked right now, she stepped out into the corridor and closed it behind her.

The sole company you were left with was the silence that cloaked your apartment. It was deafening, and the only thing it did was heighten the emotions you were left with. 

All you could do, in that moment, was slump back against the wall by the entryway, slowly slide down it until you were seated on the floor, and cry out every last tear you had left inside you.

[strwbabydoll]

The Feeling Came Late

Prologue

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter .5/? (wc: 1.5k)

001 | 01 | 02 | 03

masterlist

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Fond memories ignored, thrown away in a second as if they meant nothing to him. Like the years of laughter were all just a dream, but they’re not. They were real and it drove him crazy. Harry only stared at the wall, face red and tears streaming down his face angrily. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. He was angry, angry at the world, at himself because that was his best friend and at her. 

He was just a boy, a kid when it happened. Happy in his “prime years” of high school, he was thriving academically and socially. He was on top of his class work and one of the top students in all of his classes, alongside his childhood friend. They stayed friendly whenever they competed against each other, giving their congratulations when the other won in anything. Harry enjoyed the thrill of trying to be the first one to turn in his assignment though, he enjoyed the friendly banter they shared afterwards and during. It became their normal, he looked forward to it. 

Then it happened, and he was left broken. A shell of the smart and extroverted boy he once was. He can remember every detail of that day, he had just come home from hanging out with his childhood best friend – they had just gotten done studying and finishing the last episode of the season of their favorite TV show – when his mom walked alongside with him. The ride back home from her house to his was silent, filled with a sense of sadness and Harry couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. His mom was happy when she dropped him off at school that morning. She sat him down in their living room and said that this was important, and told him. She kept apologizing and trying to reassure him that everything was being done, tried, efforts were being done. They were going to fix this, help him. 

Of course, Harry’s just a kid who’s already dealing with all the new emotions of puberty and teenage feelings, so he screamed at her. Yelled something along the lines of “No, you’re lying and I hate you” but that’s still up for debate, he doesn’t think of this day often. He’d stormed away from her crying figure, her apologies are no good to him, won’t make everything better. He cried, screamed and threw things. He destroyed his room, tearing down pictures and throwing trophies, his vision was blurred from all of the tears in his eyes. He hated himself, it wasn’t his fault though. Nothing he could’ve done would have changed what happened, he couldn’t have stopped it. He knows that deep down, but he has to put the blame on someone, and it only makes sense that it has to be him. 

When he calmed down some, he’d taken all of his pictures off the wall, he couldn’t look at all of the times he was happy. It only reminded him of the feeling in his chest, and he stashed them all away in a box to be kept in his closet. Out of sight, out of mind he hopes will be the cause, but he kept two pictures. He couldn’t bear to have them forgotten, even if they were going to be locked away still. They were special, the people in the picture were special. They’ll always be special, so he cried some more as he placed them in his nightstand drawer. He spent the majority of the night crying, the tears seemed never ending and he hated it. He ignored his mom calling him for dinner and his sister who knocked on his door to check on him. She only sighed and reminded him that she loves him and will be there for him if he needs anything before she left him alone and headed back to her own room. 

Over time, he changed. It wasn’t gradual though, it was very noticeable. He stopped trying to compete with her, stopped trying to be the first anything. He stopped raising his hand, stopped putting efforts into presentations and powerpoints, stopped caring. He started getting into weed, he refused to try any of the harder stuff – not like his friends would give him any, they still had somewhat good morals and he also tried drinking. (A good thing about having older friends is the easy access to these types of things.) He stopped wearing soft and colorful clothes and started wearing darker clothes, jeans with rips in them and short sleeved shirts tight enough to showcase his growing muscles. He worked out more, wasn’t the lanky little boy she used to know anymore, his language expanded, started using more curse words and his tone grew disinterested and mean.

 He knew she watched him from a distance with sad eyes, he knew she tried to help him. He listened from his doorway as his mom talked to her, saying any excuse she can think of to not worry the little girl. 

‘Harry’s just not feeling very good, dear.’ ‘Harry’s just tired, he’s had a long day.’ ‘You know teenage boys can be difficult dear, he’ll come around soon,’ and other excuses were told to his friend when she came to check on him. He couldn’t exactly make out what the girl was saying in response to his mom, she’s always been such a soft speaker, and it upsets him more. He just wants to be left alone and she cares so much for him that she just want to help in any way,  and he doesn’t want to be rude and tell her to fuck off so he has his mom deal with it. She’s the emotional support thinker, not him. 

After a couple of minutes he hears the door shut so he closes his bedroom door and sits back on his bed, the two pictures laid out on his bed as a reminder of the love for his two closest friends, but also as a reminder of the pain he feels and the tears shed over something that wasn't his fault, the blame he put on himself. He sighs sadly as he looks at them once more before he gathers them and sets them in his nightstand drawer. He tries not to look at those pictures too often, he hates how they make him feel. Any time he looks at his best friend’s photo, it fills him with overwhelming sadness, bitter and hurtful. It fills his chest and makes him feel like he’s drowning in sadness, there’s sometimes a hint of anger but that’s never at him. It’s always directed towards himself, not his friend. He could never be mad at him, he was the closest guy friend he’s had and will ever have, he won’t have another one. When he looks at hers, it used to be happiness, love and adoration but it’s turned into anger and  jealousy. Her name will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his lips will always turn into a frown at the fleetest thought of her. 

He hates her, hates how smart she is, how she’s always somehow better at everything than him even when he spent hours working on something. He loathes how she just always knows what to say. He hates how she never fell off or even wobbled off the hill she was on no matter what was going on in her life. He dislikes how much he wishes he could be like that. He abhors how much even though he wants nothing to do with her right now that he still longs to be those little kids playing together and studying and gossiping. He especially hates how deep down he hopes that she’ll wait for him or beg for him to let her in, how he actually wants her to fight for their friendship. He loathes how much he misses her.

Instead of acting on those terrible ideas in his head on rekindling their friendship, he focuses on his popularity. High school ends and during the summer he experiments with his look, becomes a ladies’ man and immerses himself in that. He enjoys sex, the feeling of it all. The intimacy of something shared between two people, the feverish kisses and the sounds of his partners enjoying themselves. It’s a very good distraction from the one person who doesn’t seem to leave his mind. His reputation as a ladies’ man and a very skilled person grows, he becomes popular not only with the ladies in school but also with the fellow jocks of the school. He dabbled a little bit in the sports aspect of his education, he also tried out for the soccer team at his school. He’s always loved the sport, even as a little boy, something about the running and kicking balls amused him. He was also a pretty fast learner which helped his case a lot, but he still passed. He dabbled in a lot of different sports, not wanting to tie himself down to just one thing which applied to multiple different areas in the boy’s life. He tried anything to rid himself of one of the two names that haunts him no matter what.

[importantpuppystarfish]

I fell in love with my sister

Male reader x Yuna

Warnings: Incest, totally blood related siblings

I had never thought I would fell in love with my own sister.

Maybe its because I have been watching too much stepsister porn which leaded me to have the same attraction over my own blood related sister. I had always wished I had a sister to fuck and luckily I found my sister attractive. My love for her has grown stronger ever since she became a member of Itzy.

Her busy schedule as an idol means I rarely get to see her at home; coming by once in a while to spend time with her family. I know its totally wrong to think of her like that but the way she dances and reveals a lot of skin lately makes me uncontrollable to have feelings for her. I have mastrubated quite a few times watching her fancams. My phone gallery is full of her hot fancams & images which I use to imagine nasty stuff. I’m sure plenty of guys think the same way about her, but I’m fortunate that she’s my sister.

I am not even sure if she is a virgin or not, who knows, her company managers might have taken some advantage of her body. I don't know if she feels the same for me. I am left wondering; could she possibly like me?

On a certain night, within the summer hiatus, she reappeared at home. She was dressed in extraordinarily short clothes that exposed her sexy waist. Our eyes locked, and a profound connection seemed to pass between us. We stare into each others soul through our eyes. The home seemed to be empty. Yuna asked curiously "Yo Oppa? Where's mom and dad?". “They’re currently away to village on some business,” I replied. Yuna’s lips curled into a smile as she bit them, displaying a seductive expression. "Guess we gotta be alone and sleeping together then!" said Yuna. I felt a surge of motivation and realized this might be my opportunity to express my feelings for her.

After she took a bath and changed into a T-shirt and shorts, the fragrance of her body was pleasantly appealing. Her body smell was better than flowers and it was turning me on so hard. We cooked the dinner together and had a few talks about our recent lives, how is it going and our memories when we used to live together. While preparing the meal together, we exchanged glances. I look a peek at her tits and ass a lot. It seemed she was aware of my gaze, yet she seemed comfortable with it.

After having dinner and brushing our teeth, it was time for bed. We both felt a subtle attraction between us. I went to toilet to pee. Yeah, I always had a habit of not locking my phone with a PIN or passcode since my parents did not know how to use smartphone so I thought it wasn't necessary. After coming out from the washroom, I realized I was in a difficult situation when I noticed Yuna was browsing through my gallery. She seem to be shocked to discover what she found.

Yuna ~ "So is this the reason you've been peeking at my body while we were cooking? Are you somehow sexually attracted over me?"

I started feeling submissive and scared at what she said.. She seem to be not angry but waiting for my reply.

Yuna speaks again ~ "It's ok.. I understand how boys feel, I know what would've been going through."

Yuna starts approaching towards me. Putting her hands over my arms, head to head looking at each other eyes. She leaned and kiss at my lips aggressively.. Our lips meeting each other aggressively. Her eyes closed but mines open in shock. The whole room was quite, we started getting sweaty due to tensions. She started sliding her tongue inside my mouth leading for a french kiss.. We kissed romantically exchanging our tongues and salivas through our mouth. The kiss lasted pretty long. She opened her tshirt and was wearing a simple bra. Oh god damn she looked like an angel. Yuna starts unbuttoning my pants and said in a freaky way smiling "damn its hard, isn't it? looks like the size is huge".. She made a wow expression in an impressed way looking at my dick.. I was shy and nervous what to do.. This was the time i feel it is heaven.. I never imagined my sister in this position in real life..

Yuna starts to put my cock inside her mouth, she started licking the head with her tongue and starts sucking it like a pro.. It seemed that she was already experienced, she sucked it very well with hesitation and i was moaning really loud in heaven.. I literally cummed inside her mouth that time without permission. Yuna seemed to swallow the cum inside her mouth already. She was smiling. I start making my first move by unbuttoning her bra. She helped me unbutton it, the bra fell off.

She seem to have pink nipples since her skin was really pale. Her tits were massive enough to squeeze really good with my hand.. I start squeezing her boobs, trying to put it on my mouth. She laughed a bit because i was nervous.. She lay down on the bed, allowing me to suck her tits. She put her hands on my head, moaning in joy.. I started exploring her body more downwards.. I started licking her belly, navel & thighs.. Her skin is so fucking delicious.. It was so warm. As i move more downwards, i pulled down her panties. Her pussy looks like flowers! How clean and shaved it is! It was damn wet as well.. I started eating her pussy without hesitation.. I can hear Yuna moaning.. She locked my face and mouth inside her pussy with her thighs & legs.. Eventually she was enjoying and calling me for a kiss to taste herself

We kissed passionately, enjoying each others breathe. Now I started getting out of control and wanting to slide my cock inside her. I started fucking her, it was my first time ever. It felt so good pounding her. Yuna seemed to enjoy her brother's dick inside her. I wanted to cum inside. "Yuna, do you think I should do this?" "Yes i want ur cum inside me oppa!" replied Yuna in excitement. "Oppa please! I want ur cum inside me! Breed me!"

I couldn't control anymore hearing at her sexual seductive words. I instantly cummed inside her without a 2nd thought. I leaned to her face for a kissed. We both French kissed passionately.. Laying both besides each other in the bed. Its late middle night.. All silent in the room.. We can hear our huge breathing. I asked Yuna "What about our parents? What will we explain about our children or should we do an abortion? "

Yuna replied in an odd way "I guess we have to hide them. Lets live together in a another place and start a family. I love you Oppa!". From that day, Yuna is my sister, my wife and the mother of my children!

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

Can you please do one where the reader gets nipple piercings and Logan goes feral over them? So maybe the reader pulls up downstairs in a braless top and he notices the imprint of the piercings. But maybe everyone else is also downstairs and the other guys notice too. It makes Logan a little possessive but also so horny knowing his girl got her nipples pierced and that he can now do whatever he wants with them.

oh my god loveeee this idea

logan howlett x fem!reader

18+

getting your nipples pierced was an impulsive, spur of the moment decision; you had been out with storm that day and passed the piercing shop, and it took little to no convincing for you to go in and get them done on the spot.

so when you walked downstairs to the lounge that evening, logan was left completely shocked.

your new piercings were no secret when you walked in since you weren’t able to wear a bra, as it would disrupt the healing process. you crossed the room to logan, feeling the eyes of the other people gathered there on you.

“hi babe,” you smiled. “notice anything different?” you planted your hands on your hips as if modeling yourself. logan’s eyes dropped to your tits and narrowed.

“the fuck is that?” he sounded genuinely perplexed.

you became aware that the other people in the lounge had noticed. you grabbed his hand in yours, pulling him up. “come upstairs and i’ll show you,” you said under your breath. he followed you reluctantly, staring down each one of the guys that had dared to catch a glimpse of the jewelry that imprinted against your thin shirt.

he was interrogating you immediately as you got upstairs to your bedroom and closed the door. he shot what seemed like a million questions at you before you rolled your eyes and lifted up your shirt, exposing your bare, freshly-pierced nipples to him.

“they’re piercings logan.”

his jaw dropped slightly at your sudden nude reveal. he felt his jeans tighten around his crotch, the effect on him immediate. his arousal quickly turned into jealousy, his possessiveness over you showing.

“so you’re just inviting everyone to take a look at your tits?,” he growled.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden jealous spark. “is that really what you think?”

logan scoffed, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “i’m the only one who gets to look at these like this, you understand bub?”

“yeah, yeah. already knew that.”

with his claim on you made, logan began realizing all the possibilities that this new addition to your body opened up. lust flashed in his eyes. you took a quick step back as he reached for your tits, holding your hands up to block him.

“nuh-uh logan, way too fast,” you scolded. “not all of us have regenerative healing.”

he scowled and you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “i just got them. they still hurt.”

logan groaned, his head falling back. “so, you’re telling me i have to wait?” he was thoroughly disappointed. he hadn’t given it a thought that they were gonna have to heal before he got to try out his new theories on them. patience was not one of his strengths, especially when it came to you.

you nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile. “yeah, but don’t worry, you can look all you want.”

[tpwk-formula1]

Hii, first I just have to say how much I adore your request-format! It makes the whole process so fun, and I can’t wait to read more of your writing😚❤️❤️❤️

For the order, I’m really craving a gluten-free pizza, served by Franco, with some red sauce. But I’d like it kind of both ways, so red sauce from him and red sauce from reader, if you know what I mean. Like they’re fighting for dominance, switch x switch ❤️ and are kinda mean to each other. But for vibe, I’d love sort of a teasing, intense tone, where Franco’s just really teasing, charming and cocky. So rough but not too onesided, you know!❤️

Then for toppings I’d love pepperoni, tomatoes, gorgonzola and gouda, but again sort of evenly between them. I’d love for them both to be kinda mean. ❤️

To drink I’m really craving a diet coke, diet pepsi, red bull, white claw and an Old Fashion to finish it off. (Both crying)

Also dessert would be amazing, thank you!!❤️❤️❤️

For an extra add-on, if that’s okay (otherwise just ignore this part❤️), I’d love it if he spoke some spanish to reader, not really dirty talk but some hot pet names and teasing sentences that reader doesn’t understand. Translate is fine, so don’t worry abt it having to be perfect, but if you’re not comfortable just ignore this!❤️

Thank you, I’m really looking forward to reading your fics!!❤️❤️

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free rivals red sauce rough sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" gouda “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” diet coke recording kink diet pepsi biting redbull hickeys white claw crying old fashion drunk sex dessert yes served by Franco Colapinto

Franco x rival! reader

TW - switch x switch, edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, rough, begging, unprotected sex, creampies, GOOGLE TRANSLATED SPANISH - MDNI 18+

WC - TBD

Y/N POV

"Do you guys ever get along?" I hear one of the drivers on the grid ask making Ollie groan and answer before Franco or I can answer.

"They were finding a way to fight each other even when she was promoted to F1," Ollie says making me laugh slightly.

"He just knows how to get under my skin," I saw while shrugging my shoulders not seeing how this was any of their business.

"You mean to tell me when she would be gone and we couldn't find her she was terrorizing him?" George asks. I just smile and nod my head proudly.

When I joined Mercedes at the beginning of the season and became teammates with George I still would pop my head into the F2 paddock to say hi to some of my old teammates while also finding ways to piss the Argentinian off. But when he joined mid season replacing Logan we where finally racing together again which meant messing with one another became so much easier.

As the night out progressed and the drinks kept coming Franco and I found ourselves shoved in a dark corner together.

"God you smell like tequila," I state when he gets close trying to pull me in for a kiss. I just push at his chest pulling a fake disgusted look which only had him roughly grabbing my jaw and placing a kiss on my lips.

"Been thinking about that all night," Franco admits making me pull a disgusted look at him.

"That's prety fucking domestic," I state while pulling him in closer by shirt before I release my grip on his shirt and move my hand to his neck where I gave it a good squeeze while I plant my lips back on his.

"You're a fucking whore," I whisper against his lips when he whimpers at my tight grip.

"Vas a ser la puta en un momento," Franco whispers back against my lips making me pull back slightly giving him a raised brow. He knew I didn't understand much Spanish which made moments like this that much more intense.

"Let's get out of here," Franco says while turning away and walking towards the exit which had me following a few minutes after not trying to look like I was going home with him. I knew damn well the second they realized the 2 of us missing they would put 2 and 2 together rather quickly and Ollie was never shy to expose what we really did when we where alone.

When I finally pull up to Franco's hotel I waste no time in getting up to his room and knocking on the door.

When he opens the door he instantly pulls me into his room and closes the door before he roughly shoves me against it pulling out a loud whimper.

I feel Franco move his hand to my neck choking me in the same manner I had done to him when we where in the club. I whimper when I feel his grip tighten on my neck but quick compose myself and push against his hand so I can move away from the wall where I quick use my strength to push him against the wall and pull him back for a kiss.

Franco still had his hand around my neck but due to his shock of the position change made his grip loosen slightly. But it take Franco little to no time to gather himself and move his hand from my throat to my hair where he pulls me near the bed and push me on the ground so I was on my knees with my back resting against the foot of the bed to trap me in the position.

Franco wastes no time in pulling his pants and briefs off and pushing my head near his hard length. I open my mouth and let Franco start face cum me.

"joder siempre tómalo tan bien," Franco grunts out as he pushes my head against the mattress and uses it to his advantage. With my head not being able to move anymore he pushed his length all the way down my throat making me gag and almost instantly start tearing up.

"Fuck, you're a pathetic slut," Franco grunts when he sees the tears start rolling down my cheek. When he starts fucking into my face and hitting my gag reflex each time he pushes in I start fighting back slightly. I'm pushing at his thighs trying to slow down a bit which only has him going harder.

"Jodida tómalo," Franco grunts out while still fucking my mouth.

Franco pushes my head all the way down his cock making sure I take the fuck length leaving me to gag and tear up around his cock fighting to gain some air. When he finally released my head I pull off his cock and start coughing and gasping for air trying to gather myself before I stand up and push Franco on the bed. I quickly strip out of all my clothes while Franco pulls his shirt off and climb into bed to join him.

When I get into the bed I start teasing Franco's cock with my tongue making him hiss at the stimulation to his sensitive cock. I knew after face fucking me he wouldn't last long but I didn't care, I wasn't planning to let him cum, just wanted him begging under me.

"Fuck, hermosa," Franco hisses when I start pulling his cock into my mouth while still teasing his sensitive tip with my tongue.

While still swirling my tongue around the tip of Franco's cock I move a free hand down to his balls and start squeezing them making Frnaco moan rather loudly.

"Fuck, m'not gonna last long," Franco whines out making me speed up my actions on his balls and start bobbing my head bringing him close to the edge. I could tell Franco was about to fall over the edge which had me instantly moving away from his cock to watch him start bucking his hip and whining at the loss of contact.

"Fuck, no please! I was so close, I fucking need it! Please Hermosa hazme venir," Franco whines.

"Are you always this fucking loud? Begging to cum already? Pathetic little thing," I tell him while slowly stroking his length. I loved watching the way Franco gets exceptionally more desperate and needy when he was this close to cumming.

As I was leaning down to continue my teasing Franco roughly grips into my hair and pulling me up so he can plant a kiss on my lips before flipping us over so he was now the one on top.

I feel Franco instantly push his full length into my tight pussy giving me no time to adjust before he was roughly fucking into my pussy making me cry out in a loud moan.

"Now, who's the loud one?" Franco questions back with a smirk while he continues to fuck into my pussy making me loudly moan at the pleasure coursing through me.

"Faster please," I beg which has Franco instantly fucking into my pussy at a faster pace.

"Fuck, the way you clench around me is gonna make me cum," Franco grunts out making me clench around him around.

"More, please," I beg again needing more feeling my orgasm starting to build up.

Franco speeds up into a brutal pace becoming too much almost instantly.

"Fuck Franco," I cry while cumming all over his cock. Franco continues to fuck me through my orgasm at the brutal pace making me start crying in overstimulation while begging him to slow down.

"Franco can't take it. Slow down please!"

“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Franco teases back only going at a faster pace.

I knew I was a crying mess under him again but I didn't care when I felt my orgasm starting to build deep within my pussy once again.

"Fuck, gonna cum for me again?" Franco states when he can feel my pussy throbbing around his cock in anticipation for another orgasm.

"Fuck, Franco," I cry out as I start cumming all over his cock once again. Franco helps me ride my orgasm out finally slowing his pace down to let me catch my breath. Once I've settled down I flip Franco and I over once again climbing off his dick and getting back on my knees so I can pull him into my mouth again.

"I taste amazing on your cock," I say once I've collected some of my slick. I lean up and spit directly into Franco's mouth knowing he would only be able to taste my spit, but not caring because I loved seeing him swallow like a whore.

"Fuck, Hermose, please," Franco begs which has me leaning back down to his cock to pull him deep into my throat and bobbing my head.

"Fuck," Franco manages out while bucking his hips right on the edge of cumming.

I pull back at the last second while squeezing his cock knowing it'll help him from cumming before I was ready to let him.

"Please," Franco cries out making me smirk at him at how desperate he is.

"Shut up," I tell him before pulling him back into my mouth and repeating the same process while he was under me crying and begging for his release.

"I said shut up! Do you enjoy pissing me off?" I snap at him while sending down a harsh slap on his inner thigh making him whimper at the sudden and sharp pain.

"Please! I'll be good! I'm so close, please!" Franco begs while tears start rolling down his face.

"Look like a proper whore! Crying for me like you weren't just doing the same thing to me," I tease before taking Franco back into my mouth and edging him once again.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Franco groans out once again making me pull away from his cock entirely to watch as it bounces against his lower tummy in search of stimulation so it could finally be put out of it's misery.

"Mierda, Please lo necesito tan malo," Franco says so lost in his pleasure he's asking in Spanish. I let Franco start to come down from the edge while I lean down and start kissing his inner thighs before I start taking small little bites of out his sink before I finally sink my teeth in and leave a little hickey on his inner thight while i repeat the process a few times letting his once bare thighs be scattered with hickeys made by me.

"Given, I don't know Spanish I'm gonna take it you want me to do it again!" I say with a smirk only resulting in Franco crying out again while thrashing his body around a bit.

"Quite it!" I say while sending down a hard slap on his inner thigh knowing it'll get him to stop squirming around under me.

I lean back down and pull Franco into my mouth again and start bobbing my head which has Franco instantly gripping at my hair trying to keep me down on his cock, but it didn't work because the second he was about to cum I use all my strength to pull my mouth away.

"No, no, no, no, I can't do it anymore," Franco cries out making me smirk before climbing into his lap and sinking down on his cock making him cum almost instantly.

"Mierda, sentirse tan bien envuelta alrededor de mi polla," Franco chants in Spanish while I ride him through his orgasm.

"Fuck, I need you still Franco please," I beg while riding his cock which had him flipping us back over so he was over me again while he starts pounding into ym pussy as if he hadn't just cum.

"FUck, Franco, not gonna last long," I cry out making him speed up.

"Fucking hold it and be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Franco grunts back making me whimper.

"PLease, Franco can't hold it back," I whine out making Franco roll his eyes and pull his cock out right before I was about to cum.

"Franco! What the fuck," I try to shout but it comes out more like a whine making Franco smirk at me.

"I'm just giving you the same treatment," Franco replies back before plunging his cock deep into my pussy and fucking me.

“Please!” I beg once again which has Franco speeding up his actions while bringing his head down and biting my neck making me whimper while throwing me over the edge and into another orgasm.

When I finally come down from my high Franco slows his hips down and unleashes another load deep into my pussy to join the first load he gave me.

“Fuck,” Franco groans while pulling out of me slowly and climbing out of bed to clean me up.

“Im not moving from this bed for atleast 12 hours,” I joke while curling into Franco’s side and relaxing into his warm embrace.

“Sounds like 12 hours of free range to fuck you,” Franco jokes back which has me whining and clenching my thighs at the thought.

“You like that idea I see,” Franco further teases with a laugh making me burry my face in his chest and start kissing his skin before making my way to his mouth and pull him in for a kiss.

“Think your teammate would believe it if I said you’re actually pretty sweet to me sometimes,” Franco says making me laugh softly and shake my head.

“No George is convinced Im heartless,” I reply back making both of us giggle softly.

[pigeonpeach]

Father’s weakness

Aka another mom figure x arlecchino!

Warnings: blood, injury to reader, stitches,

A/n: part of this was written before her story quest, but i wanted to get something out after weeks of nothing. Tryna feed my arlecchino fans out there

You hadn’t ever fought in your life. You were not a fighter by any means. But when one of the city mechas malfunctioned and started to target the very child you were with, something in you snapped. Before you could think you were struggling against a metallic arm, blood dripping from your hands as you had stopped the blad with your palm. In that instance all pain was numb, your body didn’t exist but your determination to protect the very helpless and small child did, it overrides your weakness as you had successfully stopped it. The child in question immediately screaming for help.

“I don’t want to leave you! No I won’t leave you again mommy!” She cried, her mother had been murdered, that’s why she was a orphan, you could only imagine how horrific it was for her.

“Celia you have to run! I’ll be fine!” You said, lying through your damn teeth. The machine tried to overpower you, your body was pushed back as you tried to wrestle the sword from its hand.

Finally the guards, the human ones arrived. A gunshot aired as the mecha turned its attention to far more dangerous agressors and withdrew its sword to fight them instead. Leaving you to fall to the floor, injured and awkwardly comforting Celia as she immediately tried to drag you back to the house of hearth.

“I can’t really say you’re a fool. There wasn’t exactly any better alternative in that situation.” Your coworker said. You winced as she stitched the gash in your hands. There wasn’t much time to get a pain killer so you bore it through your teeth. “But Alrecchino will certainly be unhappy with the guardes. I truly don’t understand why it picked on you.”

“Just.. keep scolding me or something. Its easier to forget the pain.” You whispered. The children were hysterical outside. You, the favorite caretaker, had been greatly injured. Of course they were upset, these are orphans. You could hear the older agents trying to soothe the younglings outside.

“Arlecchino won’t be pleased. Lets just hope her anger will be directed towards the engineers.”

“Likely. I didn’t do anything against the code, infact Its well within my job description to protect the children if needed. I may have lied about my capabilities on that though…” you hissed. Now without the adrenaline did everything fucking hurt. The antiseptic in your wounds, the bruises, the needle actively piercing your skin, it fucking hurt. But you had to suck it up, otherwise the children would meltdown into utter chaos believing their mother was dying.

“Surely you know that she.. values you in some way. I was just saying that she may be particularly pissed. You are her favorite.”

“Wait what? I’m the kids favorite, that’s no secret, but hers? Are you sure?” You asked skeptically. Although Clarice had been quite old, having worked for the previous knave and well into her 50s, you didn’t think she had a eye for those details.

“It doesn’t take a expert. But you should be more careful.”

“And what? Let the machines murder the kids I’m designated to protect? No! I did nothing wrong! I don’t care if I destroyed or damaged that machine. I’d sooner punch the Iudex myself then let any of those kids get harmed on my watch.” You said defensively.

“Yes I understand. There. You’re done. Now I’ll wrap it so the kids don’t worry to much. Now please go out there so the kids don’t start mauling each other.” Clarice groaned. You took your hand, it wasn’t pretty, you certainly couldn’t let the kids see that kind of wound when they’re so young.

“Mom! Mom!” The children only became more rowdy when you left through the door.

“Back up now! You’re all going to crush each other!” You said sternly. Only about half seemed to listen, you had to repeat yourself a few times before they relaxed. “I’m okay children. I’m just a little hurt, I’ll live okay?” You flipped your hands around to showcase the bandages, hoping they’d relax. They did but you could still see the worry. Even the older children seemed concerned. “Please return to what you were doing now, all is well. No one is dying or leaving okay?” You said. Slowly they dispersed. If only because their worries had been addressed. But you knew it didn’t fully do so. But at least now you could walk down the halls. You sighed as you walked towards the entrance, seeing a few guards.

“You won’t take our mommy!” One kid said immediately latching onto your leg. You patted his head.

“This isn’t a arrest. In fact we just wanted to get a report from you as to what happened. We understand you left the scene almost Immediately yes?” The officer in question seemed suspicious of you. As if you had something to benefit from the situation. ‘Great he’s going to find anything to twist into suspicion’

“Sir I hope you understand that now is not the the time for interviews. I have just been patched up and I am still on the clock, I have a big responsibility right now. I’ll be happy to come to your olace for a official statement but now is not the time. Now please leave before the children get worried even more so.”

“Ma’am we have to get your point of view to better understand-“

“I was taking one of the children for icecream because she had been very good and it was her birthday. That mecha started randomly attacking people and I jumped in to save her. That is all you are getting at this hour, now please step outside.” You said, you didn’t trust this officer. Just his eyes alone were shifty, plotting, something wasn’t right with him and you weren’t going to risk it,

“Ma-am do not put your hands on me.”

“I am very much not touching you right now. Am i not allowed to exist in the air nearby you? Let me repeat myself, i will go to the palais to give my statement once I’m clocked out. You however need to get out.” Normally you were polite and understanding, the epitome of grace and manners. But you almost died today so you didn’t feel intimidated by the cops ad you had previously been.

“May I at least speak to the child?”

“I will not repeat myself sir, get. Out. We will give our statement later.” You said pointing to the door. He wrote something down which annoyed you greatly.

“Alright, you don’t have to be so rude. I’ll leave. We expect your testimony soon.” He said. You frowned even more so.

“What a bitch.” A child said.

“Do not use that language Belle.” You sighed.

“Arlecchino was supposed to be back by now, but I believe she’s having a strong word with the guards right now.” Lynette explained. From the way her tail swished you could sense she was alarmed. “Many people are afraid of the mechas right now. Apparently they’ve been temporarily recalled. Although the current belief is that one of the wild ones managed to sneak in without suspicion. But its only a theory for now. The important thing is you are safe.” Despite her stoic face you could see both her and Lyney needed reassurance of your wellbeing. Like the many children who were now on edge.

“I am safe. A doctor came by to inspect my injuries and said that I should be fine. I’m likely s little anemic is all. For now I can’t do any heavy lifting or intensive jobs.” You explained. Lyney stiffened.

“That shouldn’t be a issue, Freminet and I would be more than willing to help you with anything.” He offered. You smiled trying to reassure the twins of your health.

“That is sweet but you two have your own lives now. But if you have the time to I wouldn’t complain. Just don’t go against your father’s orders just for me okay. I don’t want anyone getting into trouble.”

“That’s reasonable enough. Will you still be working?” Lynette asked.

“Well like you said, Arlecchino isn’t home yet so I’d have to discuss that with her. But likely yes. I have already used up my sick days for the month.” You smiled.

“No I’m sure she’d let you rest at least!” Lyney said.

“I’m glad you care Lyney but it’s up to your Father to decide. Besides I’m still kicking. I’ll be fine.”

“Father did tell us to accompany you for now. How is Celine right now?”

“She had a panic attack and had to be kicked out of the nursing station. But she’s uninjured and I’ve spent time to calm her down. Unfortunately she didn’t get to finish her icecream.” You joked. They didn’t seem to enjoy your humor.

“We can get her some ourselves. You just relax for now.” He said. You sighed.

“Miss Alrecchino.” You bowed as she entered the room. She however seemed anything but normal. She held your face forcing you to look at her and tilting it, as if checking for any injuries.

“How are you feeling.” Her tone was different. She sounded riled and angry. You dreaded seeing this side of her.

“I’m just a little weak right now. My palms hurt quite badly but I’ll be fine.” You said. She seemed unpleased.

“She didn’t even use painkillers..” she said under her breath. “You should rest. Bandage the wound and check in with the doctor, ill ask the others to lighten your workload for the time being. Be cautious from now on.”

“Y-yes.” You bowed as you quickly exited, unsure if you had heard the entire conversation properly.

And that was it. Arlecchino despite her cold and unfeeling demeanor, everyone else seemed convinced she had a fondness for you. But even if she did you could never see it in her eyes. Her eyes looked somehow dull and sharp, dangerous maybe a better term. Sometimes they soften, the light would reflect in them but her lips hardly ever curved then. It was like she never smiled with her eyes but never smiled when her eyes lit up. But you had a job to do, you had to help the kids, you could ponder arlecchino’s emotions later.

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 1

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Your siblings are marrying in two weeks and as the best man and maid of honor, Miguel and you are dragged to the dance lessons for moral support despite disliking each other. There, you're forced to pretend to be a couple. Word Count: 3k Warnings: slightly suggestive comments from the dance instructor, so MDNI; reader speaks and understands Spanish; unnamed sister for reader; reader and Miguel are grumpy with each other, so don't expect any smooching, but there's tension, hehe A/N: this was supposed to be a simple thought based on a movie scene (vid below the cut) that turned into something longer (a blessing and a curse). Thank you for reading! Masterlist

Source: The Wedding Date (2005)

Your little sister, or not so little since she’s all grown up, found love and is now getting married to Gabriel O’Hara. You’re elated about them marrying, truly. Ever since your sister met Gabriel, you could tell they were made for each other. They’re both so sweet and kind, sometimes they remind you of Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice, too good for their own good.

They’re truly made for each other and you have to admit, Gabriel squeezed his way into your heart fairly quickly with how great he treats your sister, so it didn’t take long before you started to see him as part of the family.

But of course, a rose comes with its thorns. Or, in your case, your sister’s now fiancé, comes with a brother.

Miguel O’Hara.

You cannot stand the man.

And he cannot stand you.

That’s the one thing you have in common, the mutual dislike.

You finally met him and Gabriel’s parents when the relationship between your siblings became serious. You expected to like Gabriel’s family, and you did, everyone except Miguel. The two of you simply didn’t click. It was dislike at first sight.

Of course, you try to be polite to each other for the sake of your siblings, but when they’re not in sight, keeping an eye on either of you, your dislike is shown through scowls and narrowed eyes.

You try to stay clear from each other as much as possible, something that has become harder to do as your siblings’ relationship has turned more and more serious.

And now, the proximity will be unavoidable. Gabriel popped the question a year ago and that’s how you find yourself parked outside a dance studio, two weeks before the big day.

With you being your sister’s maid of honor and Miguel the groom’s best man, that means you’ve both been in each other’s presence more than usual to support the couple as they’ve gone through the wedding planning.

And that includes the freaking dance lessons.

As soon as everyone arrives, all four of you enter the building. Of course, Miguel and you avoid each other as you both quickly scan the place before your gazes find your siblings’ sheepish smiles towards the two of you. The sight immediately makes Miguel and you tense.

Those sheepish smiles are no good, you both know that too well. Those are the smiles of younger siblings about to ask something from you. Something neither of you are probably going to like.

“So… we asked you to come along today for moral support,” you sister starts, fidgeting with her hands.

“Because we really do need it but there’s another reason…” Gabriel adds, trailing off.

“What is it, Gabriel?” Miguel asks, his tone low with a hint of impatience.

“So… the instructor is a well known one in the community. They’re really good at what they do! It’s why we wanted to get lessons from her, but she had a tight schedule and it was looking like we almost didn’t get a spot. She said she’d only do it if we brought along another couple, unmarried if possible, but one that might potentially marry in the future. You know, as a way to get more business in the future…” Gabriel replies, offering a nervous smile.

“So, Gabri and I figured that…” your sister trails off.

Both Gabriel and your sister stare at you and Miguel, with hope in their eyes as their little plan sinks in.

“No way,” you say immediately, declining anything related to Miguel.

“Aw, please. It’s just a dance lesson. Just for today! Two hours at the most,” your sister tries.

“No.”

“You guys just need to act nice with each other, that’s all. Easy,” Gabriel says, shrugging as if he’s never ran into someone he didn’t like, which might actually be true. “I mean - we’re family now. Not officially, yet,” Gabriel adds giving his future wife a smile that shows pure love. “Very soon, just two more weeks and finally.”

Miguel and you watch, your siblings forgetting for about five seconds about death glares they’re receiving as of right now.

Yes, they’re really too good for their own good. Or, maybe they’re just using their younger sibling privilege and the fact that they’re in love to get their older siblings to give in.

At last, Gabriel turns again as if he just now realizes - or feels - the glares.

“We’re basically family now. You’re going to see each other more often, unless you plan on not attending any family gatherings from here on now, or making some rotating schedule on who gets to go when. It’s just a dance practice, please,” Gabriel pleads, trying to reason with you.

“Gabriel, no,” Miguel says annoyed, exasperated that he and your sister would even think about this considering the fact that neither he nor you like each other.

“Please, if you don’t, she might cancel the session, or charge us double, or something.”

“She can’t do that,” you say. “Can she?”

“Please,” Gabriel and your sister say in unison, something they do a lot, which kind of annoys you sometimes, to be honest.

“It’s not like we’re asking you to kiss. Just - act like a couple,” you sister says. “Please, just for today.”

Miguel and you are both about to tell your siblings why this is inadequate, but you only manage to open your mouths before a woman comes in with a too cheerful smile on her face, stopping you from proceeding. Her presence in the room suddenly shuts all debating, leaving no room for Miguel and you to reiterate that neither of you wish to do this.

“Wonderful! Two couples. My name is Lyla,” she says turning to Miguel and you. “I’m your dance instructor. Let’s not waste any time, yes? The wedding is in two weeks! We need to start working immediately. Everybody, on the floor, please. Let’s go, you two as well, don’t be shy now.” Lyla walks over, immediately pushing Miguel and you forward. “You can be shy in each other’s arms, let’s go.”

You briefly wonder how this woman has so much strength to push the two of you into the floor but that’s quickly forgotten as she continues to speak.

“There. Ah - I see our engaged couple is ready to go,” she comments, making Miguel and you turn to find your siblings already in position, ready to dance. “Let me get these two going, they’re sooooo shy,” Lyla comments with a soft smirk, motioning to Miguel and you.

You both scowl when you hear your siblings laugh, something that cuts their laughter short and turn away.

“Sir, you need to place your hand right here. On your woman’s waist, come on, I’m sure you’ve held her before,” Lyla instructs, grabbing his wrist and placing it on your waist, making it so that Miguel’s hand grips you. Unused to his touch, you squirm when you feel Miguel’s warm hand on you. You try backing away but Lyla only pushes you forward, into Miguel’s touch.

“My, you two are really shy,” she says as she takes your hand and places it on Miguel’s shoulder, allowing you to feel his broad muscles beneath his top. “You need to learn to embrace each other. It’s intimacy.” She pushes you both together now, forcing Miguel to take more steps towards you. Again, you question how much strength Lyla has to move you like straw dolls, especially a man like Miguel. Maybe you’re both so dumbfounded by this situation, your bodies are just doing as she says, pushing you into this abnormal situation. The only sense of normalcy comes from the glares Miguel and you are shooting at each other. “Dancing is like - making love, I’m sure you two know what I’m talking about,” Lyla says before her eyebrows shoot up, thinking of something. “Unless you’re waiting for marriage then… that’s a tough one, but I think you might have an idea of what I mean.” At that, Lyla grins at the two of you.

Miguel and you silently groan at the thought of you two making love, meanwhile Gabriel and your sister are laughing in the back. You turn and give them a glare, same from Miguel, shutting them up.

“I can see you’re both tense. There’s so much - so much tension between you,” Lyla says, hand on her chin as if contemplating something deeply. “It’s that kind of tension only found in the bedroom, you know? Hm… Alright, you’’l be the leader. That means you lead the dance, sir,” she says patting Miguel’s arm.

You turn at that because why does he get to lead you?

“Why does he lead?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“Uhh - okay, I see it now,” Lyla says with a smile, as if everything makes sense now. “That’s why there’s so much tension. You’re both - very dominant. I suppose you’re both - you switch, right? You’re switches?”

“What?” Miguel says with knitted eyebrows and a slightly opened mouth due to the shock because there’s no way this lady just asked that, right?

“Excuse me?” you manage to say, equally appalled.

“You take turns,” Lyla explains. “On who is dominant In the bedroom. The question is who will be the dominant one on the dance floor.”

You turn to look at Miguel, brows knitted. Not only are you being forced to pretend to be his partner but now you’re apparently “switches” and fighting for who dominates who. It’s stupid, you know that, but this has turned into a competition of sorts, and there’s no way you’re letting Miguel O’Hara lead you, even if it’s pretend.

“I assure you, it’ll be me. Just like how it is in the bedroom,” you state which earns you a squeeze from Miguel’s hand on your waist.

“We both know that’s not the case, amor [love],” Miguel replies through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lyla pipes in between you, amused. “I love your energy, though. Alright, time to dance!”

You exhale heavily. Just why did your sister have to drag you into this? Oh right, you’re her maid of honor and the man with his hand on your waist right now is the best man.

You’re stuck in this situation now, whether you like it or not. So, Miguel and you stand like two stiff boards against each other, meanwhile your younger siblings are in another dimension of rainbows and love. They already forgot about their older siblings since they got away with their little plan.

You sigh again and turn to face Miguel, standing in front of each other, like two statues. As the minutes have ticked by with Lyla’s talk about intimacy and dominance, your fingers are now interlaced, though neither of you have noticed yet.

“Just dance, guys. I want to see what I’m working with here,” Lyla says, hands on her hips as she watches the scene in front of her, music playing in the background now.

Stiffly, Miguel and you begin to move, taking steps side by side for a good minute or so before you look up at him. Staring at hm, you notice he seems… tense. Despite yourself, you can’t help but poke fun at him.

“¿Qué pasa, Miguel? ¿Tienes dos pies izquierdos? [What's up, Miguel? You have two left feet?]” You ask mockingly, which earns yourself a half scowl because Lyla is watching you.

Miguel grips your fingers and waist as you continue to dance. You still have a soft smirk on your face, satisfied with Miguel’s annoyance when suddenly, you’re tripping over his foot. Your breath hitches as you feel yourself falling but before that happens, you feel Miguel’s wrapped arm around your waist tighten, catching you. To further annoy you, he expertly uses his other hand and maneuvers you so that your back is leaning on his arm now, with you looking up at him as he leans down. For about three or four seconds, his dark eyes bore into yours before he spins you back to face him correctly.

Annoyed, you return the gesture and slam your foot on his, causing him to grimace in pain. Holding your hand, he pushes you back with a scowl before pulling you back harshly.

“Para tu información, princesa, sé bailar [for your information, little princess, I know how to dance],” he murmurs, staring down at you.

“Hm, I wonder where from? You never dance at parties.”

“And you do? All you do is sit at the table like you’re too good to accept any man’s offer for a dance,” Miguel replies as you move across the dance floor.

Somewhere, your siblings are already receiving help from Lyla, who’s instructing them on proper hand placement.

“And you? You stand around with the other men, talking about God knows what.”

“Women, of course,” Miguel sarcastically replies as he spins you around before bringing you back to him. “We talk about the women dancing and the ones who don’t, either because they’re too shy to dance, or just snobs, como tu… comprenderas [like you... understand, comprehend].”

You scoff. “Is that them, or your personal opinion of me?” you ask, pulling back from him, hands still joined.

Miguel snickers and pulls you back, your chest slamming right into his. You scowl in response. “Quiero decirte algo [I want to tell you something].” He spins you around again. “We are going to make this work.”

“Make what work?”

“This,” Miguel says as he pulls you back in. He stares at you while you keep dancing. “I’m not going to miss out on my brother’s life. Gabriel and I are close, always have been. I have no intentions of stepping out and missing out on his life, him building a life with your sister.” He turns you around, pressing your back to his chest, his arms crossed over your body, as if keeping you locked in them to ensure you’ll listen clearly. “I’m going to be there, at every family gathering. If they have children, you better bet I’m going to be there at every birthday party, or soccer game. So, I want you to know that right now. We’re either going to make this work, or you’ll be missing out, because I’m not stepping out.”

You scoff again, and to his great annoyance and astonishment, free yourself from his arms to face him once more. You place a hand on his chest, leading him back.

“I have no intentions of missing out, O’Hara. Don’t even think about it. Being part of my sister’s life heavily outweighs the annoyance of seeing your unpleasant face.”

Miguel scoffs and wraps his large hand around your wrist before he pulls you forward, your faces mere inches from each other.

“Unpleasant face? You must be blind, princesita [little princess]. Maybe I ought to take you somewhere to get those pretty eyes checked if that’s how you see my face,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.

You snort and pull back. “You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, O’Hara, but I digress. I’m going to be part of my sister’s life, too. So, get used to it.”

Miguel smirks, pulling you right back against his chest. “For better or worse, we'll tolerate each other. For them,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.

“For them,” you agree, meeting his gaze.

For the first time, you really look into his eyes. You’ve never been quite this close to the man, not enough to appreciate their color - a deep brown with a slight maroon undertone. You see the gentle wrinkles under his eyes and forehead, probably from his job as the CEO from some company you've never bothered to learn the name of. A quick peek at his slightly parted mouth allows you to really notice the plump lips. You’ve never noticed it before, but one side of his upper lip is higher than the other, adding to the full lips. You even manage to notice a crooked tooth at the front of his teeth, something that makes you pause internally for some reason.

In a society worried all about looks, Miguel hasn't had that fixed. You glance back into Miguel's eyes but his are somewhere else, somewhere around your mouth. You don’t have enough time to question why his eyes are there though.

His eyes meet yours again, his throat showing a visible gulp as the image of your lips flashes in his head. Staring at your eyes, he once again takes notice of your eye color and the way your eyelashes frame your eyes, something he’s noticed before.

“That!”

Miguel and you instantly pull away, releasing each other. Lyla quickly approaches you, smiling.

“That's the look I was hoping for,” she says. “A look of pure passion, tension, sexiness… love” she says, giddily. “That’s the way to dance! Oh, I have no doubt you two will know exactly how to dance when your wedding date comes. I have seen enough. Take five while I revisit my initial plan, our engaged couple needs a little more help than you two,” Lyla says giving you both a wink. “There’s a lot of love there but they can’t dance to save their lives, unlike you two. If you want to take a seat and just talk, you lovebirds.” Lyla nods and heads off to your siblings, immediately laying out what needs work.

Miguel and you stand side by side, watching in silence for a few seconds before Miguel breaks the silence.

“I need to make - a work call. I’ll be outside while they get finished,” he says, pulling out his cell phone.

“Sure, you go and do that,” you reply, staring at the other three people, not sparing Miguel a glance.

He faces you, watching you for a few seconds as if expecting you to say anything else, or maybe waiting for you to face him, but you never do.

“Great,” he mutters before he walks away. A few seconds later you hear the studio’s door close.

You sigh heavily. You didn’t even know you were holding your breath. He’s so annoying, so - You do a little head shake, clearing your mind. You’ve both agreed to tolerate each other for the sake of your siblings - to be part of their lives.

“For better or worse,” you murmur to yourself.

Next Part

A/N: Leaving it open-ended because this was only supposed to be a blurb and then I kept going! Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this!! <33

Edit: This became a short fic 💀

Alondra❤️

[awkward-walking-potato]

Logan Howlett x gn!reader that has the mutation to summon, speak and communicate with ghosts and the undead? Maybe in both daily life, and missions that they’re assigned on, and he sees them use their powers?

Whispers Between Worlds

Logan Howlett had always been known for his gruff exterior, but he was also fiercely protective of those he cared about. From the moment you joined the X-Men, with your eerie yet powerful mutation to communicate with ghosts and the undead, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility over you. It wasn’t just because you were new to the team, or even because your powers gave him a sense of unease—there was something about the quiet strength you carried, despite the weight of your abilities, that drew him in.

Your mutation was unique, something none of the others could fully understand. You could summon, speak with, and communicate with the spirits of the dead. It gave you insight that no one else could access, allowing you to gain critical information in missions and act as a bridge between the living and those who had passed on. But it came at a price—each time you tapped into that realm, it drained you, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.

In daily life, your powers were a mixed blessing. Logan would catch glimpses of you having quiet conversations with spirits no one else could see. You’d occasionally offer reassurance to lost souls lingering in the shadows of the mansion, or lend an empathetic ear to ghosts who had nowhere else to go. It was clear that you felt a responsibility to the dead just as much as the living, and Logan respected that, even if it wasn’t something he’d ever admit out loud.

He’d often see you staring out the window, eyes distant, as if you were half in another world. The ghosts never left you completely alone, and he noticed how it wore on you. Despite your ability to keep a brave face around the others, Logan saw the toll it was taking on you—the bags under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped at the end of a long day. It didn’t sit right with him.

Then there were the missions. Your powers were invaluable in gathering intel from fallen enemies or uncovering long-lost secrets from the dead, but Logan hated how often you were pushed to your limits. The team, even with their best intentions, had started to rely on you more and more, asking you to summon spirits at every turn. They didn’t see the way your hands trembled after, or the pain in your eyes when you had to force yourself to connect with the other side.

One mission in particular pushed you past your breaking point.

The team had been dispatched to an old, abandoned military base to recover sensitive information from a long-dead commander. The base had been a site of horrific battles, and the air was thick with restless spirits. You were asked to summon the commander’s ghost to get the intel they needed, but Logan could see the exhaustion already etched across your face before you even began.

“Take it easy, darlin’,” Logan had murmured to you as the others prepared for the mission. “You don’t have to do this.”

But you’d shaken your head, a determined look in your eyes. “I’ll be fine, Logan. We need this information.”

And so, you pushed forward, reaching out to the commander’s spirit as the others stood by, waiting. Logan kept a close eye on you, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

It didn’t take long for the toll to hit. As the ghost appeared, your body stiffened, and Logan saw you clench your fists in pain. The commander’s spirit was fragmented, violent—years of rage and torment had left him a shell of who he once was, and pulling his essence into the world caused you immense strain. Your breathing became labored, your skin paling as the spirit fought against your control.

“Enough!” Logan barked, stepping forward as he saw you falter. But the others were too focused on the mission to notice.

“We just need a few more details,” one of the team members insisted. “Hold it a little longer!”

But you couldn’t. The pain in your head was unbearable, like knives being driven into your skull as the spirit thrashed within you. Just as the ghost finished relaying the last bit of information, you collapsed to the ground, the connection severed, your body spent from the strain.

Before anyone else could react, Logan was at your side, his hand on your back as he helped you sit up. The moment he saw the pain in your eyes, a white-hot anger surged through him.

“That’s it,” Logan growled, standing up and turning to face the others. His fists clenched, claws threatening to unsheathe. “You’re all pushing ‘em too damn far!”

“Logan, we needed—” one of the others started, but Logan cut them off with a snarl.

“Needed what? To see how much more pain they could take? They’ve been running themselves ragged for this team, and you’ve been too damn blind to notice! Every time they use those powers, it takes somethin’ outta ‘em, and none of you seem to give a damn!”

The others looked taken aback, but Logan didn’t care. His eyes burned with protective fury as he turned back to you, his voice softening when he spoke again. “You’re done for the day, got it? No more of this.”

You tried to protest, but your body was trembling, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

Logan crouched down beside you, his hand gently brushing your hair back from your face. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Let’s get you home.”

The others stood in awkward silence, knowing Logan was right, but unsure of how to respond. Without another word, Logan lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you back to the jet.

Once you were safely seated, Logan stayed by your side the entire way home. His hand never left yours, his presence a grounding force as the exhaustion of your powers finally overtook you.

Later that evening, after you’d had some rest, Logan came to check on you. He leaned against the doorframe of your room, his usual gruff demeanor softened as he watched you lying in bed, still recovering.

“Y’know, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” he said quietly, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “The team needs you, yeah, but I need you too. And I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt you, not even yourself.”

You smiled weakly, grateful for his words. “Thanks, Logan.”

He crossed the room, sitting down beside you and gently taking your hand in his. “From now on, if it gets to be too much, you tell me. I’ll make sure they back off. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You weren’t alone—not with Logan by your side.

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/ISITTRUE [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | if-im-there | happy-birthday | [is-it-true]

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (28) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

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@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday

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[astrologicalsstuff]

Obsession synastry

These are just aspects I’ve experienced where either they or I or both became obsessed

I have Pluto in the 8th house natally idk if that makes a difference for some of these, I’m pretty naturally intense I guess.

Venus in the first house

As the Venus person I’ve had this with the two people who absolutely rocked my world. I thought these people were the most beautiful people I have ever seen and idolized them. They were so beautiful to me and I told everyone about them

Planets in the 12th

I have a stellium of four planets and I can’t really tell you exactly how each one acts

Mercury: MISCOMMUNICATION I swear this person would ask me one thing and I would hear something entirely different. Sometimes I would also be too shy to respond, I did a lot of drugs with these people. Also I got so much information about these people randomly. I’d have dreams that told me things, I’d cry randomly. Strangers told me things about him that I didn’t know, and later revealed his name. I knew so much about these people from other sources randomly. One time we ended and I ended up with a group of his friends I didn’t know we’re his friends and they just kept talking about him and then they said his name and I was like…. Honestly I had such a hard time communicating with these people and I felt like they really wanted me to. I honestly feel like theses people are still kinda waiting on an explication from me. It’s just so hard. I kept getting in my head thinking they couldn’t possibly know and yet they made every effort to help me feel comfortable sharing but I didn’t know how. And with these people there’s always something getting in the way. Like no service, or his parents would come in the room and take away his phone. I blocked these people a lot.

Mars:… yeah it’s true. This guy was my first I thought we were soulmates I was confused lol. I also talk hella shit about these people (some of them) because they did me so dirty. There’s so much build up over time here. Like did they understand me. Will they ever get how I feel.

Jupiter: let down Fr without other good synastry. This placement gives you a spiritual assistance. There’s a greater force on your side helping this relationship. I met this guy once and I thought about him all the time for a year. We ended up meeting again and he was really into me too. EVERYTHING WAS FATED we ran into eachother everywhere, he happened to be next door neighbors with two of my best friends (his parent were divorced). I thought we had no real mutuals turns out we were in a really big friend group. ALL OF HIS FRIENDS WERE FRIENDS WITH AT LEAST ONE OF MINE.

Sun: I don’t know if they ever really saw me. Well I know that’s not true but I think they truly were surprised by some qualities about me or just don’t understand. I also feel like I can see through these people so easily. Honestly this placement felt less like confusion for me and more like lucidity. Like I understand you eventhough your not telling me in a way that makes sense. Drugs. The one that got away. But they’re back? Feels like a forever kinda thing. Disappear cold turkey and run into eachothers years later. Honestly I was faking it with these people a bit. Wouldn’t let them know the real me.

8th house synastry (cancer, Leo, sag)

Man if you think it’s done it’s not done till it gets bad

I have Venus conjunct moon and a stellium with

Venus: oh man I thought I was obsessed but I think it was him (he had natal mars not really conjunct though) and we were in a weird polyamory situation. I was like so obsessed with him. I always thought about him(sexually) and he really went the extra mile for me. Yeah I was a bit possessive but he had his mars in my friends 8th and she was so much more possessive. She even said to me “he’s mine” he sure as hell was not hers. I also have my Venus and mom on in her 8th and she still texts me even though I stopped talking to her like 2 years ago. They both do. He made new numbers and always found ways to reappear. I don’t know if it’s sexual as much as seductive. When I have Venus in peoples 8th house we always end up in something sexual even if we’re not into eachother.

Moon: pretty emotional, these relationships feel so natural for me, honestly the house person is more affected I think. Like the house person has never met someone like this before, never experienced these things.

Pluto: This is a generational one so it has to be a really really close orb like 1-2 degrees with other things going on honestly

I had this with a guy and it made me think astrology is more than just planets and gravity. Like being around this guy…. I felt all the Pluto/8th house elements. I was so entranced by the eye contact and the physical touch. I started off not knowing this guy but he knew me and I was so mad about something but then I was so turned on and I told him I wanted to wait but the sexual tension made me angry so I went off on him. After that I couldn’t stand myself he was so nice to me (8th house) and I didn’t even have control over myself. I would never use astrology to justify actions so I went to therapy and began to really work on my triggers but I didn’t forget him. And I thought for sure he would not be into me after that interaction, justifiably, but right when I gave up on ever talking to him again he messaged me. I… stalked him for months on Instagram we didn’t even follow each other and he posted all these things about his loyalty and lowkey stuff we talked about in those 2 hours we met and I thought there’s no way they could be about me so I thought he moved on but I guess he didn’t. I have no idea who’s obsessed I know I am but I’m thinking maybe he is in another way. Definitely taboo. I have all these secrets I’m keeping from him too. Like I don’t know this guy and all we have is history (my south node is in the 8th). I think the whole premise is intensity and possessiveness and I don’t know where it comes from cause I don’t know this guy. Pluto conjunct 8th is literally our crazies coming together I guess. House person feels it more id have to guess though. I could literally go in about this brief encounter for forever.

South node contacts always

[punkpandapatrixk]

❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

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[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

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[seoll3miwrites]

Chocolate Brownies | GN!Y/N x Josh Washington

Masterlist

After Y/N accidentally consumes some of Chris' *special* brownies, Josh is a sweetie and takes care of them through their first high. (WC: 3400)

Warnings: Weed usage, Accidently eating an edible, Alcohol, Horror movie, minor overstimulation A/N: I'm not super familiar with weed, apologies if it's not realistic.

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"Damn, I didn’t know Chris could bake.” Y/N spoke as they licked their fingers, finishing their second chocolate brownie. Sam half-listened as she was busy looking for a bottle opener in the lodge’s huge kitchen. “You should probably take a brownie before I eat them all.”

Sam froze as she realised what Y/N was talking about: “Are you eating the brownies Chris made?”

“Uh huh.” Y/N replied nonchalantly, reaching for another one, and stopped when Sam slapped their hand away. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

"Sweetie, those are Chris’ *special* brownies.”

Pause.

“You mean that these have-“ “Weed in them yes.” Sam interrupted them, reaching a hand out to feel her friend’s temperature. “You feel okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah… I think so... Is two brownies a lot?”

“For someone like you, probably.” Sam was right. Y/N hadn’t taken edibles before; they’d smoked it once, but that was a year ago, and they’d coughed it up immediately before stopping. “But it shouldn’t hit for another thirty minutes or so.”

"Okay,” they trailed off, “could I stay with you while you get sorted?”

“Of course.” Sam replied sweetly; she was like the big sister Y/N never had. They sat and watched as Sam finally found a bottle opener, laughing as their friend victoriously opened her bottle of beer. The two chilled in the kitchen for a while, until Y/N's head became fuzzy, but they didn’t mind; in fact, it felt nice.

Sam turned as her friend began quietly humming to themselves, “Has it hit it, you?” Her friend could only tilt their head and smile smugly, “I understand why you guys like this now.”

"Aww, sweetie, let me get you some water.” She stroked her friend's cheek before turning away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“I think Josh would like these...” they spoke absentmindedly, swinging their legs as they sat on the kitchen counter. Y/N found it weird how their voice sounded; it had gotten slightly deeper as much as they tried, but it remained at a slow pace. “Where’s Josh?”

“He’s where we left him, Y/N, remember?” Her voice muffled as she reached into the fridge. “Do you want me to get him for you?”

"Oh, I don’t want to bother him.” Y/N felt a blush creep onto their cheeks. They’d always had a crush on Josh ever since Sam had introduced them to each other; that was only four years ago.

The blonde simply shakes her head before leaving the kitchen for a moment before returning, Josh following behind her. “What’s up?”

Sam simply pointed at Y/N, who was busy staring into space. He approached them, standing in front of their eye line, “Y/N? You okay?”

“Joshuaaa” Y/N smiled brightly as he came into their view. “You should try Chris’ brownies; they’re really good.”

His brows furrowed for a second in thought, reaching out to their chin and lifted their face to him. He assessed them for a moment before a smirk spread across his face. “Are you high?”

“Yep,” they answered, “Although I didn’t mean to be.”

He looked between them and the brownie tray before asking, “How many did you eat?”

Instead of speaking, Y/N shyly held up two fingers as an indication, “Jesus, you’ve barely touched the stuff, and you decided to eat two weed brownies?”

“I didn’t know they had weed in them.” They shrugged, ignoring Sam as she tried to hand them the bottle of water she’d gotten for them moments before.

“You didn’t know?” A laugh escaped him, and he crossed his arms. “How do you not know they’re weed brownies? What, you thought Chris was just that good of a baker?”

Sam tired to pass Y/N the water again but was waved away as they continued to defend themselves to Josh. “I thought it was one of his grandma’s recipes, like that cake he made for my birthday.”

“I doubt his grandma was the one that taught him how to make these.” He shook his head fondly before taking the drink from Sam’s hand and shoving it towards them. “Here, drink. It’ll help with that dry mouth.”

“Not thirsty.” They stated while pushing his hand away.

“Don’t care, drink the goddam water; you’ll thank me later.” His voice was stern, and he shoved the water back towards them. For as long as Y/N and Josh knew each other, everyone knew how protective he was over his younger friend.

Y/N knew they couldn’t argue with him, so they chugged the water and then quickly hopped off the counter, causing them to stumble a little bit.

Josh’s hands shot out and wrapped around their waist to keep them steady. “Woah, take it easy. You’re gonna fall on your ass, Y/N.”

"Well, you caught me,” they replied before tapping his nose. “So I’m perfectly fine.”

He smirked and kept a hold on them still. It was almost second nature to just keep their body close to his. “Just keep your feet on the ground next time, yeah?”

“‘Kay.” They replied simply, “Where’s Chris?”

“I’m sure he’s around; want us to go look for him?” He pulled away from them, taking a step back so they could move.

"I wanna thank him for his magic brownies."

“You really wanna thank him, or are you just wanting more brownies?” He asked with a raised eyebrow and crossed his arms. Y/N just shrugged in reply, earning a fond chuckle from Josh, “C’mon then, let’s go find Chris so you can thank him for the brownies.”

He carefully guided from the kitchen, walking to the living room, where Chris was sitting awkwardly making conversation with Ashley and Jess. Once Y/N eyes focused on Chris, they suddenly shot from Josh’s side. Nearly pouncing on him as they hug him from behind.

"BONJOUR MY MAGIC BROWNIE MAN!" They yelled in his ear as they kissed him on both cheeks.

Chris was clearly shocked, his eyes widening as he jumped from the couch and turned to face them. “Y/N, Jesus, you scared me.”

Without Chris sitting down, Y/N was now sprawled over the back of the couch, looking rather uncomfortable. He opted to ignore Josh’s mumble of “pussy” and turned to face his friend, “The fuck is wrong with you.”

"I'm high," Y/N replied simply, as if it explained everything.

“High? How can you be high? You don’t even smoke—oh, OH!” Chris’ eyes became wide with realisation, and he quickly lifted Y/N’s head up to look into their eyes. “How many did you take?”

"Only two," Y/N answered truthfully, their voice still slow and a hint deeper than it usually was. "Why? Is that a lot?"

Josh chuckled again at their confusion, while Chris looked even more shocked if that was possible. "Two? You're a lightweight; you're gonna be on your ass for three hours minimum!"

"Well, I didn’t mean to!” Y/N yelled back, “I didn’t even know they had weed in them.”

"That's your own fault, moron," Chris responded bluntly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Then he turned to Josh, with eyebrows slightly furrowed in suspicion as he asked, "And where were you when our dear friend was getting high off their ass?”

Josh laughed quietly. "Relax, Coachie, I had nothing to do with this."

Y/N spoke up determinedly, "Hey, don’t be mean; Josh said he'd look after me.”

Chris rolled his eyes and let Y/N go, letting their head fall back down. "Of course he did. He's practically your knight in shining armour," he remarked sarcastically.

He turned back to a still-clueless Y/N. "Seriously though, how did you not realise they were weed brownies? They smell stronger than the skunk's den near my place."

By this point, Y/N was slowly sliding off the back of the couch and onto the floor. To the point their face was now in the sofa’s pillows, which muffled their voice as they responded.

"Alright, come on, let's get you somewhere more comfortable," Josh suggested as he walked over to Y/N, pulling them upright with ease as if they were a ragdoll. However, in this case, the ragdoll in question had a tendency to giggle at nearly everything and was finding the whole situation rather amusing.

“Chris is right, you’re my own personal hero.” Y/N said in between giggles, leaning their back into his, allowing him to drag them around the couch.

Josh simply hummed to himself, then he dragged them around the couch and made his way towards the stairs. "C'mon, you lightweight, let's get you to your room, yeah?"

Instead, Y/N fought against him by suddenly going limp in his arms. "Nooo, I'm not tired yet.”

“Shit!” Josh exclaimed as he struggled to hold Y/N up at the sudden added weight. “Jesus, stop doing that!”

“Can we watch a movie instead?”

Josh tried his best to hold the limp figure up. "Alright, alright, fine." He agreed, "We'll watch a movie."

As he spoke, he effortlessly scooped them up, with one arm under their legs and the other behind their back. He had never had a problem carrying them before, and it was the quickest way to ensure they didn’t fall.

He carried them to the couch and gently placed them down so they were sitting before heading to the DVD player and opening the cupboard with all the movies inside. “So what do you wanna watch?”

“Wait, I’m gonna text everyone and ask them to come." Y/N explained as they pulled out their phone and sent a quick text in the group chat, “We should decide together.”

Josh just raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing as he watched them quickly type out a message. Eventually the other’s made their way into the living room from wherever they were before.

“So Y/N,” Mike began with an amused smile as he read of his phone, “Mind telling us what ‘has gus come to live rom’ means?”

Emily stifled a giggle while Sam covered her mouth to hide a smirk. Mike was clearly the only one brave enough to ask the question.

Y/N furrowed their eyebrows in confusion. “I didn’t write that.” They said as they looked at their phone once more, “I wrote, Hey guys, come to the living room.”

“Are you fucking high or something?” Emily asked harshly, although she meant it affectionately, “You basically wrote in gibberish.”

"Yeah, I am..." Y/N answered honestly, a dopey smile on their face. "And Chris's brownies were really good."

Chris's face went bright red as everyone turned to stare at him. "You gave them weed brownies?!" Ashley gasped, slightly horrified. "How many did they eat?"

"Two," Chris admitted sheepishly, "I didn't think they'd actually eat them!"

"You ate what?" Matt asked, clearly shocked but more concerned about how Y/N would feel. He knew that a few of his friends smoked, but Y/N never did, meaning they had a low tolerance for that sort of thing. "Are they okay?"

Josh rolled his eyes and went to sit in the chair next to Y/N. "They're fine, Matt. Don't stress."

Y/N nodded fondly before grabbing Josh’s arm. “Josh’s taking care of me tonight!”

"Of course he is," Mike said with an amused smirk. "Josh always takes care of Y/N."

"I'm just looking out for my younger friend," Josh said with a shrug. "Anyway, what movie are we watching?"

"What if we watch a horror movie?" Matt suggested with a mischievous grin. "It'll be fun to see how Y/N reacts when they're high."

"No way, Matt," Josh said firmly. "We're not giving Y/N a panic attack."

At the same time as Josh’s words, Y/N also spoke up, “Great idea, Matt, we could watch The Conjuring!”

Josh frowned at Y/N. "You don't like scary movies," he reminded them. "I'm not letting you watch The Conjuring."

"I don't see why we can't watch it," Emily spoke up. "It'll be funny."

"It's not funny, Emily," Josh said, his tone bordering on annoyed. "Y/N doesn't like to be scared, and we don't want to take advantage of them when they're not in their right mind."

“Jesus Josh, no need to be so dramatic,” Jess spoke up from next to Emily with a smirk. “Y/N is a grown up; they can handle themselves.”

"That's not the point, Jess," Josh replied, his frustration evident in his voice. "They're not in their right mind, and I'm not letting you take advantage of that."

"Oh, come on, dude, lighten up,” Mike said as he patted Josh on the back. “We’re supposed to be letting go this weekend, remember?”

“Seriously Mike.” Josh muttered in reply as his eyes narrowed, ready to lay into his friend.

"Okay, okay, enough," Ashley interjected before the situation could escalate further. "How about we watch something light-hearted instead? Comedy maybe?"

Josh let out a sigh of relief, glad that the conversation had shifted to a more reasonable suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds better," he said, looking around at the group for their approval. "Y'all good with that?”

Unbeknownst to them, while they were all arguing over what movie to watch, Y/N had slipped from Josh’s grip and had approached the DVD cupboard. After finding the movie they wanted to watch, Y/N had simply placed it in the DVD player and pressed play. It wasn’t until the opening scene of a man loudly screaming in pain loudly echoed through the room did the others notice what had just happened.

"What the- Y/N! I told you we weren't watching a horror movie!" Josh exclaimed, his irritation clear.

Instead of answering, their eyes were fixated on the screen. They were completely silent for a while, until they finally spoke up when the movie versions of the Warrens appeared on screen. “Fuck. They’re so hot.”

Josh groaned in frustration, "Y/N. You’re way too high for this.”

"Come on, Josh," Sam said teasingly. "You can't blame Y/N for having a thing for Vera Farmiga."

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Oh Josh, that hurt’s my feelings.” Sam replied in mock hurt.

Meanwhile, Y/N had finally moved away from the TV and back towards the couch. Except instead of sitting back in the spot they were in, Y/N decided a better option would be to sit right in the centre of Josh’s lap.

"What are you doing?" Josh asked, slightly taken aback by Y/N's sudden intimacy. However, he didn't push them away, merely adjusting his position to accommodate them. He put his hands on their waist, holding them steady as they nestled into his lap.

“You’re comfy,” Was all Y/N said as the other’s simply smirked at each other before, taking their own seat to watch the movie; Sam now sitting in the spot Y/N used to be in.

As the movie continued, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little shiver up their back and turned towards Chris, “Could you pass a blanket, please, Chris?”

“Sure,” he tossed them a large black fluffy throw, which Y/N happily placed on themselves and, as a result, Josh as well.

Josh was glad Y/N was comfortable, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. "You're lucky I like you," he muttered under his breath as he tightened his arms around Y/N.

“Mhmm, I like you too.” They said as they shuffled further into his chest and rested their head on Josh’s shoulder. “Maybe I like you a bit more.”

“Shut up and watch the movie.” He responded fondly as he wrapped his arm around Y/N and pulled them closer.

The group continued to watch the movie in mostly silence, except for the occasional screams at the several jump scares. At some point throughout the movie, Y/N had adjusted in Josh’s lap and was sitting sideways with their head resting against his neck.

During the climax of the film, Y/N felt a bit dizzy and nauseous, so with a groan, they hid their face in Josh's neck. Yet despite not being able to see the film, the sound effects and voices were making them feel very overstimulated.

Noticing their distress, Josh reached his hand up and began to stroke her hair softly as he whispered over the movie, "Hey, you doing okay?”

Y/N couldn’t speak suddenly; their mind felt like mush; all they could do was mumble and shake their head against his neck.

Josh's concern deepens as he feels Y/N shake their head against his neck. He turns his head a bit to get a better look at their face, but all he can see is the disoriented look in their eyes.

"Hey," he says gently, "can you look at me for a second?"

Y/N tried to lift their head up but was struggling; they felt like it weighed nearly a tonne and couldn’t move. Their breathing grew heavy with panic, and tears weld in their eyes.

Josh noticed the tears welling up in Y/N's eyes and the panic setting in. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said in a soothing tone. "Just take some deep breaths, okay? I'm right here with you."

Swallowing harshly, Y/N found their voice long enough to whisper into his neck, “I don’t wanna be here.” Before letting out a small sob.

"Shh, it's okay," he reassured, gently stroking their hair and using his own body to try and shield Y/N from the outside world. "We can leave, okay? We can go to your room if you want."

“Please…” Their voice was small now but still loud enough for Josh to hear.

Josh quickly gathered Y/N in his arms and stood; the others looked away from the movie at his movements. Watching as he began to carry them away from the room.

“Is Y/N okay, Josh?” Sam asked with a furrowed brow as motherly concern spread across her face.

He paused and turned back to the group. “They’re not feeling too good, so I think I should just take them to bed.”

"Alright, man," Mike spoke up. "Be sure to take care of them, yeah? And let us know if you need any help."

Josh nodded in agreement. "Don't worry, I've got it," he replied, his grip on Y/N tightening slightly.

With that, Josh turned back around and made his way up the stairs and into Y/N’s room. After a little struggle, he was able to push the door open and gently lay them down on the bed. He tucked them gently before moving around the room to make sure they had everything they needed: a glass of water, some painkillers, and a bucket, just in case.

He gently stroked their cheek before quietly moving to the door. “Wait!” A voice called back to Josh, caring for him to turn around, "Stay, please.”

"You sure you want me to stay?" he asked quietly.

“At least until I fall asleep.”

Josh nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course," he replied softly. "I'll stay."

He sat down above the covers next to Y/N and took their hand in his. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Y/N answered, “sorry for freaking you out.”

"No need to apologise," he replied, shaking his head softly. "You were in quite a state. I'm just glad you're feeling better now."

He continued to stroke Y/N's hair, his fingers weaving through the soft strands. "You'll be okay, I promise," he said reassuringly. "Just get some rest, okay?

“Mmhmm,” Was all Y/N said in reply; their eyes were closed and their breathing was growing softer as they drifted to sleep. “Thanks for looking after me.”

"No need to thank me," he said quietly. "I'm just happy to be here. Now, go to sleep, alright?"

He stayed sat beside them for a few more moments, watching as they entered a full state of sleep. Once he was sure they were deep asleep, he carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from their face and sighed softly.

In their deep sleep, Y/N breathy felt a soft touch on their forehead. Sighing contently, they fell deeper in sleep, not realising that Josh had placed a kiss on their head.

“Sleep tight, Y/N.” He whispered into the quiet, “I’ll be here to take care of you, always.”

[kayewrite]

...So much I think it must be

True love

(part 2 of "At the same time, I wanna hug you..")

seungmin x reader!! enemies to lovers troupe!! genre; fluff. word count:6.8k

summary; It’s strange to think that someone you once couldn’t stand is now the person you can’t live without. You both used to scoff at the idea of fate, but now? You’re not so sure anymore.

an: oh please i love this soo much. i hope you also do! (i know i said it will only short but...) Can be read as stand alone, but it was better if you read the first one.

listen to True Love by Pink

You and Seungmin have been together for two years now. It’s funny how things turned out. Everyone around you always says the same thing: “You two are perfect for each other.” It’s almost cliché, but they’re not wrong. Despite the ups and downs, your bond has only grown stronger over time.

At first glance, no one would have guessed you'd end up together. You and Seungmin were like fire and ice. You’d argue about the smallest things—who was better at math, who had the best grades, or even who would finish their lunch first. You were competitive to a fault, constantly trying to outshine each other during school days.

But somewhere between the sarcastic jabs and friendly competition, something changed. The bickering turned playful. The challenges became a way to spend more time together. Before you knew it, he wasn’t just the guy you argued with—he became the one person who truly understood you.

You went from rivals, to best friends, to… well, something much more. Seungmin is still that competitive guy who drives you crazy, but now he’s also the one who makes your heart race with just a smile.

You often joke that you and Seungmin are like a cat and a dog—always at each other’s throats, only to end up tangled together in some ridiculous hug moments later.

One time, after a particularly heated argument about who was better at a silly arcade game, you kicked him in the leg under the table. He dramatically doubled over as if you’d really hurt him, only to have you clinging to his leg five minutes later, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Those playful moments make your relationship special. You pinch his arms, but later, those same arms become your pillow when you sleep. You pretend to hate his antics, but deep down, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the quieter moments, when the laughter fades and it’s just the two of you, you find comfort in how well you understand each other. On the vulnerable days, when life feels overwhelming, Seungmin is there, and it’s like you’re soulmates—soup mates, as you two love to joke, because he once insisted that the way you fit together is as comforting as a warm bowl of soup.

It’s strange to think that someone you once couldn’t stand is now the person you can’t live without. You both used to scoff at the idea of fate, but now? You’re not so sure anymore.

That evening, you find yourselves lounging on the couch, both of you too tired to do much of anything. The day had been long—work, school, life—but with Seungmin next to you, everything felt a little lighter.

A few rounds in playing your favorite game, you’re locked in an intense game. Seungmin is winning, and you can feel your frustration rising. You glance down at your cards, trying to hide your devious smile.

“Pick four,” Seungmin says with a laugh, tossing down the card as if he’s already won.

You frown, glaring at the pile of cards you’re supposed to pick up. “You think you’ve got me, huh?” you say, squinting at him.

He leans back, hands behind his head. “I know I do.”

You look at your hand and, with a grin, pull out the ultimate weapon. “Pick eight!”

His smirk falters. He glances at the new card on the pile and then back at you. “What?”

“You heard me,” you say triumphantly. “Pick. Eight.”

Seungmin frowns, staring at his hand. “I won’t... because you’re about to pick twelve!” He grins, tossing down another card.

Your jaw drops, and you stare at the card pile in disbelief. “No way!” you shout, quickly playing your reverse card. “Ha!”

“I anticipated that,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. He pulls out another reverse card, laying it down with a calm smirk.

“What?! No!” you shout, your voice rising. “That’s not fair!”

“Go ahead,” Seungmin says, still grinning. “Pick your cards.”

You glare at the stack of cards you’re about to draw. “Oh no,” you mutter dramatically, placing a yellow skip card. “I’m not losing this time!”

He looks down at the skip card and grins wider. “You sure about that?”

You squint at him. “Don’t tell me…”

Seungmin stands up, towering over the table, and slaps down his own skip card. “UNO!”, he shouts victoriously, laughing as he pumps his fist in the air.

You stare at him, completely stunned. And then... you start to cry. Literally cry.

Seungmin’s laughter dies down as he realizes what’s happening. “Wait—are you crying?” he asks, rushing over to you, his hands gently holding your face.

You sniff dramatically. “You always win,” you say in a pitiful voice, though deep down, you know you’re just being overly dramatic for the cuddles.

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Okay, okay. You win,” he whispers into your hair, kissing the top of your head. “You win. No more Uno.”

You sniff again, leaning into his warmth. “You better let me win next time,” you mumble, already feeling better as he wraps his arms tighter around you.

He laughs softly. “Whatever you say.”

Seungmin had always been your greatest inspiration, just as you were his. Whenever life got tough, he was the one who motivated you to keep pushing forward. You leaned on each other, growing stronger together, especially after high school when you both embarked on your college journeys. Seungmin was diving into music, while you pursued your passion for acting. Balancing the pressures of school and life was a challenge, but with him by your side, every obstacle felt a little less daunting.

You shared a small, cozy apartment—a space you quickly transformed into a home filled with love, laughter, and countless memories. It was perfect in its imperfections, a reflection of your unique bond.

One evening, after a long day of classes, Seungmin had cooked a delicious dinner. You collapsed on the couch, savoring the scent wafting from the kitchen.

“I cooked, so you’re on dish duty tonight!” you declared, a playful smirk on your face.

“Every time I cook, I end up washing the dishes too!” he replied, feigning exasperation.

You crossed your arms dramatically. “Then we’re watching Despicable Me later!”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wash. But we’re watching Pitch Perfect first.”

“Agh, not again! We just watched it last week!”

“Okay, how about we wash the dishes together, and then we can watch Alvin and the Chipmunks?” he offered, his smile returning. That was your shared favorite, after all.

“Deal!” you said, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Washing the dishes turned into a delightful mess. Seungmin started the playful chaos by gently tapping a bubble onto your nose. You laughed, unable to resist the urge to retaliate.

“Two can play this game!” You dipped your hands into the soapy water and smeared bubbles onto his face, pretending it was a beard. “Look at you, Mr. Clean!”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Very funny! But I think I’ve seen better beards in my life!”

As you both continued the playful antics, he teased you by lathering bubbles all over your face. You gasped, trying to chase him down when he darted away.

“Catch me if you can!” he called, his laughter echoing through the kitchen.

You chased him around the small apartment, and just when you thought you had him cornered, he turned and caught you in his arms, both of you still giggling like children.

“Alright, alright,” he said, breathless. “Now that we’ve completed our bubble fight, how about we take a shower before movie night?”

“Only if you promise not to hog the hot water!” you teased.

“Deal!” he replied with a wink.

After a shared shower filled with laughter and splashes, you both dried off and prepared for your movie night. As Pitch Perfect started playing, you settled into the couch, arms wrapped around each other, a bowl of popcorn sits between you, half-empty from the endless snacking. The familiar sound of his laughter fills the room as he playfully pokes you in the ribs, trying to steal the last handful of popcorn.

“Hey! No fair! I’m the one who made this, remember?” you protest, swatting his hand away with a giggle.

“Please, you just popped the bag. I did all the hard work by sitting here and looking cute,” he counters, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “You’re insufferable,” you tease, and he pretends to be wounded, dramatically clutching his heart.

“Insufferable? Wow, I thought we were past all this name-calling. Just the other day, you called me your favorite person,” he says, winking at you.

“Only because you keep me entertained,” you reply with a smirk, leaning back to grab another handful of popcorn.

In the middle of the movie, the two of you began reminiscing about the past. “Do you remember that camp in middle school? The one where you pushed me into the mud?” You shoot him a mock glare.

Seungmin bursts into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How could I forget? You looked like a muddy potato!”

“Thanks, very flattering,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest in mock indignation. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to wash that out of my hair?”

He grins, clearly enjoying this walk down memory lane. “I did it because you were so cute in those banana pajamas. My friends couldn’t stop talking about how adorable you looked. I got jealous!”

Your jaw drops in surprise, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. “You were jealous? So, you decided to make my life miserable? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? You remember me now.”

“Yeah, I remember you as the worst person ever,” you retort, but your heart swells with affection. “But now? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Seungmin's expression softens, and he leans in closer. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers, his voice sincere.

You share a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the warmth of your memories flooding over you. Then, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, filled with the tenderness that only two years of love can create.

Pulling away, you chuckle softly, “I guess I can forgive you for that muddy incident after all.”

“Just after that?” he asks, feigning shock. “I was expecting a bit more gratitude for making you who you are today.”

You roll your eyes again, but the laughter doesn’t stop. “Alright, fine! Thank you for pushing me into the mud; it led to this beautiful moment of us sitting on the couch, sharing popcorn and memories.”

“See? It’s all about perspective,” he says with a satisfied smile, his hand brushing against yours.

And in that moment, you know that this—this life with Seungmin, filled with laughter, teasing, and love—is everything you ever wanted. You hope it will last forever.

Seungmin was also your practice buddy, always there to help you with your lines.

“I am not doing something that will hurt Elizabeth!” you declared dramatically, trying to channel all the emotion you could muster.

He watched you with an amused expression, his lips curling into a smirk. “Oh really?” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Because it looks like you’re about to break into a musical number any second now.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “Come on, I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try again,” he said, suppressing a laugh. “Just imagine Elizabeth is right in front of you. Really feel it!”

You took a deep breath and repeated the line with even more feeling. “I am not doing something that will hurt Elizabeth!”

Seungmin burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “You know, if this acting thing doesn’t work out, you could always pursue a career in stand-up comedy!”

“Ahh, babe, you aren’t a big help,” you complained, playfully swatting at him. “You’re supposed to be my coach, not my heckler!”

He leaned forward, pretending to consider it seriously. “Hmm, maybe I should charge you for coaching fees. Let’s see... One kiss for each lesson?”

“Nice try!” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that!”

“Alright, how about this? If you nail this next line, I’ll cook dinner tonight,” he offered, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“You’re on!” you said, excitement bubbling within you. “But if I don’t nail it, you have to wash the dishes for a week!”

“Deal!” he laughed, clearly enjoying the challenge.

You focused again, summoning every ounce of emotion. “I am not doing something that will hurt Elizabeth!”

His eyes widened as you delivered the line perfectly this time. “Wow! Look at you! That was amazing!” he exclaimed, pretending to wipe away a tear. “Such a moving performance!”

You beamed, proud of yourself. “See? I told you I could do it!”

“Alright, alright, you win this round,” he said, chuckling. “But don’t get too cocky. We still have more lines to practice.”

You smiled slyly. “More lines means more kisses, right?”

“Only if you keep up this level of talent!” he shot back, winking at you.

With that, you both dove back into practice, filled with laughter, playful banter, and the warmth of shared moments that made every day feel like an adventure.

One of your favorite memories with Seungmin was that time you caught a terrible fever. You had been feeling sluggish all day, and by evening, it hit you like a truck. Seungmin noticed the change in your mood right away.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. His brow furrowed in concern as he gently touched your forehead. "You’re burning up!"

You gave a weak smile, trying to downplay it. "I’m fine… just need to rest a little."

He shook his head, already on his feet. "Nope, you’re officially under Seungmin's care now. Doctor’s orders."

Even through the haze of your fever, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Doctor Seungmin, huh? Since when did you go to med school?”

He grinned down at you. “Oh, you didn’t know? I’m an expert at treating stubborn patients,” he teased, making you chuckle softly. “Now, stay put while I get you some water.”

For the rest of the day, Seungmin was by your side, making sure you had everything you needed. He cooked you a warm soup that he claimed was “an old family recipe,” though you were pretty sure he made it up on the spot. Still, it tasted like comfort, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his efforts.

“Want anything else, sick patient?” he asked, plopping down beside you after tucking the blanket around your shoulders for the third time.

“Maybe… a movie? Something light to distract me?” you suggested, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Seungmin tilted his head thoughtfully. “Despicable Me? That’s your go-to comfort movie, right?”

You grinned, already feeling a bit better. “Yeah, but only if we can watch Pitch Perfect after.”

He groaned dramatically. “Not again with Pitch Perfect! But fine, since you’re sick and all… I’ll allow it.”

You nudged him playfully. “You secretly love it, admit it.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile. “I guess I have a soft spot for watching you geek out over the musical numbers.”

As the night went on, Seungmin kept checking on you, bringing you snacks, adjusting your blanket, and even giving you a forehead kiss here and there, pretending it was part of his “treatment plan.”

Despite the fever and exhaustion, having Seungmin by your side made everything feel a little brighter. You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice, and when you woke up, he was still there, holding your hand, fast asleep on the couch next to you.

It was in moments like these that you knew how lucky you were to have him—someone who took care of you, made you laugh, and turned even the worst days into something special.

There was also that time when Seungmin had an important music presentation for one of his classes. He had been practicing for weeks, perfecting every note, every rhythm, and you knew how much it meant to him. Unfortunately, your own schedule had been packed, with rehearsals for an upcoming play, and it seemed like there was no way you could attend his presentation.

“I get it, really. Don’t stress,” Seungmin had said, giving you a reassuring smile over breakfast that morning. But you could tell there was a little disappointment hidden behind those words.

Still, you hated the thought of not being there for him, especially when he was always there for you. So you decided to make it work. After an intense day of rehearsals, you managed to sneak out a little early. Without telling him, you grabbed a cab to the venue where his presentation was being held.

By the time you arrived, the presentation was already well underway. You quietly slipped into the back row of the auditorium, catching the last few minutes of his performance. Seungmin was standing confidently on stage, his hands on the keyboard, his voice filling the room with emotion. You could see the passion in his eyes, and it made your heart swell with pride.

As soon as he finished, the crowd erupted into applause, and you stood up, clapping louder than anyone. When Seungmin looked out into the audience, his eyes widened in surprise. He spotted you standing there, and his face broke into the biggest, brightest smile. The kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

Afterwards, he rushed over to you, practically jogging off the stage.

“You came!” he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Of course I did,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. “I thought you had rehearsals?”

“I did, but I snuck out early. Don’t tell my director,” you whispered with a playful grin.

Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” you teased back, making him roll his eyes, though you knew he loved it. “You were amazing, by the way.”

His smile grew even wider. “You think so? I was so nervous.”

“I couldn’t tell at all,” you assured him, then added, “You’re always incredible.”

One of the best memories you had together was that spontaneous road trip to the beach. It wasn’t planned—nothing ever really was with Seungmin. One Friday afternoon, after a long week of classes and rehearsals, he had just shown up at your apartment with a grin on his face and his car keys in hand.

“Pack your bags,” he had said. “We’re going to the sea.”

“Wait, what? Now?” you asked, eyes wide in surprise.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. We’re leaving in five.”

Despite the suddenness, you couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. So, in true Seungmin fashion, you threw a few things into a bag, and before you knew it, you were both in the car, windows down, sun setting in the distance, and the ocean waiting for you on the other side.

The drive started off peaceful, with a soft breeze ruffling your hair as Seungmin hummed along to the radio. But then it came on—Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus.

As soon as the first notes played, Seungmin’s eyes lit up. He turned to you, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. “You know what time it is.”

You laughed, already knowing where this was headed. “No way. I am not singing that.”

“Oh yes, you are,” he said, cranking up the volume. And without missing a beat, he started belting out the lyrics, with so much enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but join in.

“So I put my hands up, they’re playin’ my song—” you sang, matching his energy, your voice blending with his as the two of you practically yelled the lyrics together.

The car became a concert stage, the wind whipping through your hair as you danced in your seats, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. Seungmin banged his hands on the steering wheel to the beat, and you threw your hands up in the air, living in the moment.

“It’s a party in the USA!” you both shouted at the top of your lungs, finishing the chorus with a triumphant fist pump.

By the time the song ended, you were both a mess of laughter and gasps for air, the car filled with the lingering sound of your shared joy. You glanced over at Seungmin, who was still chuckling to himself, and your heart swelled with affection.

“God, I’m so bad at that,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye.

“You’re the best,” he corrected, flashing you that cheeky grin that always made you smile. “Besides, if anyone’s listening, they’re just jealous of your skills.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Right, because off-key karaoke is a highly sought-after talent.”

“Hey, you sounded amazing,” he teased, reaching over to playfully poke your side. “You could totally go on tour.”

“Only if you’re my backup dancer,” you shot back, pretending to strike a dramatic pose.

“Oh, I’d steal the show,” he replied, and for a moment, the teasing softened as he glanced over at you, eyes filled with affection.

As the sun continued to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the road, you leaned back in your seat, feeling completely at ease. With Seungmin by your side, singing karaoke and heading toward the sea, everything just felt right.

But as much as your relationship with Seungmin was filled with laughter and warmth, it wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, happiness wasn’t just happiness—it was tested.

It happened during one of your most important group projects. You were cast as the lead in a film, and your group wanted it to be perfect—flawless. Seungmin, understanding what acting required, always supported your work. But this project turned out to be different. The script called for a kiss—something you didn’t see coming. At first, you brushed it off. It was just acting, after all. You were a professional.

But there was one thing you hadn’t done, something that began to eat away at you slowly—you hadn’t told Seungmin about it.

It wasn’t that you forgot; you deliberately chose not to. He had been so busy with his music major, drowning in rehearsals and deadlines. You didn’t want to burden him with something that could wait, something that would only distract him. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The day of the filming came, and it was tense. The set was buzzing with nerves, everyone eager to get things just right. You were in the middle of a take, preparing for the scene where the kiss was supposed to happen, when you noticed Seungmin in the distance. He had shown up unexpectedly, holding a lunchbox, his eyes scanning the set.

At first, your heart leapt seeing him. But then the weight of your secret hit you hard.

You hadn’t told him.

And now he was here.

When he saw you kiss your co-star for the scene, his face changed. You saw the surprise, then the hurt, and then… the anger.

He turned and walked away before you could explain. And just like that, everything came crashing down.

The next few days were a blur. Seungmin wouldn’t return your calls or answer your texts. He was always “busy,” but you knew something deeper was wrong. It went on for a week—long, agonizing days of silence. One night, he didn’t even come home. You didn’t know it was because he had been working late on his presentation, but the fear that he might be slipping away from you overwhelmed you. You spent that night crying, feeling like you had lost him.

Finally, after a week of this unbearable distance, you found him sitting at the piano in the apartment, his fingers absentmindedly playing a soft melody. His face was tired, his expression distant.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Seungmin, please… let’s talk.”

He didn’t respond at first, just kept playing. But then, slowly, he stopped, his hands resting on the keys. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice shaky. “I should’ve told you. I didn’t mean to hide it. I just… I didn’t want to make you worry when you were already so busy with your major.”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “It wasn’t about the kiss. Not really. I know what acting is, and I get that. But you didn’t tell me. I found out by watching it happen.”

You bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. “I didn’t want to add to your stress. I thought it would just… complicate things.”

Seungmin shook his head. “That’s the problem. You didn’t trust me with it. You think I can’t handle these things, but I can. I just need you to be honest with me, like I’m honest with you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I was wrong for hiding it. I’ll tell you everything from now on.”

His gaze softened, and he got up from the piano, walking over to you. “It’s not about knowing every little thing. I just need to know we’re in this together. That we’re open with each other, no matter what.”

You wiped at your tears, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. “I promise, Seungmin. I’ll do better. I just don’t want to lose you.”

He smiled softly, pulling you into his arms. “You won’t. Just… don’t shut me out again, okay?”

You nodded into his chest, feeling his warmth, grateful that the weight of that silence had lifted. There was still so much love between you, and you both knew that even when things got tough, you’d find a way to make it through.

In that moment, as he held you close, you realized that relationships weren’t just about the easy, happy moments. They were about being able to weather the storms together, learning from the mistakes, and growing stronger from them.

After the rain, there was sunshine again—brighter than ever. 🌞

As you both lounged on the couch, the TV remained off, and the world outside seemed distant. It was just you two, basking in each other's company. The room was filled with the soft hum of contentment, the kind that comes from knowing you're right where you're meant to be.

“When we become successful, let’s buy a big house,” Seungmin said, his voice steady but full of excitement for the future.

You turned to him, eyes twinkling, “Yes! With a cinema room, so we can watch movies on a big screen!” You mimed holding a popcorn bowl, already imagining those cozy nights.

“And a kitchen. A big kitchen,” Seungmin added, smiling at the thought of cooking together, even if it meant the usual playful arguments over who would do the dishes.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “And then... we’ll have kids,” you said, a soft smile spreading across your face as you dared to speak about a future you had only dreamed of.

Seungmin, though caught off guard, smiled gently at you. He’d never brought up the idea first, always wanting to respect your wishes and the life you wanted. What if you didn’t want kids? He never wanted to push. But hearing you say it filled him with warmth.

“How many do you want?” he asked, curiosity mixing with affection.

You grinned mischievously, “I want ten.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened as he let out a chuckle. “Ten? That’s… a lot.”

“I want a basketball team, and we’ll need a cheerleader for them,” you giggled, already picturing the chaos.

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “If you want it, I’m here for you. But... according to my mom, she couldn’t even handle me, and I was an only child.”

You pouted playfully. “Well… our kid might be just like you.”

“At least I’m handsome,” he said with a mock serious expression, turning his side profile toward you like he was posing for a photoshoot.

“Yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes, “but hard to handle.”

“Then we’ll handle him together,” Seungmin said, laughing.

“And after that, we’ll have a girl,” you added softly, imagining the little family you could build.

“They’ll probably fight each other,” Seungmin mused, a smirk on his face.

“And then love each other, too,” you said, completing the thought.

Seungmin squeezed your hand, his voice tender. “Yeah... just like we do.”

Your third anniversary snuck up on both of you, buried beneath the mountain of academic work and deadlines. It seemed like the day would slip by unnoticed, just another day marked by exhaustion. You came home, drained, longing for nothing more than to collapse into bed beside Seungmin.

But when you opened the door, what you saw made you freeze in place.

There he was, standing in the middle of the room, guitar in hand, a warm smile on his face. The room was transformed—soft candlelight flickered, casting a golden glow over delicate flowers arranged around the room. The scent of roses mixed with the sweetness of jasmine filled the air. It was as if the whole world had slowed, the weight of the day evaporating in an instant.

Your heart skipped a beat. You were about to cry, already overwhelmed, when Seungmin strummed his guitar and started singing *Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You*.

You stopped mid-step, forgetting about your shoes, your bag—everything. Your hands flew to your face, completely taken by the surprise. It wasn’t the first time he’d sung for you, but tonight felt different. His voice seemed to carry more than just notes; it carried promises, memories, and a future you had dreamed of but never dared to hope for.

As he approached, still singing the chorus, his eyes never left yours. Every note felt like a vow, every lyric like an unspoken question. By the time he reached you, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Even before the song had finished, you threw your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling the warmth of his body as he set down the guitar to hug you back.

Seungmin continued to sing, but now it was just his voice, soft and raw—no instruments, just the sound of his heart speaking to yours. He kissed your forehead as you held him tightly, your eyes brimming with tears of happiness.

You held him close, still amazed by how much your life had changed. How this person, who used to drive you insane with teasing, had become the man you couldn’t imagine living without.

As if reading your thoughts, Seungmin gently pulled away, reaching over to the table and grabbing a bouquet of flowers, handing it to you with a tender smile. When you finally pulled away from the hug, tears streaked down your face, and you quickly wiped them, laughing at yourself.

He chuckled, too. “I shouldn’t have done this if I knew I’d make you cry,” he teased softly.

You playfully slapped his chest, still emotional. “They’re happy tears. It was so beautiful I couldn’t help it.”

Seungmin grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’m just glad you’re crying from happiness this time. Not like that time I beat you in exams,” he joked, breaking the seriousness with that signature humor of his.

You shook your head, unable to find the words to express what you felt. But you didn’t need to say anything; the love between you was palpable.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered, leaning closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “I love you.”

Your heart swelled again, and without thinking, you whispered, "I love you more than anything." You pulled him into another tight hug, feeling so safe in his arms, as if nothing in the world could hurt you as long as you had him. “And I think…” your voice trembled as you spoke, “I think I want to spend every year of my life with you.”

Seungmin pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft but intense. He reached into his jacket pocket, and you didn’t notice at first until he slowly dropped down to one knee.

Your breath caught in your throat as time seemed to stand still.

“I was going to wait,” he began, his voice steady, though you could hear the emotion beneath it. “I was going to wait for the perfect moment, the perfect day, but I realized… any day with you is perfect.” He took a small box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing a delicate, shimmering ring.

You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth in disbelief.

“So, I figured… why wait?” His eyes never wavered from yours, full of love and sincerity. “Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled over, and you nodded, unable to speak at first. Finally, through shaky breaths, you whispered, “Yes… of course, yes!”

Seungmin’s face broke into the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen as he slipped the ring onto your finger. The room felt warmer, brighter—like all the love you had for each other had materialized and wrapped itself around you both. When he stood up, you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him with all the love and excitement you could pour into that moment.

“I love you so much,” you murmured between kisses, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you were now engaged to the man you loved more than anything in the world.

He laughed softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

The rest of the night felt like a dream. You had a candlelit dinner, toasting to your future together, the soft glow of the candles reflecting off the ring that now symbolized your love. The night ended with tender kisses, whispered promises, and the kind of intimacy that comes from knowing your heart has found its home.

It was a night neither of you would ever forget—the beginning of the rest of your lives together.

------

Three years later, life looked like a dream you both had worked so hard to build. You and Seungmin had finally reached the heights of your careers, but what made it even more special was that you had done it together.

You, now a well-respected actress and director, were creating films that moved people—stories that made audiences laugh, cry, and think. Seungmin, now a renowned singer and producer, was loved by millions, with his songs climbing the charts and his name celebrated all over. Despite your busy schedules, you always found your way back to each other, making time for the little moments that mattered most.

You lived in the house you had once dreamed about on your anniversary, a beautiful home with large windows that let in the sunlight and a garden filled with flowers. It had a cozy cinema room—just like you had imagined—where the two of you often curled up to watch movies on the big screen after long days of work. There was a spacious kitchen, perfect for the playful cooking battles you still had, and laughter often echoed through the halls as you lived out the life you’d envisioned, but even better than you could have imagined.

And now, you were happily married.

The wedding had been intimate and beautiful, surrounded by the people you loved most. Seungmin had cried as you walked down the aisle, and though he tried to play it cool, his trembling hands as he held yours during the vows gave him away. It had been a day filled with tears of joy, laughter, and promises of forever. And now, here you were, living that forever.

As you both relaxed in your living room, the glow of a soft sunset spilling through the windows, Seungmin leaned back against the couch, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Remember how much you hated me back then?” he asked, glancing at you with that mischievous glint in his eye.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, I didn’t just hate you,” you teased. “I despised you. If I had teleportation powers back then, I would've dumped you right into the middle of the Pacific Ocean without a second thought.”

Seungmin burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. “You really would’ve, too! You used to look at me like you were plotting my demise.”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy,” you retorted, smirking. “You always laughed at my misery. You had this evil little laugh every time I got a lower grade than you. It drove me crazy.”

Seungmin wiped away a fake tear of joy. “It was so fun watching you squirm!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile playing on your lips gave you away. “And then that Romeo and Juliet project… I thought that was the universe punishing me. I had to be paired with you of all people.”

He grinned wider, eyes sparkling with fondness. “That project changed everything, though.”

You sighed, the memory tugging at your heart. “Yeah… I thought you were insufferable, but then I saw how serious you were about acting. You weren’t just the annoying kid who was good at everything. You actually had depth.”

Seungmin leaned closer, his tone softening. “And I thought you were just competitive for the sake of it, but you were so passionate. I admired that. You just wanted to be the best version of yourself.”

You smiled, the nostalgia washing over you. “I still can’t believe I went from wishing I could fling you across the globe to… well, spending forever with you.”

Seungmin reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. “I’m glad I wore you down,” he teased.

“You didn’t wear me down,” you said, smiling. “You just… made me see you differently. And I fell in love with who you really are.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something more profound. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Who would’ve thought that the girl who wanted to kill me would be the love of my life?”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Life’s funny like that.”

Years passed, and now you were in the hospital delivery room, the atmosphere charged with anticipation and tension. The pain gripped you as contractions came in waves, and Seungmin stood by your side, his face pale with worry, tears already brimming in his eyes as he watched you struggle.

“Breathe, baby, just breathe,” he whispered, his voice shaky as he held your hand, his grip tight but trembling. He wiped the sweat from your forehead, looking helpless as he tried to offer comfort, though it was clear he was barely holding himself together.

Through the haze of pain, you saw the tears slip down his cheeks. He was crying harder than you’d ever seen him before, overwhelmed with both fear and love as he watched the woman he adored go through something so difficult.

When the baby’s cries finally filled the room, Seungmin broke down completely. The doctors placed your newborn son in his arms, and he hugged the tiny bundle, tears streaming down his face, whispering something soft and incoherent through his sobs.

“He… he looks like me,” he choked out, looking down at the baby boy swaddled tightly, the resemblance already undeniable. His voice cracked with emotion, and he couldn’t stop crying as he leaned down to kiss you, his heart overflowing with love and relief.

Still exhausted and weak, you looked at the two of them—your husband and your son—and a tired but warm laugh escaped your lips. “I take it back,” you said, smiling faintly through your fatigue. “I don’t want ten anymore. Delivering one was already too much.”

Seungmin chuckled softly, though his eyes were still wet. “Just one… is already perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You both looked down at the baby, now peacefully asleep in Seungmin’s arms. He shifted closer, wrapping his other arm around you so the three of you could be together, a family. He kissed your forehead softly, the weight of the moment sinking in as you shared a look that held all the love and emotion words could never fully express.

“I love you,” Seungmin whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

You smiled, your heart swelling with more love than you ever thought possible. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your eyes lingering on the tiny face of your son, knowing that this was the beginning of a whole new chapter—a chapter filled with love, growth, and the family you had dreamed of together.

---

an: a reblog, comment, and heart is very much appreciated. thank you for reading have a great day/ night!