#this took longer to write out then I thought it would

[darkmatilda]

𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your relationship is still very new, and you're getting ready to tell the rest of the team about it. in the meantime, you find yourselves again in another unusual hotel...where suddenly spencer starts acting very strangely?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses spencer reid x newbau!female!reader, fluff, intimacy conversation, spender being adorably shy

𝐚/𝐧: 'matilda how many more times are you gonna write that one bed trope' AS MUCH AS I CAN TILL I DIE btw i wrote this fic over a pretty long period of time, had a main idea (supposedly), but in the end i'm not happy with how it turned out—kinda all over the place. anyway, enjoy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.8k

"My five dollars"

Spencer sighed and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the slightly crumpled bill. You closed it in your hand, a triumphant smile on your face.

"Let's make bets more often, darling," you suggested.

When you used that nickname, his gaze briefly flickered over your face, as if studying whether it had been said purely in jest.

"You’re puffing up like you just invented the wheel," he said, gently shaking his head from side to side. "And just to remind you, all you did was park parallel."

"Parked parallel, indeed. And my coffee?"

He also handed you the paper cup he’d been holding while you performed those incredibly complicated car maneuvers that the bet was about. It was morning, the first day back at work. January, the first days of the new year. You had just arrived at the office parking lot in your car, after spending the night at your place. Everything around you still seemed to smell of that melancholic blend of the past mixed with the fresh scent of the coming months. And coffee, bought at the café on the way.

You took a tiny sip of the hot drink. Spencer, it seemed, hadn’t touched his even once. Both of you, consciously or not, were stretching out the moment just a little longer. And, truth be told, you could afford to. The parking lot around you was only beginning to fill with cars, suggesting the early hour. It was nice to sit there together, sharing the quiet without any discomfort.

You realized this was supposed to be your first day at work as a couple.

A warm, pleasant feeling spread through you at the sound of that word, even though you hadn’t said it out loud. It still felt a little unreal. You had grown closer during the New Year’s Eve party at your place. It was only after that shared—and not just one—kiss that a new perspective dawned on you about the past months of your relationship, revealing some undefined emotions.

"I was wondering..." Spender suddenly began, his brows furrowed slightly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

His gaze suddenly fell on his watch.

"We still have some time," you reassured him calmly. "Let me guess. You've been wondering what would happen if we crossed the DNA of a jellyfish that can reverse its life cycle with the human genome?"

A small smile flickered across his face, a touch of affection despite the rather serious expression on the rest of his face.

"That too," he admitted, nodding. Then he opened his mouth, with some visible hesitation, as if a particular question was troubling him. You shifted in the driver's seat, preparing for whatever he wanted to discuss, whatever he wanted to ask. "How...how are we supposed to act...you know, towards each other? At work?"

For a moment, your brain didn’t understand what he meant. But then, a fleeting oh escaped you as the meaning of his words sank in, and you realized that it was indeed something worth considering. Somehow, over the past few days, neither of you had brought it up. You had just gone back to work, without any reflection on the fact that none of your colleagues knew about the progress in your relationship. About how it had suddenly taken a step to a completely different level.

Spencer studied your face in silence, waiting for a response. As he looked at you, coming up with a logical solution became incredibly difficult. Before you finally said anything, you let out two half-intelligent mutters, like a fish thrown onto the surface.

"We have to tell them," you finally said, stating the obvious. "Somehow. Maybe...we can meet at my place this weekend. All of us. Or we could go out somewhere, and then tell them calmly."

"This weekend?" Spencer repeated cautiously.

It was Monday.

Suddenly, it became incredibly hard to read the expression on his face. He was facing you, his brows slightly furrowed, a look of uncertainty, almost withdrawal. The air inside your car thickened, making the silence even more palpable. He seemed almost concerned, downcast. You froze, wondering if you had really said something wrong.

"So until then," he started more quietly, "are we just supposed to hide it from them?"

“I'm not sure hide is the right word," you replied with a grimace. "I just...I meant, maybe we should wait. For a better moment, you know? Instead of walking into the office on the first Monday of the year, when half the people are still nursing hangovers, and saying hey, guess what? we hooked up!”

His expression hadn't changed, despite your pretty honest explanation.

"You don't like the idea," you stated, rather than asking. You made sure your voice sounded gentle, adjusting it to the situation. "I can see that, Spencer."

"Okay, you're right, I don't like it," he admitted with a sudden coolness, his lips tightening slightly between sentences. "Because...I don't get your reasoning. Or, maybe I just don’t know if this is really what you mean."

Slightly surprised, you shook your head.

"What else could I—"

"I don’t know if it's really about that, or maybe..." he cut off, looking into your eyes as if hoping you'd understand by now. But you didn't have the skill to read his mind, no matter how remarkable it was—it was also incredibly complex. "Or maybe...I don’t know, you just don’t take it seriously. That's why you don't want to tell anyone about it."

You gasped, finally understanding his behavior. Realizing the hidden concern.

"You’re worried I don't take us seriously?"

Spencer shrugged briefly.

"You know, if that's really the case, I'd rather know now..."

You leaned in to catch one of his hands, which had been clasped over his chest. You broke his defensive stance, pulling him toward you by his long fingers, simply holding it for a moment before speaking again. With a smile. A slightly amused smile.

"Of course, I take us seriously, you idiot," you snorted. A sense of relief washed over you. Earlier, he’d seemed genuinely worried, and you’d been expecting far worse things than the fact that your guy literally paled with anxiety over worrying you weren’t as invested in your fresh relationship as he was. Well, out of context, it sounded like a very serious concern. But the context was, you took it seriously, and you were incredibly happy he did too. "You know what? Maybe you're right. Why should we make idiots out of ourselves for the next week? Let’s just walk in like this."

You motioned toward your intertwined fingers, raising them as if they were a trophy earned through sweat and tears. Spencer followed their movement with his gaze, initially surprised, but then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he tilted his head with a quiet chuckle.

"We can do it your way," he said, taking control of your hands, clasping them with both of his. He looked relieved; your reassurance and the sincerity in your voice clearly calmed him. You smiled too, finally seeing that peace on his face. "I really don't mind waiting a few days. It might even be… interesting. One of us might not hold out and accidentally slip up."

You raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner.

"Another bet, Reid?" you clicked your tongue. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. He seemed so unaffected, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. "You already lost five bucks about…ten minutes ago. At this rate, you'll be broke within a month, and we'll have to skip that overpriced coffee downtown. Now that would be a real horror story, speaking as a citizen of the first world."

"Didn't say anything about another bet!”

"Too late," you shot back, turning his hand and taking it in a more formal handshake. "Handshakes sealed the deal."

He rolled his eyes, but a half-smile lingered on his face. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

"I think we should get going," he said reluctantly.

You sighed with the same enthusiasm. You really felt stuck to that seat, right next to him.

"You know, being late on the first day of the new year should be fully justified..."

"We really need to go."

He was right. But before either of you could move to get out of the car, he leaned forward. Gently cupping your cheek, he drew you in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to vanish—just the two of you, in that quiet, perfect stillness.

His face suddenly turned to the side, noticing something through the windshield. You frowned and looked in the same direction.

"That's Gideon," you remarked out loud, even though both of you had already spotted the silhouette of your coworker stepping out of a car that had just parked a short distance ahead. He wasn’t looking your way yet, but he could at any moment. "Quick, hide!"

Okay, you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t about being afraid of getting caught. After all, there was nothing strange about two coworkers arriving at work together in the same car—it was even very eco-friendly. You just liked the idea of shoving Reid under the seat. And the poor thing, so thrown off by the mock authority in your voice and the situation itself, did it without a second thought.

When Gideon finally noticed you, you cheerfully waved at him.

"Fuck," you muttered suddenly.

"What is it?" Spencer returned to his seat, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Do you think he saw me?"

You shook your head.

"I just realized…this is your car."

*

"Okay, draw a straw."

"Morgan, how old are you?" You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the man standing across from you in the motel lobby. The place where you were spending the night this time was very tidy, with subdued colors, but, as tradition demanded, there had to be some sort of problem. You had one room for two, but one of them only had a double bed. So, you had to decide which two lucky people would share it. "Five?"

"And a half. Listen, we have to decide somehow. Let fate do it. The two who pull the shortest will sleep together. Simple as that."

Before you could say anything else, Garcia approached, weighed down by her bags. Yes, her—rarely did any case require her to be on-site, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.

"Oh, come on, Sweetie," she muttered to you, setting her luggage down and hunching slightly to catch her breath. "Let him feel like a kid again for a moment. He doesn’t get the chance often."

You sighed in resignation, but before you could pull one of the purple straws (how did he even get them?) that Morgan was holding in such a way that their lengths were hidden, you glanced around briefly. Sometimes you arrived at hotels at different times, some getting there faster, others later. Spencer and JJ had just walked in, both wearing coats to shield them from the cold January air. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him and his fogged-up glasses, which he quietly cursed under his breath—judging by the movement of his lips. However, you quickly composed yourself, returning to a neutral expression. It had only been two days since your agreement to keep the details of your relationship hidden, and so far, neither of you had slipped or forgotten to keep quiet around the others. Well, out of the two of you, you were probably struggling with it more—being a bit of a clinger, sometimes even your body would naturally gravitate towards his when standing next to him.

“Why are you standing here?” Spencer asked, approaching you. “Is there a problem with the rooms?”

“Is there ever not a problem with the rooms?” you responded, laughing. “Some poor souls are going to have to share a bed,” you explained, making brief eye contact with him. You were sure only he could catch the emphasis you placed on poor souls.

Of course, you wouldn't mind ending up in the same room. It wasn't about the fact that you were together—before, you’d shared rooms and even beds, and you were used to it by now. You would've probably offered it yourself, if it weren’t for the potential suspicion and that silly bet, which was starting to lose its point in your eyes. Maybe you should’ve just told them a few days ago?

“Oh,” he said shortly, crossing his arms with a bit of stiffness. His brown bag hung from his shoulder. He held your gaze for a moment, but his expression wasn’t as amused as yours. His brows furrowed slightly as he cleared his throat. “Poor them. Who’s it going to be?”

You slightly puffed out your lips slightly, watching him with a sharp look. What was it that made him so uneasy—the fact that you might not be in the same room this time?

“We were just about to decide,” Penelope replied, glancing at her friend with a teasing smile. “Morgan’s going to show us a game he learned today in kindergarten."

 JJ couldn't help but snort.

 “Just draw a straw…!”

You couldn’t recall another moment when all of you, every single one, rolled your eyes in perfect unison. But that’s exactly what happened when Derek once again enthusiastically explained the rules, as though they weren’t already ridiculously simple. In the end, each of you reached for one of the straws he was holding.

JJ went first. She pulled hers quickly, and it was of regular length, so it was immediately clear she wasn’t one of the poor souls. She raised her hand in a mock display of triumph, earning a few amused chuckles from the group.

Your turn came next. You approached the task with a certain gravity, as though the fate of the night depended entirely on the straw you chose. You studied each one carefully, as if their lengths could somehow be deciphered from the way they were arranged.

You wouldn’t have minded drawing the shortest straw. But only on one condition. 

Morgan looked at you with mock sympathy. Your straw wasn’t even half as long as JJ’s, which seemed to settle things. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out which of the remaining two—Reid or Garcia—would end up joining you.

Spencer reached out with a calculated, deliberate motion, his eyes immediately darting to yours when his straw turned out to be...one of the longer ones.

You shot him a look of bitter disappointment before your gaze shifted to your soon-to-be roommate. Penelope didn’t seem disheartened—on the contrary, an enthusiastic smile lit up her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but you caught the fleeting shift in her expression and the subtle flicker of her eyes.

“Oh no,” she suddenly gasped, her voice filled with exaggerated horror, even though she’d just seemed perfectly content, or at least not displeased, at the idea of sharing a room with you. “No, absolutely not. There’s no way I’m sleeping in the same room with her. Do you guys even know how loud she snores?”

Lies! You wanted to yell, but stopped yourself as realization dawned. Garcia was a good actress—you had to give her that—but her flair for dramatics always bordered on overkill, making it far too easy to catch her in a lie.

“I’m not used to traveling as often as you guys are,” Penelope continued in the same over-the-top tone. “I barely get a wink of sleep in a new place when it’s quiet, let alone with someone next to me snoring like a steam engine…”

“Love you too, Pen,” you muttered dryly.

“Someone has to switch with me, please,” she concluded, clasping her fingers together in a dramatic plea and pulling off the best puppy-dog eyes you’d seen in a long time. Well, at least since the time Reid had tried to coax you into reciting one of your old, cringe-worthy high school poems—the existence of which you’d only ever confessed to him.

“JJ?” Penelope turned her hopeful gaze toward her.

“Not a chance. My straw was the longest,” JJ replied, smug and immovable.

“Don’t even think about asking me,” Morgan chimed in before anyone could so much as glance in his direction.

And so, all eyes inevitably fell on Reid.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his ear, not looking directly at you.

“Well, I always carry earplugs with me…”

“Then it’s settled!” Garcia declared, hoisting her luggage with sudden determination. One of her heavy bags was thrust into Morgan’s arms so abruptly that he staggered backward under its weight. “Sweet dreams, everyone! Don’t let the bedbugs bite, and may the sheep you count tonight be extra fluffy and adorable. Goodnight!”

Just before she fully turned to leave, she sent you a quick, knowing wink.

You shook your head in disbelief, but the faintest smile danced on your lips. You didn’t even bother questioning how she knew. Only one conclusion circled your mind. Penelope could be really impossible. Thankfully, being impossible didn’t disqualify her from also being the best friend under this vast, sprawling sky. Period.

*

"What do you think about starting a tier list for all the hotels we stay in?” you remarked as both of you crossed the threshold of the room. Your eyes immediately landed on its unexpected feature. “Or at least the weirdest ones. Like the one with walls the color of cat pee where the power went out in the middle of the night. That one’s definitely at the top..."

"I don’t really get the point of a mirror on the ceiling," Reid said after a pause, looking over his shoulder at you. He was standing a few steps away, near the bed in the glaring white room with birchwood floors. "Who wants to look at themselves while trying to fall asleep?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or not. He raised an eyebrow too, not understanding why you did that. Okay, he wasn’t joking.

"You know, the main point isn’t really to look at yourself while falling asleep," you explained, with a bit of amused pity. Your gaze also briefly lingered on the glass surface above the bed, designed to reflect the bodies of people lying in bed. You thought it was a surprising addition but weren’t planning on spending too much time on it for now. You just wanted to get your shoes off—shoes you’d been wearing since sunrise—and finally lie down on something soft. "By the way, I’m taking a shower first."

Spencer only muttered something under his breath in response. Before disappearing behind the bathroom door, you cast one last glance at him. He seemed quiet—strangely quiet. Not that you were expecting his usual chatter after a long day of work; it could weigh on anyone and leave them feeling subdued. Maybe he just needed an extra moment to unwind, and that’s where his restraint came from.

Anyway, you took a quick shower. The pressure of the hot water nearly scalded your skin, which meant you’d be spared the bitter complaints, grumbling, and dramatic resignation threats from Morgan the next day. You felt too tired to linger under the stream for long. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, changed into your sleepwear, and gathered the clothes you’d worn all day from the floor.

You and Spencer passed each other in the doorway without a word.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you frowned. The bathroom door shut behind him, and some concerned question froze on your lips. For a moment, you stood still, debating whether you should ask it. But then the sound of running water reached your ears, and you figured he probably wouldn’t hear you anyway.

Instead, you decided to climb into bed, wait for him, and ask about it then. Whatever it was clearly weighed on him, and the fact that something was bothering him bothered you. Funny how that worked, right?

You spent that moment lying on your back, eyes wide open, afraid you might accidentally fall asleep if you closed them. A comfortable bed during a case—it felt like pure luxury. You were waiting for Spencer to finally emerge from the bathroom so you could curl up next to him, fall asleep to the fresh post-shower scent of him, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Just like you had spent half the day after the New Year’s party at your place—wrapped around each other, arguing over who would get up to make coffee and whether you should start cleaning up the mess from the night before.

You tucked your arm beneath your head, gazing at your fully-covered form reflected in the ceiling mirror.

“Did you find a portal to another galaxy in there or what?” you finally called out, impatient. He’d been in there way too long. And coming from you—a known lover of long, indulgent baths—that was saying something.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a gray t-shirt instead of his usual neat work attire and tie perfectly knotted at his neck. He still had his glasses on, which he might’ve forgotten to remove, judging by the way he slid into bed to your left without taking them off.

You watched him closely, rubbing at your tired eye. The shower had managed to wash away about half of the tension from Spencer’s face, but the other half stubbornly remained.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t have to,” you admitted simply, watching as he carefully adjusted himself, finding the right position. The lamp on his side of the bed cast a warm glow over his skin. You were both half-sitting, you comfortably propped up against the soft pillows, and him barely leaning back against them. “But I wanted to. We really lucked out with this room, huh? Penelope is one of a kind.”

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I didn’t say a word. She's just more observant than the rest”

He nodded, agreeing with you. You thought he might say something else about it, maybe make a joke about the bet, but he didn’t. You yawned.

"You seem tired.”

“How did you figure that out, Sherlock?” you asked, your sarcasm light, without a hint of malice. “You too, by the way. Although, it’s not just that you seem tired—you are tired, at first glance. Or maybe something’s bothering you. Or maybe both. Am I right?”

He shrugged slowly.

“No, as far as I know.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, shifting into a full sitting position with slightly bent legs. You leaned forward just enough to gently take his glasses off and fold them, your fingers brushing briefly against his cheek. He didn’t look at what you were doing, his gaze fixed on your face under the soft fall of his lashes. The wonderful color of his eyes, the slight hesitation in your movements as you moved a little closer to kiss him—a fleeting, tender press of lips.

“Something’s going on, and you can tell me about it.”

“Or we could just go to sleep,” he suggested quietly. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired, I mean, you yawned a little while ago.”

You tilted your head, studying him thoughtfully. Was he really trying this hard to dodge the topic? How could you get him to open up?

“I know blackmail isn’t exactly healthy for relationships,” you started finally, turning his glasses over in your hands, “but I’m not giving these back until you tell me.”

Both corners of his mouth twitched at once.

“Oh no, what am I going to do now?” he replied with feigned concern, gently shaking his head. Then he lowered his voice.  “This is exactly what I’d say if I didn’t also have contacts with me.”

"Sometimes I just want to…ugh."

"Violence isn't too healthy for relationships either."

"Just like not opening up. Remember what we talked about a few days ago in the car? You were worried I don't take you seriously. How else am I supposed to prove I'm serious if I don’t ask what’s wrong when I can tell something’s off?"

Your explanation sounded a bit jumbled, but he had to get the general idea. The reference to that specific conversation and his own words seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

"I didn’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me," he quickly corrected, swallowing hard. His chest fell, and the sigh felt like surrender. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to worry about it. It's nothing serious. I’m just tired...and a little stressed."

"Stressed?" you repeated, surprised. "You're stressed? But about what?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Just... about this," he said vaguely, his gaze shifting from you to your reflection in the glass ceiling. "Us, I mean."

"What do you mean?" you asked quietly, still confused, gently shaking your head. "We've shared rooms before, so if it’s about that, I really don’t get it."

"Yeah, but never like this. In a room with a king-sized bed and a huge mirror right above us," he explained, his voice tinged with embarrassment, clearly wishing he could just stop talking. "Okay, I know this sounds dumb, I know it does, but I don’t know why it’s messing with my head like this. I just...I kinda thought maybe you'd want to..."

"Spencer," you interrupted, saving him from going any further. You saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. You weren’t sure what emotion was bubbling up inside you now—whether it was still confusion or just pure amusement. "You were worried I’d want to have sex with you?” 

You didn’t even need to wait for his answer to know you’d hit the nail on the head. Considering how your relationship had grown out of friendship, slowly evolving over time and shared experiences instead of a sudden burst of passion, you weren’t surprised you hadn’t yet taken that step together. It was something special in its own way—there had never been any pressure, and you hadn’t expected that he might feel the exact opposite.

So when you finally figured out what had been bothering him all this time, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

"You were right, you know. It does sound kind of dumb," you said, unable to keep the smile from your face. His expression remained unreadable, his posture betraying a hint of anticipation as he waited for the rest of your reaction. "But also…I don’t know, kind of adorable? But seriously, Spencer, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready."

"It’s not that I don’t want to at all," he clarified quickly, almost too firmly. "I mean...it’d be our first time. Together. That’s what I mean. And I guess I just didn’t expect it to...happen tonight, here, of all places."

"I didn’t either," you admitted truthfully, the smile still lingering on your face. Unlike him, you didn’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. "I figured we’d just go to sleep, especially since we both already admitted we’re exhausted."

"Fair point," he mumbled.

"Honestly, this has to be the biggest example of overthinking I’ve ever seen anyone put themselves through, Spencer," you teased lightly, shaking your head.

For a moment, he stayed silent, but it felt like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that,” he admitted finally, his voice soft. But then, you caught the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at his lips.

He even started to laugh, a quiet chuckle filled with a sort of amused self-awareness. Meanwhile, you leaned out of the bed to place his glasses on the nightstand on your side. If he wanted them in the morning, he’d have no choice but to reach right over you.

“But just for the record,” he began after a moment, as you reached for the edge of the blanket that had slipped off you earlier, pulling it back up to wrap around yourself. Your head was only inches from the pillow now. You gave him a questioning nod. He, too, was getting ready to lie down, finally looking genuinely relaxed. “How pathetic do you think that was, on a scale from one to ten?”

You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying the question with an answer.

“In the interest of science,” he pressed, “one to ten?”

“Pathetic enough that you’ll need to redeem yourself a little in my eyes,” you sighed dramatically. “Go on, I’m waiting for your ideas.”

“I think I might have a few,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

You prolonged the kiss, savoring the deep sense of comfort it brought you. The two of you lay face to face, and you gently brushed a few still-damp strands of hair from Spencer's forehead, though they stubbornly fell back into place. Eventually, you gave up with a soft sigh against his lips. Spencer kept his eyes closed, lost in a quiet bliss, even as you pulled back just slightly, leaving only an inch of space between you.

"Can I turn off the light now?" you asked, as always. The question had become a tradition since you'd learned about his complicated relationship with darkness.

He hummed in agreement, nodding faintly. Leaning over him, you reached for the bedside lamp on his side. The room was instantly bathed in darkness, your reflections in the mirror above fading into obscurity.

You didn’t fully return to your original spot. Instead, you shifted closer, resting your head comfortably against his chest. The hotel pillows were unbelievably plush, you had to admit, but that night, you chose this over anything else.

"You’re not asleep," he noted gently after about fifteen minutes. He cleared his throat. "During sleep, a person’s breathing becomes slower and more regular. You know, if you’re uncomfortable here, you don’t have to…"

"I’m listening to your heartbeat," it slipped out of you. Though it was true, you hadn’t planned on admitting it out loud. "Nothing sinister, just to be clear. I’m not planning to rip it out of your chest or anything like that. It just works for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like those videos that imitate the sound of a crackling fireplace. Pretty calming."

"My heartbeat reminds you of the sound of a fireplace?" he said, a glint of confusion in his softly hoarse voice.

You sighed, in the darkness, he couldn’t see the faint smile painting itself on your face, pressed against his chest.

"Sweet dreams, silly."

tag list: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @awordsmith

[weneeya]

Third years in haikyuu reacting to reader dressing up all pretty ?

pretty for you m.list | rules

pairing. karasuno's third years x reader

characters. daichi, sugawara, asahi, kiyoko

note. yes yes yes, i want to write this (i assumed it was karasuno's third years) and ofc i included kiyoko bc i love women sm <3

⎯ Sawamura Daichi

When you told him you would be late, he almost immediately started to panic. Were you okay? Did you have any problems? He thought you would have told him if anything was wrong, but he could not help it, he was way too protective of you. Daichi always needed to be sure that you were doing fine and that nothing was troubling you too much. 

He was trying to reassure himself when he heard your voice calling his name from behind his back. He turned around in no time, and froze the second after he saw you. You were so pretty. He always thought you looked pretty, of course, but today? It was even more. He took a step closer to you, noticing the way you seemed to be panicking a bit about his silence. 

Daichi gently took your hand in his, and brought it to his lips so he could leave a soft kiss against the back of it. “You look amazing.” He told you, and his warm smile eased all of your worries. You smiled softly, glad that he liked the effort you made for him. 

“Sorry for the lateness, I just wanted to look perfect,” you explained to him, and he chuckled a little at your words. You really were adorable, nothing would change that and he knew it. 

“Don’t worry, you can be late all you want if you look this great.” You felt your cheeks burning slightly at his words, and he took your hand in his larger one.

⎯ Sugawara Koushi

You were just supposed to chill out at Suga’s place, nothing more. He wanted to show you something apparently, and you could not wait to see what it was. You did not really know why, but you wanted to make some more efforts to look especially pretty today. Perhaps you needed it, to be told compliments. 

You knocked at his door, and he opened it in no time. He was all too excited to be seeing you. When his eyes laid on your figure, they moved up and down to take a better look at your outfit. They lingered a bit longer on your face, before a smile appeared on his lips. 

“You’re so pretty. Is that for me?” He asked, and you cleared your throat while looking away. You nodded softly, which made his smile grow a bit wider. He quickly took your hand, closing the door of his room behind him. “What are you doing?” You asked him, a bit surprised. 

“No way we’re staying here when you look this pretty! I want the world to see how gorgeous my girlfriend is.” And you swore you felt your whole body melting at his words.

⎯ Asahi Azumane

He was always so nervous when he was seeing you alone. It made no sense, because you two were together, and he knew you were the most sincere and sweet person he ever met in his life. Yet, he couldn't help but feel stressed every time. It was in his nature after all. It was a force which was stronger than him. 

He arrived late because of his bus, and it made him even more nervous because he did not want to make you wait too long alone outside. When Asahi finally arrived, his eyes almost immediately locked on your figure. 

You always looked pretty. You were probably the prettiest girl he ever met in his whole life, and he was not even exaggerating. But your outfit made you look even prettier ; and the way you tied your hair? He swore he could have faint right here and right now, in the middle of the street. 

He walked to you quickly, not wanting to make you wait even more than it was already the case. He cleared his throat, and you looked at him with the softest smile on Earth. How could he not be a nervous mess with you around? He sighed slowly, easing himself down as you wrapped your arm around his. 

“Do you like how I dressed today?” You asked him, and he immediately looked at you with a smile. Did you really expect him to say no? He could not believe it. 

“You’re gorgeous, really. I almost fell down back there when I saw you from afar.” His words made you chuckle a bit, and he did the same when he heard you. You really were the best at soothing him down after all.

⎯ Kiyoko Shimizu

She was the prettiest girl you knew. She looked so good in everything, all the time, and you could never understand how it was possible. So when you two decided to go out to do some shopping together, you decided that you wanted to try to be as pretty as her. You did not want her to go out with someone not as good as her. 

Kiyoko was not the most expressive girl, and you knew it well. You did not dress up for her to say anything, but you secretly hoped she would love the way you looked for her today. You were both sitting at a cafe, drinking something hot to warm yourselves up. 

“You really are pretty today. I like the way it looks on you.” She said out of nowhere, after she put her cup down on the table. You almost choked on air, before you looked up at her with your cheeks burning. 

“You think so..?” You asked, a bit hesitant, and she met your eyes. The way she looked at you meant everything, but she still replied so you would not doubt her words. “Of course I do. You’re always pretty though, don’t worry about it.” 

You could not restrain the light smile that appeared on your lips as she reassured you so easily, making your heart race and your stomach do flips. She really was doing so much efforts for you, and it made you so happy.

thank you for reading!!

[windser]

where the apple falls

pairing: amnesia, exbf! caleb x reader rating: t wc: 1700+ a/n: based off this post. this will be a series of drabbles. i will also be working on other exbf! caleb verse. that is the trope for him the resonates most with me. after reading his story, i'm soooo excited to write about him. happy to take requests relating to both tropes!

“hmm, jian bing? normally i have to accumulate quite a bit of favors to wake up to this. what’s the occasion?”

a homemade cure to job memory loss, sits on your tongue like a secret. but you swallow it down, tasting every word you can’t admit. it’s only been a week. since then, caleb has seen the physicians once more—three days since returning to your home for a follow-up.

but just those seventy-two hours had felt like distant memory. the first morning had been the most jarring. caleb had walked into the apartment as if he’d only returned from a day at work, not nearly a week in the hospital, though even the small missed him longer. his only moment of hesitation was the brief pause when his eyes caught on the small changes you had made since the breakup.

the furniture remained the same—too much hassle to replace—but you'd taken quiet, deliberate steps to erase him. gone were the photos of shared milestones, absent were his awards and accolades. the tangible pieces of caleb had vanished, leaving only the slowly healing void in your heart.

the physician had given you ample time to prepare your home for his discharge, clear instructions to recreate a familiar space that mirrored the fragments of his memory. but you’d balked at the thought of resurrecting the past. now the remnants of the last four years were still stored away in the recesses of your closet. 

selfish, perhaps. misguided, maybe. but a part of you refused to accept the accident—not just the memory loss, but the implausibility of it all. caleb, always composed, prepared for anything? reduced now to a vulnerable man clinging to fractured echoes of what was? 

it didn’t sit right with you.

you watched as his gaze drifted over the near-barren walls and mismatched artwork. his jaw tightened, barely perceptibly, lips parting as if testing words that refused to form. his shoulders rose once, twice, then sagged in quiet surrender before he turned to you with a smile so perfectly broken it felt like a carefully crafted illusion.

"still in the middle of some deep cleaning, huh? i appreciate you getting everything ready for me to come back home. why don't I help get it back in order?"

at the check-up, the physician warned you: patience was crucial. recovery couldn’t be rushed without risking setbacks. most cases resolved themselves with time, they assured you.

just be patient.

“i thought some of your favorites would help you remember” you offered instead, glancing over your shoulder quickly before turning your attention back to the stove. “it’s almost done.”

caleb didn’t respond at first as he sat down at the kitchen bar, still dressed in his sleepwear. he couldn’t have been up for more than a few minutes, likely just long enough to take his part of medication before arriving. the others would require a meal to go with them.

“i couldn’t have missed that much,” he said finally, voice laced with casual dismissal. “i don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

it was eerie, how easily he brushed off nearly a year of his life.

you set a cup of coffee down in front of him with a mishandled grimace. “this is serious, caleb. you can’t just report a wrong date and think everyone is going to write it off. ” it was becoming just a bit more than a little frustrating how light he took the situation. 

his hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could turn away. his grip was firm but not unkind, his thumb brushing absently over your pulse.

“i am taking it seriously,” he said quietly, his eyes steady on yours. “do you understand how troubling it is to hear you've lost months of time?”

“could have fooled me.” you mumbled under your breath, tugging half-heartedly at his arm.

“what was that?” his voice sharpened slightly. “it doesn’t help when you mutter.”

you exhaled sharply, meeting his gaze. “i said you’re not exactly helping yourself, caleb. It was okay at first to adjust. i know you were in pain, and it was jarring, but—” your voice cracked, the words caught in your throat. you cleared it hastily, averting your eyes. the physicians had warned you to avoid accusations, anything that might exacerbate his confusion or headaches. caleb’s expression tightened as he read the unspoken in your hesitation.

“but?” he pressed. his grip on your arm loosened, though he didn’t let go.

“it doesn’t feel like you’re trying to get better,” you said, wincing as you braced for his reaction.

instead, you felt the soft press of his lips against your temple.

“i don’t even know what ‘better’ looks like,” he murmured. “I’m doing what i was told. resuming routines. beyond that…” his thumb brushed your cheek as he trailed off. “you’ve got your orders too. sure you’re doing your part?”

you shoved at his chest, though there was no real force behind it. “that’s not funny.”

he didn’t laugh, though his eyes glinted with suppressed amusement. “okay okay, i know. it’s just... a lot to process. being told your life isn’t what you thought it was.” he sipped his coffee. “i mean, what could i have possibly missed?”

your gaze dropped to the mug, a relic of the past—the one you’d gifted him when he got his fleet position. “a lot, caleb. a lot.”

“well, they told me to take it one step at a time. i’m still processing it all. still can’t believe the news headlines”

“pretty sure you were told to not overwhelm yourself,” you countered.

he shrugged. “i binged all the new seasons of our sitcoms. i get bored.”

“and nothing triggered even the smallest memory?”

“it might help if you just told me what i’m forgetting.”

you stiffened, jaw tight. “you’re supposed to recall them naturally.”

caleb leaned back, studying you with quiet intensity. “then we just keep going as we were. i have you, and you have me. what else matters?”

“caleb…” your voice faltered, a lump rising in your throat. “that’s not—”

“i’m sorry.” his tone softened as he tugged you closer. “i know this is hard for you too. there are probably things you want to tell me…” his hands steadied you as he guided you onto his lap.

your faces were so close now that you could feel the faint heat radiating from him, a warmth that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. it struck you as almost cruelly ironic how, in a way, you were both reliving memories—but only you felt the hollow ache of the gaps between them. you could count every one of his dark lashes, each one a delicate frame to the deep gaze fixed on you. and then your eyes betrayed you, flickering downward to caleb’s mouth: light pink, nicely shaped, and far too familiar. you knew, if you gave in and pressed your lips to his, they’d taste soft, warm, and faintly of coffee.

“yeah,” you replied, though your voice was barely more than a breath.

“yeah,” caleb echoed with a faint, lopsided quirk to his lips. “just… give me a bit more time, okay? right now, despite the aches in my body, nothing has ever felt more right. it’s always been like this with you.” his voice softened, becoming something raw and fragile. “i wouldn’t trade this for anything. not even for the memories I’ve lost.”

“that’s not okay, caleb,” you said tersely, the words rising unbidden in your throat. “you can’t just disregard the past—or the future.”

his head tilted slightly as he studied you, something unspoken glimmering in his eyes. for a moment, silence stretched thin between you before, without warning, caleb stood up. you barely had time to react before you were flipped upside down, your world spinning as blood rushed to your head.

“caleb, what are you doing!?” you yelped, hands scrambling to clutch the fabric of his shirt in tight fists.

“just hang on,” he said, voice far too calm for the chaos he’d just unleashed.

he carried you the short distance to the couch with an unsettling ease, his shins pressing against the edge before he lowered you onto the cushions. a pillow fell to the floor in his wake, discarded like an afterthought.

in the shock of it all, you barely registered his hands threading gently through your hair, the sensation grounding you even as your mind reeled. his gaze traced the lines of your body as though committing them to memory, an intensity that made your breath hitch. caleb had always been intense, after all—a force that could bring everything in its path to kneel. that much hadn’t changed. but now, there was something else. a weight behind his actions, a shadow you couldn’t quite name.

he wasn’t holding you down, but his presence blanketed you, toeing the fragile line between comfort and constraint.

when his lips descended, it felt inevitable, like the pull of gravity. a soft, tentative brush at first, before returning with more intensity, more hunger, as if savoring the moment like a man starved. his kiss was familiar in all the ways that made your heart ache, every motion perfectly attuned to what you liked, what you craved.

when Caleb finally pulled away, you instinctively leaned forward, chasing the warmth of his mouth. but he had already shifted, his lips grazing along your jaw, leaving a trail of nips and feather-light kisses in his wake.

it was still caleb. caleb, who always knew exactly how to undo you.

your eyes fluttered open, stealing a glance at him as he kissed the curve of your neck. you weren’t sure what you were looking for—a sign, a clue—but all you saw was caleb. just caleb.

despite it all.

despite your suspicions.

he was okay.

and despite everything, the thought of losing him still felt unbearable.

caleb sighed softly, leaning back to look at you. his hand drifted to your face, a knuckle brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest tighten. you leaned into his touch without thinking.

“i’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “i always do.”

and in that moment, as his words settled in the space between you, you couldn’t quite recall why that wasn’t a good thing.

[velvet-apricots]

I was encouraged to write a drabble of this idea I had here

Summary: Lucanis can tell that Rook has a thing for Emmrich. Emmrich, however, seems to be very unaware of her attraction. That is until Spite speaks up.

It was happening again.

He had been talking to Emmrich again. For as bizarre as Lucanis found the concepts of raising the dead, the man was good to talk to. It was refreshing to have another to help with Spite, to have a calm firm hand that could get the demon to behave or stop pestering with questions that Lucanis could not answer, or could not answer in a satisfactory way.

That, and Spite just seemed to refuse to believe him out of… Well, spite.

“The moment I told him how soap was made, he insisted I take a bite.”

Emmrich tutted, leaning on his staff and directing his eyes to the demon as he hovered behind Lucanis’s shoulder. “Oh that would be most unpleasant, Spite. I assure you. The saponification process completely changes the composition of the animal fat. It tastes terrible.”

“How do you know?” Spite hissed.

Emmrich shrugged. “I have gotten soap in my mouth once or twice while bathing.”

And then, almost like clock work, Rook was suddenly there, slipping into the conversation. “What is saponification?” she asked, playing with her fingers as she gave Emmrich a little sweet smile, one she never gave to any of the rest of them. 

Rook liked hearing Emmrich talk. She liked seeing him move his hands. She liked looking at him. Her voice would get higher, and she would jut her hip out as she nervously fiddled with something, be it her fingers or her hair. It was very obvious that she was attracted to the older man, looking for any excuse to speak to him. It was like watching a love sick teenager.

And Emmrich seemed oblivious. Politefully so, but still very oblivious. Either that, or he was keeping up a professional decorum.

And so Lucanis now watched them: Emmrich explaining how saponification was the process of “cleaving esters into carboxylate salts and alcohols by the action of aqueous alkali”. Rook looking at Emmrich so intensely that she might as well be trying to undress him with her eyes. Staring at him from under her lashes with a little stupid grin, clearly not actually even hearing what he was saying.

Meirda, she is practically lusting over the man. How does Emmrich not see that? Lucanis thought, giving a humored smirk.

And then Spite spoke. He spoke and Lucanis wanted nothing more than to be struck down by the Maker himself.

“They should get a room. Together.”

Rook of course heard nothing. But Lucanis watched as Emmrich’s brows went up, watched as he turned to look at Spite, his ears and cheeks ever so slightly going pink as he gave a bewildered, open mouthed stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Emmrich asked.

Lucanis closed his eyes, cringing visibly from embarrassment. “Ignore him-”

“No! Do not ignore me! Take her to the bedroom! It’s what she wants!”

Emmrich took a scolding tone, face now going from pink to red.“Take her to-? Spite that is incredibly inappropriate.”

“What is Spite saying?” Rook asked, leaning back as both Lucanis and Emmrich turned sharply to her to say the same thing.

“Nothing.”

Emmrich ran his hand through his hair, looking very uncomfortable and now no longer able to look at Rook at all. “I think I will go make sure Manfred is not getting into any trouble” He mumbled, turning and quickly walking away. Rook followed him, switching from love sick to concerned leader.

Her concern would only make Emmrich feel even more uncomfortable.

“And I will throw myself into a cup of coffee, and possibly off the side of the courtyard.” Lucanis mumbled, turning in the opposite direction and quickly speed walking away. He would have to apologize-

“Do not apologize! I helped!” Spite protested, “He knows now!”

-Apologize to Emmrich.

[crossfandomskylines]

Mountain with a View

Pairing: Glen Powell (RPF) x Female Reader

Summary: Amid the beauty of a coastal getaway, years of neglect and unspoken pain come to a head as you confront Glen about the growing distance in your relationship. What begins as heartbreak turns into a moment of raw honesty as Glen opens up about his fears and regrets, and you acknowledge your own role in the cracks between you. With one final promise and a fragile hope for reconciliation, you take the first steps toward rebuilding, finding solace in the quiet reminder that love is worth fighting for.

Word Count: 8.5K

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing angst, and I think I did okay with it. This took me a little bit longer to write as I've been working on it for about a month or so. This is HEAVILY inspired by the song Mountain with a View by Kelsea Ballerini. I would love to know what you guys think!

The soft light of dawn spilled over the cliffs of Big Sur, painting the rugged coastline in hues of gold and pale pink. Through the open windows of the restaurant, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filled the air, steady and unchanging, like a heartbeat. The faint smell of salt mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, creating a serene tableau that should have felt like paradise.

The table was elegantly set, each detail carefully curated to reflect the luxury of the resort. Crisp white linens draped over the small table, their edges fluttering slightly in the gentle morning breeze. A delicate vase held a cluster of fresh flowers—soft blues and creams that mirrored the morning sky—while the steam rising from the coffee in front of you curled lazily upward, dissipating into the air. Two empty plates sat perfectly aligned, their white porcelain gleaming in the sunlight.

But your gaze lingered on the chair across from you. Empty.

The untouched menu lay neatly folded beside the vacant place setting, its pristine edges catching the light as if mocking the silence that hung between you and the space meant for him. You glanced down at your own menu, holding it loosely in your hands, though the words blurred together. How many times had you reread the same description of avocado toast? How many times had you looked up, hoping to see him striding through the doorway, his usual easy confidence carrying him to you with a quick apology and a kiss pressed to your temple?

The coffee in your mug had gone lukewarm. You wrapped your hands around it anyway, seeking comfort in its weight, its fleeting warmth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized the server was probably waiting for a sign that you were ready to order. 

But you weren’t. Not yet.

This was supposed to be romantic. The thought came unbidden, sharp and bitter. You had envisioned something different for this morning—a quiet meal shared with him, stolen moments of intimacy as the rest of the world slowly woke. Instead, the carefully orchestrated perfection of the setting only made the absence feel heavier, more pronounced. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the soft murmur of other diners scattered across the restaurant’s patio.

You set the menu down and traced a finger along the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing out an imaginary crease. The flowers in the vase shifted slightly in the breeze, their petals brushing against one another like a whisper.

And still, the chair across from you remained empty.

You lifted the mug to your lips, sipping the now-tepid coffee and willing the warmth to soothe the knot twisting tighter in your chest. But it didn’t. The weight of the empty chair across from you pressed heavier with each passing minute, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts from circling back to him.

You hadn’t heard from Glen since last night. A text around 9 p.m., short and vague, letting you know something had come up and he wouldn’t make it until today. No explanation, no details. Just: Sorry, won’t make it tonight. I’ll be there first thing tomorrow.

It was morning now, and tomorrow had become today, yet the chair in front of you remained unoccupied.

The unease gnawed at you, growing sharper with each passing second. This was his trip, his plan to reconnect, to prove that you both still had something worth holding onto. You hadn’t even asked for it; he’d been the one to insist you both needed a weekend away, somewhere beautiful and secluded, just the two of you. But now, sitting here alone at a table meant for two, it felt more like proof of how far apart you’d drifted than any sort of reconciliation.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted softly, and you glanced up to see the waiter standing nearby, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His smile was polite but edged with curiosity, his gaze flickering briefly to the empty chair before returning to you. “Are you ready to order?”

You forced a smile, the corners of your mouth tugging upward as if on autopilot. “I think I’ll give it a few more minutes,” you said, your voice light but strained.

The waiter nodded, his professional demeanor not faltering as he replied, “Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready.” He moved away, weaving between tables to check on a couple sitting near the edge of the patio.

You exhaled slowly and reached for your phone, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb. There he was, smiling back at you from the screen.

The photos posted this morning were polished, curated to perfection: behind-the-scenes shots of Glen on set, his arm slung casually around his co-stars; selfies of him laughing with the crew in picturesque European locations; snapshots of stunning landscapes captioned with vague, charming quips. You scrolled through them, one after another, and felt the ache in your chest deepen.

The pictures looked pretty—at least they did on his Instagram.

The sting of it settled in your chest like a sharp, jagged stone. You didn’t even know exactly where he was right now. The last time you’d spoken, he’d mentioned Amsterdam, but that was weeks ago. For all you knew, he could’ve been halfway across the continent by now.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, and for a moment, you debated texting him. Where are you? But you didn’t. Instead, you scrolled further, past the carefully filtered moments that felt so far removed from the reality you were sitting in.

When was the last time you’d had a real conversation with him?

You thought back to your recent texts, the ones that had become increasingly generic, a hollow routine of pleasantries that no longer carried the weight of meaning. Good morning, babe. Goodnight, miss you. The words had once made your heart flutter, a reminder that he was thinking of you even from miles away. 

Now, they just felt like muscle memory—sent out of obligation rather than genuine connection.

The memory of those texts brought a bitter taste to your mouth, sharper than the coffee you hadn’t touched in minutes. You set your phone down on the table with a quiet thud, your fingers curling into your lap as you tried to shake the growing resentment clawing its way up your throat.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

You stared out past the edge of the terrace, where the cliffs gave way to the water. The waves crashed below in a steady rhythm, their sound blending with the faint hum of conversation from the other tables. You tried to ground yourself in the moment, to let the beauty of the setting take the edge off the bitter thoughts swirling in your mind. 

But the ache inside was relentless, and your mind wandered to a different time—a time when things with Glen had felt so much simpler, so much easier.

He used to surprise you with the little things. You could still picture the way he’d walk into the apartment with your favorite coffee in hand, the sleeve scribbled with some inside joke that made you laugh every time. Or the way he’d grab your hand in the middle of the week and say, “C’mon, we’re going somewhere,” without offering a single clue as to where you were headed. You’d end up at some hole-in-the-wall restaurant he’d found on Yelp, or sitting on a blanket in the park with a takeout box between you. He always made it an adventure.

And the way he looked at you back then… you felt like the center of his universe. Like there was no one else in the world who mattered to him the way you did. You remembered the way his eyes would light up when you walked into a room, the way he’d pull you close just to tell you how beautiful you looked, even when you were in sweatpants and an old hoodie.

He loved me so much more at twenty-three.

The thought hit you like a wave, pulling you under. A lot can change in six years, it seems.

You used to believe that love grew stronger with time. That the shared memories, the inside jokes, the challenges you overcame together would deepen your connection. But now, sitting here alone at a table meant for two, it felt like the opposite had happened.

You remembered the first time he told you he loved you. You’d been dating for a few months, and he’d taken you to a concert in the city. It had been raining that night, and you both ended up soaked to the bone, laughing as you ran from the venue to his car. Later, as you sat wrapped in his jacket with your hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, he’d looked at you and said it like it was the easiest thing in the world: “I love you.”

You’d believed him then. Completely, utterly, without hesitation.

But now, the words felt like a faint echo of something that had once been vibrant and alive. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d said it in a way that felt real. Not over a text, not in the perfunctory way he’d sign off on a phone call—but the way he used to say it, with his eyes locked on yours like he meant every syllable.

You ran a hand through your hair, the weight of the memories pressing down on you. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare the past to the present. Maybe this was just what happened in relationships over time. But that didn’t make the emptiness you felt any easier to bear.

The waiter passed by again, and you glanced at the empty chair. Your chest tightened. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to show up, to prove that this trip wasn’t just another empty promise. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of his absence grew heavier, and the unease in your stomach gave way to something sharper—resentment, maybe.

Six years ago, he would’ve been here. Six years ago, he wouldn’t have let anything stop him.

And now? Now you weren’t sure what was left between you except memories of what used to be.

You let out a quiet breath, your gaze dropping to the untouched menu in front of you. Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t always like this—this hollow ache of waiting, of wondering. There was a time when Glen made you feel like you were his whole world. But now, it was like you were living in his orbit, watching him shine while you stood in the shadows, unseen and forgotten.

Your mind drifted back to the first time he missed something important. It wasn’t a big deal, not really. A dinner date that he had to cancel last minute because a meeting with a director ran late. You’d been disappointed, sure, but he made up for it the next night with takeout and your favorite movie. It felt like a one-time thing then—just a fluke in an otherwise perfect relationship.

But then it happened again. An anniversary he forgot until you reminded him the following morning. He’d scrambled to make a dinner reservation, his apology genuine but rushed. And then there was the weekend trip a few years back you’d planned together, the one you’d been looking forward to for weeks, canceled because he got called back to set for reshoots.

You told yourself it was temporary. That it wasn’t his fault. Glen was ambitious, and you admired that about him. He was chasing his dreams, and you wanted to support him.

But gradually, his career began to take priority over everything else—including you.

You remembered the first time you brought it up to him, years ago, around the time all the buzz for Top Gun: Maverick started. His career was taking off in ways neither of you had anticipated, and it felt like he was slipping away from you, one missed moment at a time.

“I just feel like…” you’d hesitated, trying to find the right words, “like we don’t see each other anymore. Like you’re always busy, and I’m just… here.”

He’d pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know, babe. I know it’s been a lot lately, but it’s just this project. Once it’s over, things will go back to normal. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him. And for a while, you did. But after the whirlwind press tour for Top Gun, there was another project. And then another. Each one bigger than the last. Each one demanding more of his time, his energy, his focus.

The promises he made—that things would slow down, that he’d have more time for you—started to feel like smoke slipping through your fingers. They were never meant to be kept, just empty words to soothe you in the moment.

The last year of your life had proven that. You could count on one hand the number of nights you’d spent together in the same place, and even then, his mind always seemed to be elsewhere. On a script, on a meeting, on whatever was waiting for him the next day.

Sitting at the table now, you wrestled with your emotions. Part of you wanted to believe that things could go back to the way they were, that the Glen you’d fallen in love with was still in there somewhere, waiting to come back to you. But deep down, you knew better. You couldn’t unring a bell. You couldn’t undo the years of distance that had grown between you.

The truth sat heavy in your chest, undeniable and cruel: Glen’s career wasn’t going to slow down anytime soon. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep waiting for him to choose you.

The sound of laughter from a nearby table broke your train of thought. You glanced toward the source, a young couple leaning into each other, their faces alight with the kind of joy you remembered so vividly from the early days with Glen.

You’d just decided to flag the waiter and order something when you heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“Sorry I’m late.”

His voice was smooth, polished, just like everything else about him. Glen always had a way of sounding like nothing was ever truly a big deal, like the world bent itself around his schedule and not the other way around.

You glanced up as he slid into the seat across from you, looking every bit the Hollywood leading man. His perfectly tousled hair caught the soft morning light, and his tailored shirt looked as though it had been pulled straight off a magazine cover. He flashed you the charming smile that used to make your heart race, but now it only made your stomach twist.

“You know how crazy things can get,” he added with a casual shrug, as if the excuse alone should absolve him.

You managed a tight smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I know.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, as Glen picked up the menu. You couldn’t help noticing the faint scent of his cologne, subtle but sharp, lingering in the air. It was the same one he’d worn for years, a scent that used to comfort you. Now it just felt distant, like a memory you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“So,” Glen began, his tone overly light, “how are you liking the trip so far?”

You glanced up at him, your fingers tightening around your coffee mug. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He raised an eyebrow, setting the menu down. “Come on, this place is amazing. I thought you’d love it.”

“It is amazing,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You looked out the open window, watching the waves crash against the cliffs in the distance. “I just… I guess I thought we’d be seeing more of it together.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you meant them to be. Glen shifted in his seat, picking up his water glass and taking a long sip.

“You know how things are,” he said, his tone apologetic but dismissive all the same. “This shoot’s been nonstop, and they’re already talking about reshoots next month. But I wanted us to have this time together, even if it’s just for a couple of days.”

“Right,” you murmured, forcing yourself to focus on the vase of fresh flowers between you. White lilies, delicate and pristine.

The clink of silverware against plates at a nearby table filled the silence. You glanced over at Glen, noting the way he avoided meeting your eyes for too long. He folded his hands in front of him, his polished watch catching the light, and for a moment, it felt like you were sitting across from a stranger.

He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “So, what looks good here? Have you looked at the menu yet?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “The avocado toast looks nice.”

“Avocado toast,” Glen repeated with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re so predictable.”

It was the kind of teasing that used to make you laugh, the kind that felt endearing. But now it felt different—like he was poking at a version of you he hadn’t taken the time to know in years.

You traced the rim of your coffee mug with your finger, searching for something to say, but nothing came. The silence grew, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the hum of other diners’ conversations.

Finally, Glen flagged down the waiter, ordering for both of you without so much as a glance in your direction. You didn’t correct him, even though you’d changed your mind about what you wanted.

The breakfast felt quiet and suffocating. Every bite of food tasted like nothing, every glance Glen threw your way felt like it came from someone miles away. You wanted to bridge the gap, to say something that would pull him back to you, but the words caught in your throat.

Instead, you focused on the details. The clink of his fork against his plate. The way he scrolled through his phone when he thought you weren’t looking. The half-empty coffee cup he didn’t bother finishing. And the way he kept glancing at his watch, like there was somewhere else he’d rather be. Somewhere else he probably was already planning to go.

Glen’s fork scraped against his plate as he finished the last bite of his omelet. You’d barely touched your avocado toast, pushing it around with your fork until it looked more like a suggestion of a meal than food.

He glanced at you, then down at the untouched plate. “Not hungry?”

You hesitated, forcing a faint smile. “I guess not.”

He nodded absently, flagging down the waiter with a lift of his hand. In one smooth motion, he pulled out his wallet, slipping a card onto the check tray as soon as it arrived. No hesitation, no glance at the total—it was a gesture that screamed effortless privilege, something that used to impress you. Now, it just felt... hollow.

“Ready?” he asked, standing and holding out a hand to you.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment too long before taking it, his grip firm but impersonal. He helped you out of your chair like it was a reflex, like leading you was second nature but looking at you wasn’t.

The two of you stepped out into the fresh morning air, the salty breeze carrying with it the faint crash of waves from below. Glen slipped on his sunglasses, the mirrored lenses catching the soft light of dawn as he looked down the narrow road leading toward your rental house.

“It’s a nice morning,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Want to walk back?”

You nodded, tucking your arms around yourself. “Sure.”

The two of you set off in silence, your shoes crunching against the gravel path before it gave way to the smooth cobblestones of the resort. The cliffs of Big Sur loomed in the distance, majestic and timeless, their beauty unchanging despite the ache in your chest.

Glen walked with the easy confidence he always carried, his long strides slowing slightly to match your pace. You stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye—his jaw was relaxed, his gaze hidden behind the reflective lenses of his sunglasses. He looked like someone who belonged in this setting, polished and effortless.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Glen asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you lied. The truth was, you’d spent hours staring at the ceiling, the sound of distant waves doing nothing to quiet the spiral of thoughts in your head. “You?”

“As good as I could expect,” he replied, flashing you a quick smile. “You know how sleeping on a flight is.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. The conversation fizzled out again, leaving only the sound of the waves and the occasional call of seagulls to fill the space between you.

As you rounded a corner, the rental house came into view—a charming, weathered cottage perched on the edge of a cliff, its white shutters standing out against the soft gray of its exterior. It had been your idea to book something cozy and intimate, a far cry from the glitzy resort Glen had looked into. At the time, you’d thought it would be a chance for the two of you to reconnect. Now, it just felt like a stage for the growing distance between you.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, you lingered for a moment, looking out at the endless expanse of ocean. The salty breeze swept through your hair, carrying with it a question you couldn’t push away:

When did it all start to fall apart?

The soft click of the door closing behind you felt heavier than it should have. Glen dropped his keys onto the small table by the door and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. He moved through the cozy living room with the ease of someone who didn’t notice the growing weight in the air between you.

“So,” he said, heading toward the kitchen, “how’s Emily doing? She’s the friend who is pregnant, right? When’s she due again? We should probably send a gift or something, don’t you think?”

You froze where you stood, his words settling over you like ice.

“The baby shower was four months ago,” you said slowly, your voice tight. “Her daughter’s going to be three months old next week. I showed you a picture of her when she was born.”

Glen paused mid-step, glancing back at you with a sheepish smile. “Right. I—I guess I forgot.”

Forgot.

The word echoed in your mind, dredging up every other time he’d “forgotten”—anniversaries, birthdays, plans you’d made weeks in advance. The ache in your chest swelled, anger and hurt twisting together in a knot that felt impossible to untangle.

“You forgot,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “Of course, you forgot. Why would you remember anything about my life when you’re too busy living your own?”

He frowned, the easy confidence he always carried faltering for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stepped closer, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, as if that could somehow hold you together. “It means you don’t know anything about me anymore, Glen. Not really. You’re so out of touch with my life it’s like you’re not even in it.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising defensively. “I’ve been busy. You know how crazy things get with work.”

“You’ve been busy?” You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp enough to cut through the tension. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it? I’ve been here waiting, Glen. Not just today, but for years. Waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to keep your promises.”

Glen ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his tone. “You knew what you were signing up for when we got together. You knew my career was important to me.”

“And what about me?” The words burst out of you, raw and unfiltered. “Was I ever important to you? Or was I just supposed to sit here and smile and wait while you made excuse after excuse? You promised things would get better, but they haven’t. And I can’t keep waiting for you to show up.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head, his voice low and simmering. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not like I don’t care about you.”

“Do you?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and something far more vulnerable. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. You’ll say I’m crazy for being the one to leave, but I can’t keep doing this, Glen. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine while you’re barely here.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Glen stared at you, his expression unreadable, as if he was trying to piece together how things had unraveled so quickly.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, but no less defensive. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to try,” you said, your voice cracking. “I want you to fight for this, for us, but you don’t...And I don’t think you ever will.”

His silence was deafening, and in that moment, you knew.

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance filtered through the open windows, a cruel reminder of the beauty around you that felt so out of reach.

When Glen finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt this way.”

You turned back to him, your gaze steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “That’s the problem, Glen. You don’t realize anything.”

Glen stayed rooted to the spot, his hands resting on the back of the chair he’d just pulled out. His knuckles whitened against the wood as he gripped it tighter, the weight of your words pressing down on him.

“You’ll say I’m crazy for being the one to leave,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself. The phrase hung in the air, raw and unforgiving.

He looked up at you then, his usual polished composure cracking ever so slightly. His brows drew together, and his jaw flexed like he was trying to find the right words and failing. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice wavered, and he stopped. His hand rose to his face, dragging down his jaw as he cleared his throat.

“You really want to leave?” he asked, his voice low and strained, like the words physically hurt to say.

You hadn’t expected him to sound so... vulnerable. It caught you off guard, but it wasn’t enough to soften the ache in your chest.

You turned toward him slowly, your arms still wrapped around yourself. The tightness in your throat returned, and you had to swallow hard before you could respond. You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded.

The moment stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Glen exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair now. He paced a few steps before stopping, his back to you.

“I didn’t... I didn’t realize it was this bad,” he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. He sounded less like the confident, larger-than-life man you’d fallen for and more like someone lost.

“That’s the problem,” you said softly, not out of anger but exhaustion. “You didn’t realize. You never realize.”

He turned back to face you, his eyes searching yours like he was looking for some flicker of hope, something to hold on to. “I know I’ve screwed up, okay? I know I haven’t been... I haven’t been what you needed. But I thought—I thought we were okay. I thought we’d figure it out like we always do.”

“Glen, we haven’t been ‘okay’ in a long time,” you said, your voice breaking on the last word. “I’ve been waiting for things to change, for you to keep your promises, but they’re always just words. And I can’t keep waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

He took a step closer, his expression pleading. “I can do better. I’ll make time for you, for us. Just—don’t give up on me. On us.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I can't keep doing this. I’ve been holding on for so long, Glen. But I’m tired. I’m so tired of being second to everything else in your life.”

His shoulders slumped, and he took another step closer, hesitating like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you. “So that’s it? You’re done?”

The tightness in your throat became unbearable, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally spoke. “I think I have to be.”

The words hung in the space between you, final and irrevocable. Glen’s face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, might fight harder. But then he just nodded, a hollow acceptance settling over him.

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of him like that, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. The sound of the waves outside filled the silence as the two of you stood there, caught between what had been and what would never be again.

The silence between you lingered, heavy and unbearable, until Glen finally broke it. “Do you... do you want me to book you a flight home?”

His voice was low, almost tentative, like he was afraid of your answer. You didn’t look at him, staring down at the floor instead. Your chest tightened at the question, the finality of it. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the way his shoulders slumped, the way he exhaled like the air had been punched out of him. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You swore you could feel the exact moment his heart broke, could see it in the defeated way he ran a hand through his hair. Maybe, some small part of him had been holding on to the hope that this was all a bad dream—that you’d wake up tomorrow and things would go back to normal.

But your nod was the final blow, and he seemed to understand that. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He nodded once, more to himself than to you, and turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll... I’ll take care of it.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away, and you didn’t call after him.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, you turned toward the glass doors leading out to the balcony. The cool morning air hit you the moment you stepped outside, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and sea. The waves crashed rhythmically against the cliffs below, indifferent to the turmoil inside you.

You gripped the edge of the balcony railing, the smooth metal cold beneath your palms. The weight of everything—the fight, the words you’d spoken, the reality of what you’d just done—pressed down on you. It felt suffocating and freeing all at once.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady the swirl of emotions inside you. This was it. The end of something that had once been everything to you. Six years of memories, of laughter and love, of promises whispered in the dark—they all came rushing back, unbidden, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of them.

But as painful as it was, you knew you’d made the right choice.

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself feel it all—the grief, the anger, the sadness, the relief.

Inside, you could hear faint sounds of movement—Glen probably on the phone, making arrangements to send you home. The home you hadn’t been to in days, but already longed for.

You closed your eyes, letting the wind whip through your hair, and exhaled. You didn’t know what came next, but for now, all you could do was stand here, on this edge, and breathe.

The wind swirled around you as you leaned on the balcony railing, the weight of everything settling deep in your chest. The sound of the waves was steady, soothing even, but it couldn’t drown out the muffled noise that drifted through the open window behind you.

At first, you didn’t register it. But then it came again—a soft, broken sound that made you still.

You turned slightly, glancing over your shoulder toward the bedroom. Through the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze, you saw him. Glen was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

His shoulders were shaking.

You froze, the sight striking something deep inside you. It wasn’t loud or dramatic—just a quiet, private unraveling. But it was unmistakable: Glen was crying.

The realization hit you like a wave, unexpected and overwhelming. Glen never cried. He’d always been the one to keep his emotions in check, to brush off pain or sadness with a laugh or a quick deflection. The only time you’d ever seen him like this was years ago, when his family lost his grandmother. You’d held him then, wrapping your arms around him as he let himself break, his face buried in your shoulder.

And now, watching him through the window, you were reminded of that moment. Only this time, he wasn’t leaning on you for comfort. He was alone, carrying the weight of what had just happened all by himself.

This wasn’t the polished, distant Glen who had been showing up less and less in your life. This wasn’t the Glen who missed breakfasts or forgot about baby showers. This was the man you fell in love with—the one who used to bring you your favorite coffee on a random Tuesday, who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. This was your Glen.

Your throat tightened as you watched him, your heart aching in a way that felt almost unbearable.

A part of you wanted to go to him, to cross the room and sit beside him, to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay. That you didn’t mean it, that you’d stay, that you could find a way to fix things together.

But your feet wouldn’t move.

Because deep down, you knew that even if you comforted him now, it wouldn’t change anything. The years of distance, of broken promises, of waiting and hoping—it wasn’t something a single moment could undo.

Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The sight of him like this—so raw, so unguarded—tugged at something inside you, a small flicker of the love you’d been trying to let go of.

You turned back to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly as you tried to steady yourself. The sound of his quiet sobs carried through the air, cutting through you in a way that made it hard to breathe.

And finally, you let yourself cry too.

The silence between you was heavy, the kind that wrapped itself around you and wouldn’t let go. You stayed on the balcony, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, the occasional hitch in your breath the only sound you made.

Inside, Glen hadn’t moved much. You could still see him through the window, his figure barely shifting as he sat on the edge of the bed. His shoulders had stopped shaking, but he hadn’t lifted his head.

Minutes passed, maybe an hour—you weren’t sure. Time felt like it had frozen, stretching out endlessly in this painful limbo.

Finally, you heard him making his way out of the bedroom.

“The earliest flight I could get is this afternoon,” he said, his voice rough and low, like he hadn’t spoken in days.

You turned to look at him, meeting his eyes through the thin veil of the curtain. They were red-rimmed and glassy, his face pale, his jaw tight like he was holding something back.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He stood then, running a hand through his hair before stepping through the sliding glass door onto the patio where you were.. He stopped just short of you, as if there was an invisible barrier between you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “For everything.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears as you waited for him to continue.

“For not making you a priority. For being too caught up in my own world to see what I was doing to you—what I was doing to us.” He paused, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “I didn’t mean to... I just—I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you stayed quiet, letting him get it out.

“I thought if I just worked hard enough,” he said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, “I could make everything perfect for us. The house, the vacations, the security—everything. I thought that’s what you deserved. But... I see now I’ve just been pushing you away.”

The vulnerability in his eyes hit you like a punch to the chest. It was the same look he’d had years ago, the one that made you fall for him in the first place. It was a raw, unguarded honesty that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking again. “I could tell things were getting bad, but I didn’t know how to fix them. And there was so much I couldn’t control—work, schedules, everything. So I buried myself in it, thinking... I don’t know. Maybe if I just stayed busy, I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I was losing you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you had to look away, your gaze dropping to the wooden floor of the balcony.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” Glen said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “And if... if you're not happy with...” His voice cracked completely, and he had to stop, clearing his throat before continuing. “If you're not happy with me, then... I’ll understand.”

You looked back at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like you were staring at the Glen you used to know—the one who used to bring you coffee just because, who used to hold your hand in the car, who used to make you feel like you were the center of his universe.

But that version of him felt so far away now, like a memory you could barely reach.

“I just... I just want you to be happy,” he repeated, his voice barely audible, as if saying it again might make it hurt less.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. They were honest, raw, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they felt real. But they weren’t enough—not anymore.

You turned fully to face him, leaning back against the balcony railing for support. The tightness in your chest didn’t ease, but you forced yourself to speak through it.

“It’s not just you, Glen,” you began, your voice trembling. “I—I let this happen too.”

His brow furrowed slightly, as if your admission confused him.

“I’ve been avoiding the hard conversations,” you continued, looking down at your hands, your thumb nervously tracing over the edge of your ring. “Because I was scared. Scared of what they might reveal. Scared that if I said how I really felt, it would all just... fall apart.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t speak, waiting for you to finish.

“I thought that if I just kept quiet, if I just kept pretending everything was fine, then maybe we could get back to the way we used to be eventually. But it hasn’t worked. And now... now I feel like we’ve just been drifting further and further apart.”

You paused, taking a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the edge of the railing.

“I love you, Glen,” you said, your voice breaking on the words. “God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But love isn’t enough—not if you’re never here. Not if you’re always somewhere else, chasing something I can’t reach. I'm never going to be happy if you're not here with me.”

He flinched like the words physically hit him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before he shoved them into his pockets.

“I need you to be present,” you said, tears spilling over your lashes again. “I need to feel like I matter to you, like our relationship matters to you. And I haven’t felt that in so long.”

His jaw worked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find something to say. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“You do matter to me,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “You matter more than anything. I just... I didn’t realize how much I was failing you. I thought I was doing all of this for us, but I see now that it’s not enough. That I’m not enough.”

You shook your head quickly, stepping closer to him. “It’s not about being enough, Glen. It’s about being here. Being with me, not just physically, but emotionally.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes glistening, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of everything you’d been holding back for years hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached at his words, at the pain in his expression, but you didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. 

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, until Glen took a tentative step forward. His hand hovered in the space between you for a moment, like he was waiting for permission. Then, with a careful slowness, he closed the distance and pulled you into his chest.

The warmth of his embrace was immediate, familiar, and for a moment, it felt like you could let yourself fall apart. His arms wrapped around you securely, one hand resting against the back of your head as he tilted his chin down to press a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You didn’t respond—not with words, at least. Instead, you buried your face against his chest, the fabric of his shirt soaking up your tears. Your arms slipped around his waist, your hands clutching at the back of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

His grip tightened, just enough to make you feel safe, but not enough to smother. You could hear his heart beating against your ear, steady and strong, and for a fleeting second, you wondered if you’d ever hear it this close again.

You clung to him, your fingers curling into the material of his shirt as if holding on could somehow freeze time. The thought that this might be the last time you’d feel his arms around you made your throat tighten, and fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

He leaned down closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head as he murmured, “I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You shook your head weakly, your voice muffled against his chest as you choked out, “I didn’t either.”

Glen pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His eyes searched yours, wide and desperate, his voice breaking as he finally spoke.

“Please,” he said, the single word trembling with emotion. “Just... give me one more chance.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor you in place.

“I know I’ve said this before,” he continued, his voice low but urgent, “but this time it’s different. I swear to you, it’s different.”

You wanted to believe him—God, you wanted to—but doubt lingered like a shadow in the back of your mind. He must have seen it on your face because he rushed to keep speaking, the words tumbling out almost faster than he could say them.

“I’ve been thinking—really thinking—about how I’ve let you down. About how I’ve let us down. And you’re right. I’ve been so caught up in work, in trying to make everything perfect, that I didn’t see how much I was losing in the process. But I’m done, okay? I’m done putting my career ahead of you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. “What are you saying?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded like he’d already made the decision. “After this project wraps, I’m taking a break. A real one this time. No more back-to-back shoots, no more press tours that take me halfway across the world. I’ll cut back���one, maybe two projects a year, tops. I don’t care if it hurts my career. I just want to stop hurting you.”

His words were raw, unpolished, but they hit you like a punch to the chest. For the first time in years, it felt like he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. There was thought behind his words, real intention.

He took a deep, shaky breath and pressed on, his voice softer now. “I’ll do whatever. Whatever you need, whatever it takes. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. That I can be the man you fell in love with again.”

You stared at him, your tears blurring his face as his words echoed in your mind. You could feel the sincerity in every syllable, see it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Please,” he whispered again, his voice cracking as his hands slid down to take yours in his. “Just give me one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us.”

His words wrapped around your heart, tugging you in two directions. The part of you that had been hurt over and over again wanted to stay guarded, to keep the walls you’d built firmly in place. But another part—the part that still loved him, that still saw glimpses of the man you’d fallen for—wanted to believe him.

This time, it felt real. It felt different. And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, it could be.

You took a deep, steadying breath. You took a step back, your gaze dropping to where Glen’s hands now held yours. His grip was firm but not forceful, a silent plea for you to trust him just one more time. You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally spoke.

“I’ll stay,” you said, the words trembling on your lips. Glen’s breath hitched, and you could feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly. “Just for the rest of the weekend. When we get back home... we’ll figure out what happens next.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost heartbreaking. His shoulders sagged, the tension visibly draining from his body as he nodded quickly. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s all I need right now. Just... thank you.”

You gave a small nod, unable to say anything more as you turned and made your way back to the balcony. The cool ocean breeze kissed your cheeks as you leaned over the railing, staring out at the endless expanse of water. The waves crashed softly against the shore, their rhythmic sound both soothing and haunting.

A moment later, you felt Glen step behind you. His arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you back into the solid warmth of his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just rested his chin lightly on the top of your head as the two of you stared out at the water in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of before—the heavy, suffocating kind that carried unspoken resentment. This was different. It was quiet, yes, but there was a sense of fragile peace in it. Like the storm that had been raging between you for so long had finally calmed, even if only for a moment.

“I love you,” Glen whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the waves. But you did, and the words sent a fresh wave of emotion coursing through you.

You closed your eyes, leaning back into him as your hands moved to rest on top of his where they were wrapped around your waist. “I know,” you murmured, your voice thick with unshed tears.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the hurt, if only for a little while. You let yourself feel the weight of his arms around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the quiet sincerity in his voice.

As you stood there together, you thought back to that moment earlier in the day—standing alone, feeling the crushing weight of loneliness as you stared out at the beauty of this place. A mountain with a view, and yet, it had felt so empty.

But now, with Glen’s arms around you, it felt different. The view was still the same, the ocean stretching endlessly before you, the horizon painted in hues of gold and pink as the sun began its descent. But now, you weren’t alone.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to be.

[nakylvr]

TOO LATE

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary: after breaking up with dani a few weeks ago, she repeatedly tries to get in contact with you. ultimately, you end up doing multiple things you thought you would never do

warnings/tags: angst, language, dealer!dani au, happy ending (yay!), nsfw content, more probably im sorry

wc: 4,9 k

part 1 | too late (alternate ending)

minors dni

a gentle reminder that everything i post is fiction. none of this depicts the real people in what i write, this is all for fun. and i took what a few different anons suggested into consideration for both this ending and the alternate ending :]

it had been a few weeks since the incident with dani. you hadn't gone back to the apartment since then, despite all your things being there. you knew she would be there no matter what time of the day you went, that was one of the benefits of being a dealer as a job, you didn't really have a job.

you stayed with sophia for the time being, who was the one who initially brought the possibility of dani cheating on you. you felt bad the longer you stayed at her place, but she kept telling you that it was fine, that that's what best friends do for each other.

it was obvious you weren't feeling okay after it all went down. you would mainly stare at nothing or your phone lockscreen that you had yet to change. you didn't really leave unless sophia dragged you out to go somewhere. you couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks.

“we should go get your stuff today,”

you glance over at sophia who's cooking from your seat on the stool at the kitchen island, eyebrows raising in surprise. “what?”

“well, you still haven't stopped by the apartment,” she says, hearing the shock in your voice and continuing. “i know you don't want to but you have to if you really want to officiate it as a breakup. you need your things.” she says slowly, choosing her words carefully to not upset you.

you look back down at the kitchen island, mumbling in response. “i guess.”

sophia lets out a short sigh, turning off the stove and walking over to you. she reaches for your hands, grabbing ahold of them causing you to look up at her. “i know it's hard, yn. but you can't just not have your stuff. i know what you're thinking, that she's more likely going to be there than not, but i’ll go with you, okay?” she says softly, her thumb gently rubbing circles on your hands. “and then, i want you to do something.”

you can hear her tone change at her last sentence, and you look at her confused. “what do you mean?”

“i’ll tell you after we get your things.”

within the hour, you were standing outside the apartment with sophia next to you. it was roughly ten in the morning, and you held the key in your shaking hand, hesitating to unlock the door.

“soph i don't think this is a good idea,” you say, lowering your hand. “i don't want another argument right now.”

“it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine,” sophia responds, sending a warm smile your way and squeezing your other hand reassuringly.

meekly nodding your head, you slowly unlock the door and walk inside. instantly, you're hit with the smell of smoke, making your eyes squint slightly trying to adjust to the hazy fog-like atmosphere in the apartment. great.

“is it always like this?” sophia mumbles quietly.

all you do is shake your head in response, walking into the living room and seeing the mess scattered on the coffee table. your first instinct is to clean it up and scold dani for making a mess on the expensive table, but the second you reach your hand out, sophia grabs it and pulls you back.

“we're here to get your things, that's it,” she tells you again.

“right,” you say quietly.

you make your way to the bedroom door, quietly opening the door and immediately freezing in your spot. you knew she would be here, that was obvious. but the sight of her is what stopped you.

she was sleeping, probably for the first time since it happened judging by the dark bags under her eyes that clearly weren't there before. looking at sophia, you take the duffel bag from her. “you can wait outside, i’ll be fine,” you say to her. she gives you a look, but nods her head and walks out of the apartment, leaving you in the room. you take a few steps into the room, and dani starts stirring around, rolling over and groggily opening her eyes. “yn?” she mumbles softly, half awake barely able to make out your face.

“go back to sleep, dani,” you say quietly, pulling the blanket over her. your eyes linger on her for a moment, watching her eyes close again as she mumbles something.

you go to the closet and open it, starting to grab your clothes and putting them in the bag. when you finish with your clothes, you head into the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror. nothing had been moved since you left. everything was beside each other like it had always been, even the toothbrushes that were sitting in their stands. you don't even hear footsteps approaching as you stare mindlessly, feeling regret bubbling up inside you as your brain goes through everything that happened.

suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you jump, turning around to see a tired daniela.

“you're really here?” she mumbles quietly.

“dani-” you start, but you're cut off by her gently pushing you against the sink and putting her face in the crook of your neck.

“‘m sorry,” she mutters into your skin. “‘m so sorry, please don't leave. please, yn,”

“dani,” you try to say as sternly as you can. “we aren't discussing this.”

dani pulls her head from your neck, looking down at you as her hands move up to cup your face. “please,” she whispers. “please,” she reiterates, leaning closer to you, her lips inches away from yours. “just give me a chance.”

your eyes meet her red bloodshot ones staring back at you, and you feel your throat close up. you can tell how upset she is and her genuinely being sorry, and it has you wanting to forgive her. but, she hasn't nearly felt like you did the past few months, which has been implemented into your mind by sophia who had seen you almost every day throughout it. “you know i can't do that,” your voice is quiet as you speak.

“i love you,” her voice cracks as her hands cradle your face. “wh-what do you want me to do? i’ll do anything you want, please.”

“there's nothing you can do right now,” you answer, though you’re not sure you believe yourself. “please just-”

you're cut off by daniela pressing her lips against yours. its the softest she's ever kissed you, as if she was worried you would break under her touch. you can practically feel the regret seeping from her as she kisses you, pouring all her heart and emotion into it. your hands grasp her shoulders and pry her away from you, looking at her. “dani, you have to let me leave. sophia is waiting outside and she's pissed off enough as is, i don't want her to start an argument with you,” you tell her.

“sophia?” dani’s face contorts into confusion. “you-you're not- are you?” she can't even get the words out, the thought making her want to throw up. it was obvious for a while now that the filipino girl had feelings for you, though you were either too blind to notice or just ignored it. but, what happened in the past couple of weeks?

“it doesn't matter, daniela,” you shake your head, gently pushing her away from you. “it should be nothing new for you, right?” you turn around and start grabbing your things, putting them in the bag.

the comment you make has dani looking down at the ground, knowing better than to try and counter it like she normally would. “i’m sorry,” she says.

“you can apologize as many times as you want, but it's not going to do anything,” you zip up the bag and turn back around to face her. “you can-” you stop yourself from continuing, shaking your head and walking past her out the bathroom.

“yn, please,” she follows every step you take towards the front door. “please just give me five minutes to talk to you, please.”

“i’m sorry, dani,” you say once reaching the door, pulling it open and walking out. you close the door behind you, half expecting her to follow you outside as well, but even after standing there for a minute, the door doesn't open.

you walk back to the car where sophia is waiting, and she stands up straight when she sees your expression.

“what happened?” she instantly questions.

“nothing,” you shake your head, putting the bag in the backseat and looking at sophia. “i just want to go back. i don't think i’ll last another minute here.”

“okay,” sophia nods, opening the passenger door and letting you get in before closing it.

…

“you want me to do what?” you stare at sophia with wide eyes. “i’m-i’m not doing that!” you shake your head quickly.

“yn, listen to me,” sophia says in a stern voice. “you know this is for the best.”

“no!” you continue to shake your head, standing up off the couch. “i am not calling the police on her! she's dealt with enough shit these past weeks.”

“and you’ve dealt with far more in the last months,” sophia says, standing when you do.

“i’m still not doing it!” you exclaim. “why-why would you even bring that up?”

“because we both know she should've been gone a while ago,” sophia answers.

“no, you think she should be gone!” you retort. “i know you’ve never liked her, but that does not mean you are going to convince me to call the cops! i-”

“still love her, i know,” sophia’s tone shifts slightly, but enough for you to notice. “you need to get over it.”

“get over it?!” you look at her like she's crazy. “this is two years of my life that have been wasted, sophia! i can't just ‘get over it’ like it's nothing! for two years i have loved her and now it's all gone! do you understand? i can't just get over it within a few weeks,” you fail to ignore the way she's taking steps towards you, too busy ranting angrily until she stops in front of you and tilts your head up to look at her with one hand.

“i’m sorry,” she says softly. “you know i care about you, i just don't want you to get more hurt than you already are,” she pushes some of your hair out of your face.

you can see the way her eyes flicker down and back up to your eyes, and you freeze in realization. “soph-”

“give me one week and i can prove you can get over her,” she cuts you off with this, her voice quiet.

she's serious, you can tell, which only makes you more nervous as you try to think of a response. part of you thinks you shouldn't do it, but a bigger part of you doesn't care.

“okay.”

…

you can't believe you're doing this. another week has passed, and somehow sophia has managed to convince you to get the police involved. you rub your temples as you sit in your car in front of the apartment, mentally praying this doesn't blow up in your face. it’s supposed to be easy, barely an inconvenience according to sophia. just go inside, see if dani is there, make a quick text and it's done. taking a deep breath, you get out of the car and walk up to the front door.

you knock on the door a few times, despite still having the key and could just walk up inside the place. you stand there for a minute or two, and you’re about to turn around and give up when the door unlocks and opens, there standing daniela.

“yn,” dani lets out in a single breath. to say she didn't expect you would be an understatement, for she thought you would be gone after the last time.

“can i come in?” you ask hesitantly.

“yeah, yeah,” she nods quickly, opening the door wider for you to walk in.

as soon as you walk in, you’re hit with an unfamiliar smell. lavender? odd. you raise an eyebrow as you step into the living room, seeing the place cleaned up since the last time you were there. the coffee table was clean of the former ash marks on it, the ceiling fan no longer held fuzz due to the smoke, the kitchen looked the best it had in over a year. you couldn't hide your surprise as you looked around.

“you really cleaned up,” you say.

“i tried,” dani mumbles. “i-i knew that you wouldn't like the mess i left…if you came back,” her voice is so quiet you can hardly hear what she's saying, but you do.

she was hoping for you to come back. she wouldn't have cleaned the place otherwise. she was right too, you would be upset with the mess she made a week ago. you look at the walls and see the pictures are still up, and you feel a tug on your heart as you look over them. god, you were starting to feel bad now. but, you had a plan. hopefully it would work out.

“dani-”

“wait,” she cuts you off suddenly. “i have something to give you,” she says before walking off into the bedroom.

you take your phone out of your pocket and send the message, quickly putting it back away when dani walks back into the living room with a bag in her hands. you look at her with confusion as she hands it over to you. taking the bag, you open it and look inside, reaching in and pulling out a book. your confusion grows bigger until you open the first page, and you realize what it is. it's a scrapbook, poorly made which means she did it herself, of every picture you two took over the two years. “dani…” you say quietly.

“you don't have to say anything,” dani says, looking down at the ground. “i just wanted to make sure you got it before…y’know…you leave officially.” she mumbles the last bit.

closing the book, you set it and the bag down, taking a few steps towards her and grabbing her hands causing her to look at you. “i’m not leaving,” you whisper, seeing her eyes widen. “but you have to listen to me very carefully right now.” your voice turns serious, which has dani looking at you with confusion. “the police are on their way, but dani, you have to-”

“what?!” daniela lets out in surprise. “wh-what the hell do you mean?!”

“dani, just listen to me,” you grab her shoulders firmly. “you haven't moved the stash in the safe, have you?”

“n-no,” dani shakes her head, clearly starting to panic as the sound of sirens gets louder. “yn, i can-i can't go to jail-”

“you’ll be there for a few days max,” you tell her, cutting her off of the beginning of her rant. “i'll keep everything going for you, don't worry. i'll get you out as soon as the bail is posted, okay? you're gonna be fine, i promise.”

daniela keeps shaking her head, her body trembling as she tries to keep calm. “i can't do this, i can't-”

“yes you can,” you say, holding her face in your hands. “you're going to be okay, i promise,” you tell her again. “just don't say anything to anyone, don't look at anyone. you’ll be out as soon as possible, okay?”

“okay,” dani nods slowly.

“i love you, okay? i haven't stopped loving you for one day,” you say, pecking her lips as the front door bursts open. “don't do anything stupid. i’ll be waiting for you.”

you somehow manage to keep relatively calm as you watch the police take her out of the apartment, seeing the look in her eyes as the car door slams shut. once you get back into the apartment with your bag of things, you toss it onto the couch and quickly go into the bedroom closet.

pulling out the safe, you type in the passcode and it unlocks and opens, revealing the large sum of money you told dani to start saving just in case something like this happened. you take out the stacks of green bills, putting them on the bed and sitting down, starting to count it.

…

the bail ended up costing almost everything in the safe, which both surprised you and didn't at the same time. you knew l.a. was insane with their charges, so it wasn't that big of a surprise. the bigger surprise, and funnier one, was the look on the authorities' faces when you handed over the bag of all the cash, who all stared at you with wide eyes counting every dollar. you had to sit and wait for an hour or two while they counted, but eventually they finished and told you it was enough, and that it would take a few days to process.

just like you’d promised, within the week you were standing outside the gate of the jail, leaning against your car waiting. you’re looking at your phone when you hear a loud buzzing noise, making you look up. a smile immediately curls on your lips and you stand up straight, putting your phone away watching the officer open the gate.

you watch as daniela slowly walks over to you, holding her bag of things she had on her when they took her. your arms instantly wrap around her when she's close enough, pulling her into your embrace as she puts her face in your neck.

“are you okay?” you ask quietly, running your hand through her curly hair.

“yeah,” she mumbles into your neck. “‘m just tired. the beds are rock hard.”

“i’m sure,” you nod, not moving. “you wanna get something to eat and then head back home?”

‘home’, dani’s brain repeats that word multiple times hearing you say it so casually after the hell that’s been this last month. you’re talking to her like nothing happened, and she doesn't know how to feel about it. there's still an immense amount of guilt she feels even after you telling her you didn't stop loving her. she still regrets everything she stupidly did.

“yeah,” she answers quietly after a long minute of silence.

…

walking into the apartment, you toss your keys on the dining room table, running a hand through your hair and letting out a quiet sigh. just one step inside the place and you’ve felt more relaxed than you have been in the months leading up to this. dani sets the rest of the food on the table and walks up to you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind and pulling you close to her.

“i’m sorry,” she says in a murmur.

“dani, please don't-”

“listen to me, please,” she pleads before you can say anything else. “i…i know i fucked up, and i’m so sorry for everything i put you through. i can't say i know why i did it because i don't. all i c-can do now is apologize a-and apologize hoping you’ll s-stay. i’m r-really sorry, yn. i-i-” she starts stuttering over her words, tears welling in her eyes trying to keep herself from crying.

you turn around the second you hear her voice crack, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes and you cup her cheeks in your hands. “dani, breathe. it's okay, i’m not going anywhere. you don't have to worry, okay? i’m staying.”

“you are?” she asks, her voice cracking as a few tears fall from her eyes.

“yeah,” you nod your head, wiping the tears from her eyes with your thumbs. “i promise.”

as soon as those words leave your mouth, daniela is pressing her lips against you with so much energy you have to take a step back to try and steady yourself. her grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as you kiss back, your hands tangling in her hair. she bites on your lower lip gently, pushing her tongue inside when you part your lips for her, a little moan coming from you at the action. when she pulls away, she's looking at you with a dazed, dark look in her eyes.

she doesn't say anything as she picks you up by your thighs, a yelp of surprise leaving your mouth as she walks over to the bedroom. laying you down on the bed, she crawls on it above you, peering down at you as you stare up at her.

“dani,” you whimper as her hands grab the hem of your shirt.

“let me show you how sorry i am?” she says, but it comes out sounding like a question. she doesn't move her hands, waiting for your answer before she does anything else.

“please,” your voice comes out in a whisper as you nod.

with one swift motion, dani pulls your shirt up over your head, reaching around your back and unclasping the bra you were wearing, tossing it somewhere in the room. she lowers her head and takes one of your nipples in her mouth, gently biting and sucking on it as you let out a gasp. your hand grabs her head as she swirls her tongue around your bud, removing herself after a long moment with a pop. she moves over to your other breast, doing the same thing as her hand drags down your bare torso. she stops at the waistband of your shorts, pulling her face away from your chest and looking down at you, waiting for you to give her the okay.

you nod your head again, and she pulls down your shorts along with the panties you were wearing. seeing your dripping core has a low groan coming from daniela as she spreads your legs apart, bringing a hand down between your thighs and dragging her fingers along your folds.

“fuck, baby,” she breathes out when she pulls her fingers away. “tell me how you want me,” she says softly, looking down at you.

you're not sure how to respond. there were a few times where she would say this, but it felt different this time. you can see in her eyes that she's genuinely caring about what you want to do, not what she wants to do. you can hear in her voice that she’ll listen and do whatever you want her to do. your head is already spinning, and you manage to get out a response. “your…fingers, please,” your voice comes out more desperate than you expected, but you couldn't help it. this was the most attention she'd given you in months, you didn't care about how desperate you sounded, because you were desperate.

nodding her head, dani quickly pulls off her shirt and leans down, kissing you deeply. your hands trail down her toned body, finding the buttons on her jeans and undoing them. parting from the kiss, daniela pulls her jeans down off her legs and is immediately kissing you again.

“i love you,” she murmurs against your lips, bringing her hand between your thighs. her fingers quickly find your clit and start rubbing small, slow circles on it, causing a whimper to escape your throat which she takes as the opening to slide her tongue into your mouth.

your hands tangle in her hair as your hips buck against her hand for more, which she notices. knowing better than to tease you right now, she brings two fingers down to your entrance and plunges them inside which has you moaning into the kiss. pulling away to breathe, your head hits the pillow under you as she starts thrusting her fingers in you at a steady pace. “fuck…dani,” you moan out.

dani starts kissing from your jaw down to your neck, repeatedly muttering against your skin how much she loves you whether it be directly saying it or giving little praises. she bites down occasionally, leaving little marks that will surely be seen for the next few days, feeling you squirm underneath her every time she does it. “i love you s’ much, my beautiful girl. my pretty girl,” she mumbles softly into your skin.

your face heats up in a fiery blush hearing her praising words against your skin, your arms hooking around her neck to pull her closer to you. “ngh, dani…” you whine into her ear. “f-fuck, feels so ah so good,”

a quiet moan comes from daniela as you whine her name directly into her ear, biting down into your neck to leave another mark as she speeds up her fingers. “i know, baby. you’re so tight around my fingers, you gonna cum, babygirl? you wanna cum all over my fingers?”

“yes!” you gasp, your walls clenching around her fingers at her words. “please, dani– please make me cum, pleasepleaseplease,” you beg shamelessly, your nails digging into her shoulders with a tight grip as your hips rock against her hand.

“i got you, princesa. cum for me,” she murmurs into your neck, feeling your walls tighten around her fingers as she curls them inside you.

with a scream-like moan and your back arching, your eyes roll back and you swear you see stars pop up in your vision as you cum around her fingers. your body trembles with the aftershocks, and a little whimper escapes your mouth when daniela pulls her fingers out of you.

“yn?” daniela says softly, seeing the exhausted look on your face when you turn your head to look at her. “i love you,” she whispers, hesitantly as if she were saying it for the first time.

a tired smile forms on your face at her words, how genuine she sounds while saying it. “i love you too,” you reply.

“are you mad at me?” she mumbles quietly. she pushes some of your hair out of your face, her hand cupping your cheek as her thumb draws small circles on your soft skin.

it takes a moment for you to respond. you could sense the guilt spilling through from the latina looking down at you, and you determined how to answer. “i was,” you start. “you put me through a lot these past few months, you know?”

“i know.” daniela’s voice is barely able to be heard at this point, her eyes averting from yours while she starts to move her hand away from you.

you're quick to grab ahold of her hand before she completely pulls away, not wanting her to feel worse than she already is. “but…” you say, seeing her eyes flicker back to you. “the day i came to get my stuff i knew how sorry you were. in all the different things we’ve been through, i’ve never seen you like that. we’ve driven up the state in one night and your eyes didn't have those big of bags under them when we finally woke up in that shitty hotel you claimed would be great. we’ve gotten scammed by those losers in that casino who took almost everything we had and you didn't even panic or get upset because you said you still had me even though we lost thousands. shit, do you remember when we were at manon’s for her birthday and we got so drunk that you were crying thinking i was going to leave you for her?” a giggle escapes your lips which has dani subconsciously smiling at the sound of it as she finally looks at you fully.

“i remember everyone teasing me for it, yes,” she replies with a nod.

“that was the only time i ever saw you like that,” you continue. “then when i came by the second time and i saw how much you cleaned the place – when you said that you knew i wouldn't like the mess if i came back, i knew you were hoping for me to come back. i could tell. i know you know you fucked up. but you are really gonna have to work hard to keep me here, okay?” you tell her, giving her a look that tells her you're serious without saying it.

“okay,” she instantly says, nodding quickly. “i’ll do anything you want me to, i promise.”

you nod along to what she says. “you're going to change the passwords back to what they were, you're going to let me see your phone, and you're going to block that bitch you saw. are we clear?” you say seriously.

“yes,” daniela’s voice comes out in a whimper at the tone in your voice as she nods again. “i’m sorry.” she shifts around above you when you suddenly wrap your arms around her and flip over so she's on her back below you, her eyes wide as she peers up at you.

“i know, baby,” you say, slowly dragging your hand down her body. “which is why you’ll let me have my fun with you, right? show me just how sorry you are?”

daniela’s face turns red at your words, goosebumps forming along her skin as you drag your hand down to the waistband of her underwear. “yes,” she whimpers.

“good,” you smile at her, leaning down and kissing her.

[sebsbarnes]

unspoken || minho moon

minho x reader

summary: there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable.

warnings: angst! insecurity. probably a few grammar errors

word count: 950+

masterlist

a/n: i fear i couldn't resist writing for him. first work for him so there isn't others in the masterlist. i wrote this pretty quick so i apologize in case.

you always fought, but that night you didn't.

it was inevitable that when you and minho were around, some sort of bickering would ensue. it was as if the friendship you had relied on those sharp-tongued comments and eye rolls. there was some enjoyment in the banter; you could always rely on minho to be as quick-witted as you. most of the time, it was truly nonsense and comical to those around you, but sometimes he took it too far.

he would cross a boundary, known or unknown, and the aftermath was either venomous words spilling off your tongue or complete silence and avoidance.

it hurt, to ignore him. act like minho wasn't there. sure you would come around to him after a few days and pick right back up where you left off. and yes maybe it was unfair to ignore him after an argument, but that was you, that's what you did.

what you've really come to recognize is these silly little arguments hurt because you had feelings for minho. you hated the giddy feeling you had when he was around. the slight heat to your cheeks when he gave a real, genuine, compliment. the sizzling sensation that coursed through your skin when his hand brushed against you. or the way it felt like your chest was caving in on you and your lungs were screaming for help when minho confessed to q that he had a crush on someone, someone that isn't you.

so here you were avoiding him after he made an innocent remark about his crush. it shouldn't have, but it rubbed you the wrong way and perhaps it was because of the newfound knowledge of your feelings towards minho.

the evening was approaching and soon the sun would exchange places with the moon. the friday night would come alive and the sounds of eager students heading off campus would echo into the night, almost taunting you in your sadness. there was a nice footpath you've called home for the last week. after classes were finished you found yourself walking on the winding path away from school, taking in the fresh air and allowing yourself some peace. nestled a few feet away from the path was a small gazebo with a picnic table in the center. you sat down and allowed your eyes to close, soaking in the tranquility of nature away from the dizziness of life.

"hey..." a voice called out ripping you back to reality.

the voice. his voice. in this moment it made you feel sick. you swear you could feel the bile rising up and threatening to escape. your vision went white. heart beating so hard you could've sworn you saw its outline rising from your chest.

"hey minho," you exhaled as he sat across from you.

his throat bobbed, "how are you?"

you hummed in response, unsure what to say.

the silence between you stretches longer than it ever has. there was no space for quick-witted responses or light-hearted banter. minho didn't know what was the reason for your absence, but he missed you. when he looked at you your eyes didn't hold that mischief it normally possessed. he knew this was not a moment for a sarcastic quip.

"talk to me," minho nearly pleaded, eyes dancing across your face.

you paused trying to find a way to convey your thoughts to minho without confessing your feelings, "have you ever realized something too late?"

his eyebrow pulled up on his face, "well...of course, yeah. i think we all have."

"like, the thing is right there," you nearly laughed, "right in front of you the whole time. but by the time you realize, it's gone, it's moved on like everything else. i realized the importance of it too late."

you looked to minho who sat silently as you rambled. his eyes were clear of any judgment or jokes. the typical smirk etched on his lips was erased. his brows pulled softly together, a delicate ridge separating them. you watched as his hand snaked up from his lap and cradled your hand. his fingers lazily intertwining with your own.

"you know you can tell me anything," he said softly, his accent lighter.

you offered him a small smile. not a fake one, a real one. you could tell minho everything, everything but this. not when he is interested in someone else, you can't ruin that for him. can't ruin your friendship.

he sensed the hesitation, "...c'mon," he urged gently, eyes hopeful.

there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable. all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs for every person in KISS and for every star in the galaxy to hear that you were falling for minho. but before you could open your mouth and string together all the consonants and vowels for 'minho i'm falling for you' his phone rang.

minho's hand slid out from yours leaving you feeling icy but not as icy as the blood coursing through your body as you watched a shy smile adorn his face. one of his hands ran through his hair, a movement he did when he was feeling nervous, in a good way. you sat in agonizing silence waiting for him to hang up.

a pink hue dusted across his cheeks, "that was uh-"

"go," you replied softly, barely above a whisper, "have fun."

the moonlight that illuminated your face was now blocked my minho's standing figure. if you could, you wanted to be swallowed by his shadow into the darkness.

"oh. what were you going to say before the call?" minho asked.

you shook your head, "it was nothing."

[the-modern-typewriter]

hey , I've been in love with your writing ever since I came across your blog , will you please write about a very intimidating villian who decides to kidnap the hero because he finds him cute when he is absolutely afraid of him

"The man who isn't afraid of anything," the villain mused. He trailed the edge of a blade along the hero's cheek, capturing a silent tear upon the tip. "Look at you now."

"Whatever it is that you want from me, whatever you want to know-"

"-Shh."

The hero's mouth snapped shut.

The villain smiled, crooked with an illusion of wholesome boyishness at the corner.

"You talk when I ask you a question, cutie," the villain said. "The only other sound I want to hear from you otherwise is whimpers. That was your one warning. Nod if you understand?"

Of course, the hero couldn't comfortably nod with a sharp knife against their face; not without digging the blade into suddenly soft skin.

The villain raised an eyebrow.

The hero nodded, very slightly, but even that tiny movement caused the blade tip to dig in. A small bead of blood formed on their perfect features, trickling down towards their jaw. The hero's breath hitched.

The villain's smile grew. "Good boy."

The hero shuddered, one of those whimpers all too ready and startled on his tongue. His eyes were all wide and pretty filled with an animal panic.

The villain reached out a hand, smoothing his palm along the hero's chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall, the desperate thumping of his heart like the sweetest melody.

The hero's eyes flinched shut. He trembled in his restraints.

The hero was not, it was true, a man frightened of many things. His abilities left him invulnerable to everything. Well, almost everything, as they had found. The villain's particular gift was to suck away the powers of anyone around him by virtue of his mere presence. The expression on the hero's face when he realised he'd gone from unstoppable god to just a man, to just like everyone else...

Well. It was adorable. The villain had always liked to collect adorable things.

"Please," the hero whispered, like he just couldn't help himself. The once powerful often couldn't.

"Was that a question, my dove?"

"Just let me go. I didn't - I'm sorry I came after you - I didn't - I thought -"

"You thought you could win?" The villain's voice was oh so sweet.

The hero flinched again. He met the villain's gaze and gave another frantic nod as the villain's blade moved on, caressing down their chest to meet the villain's free hand.

"That was stupid, wasn't it? What a silly goose you are."

A delicious, impotent fury flashed through the hero's eyes.

The villain dug the blade in. It was barely even a scratch, but a scratch could be a terrible thing to a man who had never had the privilege of being hurt before, knowing only that it could get much worse.

The fury was entirely drowned out by terror again.

The villain made a show of sighing. "You'll tell me everything?"

"I - what? Yes."

"You'd hand your friends over on a platter? Everyone counting on you?"

The hero's jaw clenched with anguish.

"Hm?" the villain pressed. "Would you hand them all over in exchange for me letting you go?"

"Yes." It was barely above a whisper.

"Go on then."

He let the hero bluster and ramble, trying to tuck away details and secrets, trying to stall, trying to do anything he could to win like he still hadn't quite learned. The villain nodded diligently along, devouring it all.

The hero eventually stuttered to a halt.

The villain waited a beat. The he stabbed the knife gently into the hero's hand.

The hero screamed. Confusion and outrage and guilt joined the terror. There was no longer a single tear, but a flood of them.

Cute, cute, cute.

The villain leaned in, knife moving fast to tilt the hero's head.

"I didn't take you for information," he confessed. "I just took you."

The hero stared at him, almost uncomprehending, eyes glassy. "But - I - what do you want from me"?

The villain pressed a kiss to the hero's nose.

"Nothing."

The hero whimpered again. Just pathetic.

"There's literally nothing you can do to make you let you go, sweetheart," the villain said, in the same confiding tone of voice. "I'm not going to."

The hero shook his head. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing properly. He was reaching the overwhelmed stage of fear, wasn't he? Not the villain's favourite, but a delight nonetheless.

The villain patted the hero's cheek, tender comfort, and stroked his hair. He pulled the hero a little closer, cooing in his ear. He gave him a moment to relax, instincts all disorientated and craving something lovely. He waited until the hero had struggled his breathing back under control, trying oh so hard to be brave. Then.

"You're going to die here, my little love," the villain said. "Now. What should we do about you speaking out of turn?"

[neminomnom]

Alterantive uinverse powder headcanons

Who should I write headcanons for next 🤨 and some of these are just general headcanons, some if you was in a relationship with her, I hope you enjoy!!

—————————————

- Powder would be so good at talking things out/ communicating with people, if theres a problem or someone is doing something that she doesn’t like, powder won’t be rude about it but will get her point across.

-Her skincare routine is effective but simple, no matter the weather she always puts sunscreen on.

- Her favourite fizzy drink is cherry doctor pepper, or sprite.

- If you was in a relationship with powder or just close friends, be prepared to get given so many homemade gifts, like bracelets and little good luck charms.

- Talking about charms, she has so many and brings them everywhere with her, always hiding them in her socks, as an earring or in her pockets.

- Of course she still struggles, but powder is a lot more calmer and can keep her emotions in check for longer, unlike jinx.

- She could easily lie down for hours blasting music while talking to Vi in her hide out, if she has had a bad day you would find her doing exactly that.

- Her faveroute band would be queen, she loves how upbeat the songs are.

- Powder likes collecting perfume, but doesn’t have a set taste with them, one day she would smell like lavender, then the next day she would smell like a sweet shop.

-She has a huge sweet tooth, to her, nothing is ever too sweet or sickly, her favourite meal of the day is dessert.

-I feel like powder would be really intrigued with other cultures and languages and would be more than willing to learn about them.

-Powder doodles stars and hearts on like EVERY page in her notebooks.

- She loves to talk, so if you’re interested, be prepared to get taught a new lesson on machinery and how to DIY stuff .

- Powder and vander sometimes do matching hairstyles, since they both have similar hair and thought it would be funny.

- She has probably found a stray cat and took it home on multiple occasions, each of the cats would have a funky name, and she would take great care of them, but they would all end up running off somewhere

—————————————————————————

[lightlycareless]

I finally got it out of my system but omg you do not know how much it took me to write this, like??? I wanted but words simply did not come out. I feel burnt outtttttt :( it must be stress.

Anyways, I still hope you enjoy it.

warnings: none. fluff. you have a baby girl with naoya but what's new? and before anyone comes for me he is REFORMED hahahahah 🙈🙈🙈

Happy reading!

Imagine your and Naomi’s first slumber party. Obviously, everything you do with her is special, your highlight of the day, but this particular event stood out from the rest.

Firstly, because you got to see your adorable baby’s reaction to things she’s never seen before, or more like try out such as manicures, pedicures, make-up, and her favorite: press on nails.

The endless possibilities with such when it comes to designs are enough to keep Naomi thrilled, though she always goes with Hello Kitty.

And secondly, because of a surprise you have prepared for the end of the night; but for now…

“Mama, I want that one please!!” she gasped enthusiastically, not wanting to miss the opportunity to decorate her nails with her beloved cat. “Please mama!!”

“Of course, dumpling. I got them solely for you!” You grin, glad to see your baby having a good time.

“Can you also do my make up?” she quietly asks, as if afraid you’d tell her no. When in reality you had long prepared for this request; it was no secret to you how fascinated Naomi was with you whenever getting ready, rushing to your side as soon as you approached the vanity table so she could see all the magic that entailed makeup.

Luckily, that mystery was to end now.

“Do I look pretty like you mama?” Naomi asks, causing you to coo.

“Oh, even prettier!” you gush, taking her into your arms and kissing her flushed cheeks.

“No mama, you’re pretty!” she counters. “Like a princess!”

“Stop it, mochi. You’re going to make me cry…”

“No crying, only smiles!” Naomi insisted, making you giggle.

“Alright, I won’t cry. Now, do you want to do my makeup?”

Naomi gasps.

“Can I??”

“Of course! It’s what you do in slumber parties!”

Naomi undoubtedly has the time of her life trying out all the things she always wanted to do with your makeup, careless of her inexperience, if she knew which colors matched well with other or what would make your features stand out, because in her mind, she was already the best! Just as you continuously encouraged her.

From there, the rest of the night continued on by watching movies and eating your and her favorite snacks—mochi. Naomi was nothing short of a delighted ray of sunshine before these treats, giddily enjoying all of the things that’s she’s normally limited on: like endless snacks and of course, a child’s ultimate defiance! A thing that totally made her close to being a grown up…

Staying up past her bedtime.

However, your darling pumpkin, not being used to doing that, quickly succumbed to slumber just after the first movie ended, though it might be because her overexcitement for the whole ordeal exhausted her more than usual.

And while it wasn’t necessarily in your plans, the sight of her breathing peacefully underneath the warm covers made you smile, the natural response to a successful, fun night.

“She’s completely knocked out, isn’t she?” Mariya, who came in to check on you before eventually staying around after Naomi begged her to, noted. You giggle.

“Yeah, my poor baby, but sometimes it seems she’s unable to stop, you know?” you jest, gently caressing Naomi’s tummy. “She’s growing so fast; I wish she would stay small a little longer…”

“I think it might be time for the second one.” Mariya teases, you blush.

“Oh, shut up…” you murmur, she laughs.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’ve thought about it, but… well, Naoya and I rarely have time to ourselves now that he’s of a higher rank, so I don’t know how that’s going to happen.” You lament.

“Hmmm… but it seems to me you always make the best out of it, don’t you? Naoya always leaves the estate with a smile that implies satisfaction, after all.” you turn bright red.

“Mariya!”

“I’m just teasing you, Y/N.” She smiles, you laugh along. “But now that we’re talking about it… I guess it doesn’t hurt to say that Naomi-chan sometimes asks me if she’s ever going to have a little brother or sister to play with.”

“Really?” you breathed, she nods.

“Yeah; it’s not frequent but, you know, she has her moments.” Mariya recounts, carefully one of Naomi’s hair locks behind her ear. Such a beautiful angel, she wonders if she’ll ever have her own.

“I’d like a boy.” You confess. “To have a set, as many say. Can you imagine? Another baby that looks just like Naoya! Though whatever we end up having is fine by me, really. To have a family is a blessing by itself.”

“And Naoya? Has he told you what he would like?”

“No, but I’m sure he’d like another girl, no matter how much he tries to deny it.” Because you’ve seen it through how gentle and doting he is with your baby.

How he’s always asking for her every time he’s away, not a single second is she out his mind… and with how Naomi calls for him too, constantly asking you if her papa is to return soon, because even to her videocalls and gifts are not enough to ease her unbearable yearning.

Oh, how you miss him.

Thankfully, your pleads would no longer continue unattended when a servant suddenly knocks on your door to brief you of the event you’ve been eagerly waiting for; immediately glancing at Mariya who gives you an encouraging nod in return, as if letting you know Naomi will be ok, before standing up and heading towards the exit.

To the arms of your melancholic husband whose face lights up as soon as his eyes land on you. A homesick man that was glad to finally be back home.

“Naoya! Oh, Naoya, you’re back.” You breathe, quick to embrace him and press your face against his chest, hiding your tears between his clothes.

Normally, he would’ve teased you for your reaction, make his best to cheer you up, but in the wake of months of absence, all Naoya could do is take your presence even deeper into his soul, hoping that he wouldn’t succumb to his own tears either as he tries to imprint your warmth, your scent, your love into his body to never forget.

“I missed you.” You confess, Naoya kisses the top of your head. “I can’t believe you’re here! It—it almost seems like a dream…!”

“I know. I can’t believe I’m here either, after so long…” Naoya responds, hugging you tighter. “But I am, and I missed you too, so much.”

“Please tell me you’re not leaving soon; you just came back.” You plead, looking up to him with that teary, dreadful look that always made his heart tighten.

More so if he knows he’s to disappoint you.

“I…Y/N—”

“No, you’re right. We don’t have to talk about that right now.” You shake your head, putting aside the sour thought of his departure for another time. Right now… “All that it matters is that you’re home. With us. With me.”

“Where’s Naomi? I wish to see her, if it’s not too late of course.” Naoya smiles, you giggle.

“Actually, there was something I was planning to do for you that involved her, but I think I failed.”

“Let me guess, you tried keeping her awake to see me?” He rightfully assesses, you nod.

“Yeah, I planned a whole slumber party to do so, but, well, you know how our baby is. She gets too excited and then, she passes out!”

Naoya laughs, his heart warming up at these small moments he missed dearly. Thankfully, he’s now able to partake in them once more.

“But she’ll still be excited to see you in the morning nonetheless.” You add before grabbing his hand and guiding him to your shared bedroom, where your precious angel slept. “Come now, I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer!”

And it takes great effort for Naoya to not cry at the sight of his baby girl soundly sleeping in his bed, though he is unable to resist joining her, carefully laying by her side as you joined him soon after, resting your face on his chest, where home is.

“You did her nails?” He notes at her small, clenched fist. Naoya wishes to hold it but decides against it in fear of waking her up.

“Yeah, do you like them?” you smile. “I did mine too—we can do yours later if you’d like.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Naoya smirks.

“I wholeheartedly believe you’d look good with black nails.” You affirm.

“No better than inside you.”

“Naoya!” you playfully smack him, a noise that inadvertently wakes up your small dumpling up.

“Ma…ma?” Naomi’s soft voice makes you and Naoya’s breath hitch to their throat, keeping still as she seems to appear unaware of her papa’s presence, as seen in the following question. “Is papa home yet…?”

To know that her first waking thought is to wonder about her father makes your heart soar, and unable to keep her in the dark any longer, you rush to give her the good news—

Only for Naoya to stop you, planning instead to unveil the surprise tomorrow morning, just when all the gifts he got for her were set to arrive.

A splendid moment to signify his official return he wishes to conduct perfectly, happy to finally be back home, in the presence of his two beloved.

His loving family Naoya would do anything in the world to protect.

[cq-studios]

Do you have any screenshots of your favorite details from KHUX?

HAHAHAHAHA, yeah I do

Gonna just drop a read more here 'cause if y'all know me at all you know this post is probably gonna be 10KM long lol

So, I'm gonna try to hold myself back a little because I literally have like 10 pages of notes about specifically stuff in the backgrounds and I doubt the internet will find my bench and lamppost count interesting. (Also image limit lol)

I'll list just 4 things for now (in no particular order) and talk about them a bit underneath.

NUMBER 1 || STREET SIGNS

So there are four street signs that we’ve seen in Daybreak Town. Two are in the Fountain Square (A and B), one is in the Marketplace (C), and one is in the Clocktower Outskirts map (D).

For B and D it’s pretty easy to figure out what the represent. B is a clock, probably representing the Clock Tower… or maybe the best place to see the Clocktower because it’s in Fountain Square. The overall shape of it is different from the rest of the signs so I imagine that means something. D is a gondola or canoe of some sort, which makes sense because it’s next to stairs that seemingly lead to the canal that runs through town. Maybe there’s a ferry system of some sort?

A and C I’m less sure about. The designs don’t really bring anything obvious to mind. Maybe C is Munny because it leads to the Marketplace? I’m not sure.

NUMBER 3 || DOOR UNDER FOUNTAIN SQUARE

See what makes this interesting to me isn’t just the fact that apparently Fountain Square is hollow underneath (maybe for pipe repairs or something, I don’t know) but just the general fact that a lot of structures in this town, that maybe shouldn’t be, are hollow.

If you look even some archways have windows, so there has to be an open space inside, right? Most of them seem at least connected to houses so I assume they’re basements or something. (The one by murder house gets me tho, like that’s right under the bridge. Who’s living right under the bridge)

And I also feel like this leads into the fact that, similarly but not as extreme as in Scala, Daybreak Town is kinda built on top of itself. Maybe that’s a symptom of being around so many (and possibly on) mountains but I still feel like it should be talked about more.

NUMBER 4 || LIGHTHOUSE INTERIOR MAP

There is so much to unpack here but I’ll try to keep it brief.

So I’m pretty sure this is one of, if not the oldest building in Daybreak Town. Two reasons.

1. Instead of having little wall lamps, like the rest of the town and buildings, all the light seems to come from mounted candles.

2. There are swords (A) on the walls and not Keyblades. Why would the Keyblade town not have Keyblades on its little shield emblem? Is it possibly because it was there before Keyblades?

This staircase here (B) is also the only known (not sewer drain) way into the waterways. It leads into the sewers then out to the little dock below the Lighthouse with the boat, hence the sign.

There’s these maps here (C) that I don’t really know what to say about, but is definitely worth pointing out. They’re all the same and I assume show the layout of the area surrounding the town (the darker parts being water). It could be a world map though (darker part being continents)… I don’t think we’ll ever really learn lol

And also I don’t know what this is (D) but I think it’s interesting that it has writing on it. It kinda gives me the vibe of those flat on the ground gravestones…

NUMBER 5 || BANNER

Daybreak Town actually has a flag it’s all over the place and you’ll start to see it everywhere if you look for it. They also kind of look like the banners in Radiant Garden. The colours and shape/mounting are the same but the designs on the flag itself (and mounting) is different.

I have no clue what that implies, if anything, but I figure it’s worth pointing out ‘cause it’s interesting.

[bugcatcherkit]

do you have shou mom hc or anything like that? I was looking at the bingo cards and wondered about your thoughts

kind of YES! I'm making another list. I don't know if you mean the entire Broad Range of what a HC is, or something specific. So these will be random thoughts I think about her.

This isn't really a HC and more explaining and/or expanding her canon personality traits. But alongside her headstrongness, I think she can be impulsive. Like, rushes into things she shouldn't but she becomes wholeheartedly committed anyway. Which isn't to say she's naive -- she knows exactly what she's getting into, she just thinks she can handle more than she actually can. Like someone else I know..

Also anybody else notice her strong need to make a huge impact on somebody else's life. She chose the Worst Guy ever with full intent that she alone could Fix Him (didn't even wait to see if she could). I think she wants the validation that her words, efforts, and convictions alone can make the world (and other people) a little better overall. It's just interesting that she could possibly seek a Big Goal through relationships themselves instead of at the expense of them.

Does anybody else think about how she was the only person outside of Claw who knew about it. Her ex literally got someone murdered and she couldn't do anything about it or go to anyone (because who's going to believe that? Especially when she doesn't have any evidence). And she had to live with it for years. Probably isolating as hell !!!! Especially because we don't know what her support system outside of her family was, if she even had an extensive one.

I imagine she tends to feel bad about things very easily, specifically her own actions/inaction, and how that effects other people. Like a responsibility thing, even though most things are out of her control. Her knowing when she needs to quit doesn't quite stop her feeling bad for doing so (and also I don't think she learned her own limits until That Argument, so she's like "what if I did More". It's part of I think she's always asking about Toichiro and planned to visit him with Shou -- she wanted to try again. This is Alongside her concern for him).

OKAY I am going to rant about the abandonment thing again because I keep seeing it still. Grabs everyone by the shoulders. There are so many reasons that she did not take Shou with her. Since (in the context of the argument) her leaving seems like a split-second decision, she probably did not have the proper resources to support him immediately after she left. By the time she got something figured she literally couldn’t get custody. AND I hope nobody forgot that Toichiro used Shou as leverage against her and that was why he cut contact between them entirely (or he thought he did). But they stayed in contact anyway!!!!!!!! They called and visited!!!! People get so distracted with the "abandonment" part that they overlook any potential complicated feelings that probably exist on both sides. Because those are very normal to have with a situation like that!!! For example, her leaving did not have the effect she thought it would (make Toichiro see his mistakes), and she has to consider that! But, at the time, she had run out of things to do or say, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway because the whole point was that Toichiro refused to listen to her or consider her feelings or Accept Change at all. Can anybody hear me??? So sorry to put this rant here when all you wanted was some headcanons

FUCK THAT GOT LONG. That's not even HC that's just character analysis I think? I don’t know anything. I'm actually bad at HCs guys. IDK what characters do in their spare time I just hyper-analyze their thoughts and motivations and ideals. Here's some actual HC maybe?

post-divorce she doesn't get her own place for a while (she is Unsure of what her next steps are and has a LOT to consider) but when she does it's quite small and cozy. Though, it only develops a Homely feel when Shou starts visiting. It becomes more personalized after that, I guess? Does that make sense.

She seems like the type to have a collection of trinkets that are One specific animal. She's got like 50 little porcelain bears sitting on a shelf somewhere or something.

she has one of those ugly little dogs with the crusty eyes. And she saw him at the shelter and he was so old and sad that she almost cried, so she had to take him home.

She is big on manners. Constantly scolding Shou for his lack of them when he moves in with her finally

also she's got the same bluntness and genuineness that Tsubomi has, I think. Actually she has a lot in common with Tsubomi. They are shaking hands. Committed to the people they care about but don't sacrifice their true selves for anything. Etc.

LET HER HAVE A LITTLE GARDEN!!!!!!! She'd love it. She'd talk to her plants to help them grow.

I want to give her a name but I haven't been able to settle on one. Very sad. Hopefully soon?

this feels like me saying a whole lot of nothing. I guess I couldn't get too deep into things because at that point it would feel like I'm inventing a totally different character (because she does not exist in the narrative outside of Narrative Device). Maybe she needs it though. but I fear i cannot do Mob Psycho like ONE can....

[itsmistyeyedbi]

late night courage

Pairing: F!Detective/Farah Hauville

Word Count: 2,5k

Prompt: First

Tags: @happyhauvillebday

Summary: Dinner at Tina’s leaves much food for thought for Farah. The conversation that ensues takes a turn that neither of them were expecting.

She never knows what to do with…this.

With people like her, genuine and hopeful and bright. People who choose to be those things, to embody them, despite the experiences they have and the things they've seen that give them every right not to be. Zuri admires them and their spirit that seems to be as sure as the rising sun. She can never quite grasp that kind of strength, no matter how much time she has spent imitating it. She can be warm and hopeful…and genuine, when she let's herself be.

But what's a heat lamp to the sun?

It's nothing compared to the real thing.

And yet, some of them are drawn to her anyway. Like a moth to a flame, not realising that the warmth they want to bask in is not as gentle as the sun. It could burn them to a crisp, because there is such a thing as being too close for too long. It could burn them, even though it doesn't want to. Even though it craves their company, their touch.

It would be easier if she could stay away but she never really can. She never really wants to. So she falls into a familiar song and dance of getting as close as she can without letting them in, giving as much warmth as she can without burning them, keeping her distance when they get too eager and fly closer to the flames than they should. That push and pull that never satisfies but keeps them safe.

How much is that safety worth?

Farah makes her question that everyday.

Zuri is questioning it now with Farah at her side, the back of their hands brushing against each other as they stroll towards her car. Her pinky twitches and she glances at her, her heart stopping for a second when their eyes meet. It's taking everything in her not to take her hand in hers, to feel their fingers intertwine.

She looks away, focuses on her surroundings instead - the sound of their footsteps are accompanied by the chirping of crickets, softening the silence of the night. The sky is dark and speckled with stars, a gentle breeze makes the skirt of Farah’s dress tickle her skin, her pinky grazes hers and there's a fluttering in her stomach-

Okay, this isn't working.

Zuri swallows and moves her hand away to hold it in her own instead, massaging her palm with her thumb. She needs to get a grip. They've been alone for what, two minutes? And her impulse control reverts to the one she had in highschool - useless in the face of someone who has an interest in her. She won't be rash about this, not when it comes to her. Not when she doesn't think she can give her what she wants.

The fluttering turns into a churning when she catches the disappointment on Farah's face.

She hates how often she causes that. She never wanted to be the reason she feels that way. But the little disappointments are better than the one that would come if they were something more…right?

Zuri turns around and leans against the hood of her car, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she smiles at Farah. She returns it as though she was never anything less than content, the streetlight closeby bathing her in a golden glow, tracing the curves of her face and bouncing off of the coils of her hair. God, she looks like an angel.

“Did tonight go the way you hoped it would?”

Right, the dinner. With Tina. It..slipped her mind for a second there.

She shrugs one shoulder, peering at the house they just left. “I figured it would go well the moment you agreed to come. You two are pretty similar, I couldn't see you not getting along.”

“That's to be expected when I'm the type of company you keep. Who wouldn't like me?” Farah gestures to herself with a grin.

Zuri shakes her head, laughing softly before they fall into silence. Something about the question lingers in the air between them. Or maybe it's just in her head and Farah is being her usual self. Either way, she doesn't know what to do with it yet.

So she changes the subject.

“Speaking of the company I keep,” she raises a brow. “What were you and Tina talking about when I was gone?”

Farah's eyes widen and then she laughs, the sound making her heart stir in her chest and before she knows it she's doing the same. Softly, just like before, so she can hear her laugh ring out around them and imprint itself in her mind again.

“You're still thinking about that?”

“Yes, you were being all sneaky about it! I wanna know what was up.”

It's a genuine question, despite the timing. Something was definitely going on with them and were a little too enthusiastic while dodging her questions. They're clearly already a duo she'll have to keep her eye on.

“It's nothing crazy, seriously. We were just talking about you.”

Zuri turns her head and narrows her eyes. That's the obvious answer so it doesn't tell her much.

“Me?”

“Yup.”

Farah watches her gleefully, rocking back and forth on her feet. The silence continues for a few short seconds before she scoffs playfully. “Don't act like you didn't know. You mean a lot to both of us, of course we'd talk about you.”

Zuri’s hands press against the hood of the car as she leans forward and aims a light-hearted glare her way. “I know that I was the hot topic of the night. What I don't know is what about me was being discussed. So spill.”

“We were talking about how you're doing,” her grin softens into a weak smile as she rubs the back of her neck. “Or how you're not doing. In a general kind of way.”

“Oh.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. How did that even come up among the conversations about supernaturals and how wrong books and movies have been about them? Was Tina worried about her? Was Farah? Did something she say make them think they needed to be?

“Man, Tina warned me about this but I thought I'd manage to make it home before caving.”

Zuri blinks and looks up at Farah. When did she look away? How did she manage that when she's standing right in front of her, her eyes the colour of honey when it's held up to the sun, framed by long lashes and soft with concern.

“It's funny,” she continues with a frown on her face. “I've been talking about how busy things have been lately and how we barely get to spend time together, but…it's always been busy for you, hasn't it?”

“I don't know, has it?” Zuri can't say it hasn't been busy. The little moments she's managed to steal away for herself feel like they happened months ago, fleeting as the flicker of a light. And even those moments couldn't be deemed relaxing, not when a part of her was holding its breath, waiting for the next threat to her life.

“You can tell me,” she urges gently. “You know that right?”

“I know,” Zuri sighs. She deserves a more honest answer than that. “I guess it has been busy.”

Farah offers her a wry smile and steps closer to her. “That means this probably isn't going to be as easy in the future.”

Wait what?

“What? Us?”

“Oh, uh- well, I mean,” she lets out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to the ground before meeting her gaze again. “I meant us spending time together but that works too. But now that I think about it, I don't know how easy either of those things have been.”

“You know that isn't because of you, right?” The words rush out of her mouth before she can think or process the surge of shock she felt. “If anything hasn't been easy, it isn't because of you. You being around is probably the easiest part about all this.”

“That's a relief to hear. I was getting worried for a second,” Farah jokingly wipes her forehead but the motion is too stiff to be playful, the relief too obvious in how the tension in her face eases.

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about on that front.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she mutters before shaking her head and continuing before Zuri can respond.

“Anyway, what I'm trying to say is - it's okay to not be okay after getting sucked into all this supernatural business. I don't think anyone would be if they went through half the things you've been through. And I hope you know that whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, or just…need me, I'll be there.”

She pauses and leans forward, her shoulders raised close to her ears as she smiles sheepishly. “We all will be, but I am hoping you'd sorta kinda want to come to me first,”

She's far too sweet for her own good. Zuri chuckles, her eyes lingering on the curve of her lips before looking back up at her. Warmth blooms in her chest and spreads across her cheeks while she wraps her arms around herself.

“You'll be the first to know when I need a shoulder, I promise,” she says softly. “And um, thank you.”

Farah nods and rubs her arm with her hand, her face growing pensive as she takes a breath. It doesn't seem like she's finished yet. Zuri watches her, trying to reassure her. She can wait however long she needs to to hear more of what she has to say.

“And about that ‘us’…you don't have to worry about that.”

Zuris stomach drops when she says that. It must show on her face because her eyes widen and she frantically corrects herself, waving her hands in front of her.

“Nono, I'm not saying- what I mean is you can take your time. There's no pressure, I'm not going anywhere,” she reaches up to fiddle with the unicorn pendant hanging from her neck. “But whatever you decide, whenever you decide it, I hope we can still spend time together like this. For however long we can before some bad guy swoops in to steal you away.”

Shit. Zuri doesn't want her to think she doesn't want her. She does, more than she's wanted anyone in a long time. She just… doesn't know how to do this anymore. To make something last. As much as she wants to erase any doubt Farah has in her mind, it wouldn't be wise to rule out the possibility of there being no them, would it? They've been walking the razor's edge for months too, so who knows if she'll even want her afterwards? She could move on from her, find someone who's worth all the waiting she's done.

Zuri looks down at the cobblestone road. The thought of that hurts more than it should.

Shit.

Say something!

“I-” her voices hitches, she clears her throat before trying again. “I…don't know how much time we'll have to spend like this.”

That's what you chose to say. Great work, Zuri.

“Neither do I,” Farah's feet enter her view before a finger and a thumb is on her chin and tilting her head up, amber eyes unwavering as she gazes at her. “But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. You are so worth trying for.”

A shaky breath leaves Zuri’s lungs. Everything inside her comes to a halt, like every part of her wants to focus on nothing but the sound of Farah's voice. Like her words have stunned her entire being into silence.

That's just it, isn't it? That's what matters, if someone is worth trying for, outcomes be damned. And she believes that she is, despite…well, everything.

“Zuri? You okay?”

Something inside her comes undone, and a wave of emotion washes over her, kickstarting her body into gear and slowly forming a lump in her throat. She might not know how to do this, but for her, she'll try. She'll do whatever she can to make this work, no matter how scared she gets or how heartbreaking the end is. Being with her is worth whatever pain might come. And if she's the reason for any burns, she'll make sure to be the balm too.

It looks like it took Farah saying what should've been obvious to her out loud for her to get it.

Wow.

“Yeah,” she blinks a few times and clears her throat. “I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Farah lets go of her chin, barely moving an inch before Zuri’s hand grabs hers, her grip gentle as her thumb runs over her knuckles.

“Farah, I- you're so,” laughter bubbles up her throat, brief and maybe a little bit hysterical as she covers her face with her free hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. You're cute when you're flustered,” Farah says with a wink.

Zuri smiles bashfully and stares down at their hands. Her skin is warm and smooth against hers. She squeezes it gently and swallows before continuing. “You're worth trying for too. You always have been and I… feel a little ridiculous that I'm only really understanding what that means now. I'm sorry it took me this long.”

“Um, no problem,” Farah stares at her for a moment, eyes wide and lips parted. “Is this going where I think it's going?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She beams and rises on the balls of her feet before quickly settling herself down. Zuri's heart flutters in her chest. She seems so excited, ecstatic even for them to finally be in a relationship. She shouldn't keep her waiting any longer.

“I know you've wanted what's been going on between us to be something real. Something more than flirting that doesn't go anywhere. I wish I could've given you that sooner but,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to quell the doubt creeping into her mind.

She holds Farah's gaze and lets it spur her forward. “If you still want that, want me, I'd like to give that to you now-”

Farah flings herself at Zuri. She lets out an oof as their bodies collide and arms wrap around her neck. “Yes! Please do! Like, right now if you want to.”

Zuri giggles and wraps her arms around her waist, breathing in the burst of zest and citrus from her perfume. Their hearts beat in tandem against their chests, hands clutching at each other as they hold each other close; she's so warm… holding her is like holding the sun.

Farah gives her a squeeze before pulling away enough to see her face. “Of course I still want you. I never stopped, and I never will.”

Heat settles in Zuri’s cheeks as she tries and fails to respond, all that comes out is a string of incomprehensible, half-spoken words that are shortly interrupted by laughter.

“God, what are you doing to me?”

“Let me know when you figure that out so I can keep doing it.”

Zuri huffs, shaking her head and smiling softly. “You know, I don't usually ask people out. Not with it meaning what it means right now. This is a first for me.”

Farah snuggles into her, her cheek pressing against her neck. Her voice is muffled, but she can still hear her smile.

“I'm glad you did.”

[good-beanswrites]

Hear me out:

Kotoko adopted Es, and Fuuta went ballistic.

Rip Fuuta... he can never catch a break... Asdfsdf thank you for this, it was a blast thinking of all the ridiculous ways this could have played out! (One possibility I toyed with was Fuuta's competitive instincts take over, he fights her for Es, only to realize too late "*I* don't want to be responsible for a whole child WAIT") It's a similar format to the last one, with a knock-at-the-door reveal, but I still think it works 😂

“Don’t fuck with me, Es.”

“I would never.”

Lying brat. Fuuta knew they would every chance that they got. It was the reason he was so relieved that Es decided to find somewhere else to live after Milgram’s end. Fuuta had nothing left to fear from his former warden, but the others’ suggestions that Es become his new roommate still made him shudder. Three interrogations in a closed space with the rude kid were enough for him, thank you very much.

However, it wasn’t all a relief. He couldn’t help feeling concerned about who they’d gone to live with. Given how cryptic they were being, Fuuta would have been convinced they walked into the woods to find a furry family of Jackalopes or something to raise them –except, they showed up for this walk with clean clothing and internet access. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re fucking with me right now. Why can’t you just tell me who it is?” 

“It isn’t any of your concern. Hey, I thought you swore to stay out of others’ business. You turned over a new leaf and all that?”

“Tch. I meant other people’s business. You’re different.” 

If Es had vanished off the grid like some of the other prisoners, Fuuta wouldn’t have cared. But they were here, near enough to arrange some lame meetup, which meant they were going to remain in his life for a while longer. And that meant, as the model citizen that Fuuta was, he felt responsible for ensuring they didn’t get themselves kidnapped by some creep. 

He asked, “how much do you know about them, anyway? I mean, what kind of person can house a random weird kid on incredibly short notice? That’s definitely suspicious.”

Fuuta pulled the mask up on his face as they turned down a more crowded street. He knew people were going to gawk at his eye anyways, but it still helped him feel like he was blending in. With his thoughts on the injury for a moment, he was glad that bitch Kotoko was one of the prisoners who had gone off the grid. Good riddance.

“I promise, she’s fine. Not weird with children at all. In fact, she’s really good with them, which is why she could help me on such short notice.” They muttered, “but it’s not like I’m that young…”

“That’s still not normal. Is she some old housewife or something?”

“Ah, are you trying to do the interrogation this time? Actually, I’d say she’s around your age.”

“It’s just you two living alone? I’m still worried about Milgram coming looking for us again – can a girl like that really protect you?”

“Is everyone supposed to live with a big, strong man, like you?”

“Wha–!” Fuuta’s cheeks burned red. “That’s not what I –!”

“I’m only teasing. It’s cute that you care about me.”

That only agitated him more. “It’s not cute! I’m being realistic! One of us has to think about your safety while you’re just distracted by some pretty girl.”

“What makes you think she’s pretty?”

“Well, why else would you be so careless in deciding to live with her?”

All of the sudden, he saw it in Es’ eyes: that spark of mischief that Fuuta had come to loathe. He could never tell what they were plotting, but it was never a good sign.

Es held up their hands in mock surrender. They put on a ridiculous, overdramatic voice. “Ah, you caught me, Fuuta! I’m hiding her identity because she’s the most beautiful, capable woman in all of Japan, and I want to keep her all to myself!” 

He groaned, but they weren’t deterred. “She’s got everything, I couldn’t risk you falling for her! She’s quite capable of defending me. She’s very strong, with protective instincts much like your own. She understands our situation like no one else could. She’s got intense eyes, and you wouldn’t believe her singing voice. She enjoys deep conversations, she’s a dog person, she –”

“ – now you’re being the creep! Just shut up, I get it already...”

When they finally had the decency to pull it together, they reassured him. “It’s all true, though. So there’s no need to worry about me. I’m in good hands.”

Good hands, his ass. In only a brief conversation, the caretaker had gone from sounding a little suspicious to sounding way too good to be true… meaning she was extremely suspicious.

“Maybe someday I’ll introduce you, if you’re lucky...”

He turned his eyes away. “At least let me run some background checks on her first.” 

(He would just stalk her on social media, but that still counted.)

“You’re just going to stalk her on social media. That doesn’t count.”

“Eh? I have legit methods!” He hid deeper under his mask.

Even after the topic was dropped, after he and Es parted ways on an awkward goodbye, Fuuta was left thinking about this mystery woman. It took a bit of digging (and maybe a tiny bit of social media stalking) but at last he found where Es lived with this stranger. Contrary to what they may believe, he had turned over a new leaf. There would be no more hiding behind screens or letting others do the confrontation for him. Now that he was a changed person, he’d do the healthy and normal thing with this information: he’d march on down there himself and confront her like a man. 

He made it all the way to the front door with his chin high. He knocked with confidence. 

Then he began to shift nervously. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the woman’s description out of his head. Sure, he was here to check on Es, but if someone happened to check him out at the same time, it was only right to be prepared… He straightened his shirt collar. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered if he should have covered up his eye to look more presentable.

The door swung open. 

The surprise on Kotoko’s face was nowhere near the amount on Fuuta’s.

“Oh, for fucks sake –!”

From somewhere behind her, Es’ laughter rang out.

[sketchybusiness4130]

I SAID I HAD MORE AND I MENT IT. if you have no idea what im talking about, go check out my first post :3

basic idea tho is that Ford picked up and adopted a fellow dimension traveler who happens to be a unicorn durning his 30 years on the other side of the portal. Thier name is Linked Hopps, also know as just Link or Hopper

close ups and more lore shall be placed below the cut since i really went off the charts

spiderman meme, Hopper definitely picked up some habits and more from ford. she looks up to him and mimics his style

speaking of style heres a full outfit! fully equipped with a saddle bag full of goodies, a pair of glasses that probably have a shit ton of useful features. (she doesnt actually need them to see after all) straps on her back legs that are full of weapons and useful items. the uh necklace isn't supposed to be a necklace but rather part of a hood with a little clip to the corner bit.

oooo color yay, so a bit of backstory. Link here had a cracked horn. happened when she was about 5 or 6ish?(age isnt really set in stone but it happened before discovering her talent) and it makes doing painful and veryyy difficult. with the help of ford the two mange to make some enchanted rings that focuses her magic and aids the pain of doing so. its not a full fix what so ever but she can at least levitate stuff if needed. if she uses it too much the pain will get unbearable and she may pass-out. in emergencies Link has full on yoinked Ford out of danger. in fact its probably by doing exactly this that the two of them were able to get to through the portal at the same time(i will elaborate more on that with another post later)

now, let's talk about those scars, huh? link here had the joy of landing right into the perfect spot within the fallout universe to wind up suckered into new vegas' old world blues DLC. why? bc i love that series and can do whatever i want. Link's portals tend to lead her to completely random places and worlds. after getting a better handle on how her poition portals work, Link is able to somewhat reliable hop back to previous places shes been to. Oh nearly forgot, the way those special poitions work is a combination of her haywire magic, a mixture of ingredients(major changing factor on where she ends up), and a dash of her own blood.

cute family photo! probably taken after officially adopting Hopper. though i have no idea how officially they could have done it since neither of them have proper ids or their birth certificates. ijdwijwdj maybe they forged it?? yea they forged it XD

cute and silly photo of Ford holding Hopper like i hold my cats from time to time. i messed up on the anatomy for Link's lower half tho so just ignore that 🙃

this i would place as not long after the two first meeting and deciding to travel together. Ford took her on as an "apprentice" and taught her everything he could. Hopper was at max 10 or 11 years old when they discovered/got lost in the multiverse and for Funzies ill place the time of meeting at around 12 or 13. parallels and all that.

anddd lastly a Stand alone Ford pic. mostly did this one as practice but am really happy with how it came out

[ranger-kellyn]

look, i love ALL the avatar's equally. i think they all have a unique and fascinating story, and are all well-suited for the issues of their times. i can't pick a true favorite.

anyways, time to go plan out my fifth avatar fic where one of the primary settings is kyoshi island, and one of the characters connects with her spirit--