#what if there is something neither of them told him

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Zayne's non-mc significant other.

Imagine being the one Zayne always came home to.

Imagine being the person he smiled for when no one else was around. The reason he packed extra meal just in case you forgot to eat again. The one who'd fall asleep with your head against his shoulder while he charted vitals or scribbled post operation notes under dim lights.

Imagine it started with long shifts and night calls. The hospital never slept. And neither did he really. Not when you were starting to disappear into your own schedule, a different work, different place, a different life it sometimes felt like.

Imagine Zayne didn't say much. That wasn't his way. But he noticed everything. The way your coffee mug sat untouched on the counter. The slow fade of your toothbrush like you weren't using it his place as often. The silence after his messages. The shorter replies. The "Sorry, call you later." That came more often than it used to.

Imagine he told himself this was normal. Two lives, both demanding, both full of different things you two work on to. It wasn't your fault. And did he hoped it wasn't his.

still, Imagine the way the apartment felt colder these days. Even when the heater hummed and the lights were on.

Imagine he stopped bringing up dinner plans. He wasn't sure if you would show up. And part of him hated how his stomach twisted when he thought of an empty chair across from him.

Imagine the worst part was how kind you still were. You weren't angry. You weren't distant in a sharp, cruel way. You still understand. At the same time, it felt like you were just… Tired. Quiet. And he doesn't know how to ask. "Are you still in this? Or are you just trying not to hurt me by leaving?"

but Imagine, he tried to push it out of his mind. Telling himself he was just overthinking, that it was just the fatigue getting over him. But then came the moment.

Imagine you were outside the emergency bay, seemed to be waiting for someone but was also talking to someone he didn't recognize. A nurse maybe. Or someone from admin. It didn't matter. What mattered was the smile on your face. Soft. Relaxed. Familiar. The kind of smile you used to give him.

Imagine Zayne didn't interrupt. He just stood there for a second, blood pressure readings half forgotten on the tablet in his hand. And then he walked away.

Imagine it was not because he didn't care. But it was because it terrified him. The idea that you might be happier, more at ease when he wasn't around.

Imagine he stood in the on call room later, still in his scrubs, staring at the locker door like it might give him answers.

Imagine Zayne wasn't really the emotional type. Or at least on the outside. He didn't throw things. He didn't cry. But he sat down. Shoulders slumped. Head in his hands. And all he could think was that 'What if I was the one who made us tired?'

Imagine he remembered the last time you laughed together. The last time you touched his arm in passing. The last time you stayed awake just to wait for him to come home. He didn't know when those moments stopped. But he missed them like something broken beneath his ribs.

Imagine Zayne never blamed you. He blamed himself. For the hours spent chasing patients. For the nights he chose work over warmth. For thinking you'd always just be there even as the distance widened inch by inch.

Imagine he wanted to ask. "Do you still love me?" But he never did. Because if the answer was "No. No anymore." He wasn't sure he could bear that. If he could handle that. So instead, Zayne kept moving. Kept healing others. While something inside him quietly ached.

Imagine because that's how Zayne hurts. Silent. Steady. Like a heartbeat you don't realize is fading until it's almost gone.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: looks away* ehem, well you see- I was bored and hungry I could eat a damn zayn-

[finelinevogue]

i had a thought for a part 2 for the 'ridiculous' lando fic (obvs don't have to do it if it's crap) but maybe you could write about them being together like a year later at the next monaco gp and her friends who were being horrible to her like trying to get back in touch with y/n so they could get gp tickets because shes going out with lando

i genuinely love all your fics though, i've been here for timeeee ahhaha

makes sense to be with you

yesss let’s do it my love!! and don’t you worry, i know you’ve been here with me since the beginning <33 i never forget a name!

pairing - lando norris x girlfriend!reader

word count - ~2k

It’s race day.

The nerves were high for everyone. Sometimes you felt like your nerves were even higher than Lando’s - which was a silly thing to think.

Lando had driven you to the Monaco Grand Prix this morning, spare hand on your thigh the entire journey. You had gotten ready together this morning and Lando had calmed your nerves with a few soft morning kisses in between stolen moments.

Pulling up outside the venue though, the tension felt high.

Lando stopped the car and sat with you for a moment.

“You good?” He asked, not letting your hand go.

“Yeah. Just thinking about this time last year.” You rested your head on the back of the headrest and turned to face your boyfriend.

He watched you with a handsome smile.

“A lot’s changed since then.”

“I know.”

He chuckled which caused you to laugh back.

“I’m nervous but I’m excited for this weekend.” He told you honestly.

“You’re going to be amazing.”

He looked from you to the crowds outside the car, snapping photos and recording videos of the two of you. It was busy out there, but nothing that the two of you couldn’t handle.

It had been difficult the past year trying to fit in beside Lando and keep up with his pace of life, but he had been so patient and caring with you. Because of him the last year had been easier than it could’ve been.

Your phone beeped.

You chuckled to yourself as you opened the WhatsApp notifications.

“Who is it?” Lando asked, peering over your shoulder because he knew you’d have nothing to hide. “Oh they can fuck right off.”

“Lando!” You laughed.

It was from your ex friends and their whole group. They had added you to their group chat last minute, knowing they needed you for what they wanted.

Rochelle : How are we supposed to get tickets for the Monaco GP?

Eva : Let’s ask Y/N now she’s with Lando

Jemima : so true

Rochelle : OMG yes!!!!

[ Y/N has been added to the chat ]

Eva : Hey Y/N! Long time no speak!

“Do they realise that you can see all the conversations above?” Lando scoffed beside you.

“Probably not.”

“Bunch of….” Lando started to mutter.

“Hey, don’t,” You stopped him before he could say something he would later regret, “I’m okay.”

You deleted the group chat from your phone and left it alone, placing your phone in your lap as you squeezed Lando’s hand tightly. You used your other hand to guide his face to yours.

“I’m okay.” You promised him.

He nodded.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like them though.”

“Enough now. Don’t let them ruin your day.” You softly brushed your thumb over his cheek and he leant into it a little more.

“Don’t want them to ruin yours either.”

“They can’t.” You shook your head.

Lando was confident with your answer and leaned in to give you a soft kiss. Neither of you noticed the influx of camera flashes as you kissed because both of you were too into each other.

He had this very special, unique, talent of making you feel like the only girl in the world.

“I love you.” He whispered close to you.

You kissed him again quickly this time, “I love you too. Now go win.”

“Don’t give me too much to do.” He joked, pulling away from you to continue the day and win this damn race for you.

• 🏎️💨 •

He fucking won.

He actually did it.

You had a pair of headphones wrapped around your neck as you cupped your hands over your mouth. You were in a state of shock and wonder.

Your Lando had done it. He had won Monaco and part of you liked to believe he had done it for you.

Engineers and teammates alike were all cheering in the garage. This was a huge win for them too.

Everyone swarmed outside to go and meet Lando and congratulate him. You weren’t sure whether to follow or to meet him later.

Your phone beeped in your pocket.

[ Y/N has been added to the chat ]

Rochelle : Congrats on Lando’s win Y/N ����

Eva : Yeah totally! Any big plans for tonight?

Jemima : OMG yesss we should all totally meet tonight & celebrate!

Rochelle : YEASSSS

You sighed, biting your lip as you questioned how to respond.

They had really texted at the wrong moment because this was supposed to be your time celebrating with Lando, not feeling bad for people who used to be horrid to you that you still sort of felt bad for.

You texted back, wanting this to be done.

You: hi :) thank you for congratulating lando! still not ready to be friends with you guys yet, but thanks for thinking of me.

A minute later you had been removed from the group chat.

You shook your head in disappointment.

Yes, they had been the ones to get you an invite onto a Monaco yacht party where you had first met Lando but that’s all they had ever done for you. The rest of the time they had been the type of friends to bring you down. You had often been the ‘one of these friends is not like the others’ friend.

Lando had helped you realise that you didn’t need them in your life and had supported you when you’d cut them out of your life.

It stung that now all they wanted you for was your connection to Lando and his fame.

It made you feel used.

No doubt Lando often felt the same. Hopefully never from you.

You pocketed your phone, remembering you were missing all the celebrations outside.

Before you could leave the garage to walk around to the podium, you heard Lando call your name.

He was jogging down the road and dodging people who were trying to give him a hug or a congratulatory handshake. His eyes were dead-set on you.

His hair was sweaty and his face was beet-red.

He looked so good though, with his jumpsuit folded over at his waist and his black fireproofs on underneath. He ran a hand through his messy hair as he approached you.

You took off the headphones around your neck, dropping them onto the table.

Lando reached you first, picking you up around your waist and spinning you around excitedly. Your arms held tightly around his neck with your face smushed into his head. He smelt of sweat and hair products.

You could feel him laugh into your chest and you couldn’t help but let the few tears that wanted to fall soak into his hair.

“I’m so proud of you.”

He squeezed you tighter, slowly stopping the spinning to put you safely back on the floor.

“You did it. You fucking did it.”

“I did it.” He smiled so big.

You untucked your head from where it had been hiding, but keeping your arms securely around his neck for closeness. His stayed around your waist.

You used one hand to brush some loose curls back into formation.

“Knew you could do it.”

“It’s ‘cause my lucky charm was watching on.” He nodded his head to you.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“The Monaco Grand Prix, honey.” You whispered excitedly like you couldn’t quite believe it. “What more could you want?”

He raised his eyebrows at you like that was a stupid question. You rolled your eyes before he could say something ridiculously lovely.

You tucked your head under his chin and moved your arms down so you could hug him around his waist. He hugged you closer, kissing the top of your head a few times before letting the moment sink in with his favourite person stood beside him.

“Lando! We need you for the podium!”

“Two minutes!”He shouted back, not giving you up.

“No… Now!”

Lando sighed loudly. You untucked yourself.

“Go. I’ll be right there. Enjoy this moment, okay?” You cupped both of his cheeks and brought his face down to kiss him softly. He deserved it.

liked by charlesleclerc, lewishamilton and 294,937 others

yourinstagram enjoy this moment 🍯🧡

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fan1 INSANE!!!!!

fan2 we 🧡 you y/n

oscarpiastri Well done mate!

fan3 🍯 because y/n calls lando honey?!!?????

♥️ by the author

fan4 LANDO FOR THE WIN

fan5 i love them ur honour

rochelle0110 Congrats 🥂 Let’s celebrate?

fan6 I WANT TO CELEBRATE WITH THEM

yourinstagram @/fan6 ur very welcome to xo

lando Going to enjoy this one for a long time to come (especially with you) 🧡

♥️ by the author

• 🏎️💨 •

Lando opened the door for you and held a hand out to help you leave his car.

He passed the car keys off to a valet and then returned his attention to you. He had already watched you get ready and had litterally sat next to you in the car on the way here, but seeing you step out of his car in that black dress made him want to drop to the floor and pray.

The paparazzi went crazy for you both, begging for a photo.

Unfortunately Lando wasn’t interested in giving them the time of day as he was still angry about previous things the tabloids had said about you and him.

He held onto you hand as you walked past everyone and into the club venue.

It was celebration night, post-race, and it was going to be a big one.

You didn’t need to show ID upon entry because everyone, especially bouncers, knew who the F1 people were in Monaco.

Lando gave the bouncers a handshake and wished them a goodnight whilst still holding on to you. He also slipped them a piece of paper and asked them to read it carefully.

“What was that?” You asked as you followed behind him.

“My ‘no entry’ list.”

“What?” You stopped short, your high heels digging into the floor as you did so. Lando bounced back towards you.

“I’ve asked that certain people are denied entry.” He shrugged.

“Like who?”

“Does it matter?” He asked.

“Yes. I don’t want to start some sort of feud.”

“Well, they started it when they decided to sell a story to the tabloids last year which made our relationship difficult for a while.” He was growing frustrated you could tell.

“Oh my God, will you let it go?” You stressed, dropping his hand to which he looked visibly offended by.

“No, Y/N, I won’t. They’re a bunch of arseholes and what? You want them to be a part of my celebration? I don’t think so.” He scoffed.

“I just don’t want this to be a big thing for us forever. Just let it go.”

He shook his head again before heading into the club. Without you.

Fuck.

You didn’t mean to get into an argument about it, but ever since your ex friends sold a story about Lando being a misogynist prick to the tabloids there had been a rift between everyone.

You had immediately dropped your friends and Lando had done damage control for weeks after.

You’d never believed the tabloids, but it was Lando that felt like he had to prove that he was nothing like what they were saying he was. Lando thought he had to make it up to you, as if he’d done something wrong. So it was easy to understand why they still got under his nerves.

You just wished they didn’t still taunt him.

You wanted him you find peace from all of this now like you had.

You followed him into the club a few minutes later, trying to calm your nerves after your stupid argument.

The club had cheered and roared when Lando had stepped into the main room, leaving you to slip in from the side unnoticed.

The room was dimly lit with orange strobe lights dancing around. A layer of smoke filtered through the air, along with the smell of vapes and sticky alcohol on the floor.

The music was all for Lando. The playlist included all his favourite songs.

You walked around the edge so you could go and grab a quick drink from the bar.

“Limoncello spritz please.” You asked the bartender.

A couple minutes later you had your drink in hand and slipped back into the corner of the room, a standing table available for you to rest your drink on.

All of Lando’s friends, family and fellow F1 mates were here celebrating. Lando was so loved and it was amazing to see.

He was currently stood on a raised platform with Oscar by his side. They were both bopping and singing out of tune to one of his favourite songs. You smiled as you watched on.

Then Lando caught your eyes.

He made his way off the platform and walked over to you. The crowd easily parted for him.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

You nodded.

“I’m a dickhead sometimes.”

You pursed your lips to stop from smiling.

“But I love you too much to fight over something so boring.”

You nodded in agreement.

“So will you accept my apology and come dance with me? I did win the Monaco Grand Prix for you after all.”

You held out your hand like it was a white flag.

He took it was a grin, only to be shocked by the force of you pulling him closer so you could give him a proper kiss.

Your arms snaked around his neck and his felt their way across your waist, both of you sinking into each other and letting the rest of the room drift away.

You tilted your head to let him have a little extra room to kiss you and he followed. You could feel him smirking into the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. Not when he had you like this.

You tugged on his curls a little and his mouth opened with a gasp, allowing you to kiss him deeper. He tasted like some sort of berry flavoured alcohol, because it was known he was still a kid at heart. It made the kiss all the more delectable.

He pulled away breathlessly.

You tried to go in for another, still in a love haze.

“Later.” He whispered against your lips, but giving you another kiss all the same.

“Now.” You argued.

“Dance with me first.”

“Okay.” You tucked your face into his neck and gave him a kiss. He felt like home when you held him like this. Safe and comforting, even though you were in the middle of a club.

“Love you.” He spoke softly but loud enough for you to hear.

“Love you right back.”

“We okay?” He double checked.

“We’re okay.” You nodded. “Now let’s celebrate!”

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lando We won 🏆

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fan1 no lando, y/n won fr

fan2 THAT SHOULD BE ME

fan3 the hand placements… oh i’m dead

yourinstagram go go lando!!! so proud 🍯

♥️ by the author

lando @/yourinstagram My no 1 fan 🧡

lewishamilton 🧡

oscarpiastri Where did you & Y/N go….??

lando @/oscarpiastri 👀

fan4 deserved 👏

fan5 not y/n and lando flirting in the commentd

fan6 those are literally my parents wdym

[hellinistical]

6:53

a/n: thank you vm for your art, @box-artist. farmer phainon made me all giddy and eased my woes for him. now it's stuck in my head and i need to write it. i'll probably do more too. check out their art here!

Your grandmother left you a lil old house in her will. It’s overgrown. The porch leans. You’re convinced something lives in the shed. You move anyway—burnt out from city noise, breakup drama, or just ready to disappear for a while.

You meet Farmer Phainon on your first day. You’re holding a crooked box of god knows what, and he’s standing at the fence line with a jug of water and a fluffy white dog at his heels.

"You're not her." He says, plainly. "She had stronger arms."

You squint. Blue eyes- pretty blues and snowy hair with a smile like the sun was saying hi. "Who the hell are you?" "Phainon. Neighbor."

He hops the fence, takes your box like it weighs nothing, and carries it to the porch without being asked. Immediatley suspicious of how attractive he is with his sun tanned skin, freckled shoulders, and a white tank that sticks to him like its got nothing better to do, he smells like cedar, soil, and something sweet you can't quite place.

He catches you staring, cracking a laugh. "Somethin' the matter?" "No- no, sorry." "'s all good. No worries honey."

When you can't keep a plant alive to save you (and you tried. you really did), you get frustrated. Your grandmother had whole gardens. Yours shrivel in protest.

He notices. Quietly.

One morning you find a small potted rosemary on your porch. A note tucked underneath: “Try again. This one forgives mistakes.”

One time, you argue over a fence line. He’s building a new one. You think it’s too close to the garden path. You march over with a print-out of a property line, hair a mess, coffee in hand.

He listens, then hands you a ruler. "Then measure it." You do. You were wrong. He doesn't say told you so. Just adjusts it anyways.

The first winter that comes in, you get snowed in.

The power flickers out. Pipes groan. You’re wrapped in blankets on the couch, cursing yourself for moving to the country just cause it was cheaper.

There’s a knock.

Phainon.

He's got a thermos of soup, extra fire wood, and a flashlight. His cheeks are rosy from the wind. "Told ya this place ran cold."

You let him in. He warms your hands by the stove. He doesn’t leave until the lights hum back on.

He teaches you things slowly. How to split kindling. How to listen for rain in the wind. How to tell when the chickens are lying about laying eggs.

Sometimes he stands behind you, guiding your hands. Sometimes he just watches, arms folded, smirking when you mutter under your breath.

He never teases meanly. Always just enough to make your stomach flip.

Your porch becomes shared.

You drink tea there at sunset. He brings over honey from his hives. Leaves jars without a word.

You leave books on the steps. He brings them back with dog-eared pages.

Sometimes neither of you says a word. You just sit there. In the quiet. Together.

And it feels… safe.

He fixes your leaky roof. You try to help. He won’t let you. You bring him lemonade instead. He drinks half of it. "You put too much sugar in there, sweet girl."

You roll your eyes.

The first kiss is unexpected honestly. You’re barefoot, holding tomatoes from your garden (finally thriving thanks to him). He says something low and nice and full of weight like: "You messed up my routines and cycles."

And you laugh too softly. And your eyes meet. And he steps close. And the kiss is slow, and quiet, and says everything you’ve both been avoiding.

You hold the tomatoes between your bodies. He smells like sun.

Eventually, you stop calling it your grandma's house. And when people ask about the man always fixing your fence, feeding your dog, or sneaking into your kitchen to make coffee just the way you like it—you just say, "Oh, that's just Phainon."

[charmedntruer]

FORTRESS — clark kent x reader

summary: tasked to take clark to the safest possible place he can recover from the pocket universe, you come to a few new revelations of your own upon seeing where clark was raised in the countryside.

content warnings: contains light spoilers from superman (2025), some spoilers but like one-off mention style so you should be ok, established (?) relationship, semi-proofread writing, not the biggest fan of the ending but writer’s block hit

authors note: this could either be really bad or subpar, but bear with me i’m only on my first watch 💔 this is also technically my first fic. will be going back to see it again tho dare i say peak superhero film in recent years???

wc: ~1.4k

The Kent family farm feels isolating in the best way.

It’s something you’d come to notice instantly. You’ve never been too deep into the country; Metropolis, as it stands, was all you’d ever really known and probably ever will know—a place with its downs and ups, sure, but nevertheless the big city in which all your dreams had flourished since before you could even really see them.

And yet, even despite the circumstance—that is, hauling the 6’4 brick wall that was a mostly immobilized Clark Kent up the path to his parents’ front door—you could take even the briefest of moments to appreciate the silence, the tranquility of the farm. There wasn’t the whisper of crowded noise for miles upon miles, and you liked it. Stillness was something hard to come by in your life back home, whether that be due to the demands of heralding upcoming events back to back at the Daily Planet, or even trying to wrap your head around this not-quite-relationship between you and Clark for the last few months, you were kept on your toes. Being raised here, though, you thought, how wasn’t Clark supposed to become the humble, honest person he was today? It wasn’t all about being metahuman.

You introduced yourself briefly to his parents upon exiting the shuttle, explained as best as you could the situation from which you both crash landed from without giving them too much more to worry about. Johnathan and Martha were quick, unraveling Clark’s form from your caving shoulders as you all walked to the front door. They ushered you both with gentle words that reassured your own ears as the four of you made your way down the hall towards his childhood bedroom.

God, his room. Sometimes you had trouble imagining what life was like before for Clark. You knew some of what he told you about his adoptive parents, about what life was like here on the farm. He’d even mentioned taking you to visit someday. You were certain it was something he’d shrug off, but he’d insisted he meant it. And though the circumstances could’ve been better, sure, as you walked around slowly observing the figurines, posters, and books that made him him, you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how similar you both were.

You watched on as the Kent’s continued to comfort their son, replying with all the calm reassurance you could offer when Johnathan asked if their boy would be okay, until both of them stood, Martha with the intention to bring you back a cup of tea. You thanked her with a smile, watching as she left until the room grew silent.

Then you heard a rumble.

“Geez, don’t act so shy”.

The words almost made you jump a bit, regardless of how strained they sounded. You looked over at the previously presumed to be knocked out Clark making the effort to stare back at you, and the sight brought an awkwardly breathy laugh past your lips. “Sorry,” you apologized quietly, straightening from your position beside a bookshelf. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake back up”.

“Neither was I,” Clark’s grin is a mere raise of one corner of his mouth, but it’s enough to warm you just like it always does. “You don’t have to stand so far, y’know. Come sit down”.

He tries to pat the (little to nothing) space beside him on his childhood bed, and you grin at the effort. You make your way over, the bed dipping beneath your weight as you settle against his side. You fold your hands in your lap, then unfold them, pacing in your mind over what to say, if you should even say something more to begin with—he’s barely conscious after all.

You find some words finally when you feel his eyes burning into your skin. “I really like your parents,” you offer, turning to him slightly. “You can just…feel how much they really care about you. That’s really special”.

Clark gives something between a grunt and a hum of agreement, tilting his head on the pillow to look at you better and offering you a real smile. “Yeah. They’re incredible”.

And though his words are kind, certain, you feel like you can sense a sadness behind his eyes as he looks away from you. You think you know why, but you won’t pry on it, not now. You’d heard his heartbroken whisper to Martha about his birth parents, more resigned than how he’d spoken to you about the same thing before leaving to turn himself in. About how their message wasn’t what it seemed—how he wasn’t who he thought he was. And then Clark looks at you again and says your name softly, forcing your thoughts away from all of that. “I’ll be alright”.

“I know,” you nod swiftly, “I heard Terrific—“

“No,” Clark shakes his head in a definitive whisper. Then, he extends one of his hands to take yours where it rests on your side, his palm swallowing the back of your hand, encouraging you to really look at him and not speaking again until you do. “I don’t mean just my body. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m telling you now. I’ll be alright. All of me”.

You blink at him for a moment, your brows softening, but you don’t try to pull your hand away. It’s like the simple enough words are all it takes to ease that nagging in your brain, not just about this and all that had happened not even an hour before, but all that’s to come when he recovers and faces the world again.

“I know that it might not be much comfort at this point,” you start suddenly, “but I believe you. I meant to say it back at the apartment, before you left, but I—“

You pause, trying to find the words to explain your way of going about all of this but coming up short. If you were being honest you thought you took it all really well, but maybe you hadn’t. You knew Clark wasn’t a monster, but what did your word matter in a pool of hundreds of thousands?

It meant everything.

Clark is silent for enough time after you’ve spoken that you start thinking that he might’ve fallen back asleep. Then he asks, “That’s all you meant to say back then?”

You know what he’s referring to instantly, you just hadn’t thought that despite how battered up and drained of practically all of his energy sources he’d still manage to bring something like that up. His confession (confession? It didn’t feel very confession-like. It felt like a statement, the most normal thing in the world. Clark Kent somehow managed to make “I love you” feel like the least conditional thing in the universe). You could groan about now, but you don’t. You keep holding his hand.

“You know it’s not,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can’t tell whether or not you meant for him to hear it, but Clark does. He squeezes your hand once. “Ok. That’s good. I won’t make you say anything, but…that’s good to know”.

You hum, nodding softly. You think that finally might be the end of it.

“Give me a sign?”

You raise a brow. “A what?”

“A sign,” he repeats casually. “ Don’t say the words until you’re ready, but give me a sign that you reciprocate, maybe. If you want. If you do”.

You’re not really sure how to respond at first. And then you feel your heart flutter. Here he was, as he’d always been. Letting you do things at your own pace. Letting you know that superheroes needed reassurance, too.

Your lips curve up into a faint smile as you look down at him to see he’s already smiling lazily as well. You’ve had your sign since the second he asked, and now Clark knows for sure.

“The Mighty Killjoys,” you say finally, lifting your opposite hand to brush a stray curl away. “They’re not trash”.

In the dim light it’s like Clark’s eyes begin to glimmer before they flutter shut, full of content. “Yeah. That’s a good one”.

You manage a small laugh, shaking your head at him. Then you lean forward, just enough to plant a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Clark,” you say against his skin, not leaving any room for further discussion or debate. “I’ll be here”.

Clark’s eyes remain closed when you pull away, and he obliges you. With another squeeze to your hand, the gentle swipe of his thumb, he takes an exhale that signals that he’s finally succumbed to the weight of slumber.

It’s then that you really get it. The fortress that is this home, this whole farm. The kind of place that could only nourish good and wholeness. Could nourish a hero.

[makeitmingi]

It's The Little Things In Life

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Magic, Comedy, Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Employee!Reader, BestFriend!Yunho, Yunho's Family (Cameo)

Summary: After having the worst week and feeling horrible about life, you went to your best friend's house, wanting to get some comfort. However, you didn't expect that one of his magic experiments to go wrong. But maybe it's not a bad thing because you learnt to enjoy the little things in life.

Word count: 6.8K

Story warning(s): BABY YUNHO ALERT! Also Reader is stressed so she feels down. This story deals with the use of magic/ spells but not in a bad and negative way.

[A/N: It's MAKEITMINGI's tumblr anniversary! This is me, unable to move on from baby Yunho. That's it. I haven't moved on and neither should you. I tried to translate and convey the baby talk/ pronounciation as best as I can.]

It had been an awful week. Just one of those weeks that made you feel like quitting school, qutting your job and moving to another country. It seemed like the week was never going to end and at the end of each day, you felt like breaking down.

You know, just one of those weeks.

Which was why, you dropped your best friend a text, telling him you were going over. You've known each other for so long, his family wasn't even phased when you would randomly show up.

"Is he still asleep?" You looked at your phone, seeing that Yunho hadn't even opened your message.

It was the weekend so you didn't blame him for wanting to sleep in. You would usually be sleeping in too if you weren't so... stressed.

*DING DONG*

"Who is it?" You heard the voice of Yunho's mum sound out from inside before she came to open the door. She poked her head out, eyes sparkling when she saw that it was you.

"(y/n) ah!" She opened the door wider. You grinned and moved to slot yourself into her embrace, letting her hug you.

"Hi, omonim. I brought everyone bagel sandwiches." You told her.

"Aish, silly girl. I told you, you don't always have to bring things when you're dropping by. You're family!" She chided but received the paper bag of food.

"I want to spoil you and abonim every once in a while! Is Yunho in? I texted him to let him know that I was coming over but he didn't reply so I figured that he's still sleeping." You asked, removing your shoes as she closed the door behind you. There was an odd expression that crossed her face, only for a split second.

"Ah... About that..." She let out a soft sigh.

"What's wrong? Did something happen to Yunho?" Your eyes widened with worry.

"Yeobo, you're scaring the poor girl." Yunho's dad appeared. You smiled and ran to hug him too. With them only have Yunho and Gunho as children, you were basically their beloved daughter.

"It's not that anything inherently bad happened to Yunho. He's not injured or anything..." Mr Jeong said.

"Wait, I'm confused." You scratched your head.

"It might be easier if we just show you. Yunho ah!" Mrs Jeong called down the hallway. There was a light pattering of footsteps before a small figure appeared in front of you.

You froze, eyes widened as you took in the small figure in front of you. He stared back at you with big, adorable eyes.

"T-This is a joke, right? A prank of some sort..." You turned to look at the two elders.

"Unfortunately, it's not. Yunho was experimenting with new spells yesterday and he accidentally turned back his body's clock." Mr Jeong sighed.

"So that's really Yunho?" You squeaked. Mr and Mrs Jeong nodded in confirmation. Yunho beamed, jumping forward to hug his mother's leg, burying his face against the material of his pants. You recognised him from the baby pictures that Mrs Jeong showed you before.

Yunho's family were one of the gifted ones that knew magic and spells. It was common but you didn't have affinity for magic like they did so you never practiced.

"Is this permenant?" You asked.

"No, it should wear off but we don't know how long. Gunho's trying to find a reversal spell now. This boy... he always gets distracted when he's practicing spells." Mr Jeong shook his head.

"Mmm, I get it. I remember the last time he gave himself jelly legs and couldn't walk properly for a week." You chuckled.

"You know him well enough." Mrs Jeong giggled.

"I ran out this morning to buy some clothes and shoes so we should be fine until he turns back to his regular self." Mr Jeong said as Mrs Jeong sat Yunho beside you on the couch.

"He's at the age where he only knows simple words so we don't know how much he remembers." Mrs Jeong said.

"He might have forgotten me?" You felt your chest tighten as you sounded the words out.

"We don't know, (y/n). It's a body clock spell so the clock might have turned on his memories too. He's just a kid so we can't exactly ask him what he remembers." Mr Jeong said with a sorry smile.

"I see... I understand." You nodded. They were visibly distraught by this too, you didn't want to burden them with your own worries.

"Hi, Yunho." You turned to the child beside you and spoke in a higher tone, one that you would use with children. He looks no older than 3 years old, maybe even younger. Hearing his name, Yunho looked up at you, blinking in confusion. There was no familiarity or recognition in his eyes as he faced you.

"Why are you suddenly so cute?" You mumbled as held out your palm, letting him place his smaller hand in yours. Mr and Mrs Jeong laughed fondly at the two of you.

"Maybe he does recognise you." Mrs Jeong squeezed your shoulder as Yunho moved the fiddle with the bracelets around your wrist.

"I'm usually not very good with kids. Never really know how to play with them." You stated, watching Yunho.

"Oh, don't worry, (y/n). Yunho's always been a happy, silly child. He's never really fussed or cried a lot." His parents assured you, going to eat the sandwiches that you bought them.

"Have you eaten, dear?" Mrs Jeong asked.

"Yes, I have. Please go ahead and enjoy." You smiled. Even if you did eat, Mr Jeong did get you a glass of juice.

"Pease." Yunho suddenly said. You tilted your head in confusion at what he was trying to say.

"Pease." He repeated the same word, looking up at you with his puppy dog eyes and chubby cheeks. He then looked at your glass of juice on the table, pointing at it with his finger.

"Oh! Sure, Yun." You smiled softly, reaching out to take the glass, holding the straw out to his lips. You were careful, not wanting the edge of the straw to hit his lip or something since you've never taken care of a child on your own before.

"Is it good?" You cooed and took a tissue to wipe his mouth. He nodded his head with a smile.

"Yum!" He grinned. You felt your heart melt, even as a child, he was still able to have this effect on you.

"(y/n), you can take Yunho out, if you'd like. You don't have to stay here the whole day with him. I'm sure he would like to go out and play too." Mrs Jeong giggled from her seat at the dining table.

"But I don't know how to take care of a kid... What if I mess up or he cries?" You panicked slightly.

"You won't mess up, (y/n). If you want to do it, do it. Don't let your doubts and worries stop you." Mr Jeong said confidently.

"What can I do that is... kid friendly?" You asked.

"I'm sure you can do what you and Yunho usually do when you both hang out. That doesn't have to change. Who knows, you might have more fun with kid Yunho than older Yunho." Mrs Jeong winked.

"Yunho, would you like to go out and play with me?" You bent down to his eye level.

"Pay?" He tilted his head. You nodded in confirmation. He burst out into excited laughter, surprising you by throwing himself into your arms.

"Woah, be careful. I swear, even as a child, you still like to do this to me." You mumbled, making Yunho's parents laugh. Yunho, who was obviously taller and towered over you, always like to put his entire body weight and frame over your own smaller one to make you lose your balance.

"You might have to go buy him some snacks. We obviously are not prepared to have a baby in the house." Mr Jeong chuckled as Mrs Jeong brought Yunho to the room to change his clothes.

"I will. When I took care of my nephew, I did learn some things about caring for children." You scratched your head.

"You'll be fine. Yunho is still Yunho, he honestly hasn't changed much since he was a kid." Mr Jeong patted your shoulder.

While a part of you was worried that you didn't know how to care for 2 year old Yunho, the other reason for your uncertainty was because you were mentally exhausted.

After the week you had, you didn't know if you had the mental energy to care for a child.

The whole reason you were here was to seek comfort from Yunho, not take on the responsibility of caring for a 2 year old.

"Here we go!" Mrs Jeong led Yunho out. But seeing how adorable your best friend was, you just couldn't leave him. You bent down in front of him, a soft smile on your face.

"Be good, Yunho ah. Don't give (y/n) too much trouble." His parents said as you wore your shoes.

"Come on." You leaned over to help Yunho wear his shoes. He looked at you in awe as you gently secured his feet into his shoes. As you stood up to bow and bid Yunho's parents goodbye, Yunho reached out to grasp your hand with his own.

"Out." He said.

"Yes, we're going out, Yunho ah. Thank you, abonim and omonim. We'll be heading off now." You bowed your head.

"Have fun, you two. And (y/n), stop worrying too much. Just have fun and enjoy yourself. You may even learn a thing or two." Mrs Jeong reached over to hug you.

"Thank you." You squeezed her with your free arm. With that, you and Yunho left his parents' place.

The first thing you did was head to a supermarket. You figured that Yunho would need some snacks and juice.

"1, 2, 3!" You counted and lifted Yunho up so he could sit in the trolley. He squealed out in laughter, standing in the middle and holding the sides for support.

"Sit, please." You said. He looked at you before slowly squatting down and sitting.

"Thank you." You patted his head and began to walk through the supermarket with Yunho.

"까까 (kka kka)! 까까 (kka kka)!" Yunho exclaimed and pointed excitedly as he saw the familiar snacks. People that were around you aww'd and cooed at how cute Yunho was.

Even as a 2 year old, Yunho still loved and knew his food. He knew which were the best snacks to pick out. You offered him biscuits and crackers options, skipping the chips entirely since it felt wrong to be letting a 2 year old eat unhealthy chips. You placed the snacks he chose in the trolley beside him.

"Ooh wahhhh! 까까 (kka kka)..." His eyes sparkled as he looked around at all the snacks that surrounded him. Like it was a dream to be surrounded by all these unlimited treats.

"That's right, they're all for you, Yun." You smiled fondly before continuing on your way.

"Sorry, ma'am. Do you have juice that's for little kids?" You asked the clerk.

"Aisle 2. Your baby is very cute, by the way." She complimented. You looked at Yunho, who was now hugging one of the biscuit boxes like it was a stuffed animal.

"T-Thanks." You didn't bother to correct her, it would have been too complicated to explain everything.

"Let's get you some juice..." You looked at the options. Since you wanted to get 'baby friendly' ones, you read the ingredients carefully.

"Grape and apple." You placed the pack of small boxes down in the trolley. At some point, Yunho turned his body to face you as you pushed the trolley. When you met his eyes, you laughed.

"You've always wanted to sit in the trolley, right? I always said you were too big but now you can." You pointed out.

"Big!" He repeated. You nodded with a hum, watching him for a few seconds. The way he stared up at you, still hugging the box of biscuits to his chest, he was still Yunho. You took your phone out to snap a picture of him.

After grabbing a few more things and paying at the check out, you put the shopping bags over one shoulder and reached out to hold Yunho's hand. He smiled brightly and held your hand tightly.

"Shall we go to... the park (공원 gongwon)?" You asked Yunho. He nodded excitedly, jumping up and down.

"고워 (gowo)!" He cheered, raising his tiny fist repeatedly.

"Yeah!" You cheered with him, sharing his happiness and excitement. Luckily, the park wasn't too crowded and you managed to find a shaded spot under a tree.

"Hang on, Yun." You took out the picnic mat you bought and laid it on the ground.

"Ooo!" You turned to find Yunho crouched down a few steps away, looking at the vibrant coloured flower bed.

"Isn't it pretty, Yun?" You asked, crouching down next to him. He reached out to grasp on, plucking it and holding it out to you. You smiled softly, taking the flower.

"Thanks, Yun." You patted his head. He grinned and reached out to kiss your cheek. You blinked in surprise.

Yes, Yunho was now a 2 year old. But you knew this was still your Yunho, your best friend and the person you have had a crush on for years. But you've never had the courage to express your feelings for him because you were afraid that it would change the dynamic of your friendship.

And you knew, you wouldn't be able to survive if your friendship with Yunho ended. He was your everything, your rock, your solace and your comfort person.

"Play!" Yunho began to run around the field, jumping up and down as he just enjoyed the weather and space.

"Be careful, Yun!" You called out, making sure you were watching him the entire time.

Every time he ran a few steps, he would stop and turn to look at you, as if he was also making sure that he could see you all the time. He would even wave at you a few times.

"Hi!" You giggled as you waved back every time.

There was a smile on your face the whole time you watched him. He was still the happy person you knew.

You thought back to the hard week you had, feeling the anxiety and negativity creep up your throat. But it didn't last long as you watched Yunho run towards you, tripping on his feet and falling over.

"YUN!" You jumped to your feet, feeling your heart sink to your stomach as you ran to him.

"Aigo... Hurts..." He whimpered as you pulled him up, wrapping your arms around him. Yunho wrapped his arms around your neck and you lifted him up, returning back to where the picnic mat was, with him in your arms. The first thing you did was check him for injuries.

"It hurts, doesn't it? Aww..." You hugged him as he whined against you, his face against your neck as you rubbed his back. Thankfully, there were no wounds on him.

"It's okay, you're okay." You continued to comfort him. He pulled away to face you, meeting your eyes.

"까까 (kka kka)..." He suddenly said.

"Alright, let's have some snacks." You were just relieved that he was okay. You took some wet wipes out to wipe his hands and used your handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his cheeks and forehead.

"Here you go." You opened the snacks and placed it down. Yunho casually moved to sit in your lap like you were a chair.

"Gosh, you scared me, Yun..." You said softly, leaning your head against the back of his head.

"까까 (kka kka)?" He turned to you and held out a small milk biscuit in his fingers. You moved forward to eat it from his fingers, being careful not to bite his fingers.

"Yummy." You tickled his tummy. Yunho laughed and squirmed in your lap but made no move to get off.

"Juice... Pease." Yunho requested. With one arm, you held him to you as you reached forward to get him a juice box, you didn't watch to accidentally push him off your lap or something. Him falling earlier definitely made you more cautious. You stuck a straw into the box and held it for him to drink.

"No, don't squeeze it. Let me hold it." You said when he tried to take if out of your hand to hold it himself. The last thing you wanted was for him to get juice all over himself.

You took your phone out, playing some music as you and Yunho just spent some time together. He bobbed his head to the beat.

"You still love music and dance, huh?" You chuckled.

"Look, Yun. A butterfly." You pointed out when you noticed a butterfly had settled on the edge of your picnic mat.

"Wahhhh..." He looked at it in amazement, turning to you to see if you shared the same awe that he had. A child really found amazement and excitement in every little thing.

"No... No go..." He shook his head with a pout when the butterfly flew away.

"Aww, it's alright, Yun. He's going back to his family. Say bye bye." You waved. Yunho pouted at your words.

"Bye bye." He followed your lead and waved before throwing himself into your arms again to hug you. If adult Yunho reminded you of a big golden retriever, baby Yunho reminded you of a puppy.

"Do you want to play some more?" You asked once he was done with the portion of snacks you gave him.

"Nooo..." He shook his head, still keeping his hold on you. You checked the time on your phone, maybe you could drop by the coffee shop you and Yunho frequent then head back to your house for Yunho to have a nap.

2 year olds need naps... right?

"Let's pack up and go home." You packed up and Yunho patiently waited for you, one hand holding onto the material of your shorts the whole time.

"Thank you for being so patient, Yun." You smiled and held his hand, going to the regular coffee shop.

"(y/n)! You're alone toda- Who is this?" The owner, who always recognises you and Yunho, came out from behind the counter.

"Oh my, he's so cute! Look at those cheeks." She squealed. Yunho shyly hid behind you, gripping onto your leg. You chuckled and put a hand on Yunho's head to assure him.

"He kind of looks familiar...?" She tilted her head. You panicked slightly, hoping she wouldn't recognise Yunho.

"I'll get an iced latte. And a berry smoothie." You ordered.

"Sure. Yunho's busy today?" She asked as she keyed in your order. You nodded with a hum and paid for your drinks. As you waited at the end of the counter, Yunho looked around curiously.

People who looked on cooed and waved at Yunho, who shyly waved back. Despite all this, Yunho kept himself glued to you. He never showed an desire to wander away from you or leave your side. You were grateful you didn't need to chase after him like parents you see running after their "escapee" kids.

"Here you go. I put in a cookie there, on the house, for the cutie." The owner gave you the paper bag.

"Thank you. Say, 'thank you'." You turned to Yunho. He blinked at you, confused for a few seconds, and bowed to the lady, who waved at him as you led him out of the coffee shop.

"We're home." When you reached home, you helped Yunho remove his shoes and socks.

"We'll have this later." You put Yunho's smoothie in the fridge first. A part of you didn't want to be giving him so much sugar.

"You must be tired." You said, removing his jacket and cap. Then you washed his hands and feet, and wiped his face. After that, you changed out of your clothes and washed up.

"Sleepy?" You asked. You laid against the headboard of your bed with Yunho in your lap.

"Mmmm." He whined, laying down on you, resting his head on your chest.

"Even though you're like this, you still come over to my house just to sleep." You laughed in realisation. Yunho's parents always laughed at how you both hang out by just sleeping in each other's beds.

You remembered seeing what your cousin did, rubbing and patting her son's back until he fell asleep. So you did the same, gently patting Yunho's back. He must have been tired because he fell asleep quickly. You used your phone's camera to check.

Because you were afraid of moving and waking him up, you just laid there. Yunho's soft breathing making you feel tired too.

"I guess it's nap time for me too." You let out a soft sigh before closing your eyes to sleep.

It was only when Yunho stirred, letting out soft huffs and whines, that you woke up. You instinctively patted his back to give him some comfort but he was awake.

"Morning, Yun. Did you have a good nap?" You smiled, fixing his hair for him.

Yunho beamed and rolled off you to sit on the bed. He grasped your hand, mesmerised by the glittery nail polish you had on.

"Of course you like it. You chose this colour." You reminded.

You realised that throughout today, you barely thought about the bad week you had. Even as a kid, Yunho managed distract you from all the negativity and stress you had.

He was still here for you like always, taking your mind off the anxiety you felt.

"Oh, Yun..." You quickly wiped away the tears that formed.

Of course, you didn't think you would spend the day doing this, taking care of a kid. But despite what you were feeling, you wouldn't leave Yunho when he needed you because you knew he would drop everything to help you too if you were in trouble, no matter what he was going through.

"Why?" Yunho surprised you by reaching out to put his palm against your cheek.

"I'm fine, Yun. Don't worry." You laughed through your tears. He came to you, putting his face close to yours. Then he wrapped his arms around your neck.

"Thanks." You hugged him. It didn't matter his age, Yunho was still giving you hugs and wiping your tears away.

"You know, maybe I like you like this. It's much easier to hug you than your usual gangly self." You teased.

"Let's get out of bed." You stood up and stretched your limbs since they were stiff from having laid there. Sitting on the bed, watching your moves, Yunho lifted his arms over his head too.

"Oooh, good stretch!" You praised before helping him off the bed. But as you were going to leave the bedroom, Yunho whined.

"Hug!" He opened his arms up.

"You don't need me to carry you, Yun." You raised an eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips. But Yunho began stomping his feet with a displeased frown on his face.

"Hug! Hug! Huggggg!" He whined with little hops, threatening to cry. You looked at him before sighing in defeat.

"You so owe me, Jeong Yunho... You're lucky you're cute." You grumbled and bent down to pick him up, adjusting him in your arms so he's comfortable and you won't drop him. With a content Yunho, you walked out with him sitting at your hip.

"Want a smoothie?" You asked, standing before the fridge with him and taking the smoothie cup out with your free hand.

"Smoonie!" He tried to pronounce it, raising a finger. You chuckled and nuzzled your nose against one of his chubby cheeks. Since you weren't used to it, you sat Yunho on your counter.

"Just for a bit." You retrieved the sippy cup that Yunho's parents lent you and poured some of the smoothie inside.

"Here." You held it out to him. You made sure that he was holding the cup with both hands.

Then you sat on the couch, looking at Yunho with an amused expression on your face. He sat comfortably in your lap and drank his smoothie, not bothered by your staring.

"Comfortable, are you?" You snorted. He blinked and turned to you, tilting his head.

"Nevermind." You mumbled, looking away. Since you were stuck here, being a seat to Yunho, you took your phone and opened the camera.

"Yun, look here. Say 'kimchi'." You called to him.

"Kinchi!" He scrunched his face into what he probably assumed was a smile and you giggled, taking a few pictures in a row. He was so goofy and funny. There was a picture of him just staring at you in confusion, that was definitely the cutest picture you've ever seen. You put your phone aside.

"All done. Let's play with some toys." You took out the toy cars that Mrs Jeong had packed in the bag for Yunho. While Yunho was distracted with that, you went to wash the sippy cup.

"I filled it with water in case you get thirsty... You know what, I don't even know why I explain things to you." You sighed.

"Car." He lifted the car.

"That's right. It's a car, a blue car." You ruffled his hair and laid down on the ground to watch him comfortably. But at some point, you grew listless and laid on your back.

"How am I still tired?" You asked no one in particular, grabbing your phone to scroll on social media.

"Yah, yah. What do you think you're doing?" You were shocked when Yunho came to you, basically sitting where your diaphragm was.

"Play. Yunho." He said.

"How am I going to play with you sitting on me? Don't think you can get away with doing whatever you want just because you're a cute kid." You scoffed but took a picture of him like this.

Yunho didn't budge. Instead he proceeded to lay on top of you, his arms draped along your sides. You sighed and rested your hand on his back, just in case he falls or rolls off. Yunho always got away with doing whatever he wanted, you just gave in that easily.

"Don't act tired. We just woke up from a nap." You said. You didn't know if he really understood what you said but he shook his head.

"I'm fine, Yun. You don't have to always stay with me. I'm not going to break down or something. Yes, I had a bad week but really, I'm okay." You persuaded.

*BZZ BZZ*

"Hello?" You answered your phone while laying there with Yunho still sat on you.

"(y/n) ah! Great news! Gunho found the reversal spell so you can bring Yunho back when you're both done with activities and he'll be back to his usual self."

"Oh..." You trailed off. You didn't mean to sound disappointed, honestly, you didn't know how you felt about this.

"Are you disappointed? You can still spend time with him, if you'd like. Or even left him sleep over."

"No, it's okay. I can't be selfish... Yunho deserves to go back to his usual self." You said, lifting your free hand to let Yunho press his small palm against your own.

"Alright, if you're sure... We'll see you and Yunho in a bit. Be safe!"

After hanging up, you stared at Yunho, who stared back at you. You couldn't help but laugh before you carefully sat up, hand still holding onto Yunho to keep him balanced. As you walked to the room to change and get ready, Yunho followed behind you. He still stuck by you the entire time.

"Time to go home, Yun. Get back to your regular self." You lightly pinched his cheek, kissing his other one. Yunho stood on the bed so he was closer to your height.

"Why? What's wrong?" You asked as he wrapped his arms around your neck. You stroked his back.

"What?" You looked at him, trying to understand his sudden change in mood. He pursed his lips into an unhappy pout.

"You don't want to go home?" You asked.

"No! Here with you." He pouted, trying to convey his feelings to you. You moved to sit on the bed, pulling Yunho into your lap and wrapping your arms around him.

"We'll still be together, Yun. I'm not leaving you." You smiled softly, leaning forward to kiss his head.

"Don't like." He huffed.

You let out a barely audible sigh, not that you were frustrated with Yunho. He was too cute be frustrated with. But you were just unsure on what you were supposed to do now.

From what you know, adults lied to kids all the time. But with Yunho's pouty, puppy dog face, you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him.

"But omma and appa are at home, Yun. Wouldn't you want omma, appa AND me? You can have all of us." You tried your best to negotiate while speaking baby talk. Whether he really understood what you were negotiating was beyond you.

"Pomise? Stay with Yun?" He looked up at you with sad look, lifting an index finger, obviously mistaking it for the pinky.

"I promise." You nodded.

Now, your chest felt tight as you sat in the cab with Yunho in your arms. Yes, your arms hurt since you weren't use to carrying a kid but he wanted to stay in your arms.

And of course, you couldn't say no. His cheek pressed against your chest, it was the quietest he has been all day.

"Have a nice night, miss." The cab driver said.

"Thank you." You bowed your head and exited the cab. But you didn't go up right away, you sat on a bench downstairs. Yunho lifted his head to look at you, confused why you were sitting down.

"Yun, you know I'll never leave you. No matter what. It doesn't matter how old you are. You always make my life better." You said.

"Love." He suddenly said.

"Yeah, I love you. I don't know if you'll remember any of this but I love you." You whispered.

"Love." He repeated, kissing your cheek and beaming. You chuckled and stood up with him in your arms. At this point, it felt so right, the way he fit into your arms.

When you arrived at Yunho's parents' house, they were surprised when they opened the door and saw Yunho in your arms. They cooed at how cute the two of you were while you greeted them, trying to urge Yunho to do the same but he kept his arms wound tight around your neck, his face pressed against your shoulder.

"It seems like you both had a good time." Mr Jeong laughed as you struggled to remove your shoes.

"We did." You giggled, tilting slightly to let Mrs Jeong remove Yunho's shoes. You entered the house and saw Gunho there. He waved at you while you smiled at him.

"Come on, hyung. Let's go." Gunho said, trying to take Yunho from you. But Yunho whined loudly, shaking his head.

"Yun..." You rubbed his back.

"I've never seen him like this before. Even when he was really 2 years old. It must be (y/n), no matter how old he is, he never wants to leave your side." Mrs Jeong giggled fondly.

"It'll be okay, Yun." You comforted. As you carefully plucked Yunho off you, his bottom lip quivered and a big pout appeared.

"Alright, let's go." Gunho picked Yunho up and brought him to the room with Mr Jeong.

"No..." You heard his soft cries and whimpers.

"He'll be okay, dear. Honestly, we would have you there but when he turns back, he won't be wearing any clothes." Mrs Jeong said honestly with a small smile, handing you a cup of tea, inviting you to sit with her on the couch.

"I understand... Will he remember any of this?" You asked, taking a sip of the tea. The sound of Yunho's cries might haunt you for a while.

"We don't know for sure. With magic, things are still unpredictable. He'll either remember everything, bits and pieces, or nothing at all." She informed with a shrug.

"How was it though? I know you weren't expecting to babysit when you came over." She laughed.

"It's still Yun. He's not different at 2 years old actually. You know, I came here, wanting comfort from him." You sighed.

"At first, I didn't think I had it in me to take care of a kid, especially after the week I've had. But I'm glad I did it. Yes, I took care of Yun but in some way, he still took care of me." You told her.

"You and Yunho are always taking care of each other." She held your hand with a soft smile.

"Yeah... Being with baby Yun today, he taught me to appreciate and enjoy the little things. To forget everything else." You said.

"I barely thought about the week I had. Instead, I enjoyed choosing snacks at the supermarket, I cheered for the park, I said goodbye to a butterfly, I sat and enjoyed peace." You added.

"That's great, (y/n) ah. I'm glad Yunho can provide you that comfort." Mrs Jeong pulled you in to hug you.

"(y/n)?" You perked up when you heard Yunho call you. There he was, your friendly giant, coming out of the room, dressed in his regular clothes and speaking to you. You stood up and he came over, pulling you into a tight hug. And like always, his large frame basically wrapped around you.

"Hi." You giggled, voice slightly muffled by Yunho's shirt pressed against your face. You felt his hand come up to stroke the back of your head.

"Come, let's talk." Yunho held your hand, taking you away from the prying eyes and ears of his family.

"Y-Yun, wait. Do you remember anything?" You asked as you followed him to his room.

"Barely, I'm not sure if I'll remember everything at all... Were you freaked out or scared? I'm sorry. You must have been shocked." He said, closing the door after the both of you entered.

"No, Yun. Nothing to apologise for. I was confused, yes. But I'm quite used to your magic antics." You giggled.

"Plus, you're very cute as a 2 year old." You added, sitting on his bed while he spoke to you.

"I am, aren't I?" He smirked proudly.

"But you're exactly the same. The same audacity, the same chaos." You chuckled, making Yunho squint his eyes at you with a pout. You laughed and took your phone out, showing him a picture.

"See?! Same pout." You showed him. He took your phone and started scrolling through the photos you took.

"Wow, you took a lot of photos. That obsessed with me?" He smirked.

"Yah! Give me back my phone!" You reached out to him. But he was taller than you, holding your phone over his head. You really hoped he hadn't seen that you had already set a picture of baby Yunho hugging the box of biscuits as your home screen wallpaper.

"I miss when you were a baby! You were more needy of me!" You frowned, stomping on his foot. He winced and folded, letting you snatch your phone back.

"Wait, Yun. Seriously, how much do you remember?" You asked seriously.

"Hmm..." He sat on the bed, laying down and spreading his arms over his head. You sat down beside him, turning to meet his eyes.

"I remember testing spells then suddenly, everything was bigger, I couldn't really speak... The rest is muddy." He said as his rubbed his forehead with a small frown on his face.

So, he didn't remember you telling him that you love him.

"Did something important happen that I should remember?" He tilted his head.

"N-No!" You answered a little too quickly. Unfortunately, Yunho knew you well and you were unable to hide the squeak in your voice. He gave you a knowing smile.

"It's nothing, Yun." You let out an exhausted sigh. He sat up, wrapping an arm around you to pull you to his side.

"I'm sorry, I know you came over after having a bad week. Then you had to take care of a kid." He apologised in a soft voice.

"No, Yun. Don't apologise. I enjoyed myself with baby Yun, really. Even if you were 2 years old, I think you still provided me to comfort that I needed." You giggled, remembering all the moments you had with Yunho today. Maybe it's not all that bad that he doesn't remember, it'll be a secret between you and 2 year old Yunho.

Yunho suddenly dragged you down to lay with him. Or rather, lay on him, your head on his chest. You squirmed and tried to move away but his grip only tightened on you.

"Silly girl, I love you too." He said, kissing the top of your head. You froze, your eyes widening.

"Wait! You do remember?" You slapped his chest, lifting your head to look at him.

"Bits and pieces." He laughed cheekily. You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart race. Now you didn't know if he was telling you the truth or not.

"I don't remember being in that situation physically but it's like a memory I have. I don't know how to explain it or describe it."

"Okay, then tell me what you remember? Or the memory you have." You said with determination.

"I remember wanting to be physically near you all the time, I didn't want to see you leave from my line of sight. I could glue myself to you if I could." He started.

"So, that's why you followed me around like a love sick puppy." You giggled. He squinted his eyes at you.

"Right... I remember you crying and I wanted to comfort you so badly, wipe your tears away. Then, we were sitting on a bench. You looked so sad. And I felt so sad too. I had this feeling like you were leaving me." He continued.

"I would never, Yun. You know that. No matter how old you were, I would never leave you." You said. Yunho smiled softly, pulling you in to hug you to his chest.

"I know. But I felt that fear, that's why I tried to tell you that I love you. Then you said it back." He stroked your head.

"Is it true? That you love me... like that?" You asked.

"(y/n), I've had a crush on you for years. I've just never had the courage to tell you. I didn't want to ruin what we already had." He said, reaching out to cup your cheek.

"Is it silly that I felt the same way? That's why I've never said anything." You giggled.

"We're both silly then." He chuckled, bringing you closer to him. His lips hovered above yours, seemingly waiting for permission.

With a nod from you, Yunho leaned forward to press his lips against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck before pulling away. He chuckled and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I'll miss baby Yun. But I think I like spending time with regular Yun more." You said.

"You think?!" Yunho gasped, shooting you an offended look.

"You were just so cute, Yun. I've never seen you cuter." You laughed, remembering how Yunho's chubby cheeks, enthusiatic exclaimations and cheeky smile. Yunho frowned, crossing his arms to evidently show that he was sulking. It just reminded you of baby Yunho more, who sulked the same way.

"No, you're mine. Even if 2 year old me was also me, I don't care, you're now mine. Adult Yunho's." He declared and wrapped his arms around your waist possessively.

"Even though you've gone back to normal, you are still a big baby." You teased, squishing his cheeks. He slapped your hands away.

"Am not!" He protested.

You gave him a quick peck on the cheek, just feeling so grateful for Yunho and his presence.

Because no matter what, it seemed like Yunho always knew what to do. With baby Yunho, he taught you to enjoy the little moments in life, always smile and laugh, get up even if you fall and hurt yourself.

And now, adult Yunho, was showing you all the love and kindness, providing you comfort and security like a shield that protected you from the harshness of the world.

"At least I finally got to sit in the shopping cart with you pushing me around and I could sit in your lap." He suddenly shrugged.

"So, you do remember more than what you told me!" You exclaimed.

"You'll never know~" He sang, a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes at him, guessing that he probably remembers everything that happened today.

"Well, you better pay me back for all the snacks and juice boxes I bought you." You threw a pillow at him.

[timkontheunsure]

Hope you don't mind me answering here. It ment I could break my answer down a bit, and go point by point. 🙂 (My dyslexic butt was struggling with the lack of formatting and wall of text that comments end up as).

@kitty-meow-meow-83

"I don’t really see them interacting a much at all. They are similar cause they and Ozzie are foils to Stolitz."

Them being foils is one of the reasons I want to see them interact, because Stolas and Fizz have a lot in common.

Both Fizz and Stolas have had recent active abuse. It'd be good for both of them to talk to someone who's not their partner about this.

But also just they're alot more similar personality wise than either of them is to Blitz, or Ozzie.

With them both being the detail oriented one of the couple,

They both have very sweet personalities but with similar level of just enough bitch lol,

and both Fizz and Stolas are excellent at calling Blitz on his shit.

I can see them getting along with eachother well. And it would be great if Blitz's soon-to-be-partner could be on good terms with Blitz's oldest friend. It would be good for Blitz.

"Fizz has self worth issues stemming from his childhood exploitation and at the time, perceived betrayal from Biltz."

Yes they do, and then that continues under Mammon. But that's very similar to how Stolas' self worth issues where corsed by Paimon shaping him into a tool, and then continues under Stella.

Neither Fizz nor Stolas had a lot of choice, they were shaped for a task from a very early age. And constantly told they weren't measuring up by their abusers.

It was also a job they both found joy in at first, untill the demanded to be perfect and hid who they really where got bigger. Till both were stuck in some form of the closet, Stolas not allowed to be gay, Fizz not allowed to be in love.

"I also don’t think Fizz has any ground to stand on about communicating to partners. He and Ozz are not this paragon of a perfect relationship with perfect communication."

No, I don't think Fizzmodeous is brilliant at communicating with eachother either. They have a lot of blind spots.

But I do think Fizz is very good at reading his oldest friend. And would be pretty good at explaining when Stolas has missed the blinking obvious.

I also really want Fizz to spend more time around Stolitz; to understand how odd some of the things he and Ozzie haven't been talking about is.

Because they've spent almost their entire relationship in the closet they've not had any of the conversations about their social gap.

And this has left Fizz stuck dealing with the fall out by himself. He's the one getting kidnapped, stalked, or hit, or his safety is threaten in a way Ozzie doesn't.

Where as Stolitz have been public since straight after Real Fast.

And while their attempts at talking about their status difference didn't go so well in full moon and apologies tour; they are still trying.

With Blitz explaining about jobs, and food expenses, the need to have clothes but not always the ability to pay, ect. Just a lot of small conversations about real life.

Fizzarolli has never had any of those conversations with Ozzie, and I think being around Stolitz might prompt him to do so.

There's also the big elephant in the room, that Ozzie didn't try that hard to save Blitz. But Stolas did. I think that's going to wake Fizz up to how Ozzie really sees imps like him.

"Fizz has been exploited and used all his life until he reached Ozz and even then, he’s the younger (seemingly sugar baby type) partner who until mammons show STILL thought he had to earn ozzs love and respect by being his best possible self."

Thinking he has to earn love and respect is something that Fizz, Blitz and Stolas all think they have to do.

They belief that all they deserve is conditional on what they can give/do for their loved ones. It's a core belief to each of them, with the idea that they are burdening everyone around them if they don't. That the people they love might leave them if they don't do enough earn the care and affection they receive.

Fizz is actually the most hellthy out the 3 of them with this belief, because it's actively challenging by Ozzie in Crookied. Making him more likely to call it out in Blitz if he sees he's friend show this kind of self hate.

Yes, the age gap does play a part in how Fizz has been accepting things he shouldn't. Like Ozzie repeatedly crossing boundaries without checking, or restricting Fizz's autotomy.

This is another reason I want Fizz to talk to Stolas. The deal was a very dodgy tit for tat set up that piece by piece Stolas and Blitz are working together to make a true healthy relationship.

Fizzmodeous from what we've seen was a healthy relationship, that's ignored a lot of warnings signs, and is now becoming unhealthy.

I want Fizz to be able to ask questions, and have a support structure. Cus at the moment all he has is Ozzie, and that's inheritly unstable. Like Stolas only having Via before.

A two person surport structure are always unstable, because you try to be everything for them.

Always got told to imagine a 2 legged stool, you can balance with just two people; as long as everything goes right. But if either of you wobbles, like you will do because everyone has bad days; you can't really catch your balance. And now you're both going tumbling.

People need community, to be able to take some of the pressure off, to be the 3rd or 4th leg. So you've got someone else to talk to if things are hard. It's what Fizz needs, and it's what Via needs.

"He had to be at his lowest point to even admit this to him. Fizz is the classic example of putting on a fake smile to make everyone else happy and fawning as a trauma response. He would not have the bandwidth at all to handle the minutiae of Stolitz relationship."

I just disagree with this, and that this is how he's handled spending time with the two of them.

Blitz is a indispensable link to Fizz; to the community he's lost throughout his career.

And one of those things that just a fact, is you tend to have to get to know your friends loves, if you want a close relationship. That means spending time with Loona, Millie Moxxie and Stolas.

It's be like Blitz wanting to only be firends with Moxxie, and not interact with Millie. Only putting on a fake smile around her. It just really wouldn't work as a close relationship with Moxxie.

" If anything, Fizz will require a support system, if anything tense happens with him and Ozzie as a result of the trial or Ozzie’s overprotectiveness."

Again that what I think Stolitz will be to Fizz. And a lot of closeness with your old friends, is show through taking the mick, so still think he's end up telling Stolas stories about wee Blitz.

"When you think of that possibility, Fizz only has maybe Blitz to support him (but Blitz is busy supporting his own lover and family/business and lacks any maturity to be of help honestly)."

Dose Blitz lack any emotional maturity to help??? This is a man we're seen do almost nothing but help his loves ones out of crap situations. Or improve their lives no end.

Yer he's got a lot on his plate right now, but I can't see Blitz turning Fizz down when he needs.

Blitz have turned up immediately when asked by Ozzie, and helped him tell Mammon to fuck off.

Blitz will always be there if Fizz needs it, because he loves him. Blitz's driving force is his care for his love ones.

"I think Fizzes lack of outside support could be used as a contrast to Stolas gaining an outside support system from Vasago. I can foresee Vasago being Stolas’s wingman of sorts but also a confidant and guide for improving Stolas’s emotional state and social abilities."

I'm hoping Vasago ends up as friend for Stolas. He could do with more friends. Having a goeita as a friend might also highlight his previous behaviour.

Because while Stolas didn't mean harm, and Vassago seems to be a good boy; I can see Vassago doing dumb stuff because of how he was raised too. I'd like to see Stolas now use the knowledge from living with Blitz and Loona to realise implicit bias.

"With Blitz jealousy hijinks ensuing . Idk I find it such wishful thinking to think fizz, Stolas, Verosika, or Ozz would be friends at all."

Nope. I'm really hoping we don't get jealous Blitz.

Blitz doesn't fight, he just crumples; because he doesn't think he's worth loving.

No, I don't think Verosika or Ozzie will ever be really close to Stolas.

(Here Ozzie and Stolas, here Stolas Vs Verosika)

"Fizz and Stolas maybe, but idk I think it’d be so incredibly awkward. And why would Fizz talk about anything like that with Stolas?"

Again these two have a lot in common. So I don't really see why these two would be awkward together.

They're able to wrap their lover's around their little finger.

They both as kinky as hell (heh) so could definitely have a similar thing to joke about.

Both find Blitz's sence of humour funny. I can see Fizz really having fun building more community ties with Blitz and Stolas together.

"Unless they get in a situation idk why or how they could organically begin to have a dialogue about the past like that. The whole issue with Stolas & Fizz is their inability to talk and open up"

I'm just going to assume you've not done the introduce childhood friend to lover thing, because telling embarrassing stories about them is really common way to get to know them. And Fizz is a very sociable person.

I also think that Fizz would want to get his own back, for Blitz letting him ramble on and embarrass himself so much with this. Telling Stolas a few embarrassing anecdote to brake the ice and even the score seems like the obvious thing to do. 🤭

And a good place to start for Fizz to start getting a wider group of friends.

So who else *needs* Fizz to talk to Stolas

And need him to embarrass the shit out of his oldest friend?

Like every cringy story of Blitz being an adorable dumbass.

But I might legit melt if Fizz says anything about Blitz going on about 'plant can hear you'

[kxsagi]

“𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧”

a/n: this is based off of the facts from isagi’s light novel! 

ac goes to the best isagi artist ever @p1anika

the living room is warm with soft lighting, your favorite blanket tossed lazily across the couch, and the scent of cherry blossom tea still lingering in the air. the TV hums faintly in the background, something light playing that neither you nor isagi is really watching. tonight was supposed to be a quiet one. 

but from the hallway, tiny footsteps race toward you, followed by a hiccuping sob. 

“mommy!” your son cries, throwing himself at your legs. his little fists grip your pants like they’re his lifeline. “mommy, the clouds moved…” 

you exchange a glance with isagi, and he’s already rising from the floor with a soft sigh. you know this look. you've seen it before – on him, all those years ago. 

your son is shaking, his big blue eyes rimmed red with panic. he’s clinging like the sky itself is falling. “it’s gonna rain, i can feel it. the pressure changed. the air is weird. i can smell it, mommy. the rain’s gonna come.” 

you kneel and smooth his hair gently, heart tugging with affection and concern. “it’s okay, baby. rain’s not scary.” 

but he’s trembling harder now, eyes darting toward the window like lightning will strike at any moment. “the teddy bear in my room moved, too,” he whispers in a voice barely audible. “and it’s looking at me…” 

you feel isagi crouch beside you. “hey, champ,” he says gently, reaching out to ruffle your son’s hair, but stopping just short when he senses the boy flinch. “you remember what daddy told you about the sky?” 

your son slowly shakes his head, bottom lip trembling. 

“it’s like a big puzzle,” isagi says, voice soft and steady. “you see the pieces before they fit. you notice things other people don’t. you’re not weird for it. you’re special. just like me.” 

you blink, glancing sideways at your husband, surprised by how calm and sure he is. you remember stories he told you before about how, as a child, every creak of the floorboards sent him running, how he cried at a rattle toy because the noise rattled more than the plastic. 

“daddy used to hide behind grandma when the doorbell rang,” you say, smiling a little. “he was even scared of his own teddy bear once.” 

your son turns his head slowly, still hiccuping, but curiosity blooms in his teary eyes. “really?” 

isagi nods. “i hated it. it had these weird button eyes. grandma gave it to me to help, but i thought it was possessed or something.” he chuckles lightly, and it makes your son giggle, just a little, through the tears. 

you pull your boy into your lap, rocking him gently as he tucks his head under your chin. isagi moves behind you and wraps both of you in his arms, warm and protective. “the sky might change,” he murmurs, “but we’ll always be here with you.” 

“but i feel everything, daddy,” your son mumbles. “my skin hurts when the light is too bright, and sounds are too loud, and even when people talk weird i feel like hiding.” 

“i know,” isagi says, kissing the top of his son’s head. “i know exactly what that’s like. you’re not broken. you’re just... tuned differently. like a superhero with special sensors.” 

“really?” he sniffs. 

“yup. that’s why you never get caught in the rain, right?” isagi points out. “or get bitten by bugs. you’re always the first one to say, ‘it’s gonna be stormy soon,’ and you’re right. every time.” 

your son sits up a little, cheeks still tear-streaked but eyes a bit brighter now. “so i’m like you?” 

isagi nods. “you’re exactly like me.” 

you smile softly, threading your fingers through their dark hair, both of them so alike it makes your heart swell. “which means,” you say, tapping your son’s nose, “you’re going to grow up to be brave, smart, and very, very cool.” 

“but also scared of teddy bears,” isagi deadpans, making you and your son both laugh. 

the storm clouds rumble softly in the distance, but inside this home, held safe in your arms and in isagi’s, your son finally breathes easy. and isagi – seeing his past self in the tiny, trembling form before him – holds him tighter, silently promising to guide him through every strange sound and shifting sky. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[street-smarts00]

Drabble: Hypotheticals

Clark Kent x Reader

Established relationship, fluff

A/N: I watched Superman (twice) and I’m obsessed. This convo came to me while I was at work the other day. I’m still working on Bucky Barnes fics don’t worry. Sadly I’m kinda busy but I'm trying to write every day!

The room was quiet. A gentle, peaceful quiet that didn’t demand anything of you.

Neither of you had said anything in the last ten minutes. Just laying on your couch, resting your head on Clark’s chest. Your fingers were busy tracing over the back of his hand.

“Hey, Clark,” you broke the silence.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“Have you ever watched Superman fly?”

“Yeah I have, a bunch of times. Why?” He asked, his voice cracking at the end in that cute awkward way it always did.

You continued tracing his hand. “Just seems cool.”

“What? Flying?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You paused for a second, thinking. “I wish I could fly.”

He shifted to get a better look at you. “Really?”

“Ever since I was little. It was one of my biggest fantasies as a kid,” you confessed meeting his eyes. “Every time I’d go on the swings at the boardwalk or a carnival, I’d imagine I was flying.”

The corners of his lips turned up into a soft smile. “What would you do if you could fly?”

“Probably be late for work a lot less,” you chuckled.

Clark matched your laugh. It was quiet, but you felt it against his chest. His glasses fell slightly down his nose and he pushed them back up. After, his hand resumed its previous spot, intertwined with yours.

“I’m not sure,” you finally answered.

You sat with his question in silence. Your eyes returned to his hand as you began tracing it again.

He kept his eyes on you though. Watching you with a fond expression that matched just how enamored he was with you.

“What about you?” you inquired, turning back to him. “What would you do if you could fly?”

Clark didn’t have to think very hard about his answer. For someone who really could fly, he didn’t say one of the many things he’s done before. Save a cat from a tree, fly across the world, or even view earth from space. Instead, he said what he’s currently planning to do once he tells you he’s Superman.

“I’d take you with me.” His voice was soft and sincere. “So you could live out your fantasy.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you smiled at him.

“Have I ever told you you’re the sweetest person ever?” You tried to hide how bashful he made you, but he could tell. He always heard the way your heart skipped a beat and sped up when he said things like that.

Clark squinted and pursed his lips, playing along and pretending to ponder the question. “Once or twice.”

He brought your intertwined hands up to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of your hand.

Your smile brightened, “well, I appreciate the hypothetical offer.”

That's the thing though. To Clark, it wasn’t hypothetical.

He wants to take you flying with him. Wants to watch the surprise and shock on your face when he first picks you up. He wants to see the awe as your feet lift off the ground. The excitement as the reality of the moment sinks in.

He can’t wait for the day he can go flying with you.

But first he has to tell you he’s Superman.

He always knew he could trust you. But, like some people have told him, he can be a bit too trusting right off the bat. So, he decided to wait. Wait and see where this goes with you.

Maybe he’s done waiting.

“What if I told you I could fly?”

“I’d be really jealous,” you replied immediately, not taking him seriously.

He smiled, finding your response amusing. “I’m being serious.”

You turned your head to look up at him. Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and confusion.

“I really can fly,” he affirmed. His voice was deeper, like he was speaking truthfully (because he was).

Something in between a scoff and a laugh left your mouth. “What are you gonna tell me next? You’re Superman?”

You felt his hand tense against yours. His lips formed a fine line as he let the question hang in the air. His face had an awkward expression that read yeah, I kinda am.

As you stared at him your eyes went wide and mouth agape.

“Clark!”

[sunsetmade]

hai, hai, can I request prompt #1: “You’re not going home tonight. Stay.” angst, after she and rafe had a fight and she told him she's going home. (I had to repeat because I forgot to add the theme)

— your beloved 🥹 anon who appreciates and loves your work very much

Hi hi! I love this idea, my dear 🥹 anon!

No Matter What

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Prompt: “You’re not going home tonight. Stay.”

The fight hadn’t started as a fight. Not really. It was just one of those days where the air felt too heavy, where everything was slightly out of rhythm—where he was wound too tight and she was trying too hard to smooth it all over. A slow unraveling that neither of them caught in time.

She’d shown up after her shift at the café, soft and sweet like always, bringing him his favorite snack from that little corner bakery downtown—the one she only passed if she went out of her way. She smelled like sugar and vanilla, like warm pastries and honeyed comfort, and she wore that pastel knit sweater he once said made her look like springtime come to life.

But Rafe was already cracking at the edges.

Ward had spent the whole morning chewing him out—money, property, missed calls, some meeting he never agreed to in the first place. His head was still ringing from it, nerves shot, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. His father’s voice was still echoing in his skull, all disappointment and pressure and bullshit expectations. And Rafe hadn’t figured out how to let it go before she walked through the door.

When she leaned against the kitchen counter and asked, all gentle and genuine, “Are you okay?” it should’ve made him exhale. Her voice was soft enough to wrap around his frayed edges if he’d just let it.

But he didn’t.

He kept his back turned a second too long, stared down at the half-empty bottle on the counter like it had answers, and let the tension coil tighter in his chest.

“Just tired,” he muttered, voice clipped. He didn’t even look at her.

She didn’t push—not really—but she stepped a little closer. Reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of his hand. The smallest gesture, simple and steady. Just offering comfort.

But it felt like pressure.

“I said I’m fine,” he bit out, sharper this time. Her hand drew back instinctively, like she’d touched something that might burn her.

There was a beat of silence. Her eyes searched his face, soft and a little confused, but still trying. Still patient. “I just want to help, Rafe. I can tell something’s wrong.”

He turned then, and his expression was hard in a way he didn’t mean for it to be. Everything under his skin was thrumming too loud.

“You don’t have to hover all the time,” he snapped, the words tumbling out fast and too unfiltered. “I’m not a fucking project.”

She blinked, caught off guard, her lips parting like she was about to say something and forgot how. “Rafe… I wasn’t trying to fix you.”

Her voice was so soft, it barely reached him—but it still landed like a bruise.

He let out a sigh, sharp and bitter, and dragged a hand through his hair as he turned away from her. He paced toward the sink, shoulders tight and back tense. “Yeah? Sure as hell feels like it sometimes.”

The sting of it hung between them, but she didn’t flinch. Not yet.”

Her voice came again, still soft, but thinner now—carrying that fragile edge it only got when she was trying really hard not to let something break open. “Because I asked if you were okay?”

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t want to see the way her expression always made him hesitate. “No,” he snapped. “Because you hover. You’re always trying to talk about everything like I’m—like I’m some fucking puzzle you can figure out if you stare at it long enough.”

His voice was rising, words spilling out like he couldn’t stop them now. “Sometimes I just need space. Quiet. I need to not be looked at like I’m about to fall apart at any second.”

She was still then. Still and small in the middle of the room, like she was trying to shrink herself so she’d stop taking up space he didn’t want her in. Her arms wrapped around her middle, not in defense, but like she was holding herself together, piece by piece.

“I wasn’t looking at you like that,” she said quietly. “I just care about you. That’s all.”

Her words were steady, but her voice cracked at the edges—like they’d already been worn thin.

He heard it. Felt it. And still, something colder moved in his chest, and he let it speak. But the words weren’t even meant for her. They were meant for his dad.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the window, unable to face her, “maybe it’s too much sometimes.”

The silence that followed wasn’t loud—it was hollow. Like all the warmth had been sucked out of the room in an instant.

Her head snapped up—not with fury, but something worse. A sudden, hollow kind of heartbreak. Her eyes met his, and they didn’t burn—they flickered, dim and glassy, like a flame sputtering out.

“Too much,” she echoed, the words barely escaping her lips. Like she was testing how they felt coming out of her mouth, tasting the hurt in them.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

She swallowed hard. Took a shaky breath. And then she stepped back, slow and quiet, like leaving him was a new kind of careful.

“I didn’t realize that loving you was a burden,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake—but the silence that followed did.

That was the moment.

The one where everything stopped—where the air in the room shifted and the silence stretched long and sharp. Her breath caught in her throat, just barely, like she wasn’t sure whether to speak or swallow it back down.

But she didn’t cry.

Didn’t yell.

She just looked at him for a moment, eyes wide and unreadable, before giving the smallest nod. Barely there. Like something inside her had quietly curled in on itself and shut a door he wasn’t allowed behind anymore.

And that—that silent retreat—hit harder than if she’d screamed.

Rafe didn’t apologize. Even though the words were stuck in his throat, even though they burned to get out. His pride always showed up first—ugly, defensive, too loud for the moment. So instead, he let her walk past him, watched as she disappeared into the hallway without saying another word.

The guilt crept in like a slow ache.

She moved through the rest of the evening like a ghost. Quiet, careful, distant in a way he hadn’t felt from her before. She cleaned up the tea she’d made for them without asking if he wanted any. Sat on the opposite end of the couch with her knees drawn up, her phone in her hand but not really scrolling. She only spoke if he did first—and even then, it was short. Polite. Hollow.

When he cracked a dumb joke about the commercial playing on the TV, her lips curved, but there was no sound. No laugh. Just that same muted smile you give to strangers at the grocery store.

She didn’t lean into his side. Didn’t tug the blanket over both of them like she always did.

She just… faded. Soft and silent.

And it killed him.

He hated it more than any screaming match they could’ve had.

Hated how she was still so gentle, even in her hurt—how she didn’t punish him, didn’t push, didn’t even ask for an explanation.

She just gave him exactly what he said he wanted: space.

So when she stood by the front door later that night, pulling her sweater over her arms and hugging her bag to her chest, something inside him snapped tight.

His body tensed before the words even reached his mouth. “Where are you going?”

She looked over, her expression unreadable in that soft porch light filtering through the windows. “I’m just gonna go home.”

Her voice wasn’t cold. Wasn’t angry.

It was worse—it was quiet. Final. Like she wasn’t leaving to make a point. Like she truly didn’t think he wanted her to stay.

He shook his head instantly, taking a step toward her, voice rough. “No. You’re not going home tonight.”

She blinked, eyes wide, caught off guard for the first time since everything had cracked between them.

“Stay,” he said again, softer now, the edge gone from his voice. “Please.”

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag like it was the only thing anchoring her in place. For a long second, she didn’t look at him—just stared at the floor, jaw tight, like she was holding something in her mouth she didn’t want to taste.

Then, finally, her eyes lifted.

And the sadness in them nearly undid him.

It wasn’t loud or stormy—not angry tears, not wounded silence meant to punish. It was quieter than that. That kind of heartbreak that worked slowly, made someone disappear piece by piece. The kind that didn’t explode—it eroded.

“I just…” Her voice came soft, nearly a whisper. “I don’t wanna make things worse.”

Rafe’s chest cracked open at the edges.

“You’re not,” he said quickly, breath catching as he ran a hand down his face. His voice was low and rough, strained with everything he hadn’t said earlier. “I am.”

She blinked slowly, like she was still deciding whether to protect her heart or trust him with it. Whether he was safe to step toward or another wound waiting to happen.

He didn’t push—just stepped closer with care, like she might slip through his fingers if he moved too fast.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he murmured. “Any of it. You’re not hovering. You’re not some project I’m trying to shake off. You’re just… you. And that’s everything.”

Her gaze dropped again, and he hated himself for it. Hated that he’d made her doubt that she was wanted, that she was welcome in his space. In his arms.

“I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me sometimes,” he continued, voice softer now. “But I do know this—when I said I needed space, I was lying. What I needed was to stop being a dick for two seconds. To tell you I had a shitty day. That I was overwhelmed and pissed off at everything but you—and that I just wanted to hold you and forget about the rest of it.”

His throat felt tight. “But I didn’t do that. I pushed you away. And I hurt you.”

Still, she said nothing. But her fingers loosened around the strap of her bag. Just barely. A subtle shift that most people wouldn’t have noticed—but Rafe did. He saw everything now.

He stepped forward again, slowly, and reached out, his hand brushing gently against her wrist. No pressure. Just contact. Just a quiet plea.

“Please stay,” he said, his voice raw now. “Let me fix this.”

She looked at him, and for a moment, everything was still again—just the hum of the lamp behind her, the soft breath between them, the weight of the silence that had been there all night.

And then, finally… she nodded.

Barely. Just the smallest dip of her chin.

But it was enough.

Rafe let out a slow, shaky breath—like he’d been holding it in his chest since the fight started, maybe even longer. Then, gently, without saying a word, he reached for her bag and set it down beside the door, as if removing any possibility of her leaving again.

His fingers brushed hers—light, tentative—before lacing them together like it was the most important promise he could offer. Like holding her hand meant he could keep everything from falling apart.

He didn’t pull—just waited, and when she didn’t resist, he guided her softly toward the bedroom. The familiar scent of her lingered there, wrapped in the pillows, in the faint traces of her lotion clinging to the sheets. Her soft blanket—the pale one she always used when she curled up beside him—was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, untouched since the last time she’d spent the night.

She didn’t say anything as she crossed the room. Just tugged off her sweater and changed into one of his shirts—the gray one that hung a little too big on her, the one she always reached for first. Watching her in it felt like breathing again.

She climbed beneath the covers without a word, lying on her side, facing the wall.

Rafe stood still for a beat, hands fidgeting at his sides. Then he sat at the edge of the bed, hesitating, unsure if she wanted him that close—if she needed space or reassurance. She hadn’t pushed him away, but she hadn’t exactly pulled him in either.

And then—just barely—her arm shifted. A quiet, subtle movement. An invitation.

He didn’t waste a second.

He slid beneath the covers beside her, careful not to crowd her, but the moment he settled, she turned. Wordless. Natural. She curled into his chest like she belonged there. Like that space between his arms was always meant for her.

Rafe exhaled like he’d just surfaced from underwater, one hand cradling the back of her head as he tucked her in against him. The other wrapped tight around her waist, grounding him. She smelled like warm linen and vanilla. Like home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, lips brushing her temple. “You didn’t deserve that. You never do.”

Her voice was soft. Barely there. “I know.”

He closed his eyes, pressed his face into her hair. The guilt was still there, sitting like a stone in his chest, but the way she stayed—that meant something. Everything.

“You can leave,” he said, voice tight again. “If you ever want to. But I swear to God, I never want to be the reason you feel like you have to.”

She didn’t answer—not with words. But she nuzzled closer, her nose against his neck, and her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt like she needed to hold on to something real.

And that told him enough.

It told him she forgave him. That she was still here. Still his.

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slow and reverent. And this time, he didn’t fill the silence. He let it stretch—not tense, not uncertain. Just warm and still. Like a quiet kind of peace settling in after a storm.

He didn’t try to fix it with promises or explanations.

He just held her like she was the most important thing in his world.

Because she was.

[evilwoman18]

Simon’s already regretting this.

He stands in the middle of a crowded store, hands in the pockets of his jacket, sunglasses pulled low over his face despite the gloomy indoor lighting. He’s trying not to look like a threat but somehow, he still radiates “do not speak to me” energy like it’s tactical armor.

Y/N, by contrast, is a picture of unsettling composure.

They glide ahead of him, and people look. Then look away quickly, unsure why they feel unnerved.

They’re in a home goods store. Something impossibly normal. Something Simon hasn’t stepped foot in since… ever.

“I still don’t get why we need a new kettle,” he mutters, keeping close behind them. “The one we’ve got works fine.”

“It whistles like a dying bird,” Y/N says without turning. “I told you it’s aggressive.”

“You’re aggressive.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Simon grunts. They're not wrong, but he still feels mildly insulted.

They stop in front of a display wall lined with sleek, modern kettles. Brushed steel. Matte black. A few ridiculous ones shaped like cats. Y/N tilts their head at one, unimpressed.

He stands behind them like a looming shadow, arms crossed, eyes flicking from kettle to kettle like he’s planning a breach. They glance over their shoulder.

“Don’t look at them like they owe you money.”

“I don’t trust any kettle that needs a manual.”

Y/N lets out a rare, quiet laugh quickly and under their breath. If he weren’t listening for it, he might have missed it. But he always listens when it comes to them.

They pluck one off the shelf, inspecting the bottom. “This one has no plastic parts inside. Stainless steel core. Good reviews.”

Simon raises a brow. “You researched kettles?”

“Of course I did. I’m not a savage.”

“Debatable.”

Their hand whips back without looking, slapping lightly against his stomach. He catches their wrist just to be difficult, then releases it with a smirk.

“Fine. Get the fancy kettle,” he says, eyeing the price. “I’ll survive.”

“Good,” they say, tucking it into their basket. “That way, I won’t have to kill you next time it shrieks at 5am.”

He follows them down the next aisle, which is somehow even more cursed. Throw pillows.

He stops. Stares.

“You’re not serious,” he says.

Y/N, completely serious, picks up a dark green velvet one and holds it against a navy option. “We need contrast.”

“We need therapy.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, grabs the basket from their hand, and resigns himself to his fate.

By the time they reach checkout, the basket has grown suspiciously heavy: a new kettle, four pillows, a cast iron pan, two different types of tea he didn’t know existed, and a strange little potted plant Y/N tossed in like it didn’t mean anything.

It’s not until they’re at the counter that the cashier, a young guy barely out of high school. Looks up, sees Simon, and goes very still.

Simon doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares.

The boy scans the items in mechanical silence.

“Have a nice day,” he says at last, clearly rattled.

Y/N, unfazed, nods politely and accepts the bags.

Once they’re outside, walking back toward the car, Simon glances at her sideways.

“You do that on purpose,” he mutters.

“Do what?”

“Drag me into stores. Watch me suffer.”

They tilt their head. “I don’t drag you. You come willingly.”

“I regret it every time.”

“You don’t.”

“…No,” he admits after a pause. “But I still hate throw pillows.”

“You’ll learn to love them.”

He glances over at them, their shoulder brushing his as they walk.

“You say that like you’re planning to stick around long enough to see it happen.”

Y/N doesn’t look at him, but something in their expression softens. The tension in their jaw loosens, just slightly.

“I am,” they say.

It’s quiet. Steady. Honest.

Simon doesn’t say anything back, but the next time their hand brushes his, he takes it. Twines their fingers together.

Neither of them let go all the way to the car.

By the time they’re home, the sky’s gone from slate gray to soft gold, sunlight stretching in through the blinds in angled beams that paint everything in warmth.

Simon unlocks the door, pushes it open with his shoulder, and steps aside for Y/N to enter first. Always. They don't even glance at him when they pass him, just mutter a dry, “Thanks, gentleman,” which earns a grunt that might be agreement or sarcasm. It’s hard to tell.

He sets the bags on the kitchen counter while they disappear into the bedroom. When they return, their barefoot, already unpacking without speaking.

They don’t need to talk much in these moments.

Simon watches them as he slowly unwraps the new kettle. It’s sleek, heavier than it looks. Functional but pretty. They always manage to find that balance beauty wrapped around purpose. Like them.

He plugs it in. Tests the switch. It glows softly red.

“Doesn’t scream,” he mutters.

“Told you.”

Their rearranging the couch now, placing the throw pillows with surgical precision. Dark green against the slate-gray cushions. Their expression is unreadable, neutral, but focused, like their setting a trap.

Simon walks over, watching them finish.

“There’s four of ‘em,” he says flatly.”

“Yes.”

“…Why four?”

Y/N looks at him over their shoulder, eyebrow arched. “Two are for show. One’s for support. The other is if you fall asleep here again like an old man.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but can’t, because it’s true. Instead, he grumbles and flops onto the couch beside them, kicking his boots off with a huff.

“You’re nesting.”

“I’m maintaining.”

“Same thing.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

He smirks, watching them tuck the last pillow in place with the kind of care he usually reserves for loading explosives.

“You keep fussing like that, people’ll think you’re soft.”

Y/N turns toward him, hands on their hips, eyes flickering in the sunlight like fire. “People don’t get to think things about me.”

Simon hums, satisfied. “Fair enough.”

They haven’t sat yet. Just stand there, studying him for a second too long. Then they disappear into the kitchen, the faint sound of a kettle beginning to boil.

A moment later, they return with two mugs one for him, black tea no sugar; one for their self, herbal with a little honey. They hand him his and sit, not beside him, but sideways curled into the armrest, one leg tucked beneath them.

It’s quiet for a few minutes. The kind of quiet that doesn’t press. That settles.

He sips. Then sets the cup down and glances toward them.

“You’re not like this around anyone else.”

They blink slowly. “Like what?”

“This.” His voice is quiet now. Not vulnerable, but bare. “Domestic. Like it’s natural.”

Their lips part just slightly. But they don't speak right away. When they do, their voice is measured.

“Because it’s not.”

He watches them, brow furrowed, but they continue.

“This life… this space,” they say, eyes on their mug, “It’s borrowed. Stolen from everything I should’ve been. The past doesn’t just let go. It watches. Waits.”

Simon leans forward, forearms on his knees, head slightly bowed.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I feel it, too.”

They finally look at him. Really look.

And for a few seconds, there’s no trace of the mercenary, no shadow of the ghost. Just two people sitting in a quiet home, surrounded by absurd throw pillows and the smell of mint tea.

“You know what makes it feel real?” they ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He waits.

“You. This,” they say, reaching out and placing their hand over his. “Not the kettle. Not the couch. Not even the quiet.”

Just him.

Simon stares at their joined hands, thumb brushing the side of their palm. It’s rough against smooth. Scarred against scarred.

“I’ll keep showin’ up,” he says simply. “Even if it’s borrowed.”

“That’s all I need.”

They sit like that for a long while, neither speaking, the light slowly shifting as afternoon rolls toward dusk. And maybe the world outside is still loud, brutal, and waiting for them to bleed again but here, in this stolen moment, with their fingers curled into his and the scent of tea lingering in the air…

Simon Riley almost believes they’ve built something real.

~

Later that Evening at their Flat

~

The air smells like garlic and roasted vegetables now. Y/N had pulled out ingredients without announcing it, and Simon, to no one’s surprise, ended up helping them.

He stands at the stove while they slice carrots with surgical precision, their knife rhythm steady and efficient. They don’t speak unless it’s necessary.

“You’re hovering,” they mutter.

“You’re slicing them too thin.”

“They cook faster.”

“They burn faster.”

They shoot him a look, sharp but not hostile. Their eyes flick up and down, calculating, and then they slide the knife across the board with a smirk.

“I burn one tray of potatoes and suddenly I’m the hazard.”

“You ignited the parchment paper.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“I did.”

They fall into a rhythm after that. No bickering, no orders just quiet, domestic efficiency. They’re good together, even here. Especially here. Neither of them says it out loud, but this kind of calm coordination feels like more than just compatibility. It feels like safety.

By the time they sit down at the table. Dim lighting, plates steaming, and wine glasses filled halfway. It’s like the outside world has vanished.

Simon eats slower than usual. He always does when they cook. They notice but don’t say anything. Instead, they fold their legs under their chair and quietly reache over, adjusting the collar of his shirt where it’s creased. An automatic gesture. Thoughtless and tender.

“I like this,” they say softly.

He doesn’t ask what “this” is. He just nods. Then he surprises them with something rare.

“Me too.”

~

Later After Dinner

~

The dishes are cleaned and put away. Y/N slips out of their jeans and into one of his shirts too long for them, sleeves bunched at the wrists. He watches from the couch as they light a single candle on the windowsill, then crawl into bed.

He follows soon after, stripping down to just his boxers and settling in beside them with a low groan. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and they shift instinctively into the space where he always lands.

They lie on their sides, facing each other in the dim glow.

“You ever think about it?” They ask suddenly. Their voice is soft. A murmur, like a secret not meant for daylight.

“About what?”

“A version of us… not doing this for a living. Not carrying knives in our boots. Not scanning every face on the street.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

Then, “Not really.”

They raise a brow. “Why not?”

He reaches up, brushing their cheek.

“’Cause that version of me wouldn’t have survived long enough to meet you.”

That disarms them.

They look at him for a long moment, trying to read beneath the calm of his face. Then they lean in, pressing their forehead to his, and exhale.

“That version of me wouldn’t have wanted to be touched,” They whisper.

Simon’s eyes close.

They lie like that for a while. Bodies entangled, breaths syncing. Warmth shared not just through skin, but through understanding. Through everything unspoken.

~

Sometime After Midnight

~

He wakes first. Always does.

The room is dim, the candle burned out, window is cracked to let in the night air. The only sound is Y/N’s soft breathing. But he knows before he even looks at them. Something’s wrong.

Their twitching. Barely. Their legs curl, arms drawn in tight. Their breath quickens in sharp, shallow pulls.

“Y/N,” he murmurs.

They don't answer. Their face is tight. Trapped. Lost in a memory he can’t reach.

Simon sits up, leans over them gently. Doesn’t shake them. Doesn’t raise his voice. Just places a hand on their shoulder and says it again, firm but soft.

“Y/N. Wake up, love.”

Their eyes snap open but they don’t see him at first. They jolt, body tense, shoulders curling like their expecting impact.

“Hey, hey” His hand cups their cheek. “You’re home. With me.”

It takes a few seconds. Then, slowly, they blink. Focusing. Breathing.

“Sorry,” they mumbl, voice raw. “It was…”

Simon doesn’t ask for the details. He never pushes. But his hand doesn’t move.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

“No.” A pause. “But I might later.”

“Alright.”

He shifts, pulls them gently against his chest, their back to him, arm sliding around their waist. They don't resist just sink into the warmth of him, grounding their self in the steady rhythm of his breath.

“I’m here,” he says. Barely a whisper.

They nod. He can feel it under his chin.

“I know,” they say as they drift to sleep once more.

~

Morning Comes Quietly

~

They wake tangled in sheets, their limbs still wrapped around his, his hand resting over their stomach. There’s no alarm, no briefing, no need to speak.

Just sunlight through the blinds, a faint whistle from the new kettle in the kitchen, and for a little while. Peace.

Because they’ve carved it out together.

One unspoken promise at a time.

~

I just wanted to write something cute. 😌

I was going for a more realistic off duty Simon Riley with a mercenary reader. Let me know how I did though.

I'm open to writing anything y'all suggest. I like doing this. It's been a long minute. 💚

~

[ceyanabbiolo]

𝑮𝑹𝑼𝑫𝑮𝑬 | 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 [10]

Welcome to Vivianne Hall, in which....

Julianna De Francis is put together, perfect, and everything Christopher Sturniolo isn’t. He’s reckless, cocky, and the one person who’s always gotten under her skin. Raised in the same elite world but constantly at odds, their rivalry turns into something deeper as tension sparks into something neither expected. In a world obsessed with appearances, falling for each other could cost them everything...

Warnings: drinking, arguing, kissing, suggestive.

Chapter 10: House of Balloons

── .✦ JULIANNA

By the end of the week, I had successfully avoided Chris. No texts, no accidental run-ins, not even a glance across the cafeteria. It wasn’t hard—I made sure of it. I didn’t need to see him.

I’d embarrassed myself enough for a lifetime.

I still wasn’t sure what had gotten into me that day. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, or maybe it was everything he said, everything he did for me. The weight of it all had settled in my chest, and I’d let my guard slip.

I’d leaned in.

And he’d pulled away.

It was all the confirmation I needed. I wasn’t going to chase after someone who didn’t want me, no matter how much he’d done for me. There was always going to be that unspoken hatred between me and him. 

So I buried myself in class, in Eden, and anything else that would keep my mind from circling back to him. I had successfully escaped from our shared communications class as well, for the past few days.  

When I told Eden what happened, she launched into a full-on lecture about how I should’ve never been the one to make the first move. Her exact words were, “Jules, you’re not a dog—stop throwing yourself at people who don’t throw themselves at you.” I had rolled my eyes, but deep down… she wasn’t wrong.

Still, in my defense, I didn’t even lean in to make a move. It wasn’t like I had some grand plan. It just… happened. The moment felt quiet, raw, and for a second, I thought maybe he felt it too. 

But clearly, I misread everything.

Chris and I literally can’t go five minutes without arguing. We’ve spent more time tossing sarcastic jabs at each other than we have having actual conversations. So, I can’t blame him for pulling away.

Honestly, it was stupid of me. Wishful thinking, maybe.

So now I was back where I started—pretending not to care, pretending nothing happened, and pretending that the memory of his hands around me in that hug didn’t still sit somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

Eden insisted I go to Nick’s party—show up looking incredible, act unbothered, and let Chris see exactly what he missed out on.

To be fair, I didn’t really care about making a statement. I had nothing to prove to Chris. He’d already seen me at my best… and, unfortunately, at my worst.

Still, part of me couldn’t stop thinking about that night. The one I barely remembered.

I kept turning it over in my mind, trying to piece together what little I had—flashes of music, voices, blurry hallway lights. It still stunned me that Chris, of all people, had been the one to take me home. To take care of me.

If someone had told me a few months ago that Chris Sturniolo would be the one to save me from something I couldn’t even remember, I would've laughed in their face. But now?

Now I wasn’t so sure about anything.

I still wasn’t fully convinced I wanted to go to the party. But pretending I was fine? That part I could handle. That part, I was good at.

“Sit still or I’m going to fry your ear,” Eden warned, tugging gently on a section of my hair with the flat iron clamped between her fingers.

I let out a dramatic sigh and dropped my phone into my lap. “You’re so violent.”

“And you’re so jumpy,” she shot back, tugging playfully. “Also, tell me again why you’re freaking out when you literally said you don’t care about Chris?”

“I’m not freaking out,” I said quickly, defensively. “And I don’t care about Chris.”

Eden paused, raising one brow in the mirror as she straightened another section. “Right. That’s why you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes fixing your lip gloss and pretending you’re not waiting to run into him tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. “I’m not waiting to run into him. I’m just—”

“—Trying to look hot in case you accidentally do?” she teased.

“Eddy,” I warned.

She laughed and kept working, slowly dragging the straightener through my hair. “Look, I’m just saying… You used to practically throw up at the sound of his name, is now getting your hair done, wearing a cute little outfit, and pretending this is just another party.”

“Eden”, I warmed again. “It is just another party.”

She smirked at my reflection. “Mmhmm. And I’m just a humble hairstylist.” She set the iron down for a second. “Be real with me for one sec, Jules. When he told you what happened at the party and how he took care of you, your heart raced, didn’t it?”

I stayed quiet. Didn’t even try to lie. The answer was already on my face. I could see it in the mirror.

Eden grinned. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said, trying to play it off. “It was just the moment. We were emotional. That’s all it was.”

Eden raised a brow again, sectioning off more of my hair. “Sure. But I’ve seen you and Chris almost kill each other, like, thirty different times. And you don’t look at someone like that if it’s really hate.”

“It was hate,” I insisted. “It is hate.”

“Then why’d you hug him?” she challenged softly. “Why’d you lean in?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.

“Exactly. I’ve known you for too long, Jules.” She gave a small, knowing laugh. “You can lie to everyone, including yourself, but not to me.” She said it with a proud smile. I couldn’t even deny it, Eden was somehow always right about my problems, except this one, I didn’t want her to be right about. 

I stared at my reflection for a second, trying to steady the flutter that built in my stomach. 

By the time we got outside, the sun had dipped low behind the buildings, casting the street in that golden-blue early evening glow. The kind of light that made everything feel cinematic.

The Uber ride was short. Nick’s apartment wasn’t far. It was off-campus, tucked into one of those newer buildings with big windows and terrible parking.

The second we stepped into the hallway, we could already hear the bass thumping through the walls. Not as chaotic as the first party, but the energy was still there. Loud music, low lights, that hazy scent of cologne, beer, and someone’s overdone candle.

Eden nudged me with her elbow as we stepped into the apartment. “Showtime.”

“I’m not here to put on a show,” I muttered.

“Right, you’re just here to wear a backless top and act like Chris didn’t break your brain this week.”

I shot her a look, but she was already floating off to say hi to someone.

I followed her inside, trying to relax my shoulders. Trying not to scan the room.

But I saw him instantly. Chris was near the kitchen again—his spot, apparently. He was leaning against the counter, talking to Nick, drink in hand, wearing that stupid black hoodie he always wore like it was some kind of armor.

He hadn’t seen me yet. But I could feel it coming. That moment where his eyes would lift, and everything would shift again. I took a breath, straightened my spine, and stepped deeper into the crowd. If I was going to survive this night, I had to pretend nothing had ever happened.

I weaved through the crowd, past people dancing, talking too loud, and taking blurry selfies. The music pulsed under my feet, some remixed version of a throwback, and for a second I almost let it distract me.

Almost.

I reached the long table near the back wall, cluttered with red cups, half-empty bottles, a bowl of suspicious punch, and way too many flavors of chips. The smell of vodka hit me instantly, sharp and sour.

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.

Absolutely not.

Without hesitation, I reached past the chaos and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi. Twisting the cap, I poured it into a cup and took a sip, letting the fizz settle on my tongue.

“No drinking?” a familiar voice said behind me, light and teasing.

I turned and grinned. “Nick!”

He smiled, pulling me into a quick one-armed hug. “You actually came. I’m honored.”

I laughed. “It was Eden. She wouldn’t let me back out. Something about social appearances and vengeance or whatever.” 

Nick smirked, arms crossed now as he leaned casually beside me. “Sounds like her. You look good, by the way. Like, effortlessly intimidating. ”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile tugged higher. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was one,” he said. “So… no alcohol tonight?”

“Definitely not,” I said, holding up my Pepsi like a shield. “I don’t think I have a good tolerance.”

Nick looked at me for a beat longer, then bumped his shoulder lightly against mine. “Well, either way, glad you’re here tonight. It's just a few people, so we’re not having any disasters.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Nick.”

And then—right on cue—I felt the weight of someone watching me.

My eyes drifted toward the kitchen. Chris was looking straight at me.

I took another sip of my Pepsi and glanced back at Nick, offering him a small smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He nodded, straightening up from the table. “Yeah, for sure. I’ve gotta go check on someone anyway—Matt’s trying to DJ again, and I can’t let that happen sober.”

I laughed under my breath. “Alright.”

He grinned, giving me a quick wink before disappearing into the crowd.

The second he left, I exhaled, and, of course, I looked back toward the kitchen.

Our eyes locked for a second too long.

I quickly looked away, heart giving one hard thump against my ribs.

I turned away from the kitchen, weaving through the living room in search of Eden—or just air that didn’t feel so heavy. But instead of peace, I walked straight into him.

Tucker.

Of course.

“Woah—Jules?” he said, grabbing my arm lightly to steady me before stepping back with a grin that already irritated me.

I stiffened immediately. “Tucker.”

His eyes swept over me, slowly and deliberately. Then he let out a low whistle. “Damn… where was this side of you when we were together, huh?” 

I didn’t bother hiding my irritation and rolled my eyes sharply. “I don’t know, Tucker. Maybe because you never brought that side out of me.”

He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Still got that sharp tongue, huh? Some things never change, do they, Jules?” 

I shot back without missing a beat, “Yeah, like your insults.”

He laughed, a little too smug. “What? Did I hurt you or something? Please don’t tell me you spent weeks crying over me.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as the sound escaped me. 

“First off, I was the one who broke up with you. And second, no, not a single tear was wasted on you. Not one.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by my confidence. “Really? Not even a sniff?”

I grinned, stepping back to put some space between us. “Trust me, Tucker, I had better things to cry over and do.” 

I gave Tucker one last dismissive glance before turning on my heel and walking away, my cup still clutched in one hand. I didn’t owe him my time—definitely not my attention.

I barely made it a few steps through the living room before I felt someone grab my arm.

“Hey!” Eden said, eyes wide as she pulled me to the side. “What the hell was that? Why were you talking to that weirdo?”

I blinked, a little caught off guard. “What, Tucker?”

“No, the Pope,” she said sarcastically, already dragging me toward the hallway. “Yes, Tucker. What did he want?”

I shrugged, still slightly buzzing from the tension. “Nothing. Just being his usual self—creepy and annoying.”

“Well, don’t let him anywhere near you again,” Eden huffed, glancing back like he might’ve been following. “I swear, if I see his greasy haircut one more time tonight—”

“Eden,” I cut in with a laugh. “It’s fine. I walked away.”

“Good. Now come on,” she said, eyes lighting up with something mischievous. “We’re playing a game. And don’t even try to say no.”

I groaned. “Eden, I really wasn’t trying to get roped into anything—”

“Nope,” she said, grabbing my wrist with full determination. “Too late. You look hot, you’re at a party, and you’re playing. End of story.”

With zero room for argument, she pulled me down the hall and into a room filled with voices and laughter.

The second we stepped inside, I spotted a group gathered in a loose circle—some sitting cross-legged on the floor, others leaning against the bed or dresser. Drinks in hand, everyone was already half-into whatever game was being played.

Matt looked up first, flashing a grin. “Well, well. Jules is playing too? This just got interesting.”

Nick leaned over from where he sat on the floor, tossing a bottle cap into the air. “Look who finally decided to have fun.”

I gave a half-smile as Eden shoved me toward a spot on the floor.

A few other familiar faces dotted the room—some from the basketball team, a couple from hockey, and a handful of girls I’d seen in passing around campus. 

The room buzzed with that easy, electric party energy—just chaotic enough to feel fun, just crowded enough that I forgot what was weighing on me. 

Almost.

I sat down, stealing a sip from my cup as I glanced around the circle.

The circle hadn’t fully settled yet—people were still talking, laughing, shifting around as they waited for the last few stragglers to show up. Someone passed around a deck of cards. Ava was already halfway into a story that no one was fully listening to, her hands animated as ever.

Eden plopped down beside me and nudged my shoulder. “This is gonna be good. I can feel it.”

“I don’t even know what we’re playing,” I muttered, sipping my Pepsi again. The sugar wasn’t doing much to calm the nerves creeping up my spine.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, eyes dancing. “Half of these people just want an excuse to flirt.”

I gave her a look, but before I could reply, the door creaked open again.

Tucker walked in.

Of course.

I stiffened slightly, trying not to make it obvious, but Eden noticed. Her mouth twitched in annoyance as he scanned the room and smirked when he saw us.

“Room for one more?” he asked casually, dropping onto the floor with way too much confidence.

Nick raised a brow from across the circle but didn’t say anything.

Then, behind Tucker, another voice called in from the hallway.

“Chris!” Matt’s voice rang out. “Yo, get in here. You playing?”

A pause.

Chris’s voice followed, lazy and uninterested. “Nah, I’m good.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. Just one round.”

Chris didn’t respond right away. But then his eyes flicked into the room. And landed directly on me. I saw the exact second his expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

He leaned against the doorframe, one hand gripping the edge. “You know what…” he muttered. “Sure. Why not?”

He stepped inside, eyes dragging across the circle as he took in who was already seated. He didn’t look at me again. He walked over and dropped down casually across from me, just close enough to feel the tension spike in the room. 

Eden gave me a look and I ignored it.

Matt looked around twice to see who was present. 

“Alright, let's start,” he said. “So basically this jar had a bunch of dares and whatever you pick out of the jar you have to do,” then he added. “Nick, your first, since you're hosting.”

Groans and smirks echoed around the circle. Nick immediately straightened up, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a dramatic flair. 

Nick cleared his throat theatrically and read aloud, “Send a flirty text to the last person you messaged.” He smirked, holding his phone up like a trophy.

Laughter bubbled around the circle, and a few people exchanged amused glances. Nick grinned and quickly tapped out a message. “Done.” He lifted his phone, showing us as proof.

Everyone shook their head in approval. 

“Your turn, Ava,” Matt said, tossing the jar her way.

She caught it smoothly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Alright, let’s see what I get.” The room quieted as she unfolded her slip and read aloud, “Give a compliment to the person you find most attractive in the room.”

A playful pause filled the air before Ava’s gaze locked onto Chris. With a teasing smile, she said, “Chris, you’ve still got that pretty smile, thanks for those fun times,” she said, and ended it with a wink. 

Chris shifted slightly but didn’t respond, his eyes flicking briefly toward Ava. I felt my heart skip a beat, quickly looking away before Chris could catch my reaction.

Did he and Ava have a history? I didn’t know about this. 

Next was this girl, Kara, the jar slid toward her, and she reached in without hesitation. She unfolded the slip slowly, her eyes scanning the words as a slow smile curled on her lips.

She read aloud, voice low but clear: “Kiss the person to your right... with tongue.”

A hush fell over the group, eyes snapping to the person beside her—none other than Tucker. Kara’s smile deepened, and she leaned in slightly, eyes locked on his.

Tucker’s smirk faltered for just a moment before he caught it, leaning back with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Everyone else burst into nervous laughter, some clapping, others cheering.

Tucker met her halfway, and the kiss was a mix of excitement and awkwardness throughout the circle. 

Eden and I looked at each other, with laughs, and she mouthed to me ‘disgusting’. 

Tucker smirked as the jar made its way to him, his eyes glinting with mischief. He pulled out a slip of paper, unfolding it slowly as the room leaned in, waiting for the next dare.

He read aloud, voice dripping with playful challenge, “Kiss someone you’ve dated in the circle. If you haven’t dated anyone here, kiss someone you want to.” You gotta be kidding me. 

A hush fell over the group.

All eyes instantly flicked to me.

Tucker’s smirk widened as he glanced my way, then back to the circle, clearly enjoying the tension he’d stirred.

I felt my heart hammering against my ribs, cheeks burning hot. The room waited, breath held, the seconds stretching long and heavy.

Tucker’s gaze held on me a moment longer before he let out a low, amused laugh, shaking his head slowly. “Well, looks like I’m lucky tonight, huh?”

He pushed himself up from the floor and took a slow step closer, that cocky grin never leaving his face. The air between us thickened with unspoken challenge, and I could feel every eye in the room drifting our way.

“Don’t give me that look, Jules,” he said, voice smooth but teasing. “Nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, acutely aware of the weight of all those stares locked on us. From across the room, I caught Chris’s sharp gaze—his jaw clenched tightly, but he said nothing.

I shifted my eyes to Nick, silently searching for an ally. He caught my glance and gave a small, knowing smile.

Taking a breath, I nodded slightly toward Tucker and asked quietly, “The cheek’s fine, right?”

Nick’s smile deepened as he leaned forward and said with a grin, “Yeah, the cheek’s fine.”

I shot Tucker a pointed look, my tone calm but firm. “Just the cheek.”

Tucker’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the game, but he raised his hands in mock surrender. He leaned in slowly, the room falling into a hush as his lips brushed against my skin. The contact was so brief,  I felt like I had more cheek chemistry with my pillow. 

A few people chuckled nervously, sensing the tension but unsure how far it would go. Tucker gave me a sly grin, backing away and sliding back into his seat like nothing had happened.

Chris’s eyes never left me the entire time, dark and unreadable, and when he finally looked away, I felt like I’d just survived a storm.  

When the laughter died down, Matt glanced around the circle with a sly grin. “Alright, next up.” 

The jar slid toward a girl I barely knew—Maya, someone from the tennis team. She looked nervous but intrigued as she reached in and pulled out a slip of paper.

She unfolded it, eyes widening as she read aloud, “Give someone cute in this room a hickey.”

A sudden hush fell over the group, the tension thickening again.

Maya scanned the circle, her cheeks flushing as she glanced around. Without hesitation, her eyes landed on one of the bigger hockey players nearby—Jake, who was lounging casually against the wall.

With a cheeky smile, Maya stood and sauntered over to him. The room watched, breaths held. Jake grinned, leaning in as Maya pressed a teasing kiss to his neck. It was cute; she seemed shy. 

When the jar finally reached Eden, she grabbed it with a sly smile, her eyes immediately locking onto Matt across the circle.

She reached in confidently and pulled out a slip, unfolding it slowly as the room watched with growing anticipation.

Eden’s grin widened as she read aloud, “Choose someone in the room and share a secret you've never told anyone.”

All eyes shifted to Matt as Eden’s gaze stayed fixed on him. Matt raised an eyebrow, leaning back casually but intrigued.

Eden stood up and walked over to Matt, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “I’m trusting you.”

The room buzzed with murmurs, everyone wondering what Eden’s secret might be — and what Matt’s response would be. I would just ask her later what she told him. Her comment clearly made Matt blush. 

The jar made its way to me next, and I could feel the heat of all the eyes on me as I reached in. My fingers closed around a folded slip, and I pulled it out slowly, trying to steady my racing heart.

I unfolded the paper and read the dare aloud: “Straddle the person in front of you for three minutes or the person beside you for three minutes.”

Oh, of course. 

My gaze immediately flicked to Chris, who was sitting directly in front of me. I caught the almost imperceptible shift in his expression—the subtle lift of his eyebrows, the faint hopeful glint in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he expected me to choose him.

Beside me sat a random guy I barely knew—a tall, easygoing type who had been chatting with some of the hockey players earlier. I glanced at him quickly, then back to Chris, who was now watching me with a quiet intensity.

I looked at Eden, who was wiggling her eyebrows at me. I took a breath and smiled, surprising even myself.

“I guess you’ll do,” I said, my voice steady but playful as I looked at the guy next to me. 

Chris’s eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, but he didn’t say a word. The tension in the air tightened, thick and electric.

I shifted my weight, sliding carefully to straddle the random guy beside me. His eyes widened in surprise but quickly softened into a grin. 

 “Hey, pretty girl,” he said with a cocky smile. I scoffed, returning the smile with a teasing edge. “Hey, random guy.”

The room buzzed with knowing glances. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Chris lean back in his seat, jaw clenched, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the circle.

He’d leaned away that other day; he’d rejected me. He had no right to be shooting me those looks now.

I settled in, his hands resting lightly on my hips while my own hands found their way to his shoulders, steadying myself. The room around us hummed with quiet anticipation, whispers and glances darting our way.

The jar passed from person to person, each slip bringing out dares that ranged from playful to downright bold. The energy in the room was electric, everyone riding the wave of excitement—and maybe a little nervousness.

When it reached Matt, he casually reached in and pulled out his dare, a slow smile creeping across his face as he unfolded the paper, ready for whatever came next.

Matt glanced around the circle, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. He cleared his throat and read aloud, “Swap a piece of clothing with someone in the room for the next 10 minutes.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the group as people exchanged surprised and amused looks.

Without hesitation, Matt pointed toward Eden with a playful smirk. “Looks like you’re my partner in crime.”

Eden rolled her eyes but stood up, crossing the room to Matt. The two of them exchanged a quick, mischievous grin before swapping jackets.

The room buzzed with excitement as the game continued, everyone caught up in the thrill of dares and the charged atmosphere.

When the jar finally reached Chris, the room fell into a hush, the anticipation thick enough to taste.

He reached in slowly, pulling out the slip and unfolding it with deliberate calm. His voice cut through the quiet as he read aloud, 

“Seven minutes in heaven with anyone in this room.”

A ripple of murmurs followed, eyes instantly flicking toward the group. Ava’s gaze locked on him, hopeful and expectant, a small, almost shy smile tugging at her lips. I even expected him to chose her by the way she had been looking at him all night. 

Chris’s eyes scanned the circle slowly, lingering on Ava for a heartbeat, then flicking directly to me.

This idiot better not—

“Jules”

He said, but the look in his eyes wasn’t smug or playful—it was dark, intense, charged with something I couldn’t quite place. 

I shook my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m in the middle of a dare.”

Just then, the timer on my phone buzzed loudly, cutting through the room. The universe was not working in my favour today. Just kill me. 

“Not anymore,” he replied quietly, but with an edge that brooked no argument.

There was something raw and unyielding in his tone—like a warning and a challenge all at once. My heart slammed against my ribs as I slowly stood, unable to resist the pull in his gaze. 

Chris’s gaze locked onto mine—dark, intense, unyielding. Without a word, he reached out and took my hand, his grip firm but controlled.

The heat between us flared as he pulled me to my feet and led me away from the circle. I caught Ava’s frown as I passed, a silent accusation lingering in the air. Behind us, soft “oohs” and murmurs echoed, thick with anticipation.

Chris pushed open the door to a small room—barely more than a closet—and stepped inside, shoving me gently but insistently in front of him. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us away from the others.

He turned sharply, his jaw tight, eyes burning with something raw and fierce. I kept my gaze fixed downward, not daring to meet his. The tension between us was suffocating, heavy like the air before a storm.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, rough, low, and edged with anger.

“You think this is a game, Jules?”

His words hit me like fire, igniting a heat that wasn’t just frustration—it was something deeper, fiercer. I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as his presence closed in, the space between us shrinking until I could feel his breath on my skin. 

“Don’t look away,” he growled, stepping closer, his eyes dark pools of stormy intensity.

The air crackled, electric and charged, as he reached out, fingers brushing my cheek with a touch that was both tender and demanding. His fingers lingered on my cheek, the heat of his touch burning through the charged silence. His dark eyes bore into mine, fierce and accusing.

“You chose him,” Chris growled, voice thick with frustration and something darker. “Just to piss me off, didn’t you?”

I couldn’t lie. The truth caught in my throat, the faintest nod slipping out before I could stop it. He pulled back slightly, jaw clenched, the tension twisting tighter between us.

Chris’s dark eyes never left mine as he slowly lowered his face toward my neck, his breath warm and tantalizing against my skin.

“Are you trying to make me jealous, Jewl?” he asked, voice dangerously low. “Hm?”

My heart was pounding out of my chest. He was so close I could smell his cologne, so clearly. “Chris…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of nerves and something deeper.

He let out a low, satisfied hum, the vibration sending a shiver down my spine.

“You’re not being fair,” I murmured, trying to catch his gaze but finding only that intense heat. “This…this isn’t fair.” 

“Fair?” He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, voice low. “You ignored me all week.” his voice was rough. "and now your sitting on another mans lap while looking at me?"

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “You leaned away.” 

Chris's breath hitched against my skin. He didn’t move, just hovered there at the crook of my neck like he was trying to decide whether to speak or let the tension devour us whole.

“I made a mistake,” he said finally, voice hoarse, strained like it had been sitting in his throat all week. “I shouldn’t have backed away.”

I blinked, my heart pounding louder now for a different reason. Slowly, I turned my head, and he pulled back just enough for our faces to hover inches apart, the space between us charged and magnetic.

“But you embarrassed me,” I said quietly, my voice cracking as I met his eyes. “I felt like I misread everything.”

His jaw flexed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I know.” His tone softened, but the intensity didn’t fade. “You didn’t misread anything, Jules. I just—” he exhaled hard. “ You caught me off guard. You always catch me off guard.”

My throat tightened. “You don’t get to say that now.”

He stepped closer, and I could feel the heat of him again, surrounding me. “I’m saying it now because if I don’t, I’ll regret it.”

I felt the air catch in my lungs. “Then why act like I was the one in the wrong? Why look at me like I pissed you off?” 

“Because you did!” he snapped, then softened instantly. “You did, Jules. You wanted to get under my skin? well you did—" He shook his head. "I couldn't watch that.”

I looked at him, lips parted, voice barely a whisper.

"You know how badly I wanted to rip you off of him?" he hissed, helplessly. "How badly I wanted to drag and place you onto me?"

I scoffed. “Then do something about it.”

Chris’s eyes darkened as they flicked to my lips, his breath shallow, like he was already losing control. “Do what?” he asked, voice low and ragged, barely holding back whatever was building inside him.

I swallowed the nerves caught in my throat and said it—plain, bold, honest.

“Kiss me.”

His eyes snapped back to mine, and his jaw tensed.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Jules.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He stepped even closer, his hand brushing against my hip, but not quite gripping me—like he was holding himself back by a thread.

“I can’t.”

The rejection stung, sharp and familiar, but I didn’t back down this time. “Why not?”

“Because with you,” he said lowly, “it was never supposed to feel like this.”

His words landed like a punch, unexpected and breathless.

“What does that even mean?” I asked, confused, my voice tightening. “You wanted me, and now you don’t?”

“No,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s just… complicated, Jules. You and me—we’ve always been this way. I can’t be around you…” His voice trailed off, as his eyes dropped to my mouth before rising back to meet mine. “…without losing control.”

I didn’t respond. The air between us pulled tight like a live wire, straining under the weight of everything unspoken. The room suddenly felt too small, too hot, like even breathing the same air was dangerous.

Chris took a shaky breath, his voice lower now, like it was cracking under pressure. “I shouldn’t…” His fingers brushed against mine—barely there—but it felt like a spark had jumped between us. "I really shouldn't Jewl."

He looked at me like he was drowning—like I was both the fire and the escape. His chest rose and fell, heavy with restraint, his knuckles clenched at his sides.

Chris moved closer, slow and deliberate, like he was giving me time to stop him—even though we both knew I wouldn’t.

His fingers found my waist first, the tips just barely pressing through the fabric of my top. I sucked in a breath, frozen beneath his touch as it glided upward, tracing a line along my ribs, then over the curve of my side—gentle, unhurried.

“What do you feel when I touch you, Jules?” he asked, voice low and rough, like it scraped against something deep inside him. "Do you like it?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My throat tightened, breath catching as his touch dragged heat across my skin. His fingers skimmed my shoulder, then slid down the length of my arm, slow and maddeningly careful.

“You can’t even speak,” he murmured, almost to himself. He leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “Does your heart race?”

Still, I didn’t answer—but I didn’t have to. He could feel the way my body leaned into his, how my chest and hip found my hip again, grip a little firmer now, and his voice dropped further, a whisper thick with heat. 

Chris’s thumb brushed slow circles against my hip, his other hand ghosting over the curve of my jaw, tilting my face up to his. His eyes searched mine, dark and unreadable, but something about the way he looked at me felt almost… exposed.

“Do you like me, Jules?” he asked, voice low—quiet, but not soft. It was the kind of question that demanded truth. "hm?"

My breath caught. I hadn’t expected him to be so direct. I blinked up at him, lips parting—but the words didn’t come. 

“I don’t know…” I finally whispered, barely able to admit even that.

His jaw tightened. “You don’t know?”

I shook my head, just the slightest motion, my chest twisting. “I just… I can’t bring myself to.” The closet was starting to feel way too small. 

His brows drew in slightly, confused but still holding that stormy intensity.

“Why?”

I shrugged, helpless. “Because it’s you.”

He let out a short breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite anger. Just… pain. “I think you’ll always believe you hate me more,” he said, voice raw now. "more than you can ever like me."

I looked up at him, searching his face for some kind of clarity—but all I found was chaos, heat, tension so thick it felt like the air was closing in around us.

“You hate me too,” I whispered, almost accusingly, as if I said it first, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

Chris’s eyes narrowed like he was in disbelief. Slowly, his hand reached for mine, warm and steady, and he guided it to the center of his chest.

“Does this feel like I hate you?”

he asked, his voice low, almost a growl. My palm rested flat against his chest, right over his heart, fast, loud, and relentless.

“Because every time you look at me, every time you speak, every time you're near me...” he exhaled, his breath shaky. “This doesn’t slow down, Jules. It only gets worse.” 

I couldn’t look away, couldn’t pull my hand from his chest. I didn’t want to. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated you,” he said quietly, eyes locked on mine. “And I don’t think you hate me either,” he added, his voice low and steady. “Because if you did… You wouldn’t have asked me to kiss you.”

I shook my head, voice soft but firm. “I don’t like you, Chris.”

He smirked, unfazed, and leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. “Okay,” he whispered, his breath warm against me. “You say that but your body’s betraying you, Jules.”

A shiver ran down my spine, part from his words, part from the way his mouth moved along my skin—slow, teasing, electric.

Suddenly, sharp banging on the door shattered the moment.

“Seven minutes are up!” 

Someone called from the other side, loud and impatient.

I took a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to steady myself, heart hammering in my chest. Chris’s eyes darkened as he stepped away, the charged energy between us still crackling in the confined space. 

I swung the door open and stepped out, immediately noticing two unfamiliar girls lingering nearby—the ones who had been in charge of the timer.

The living room buzzed with quiet amusement; smiles and smirks spread across faces as we emerged.

My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat louder than the last. Without thinking, I reached out and gave Eden a quick, shaky pat on the shoulder. “Can we leave?” I asked, voice tight.

She caught the tension in my eyes and nodded instantly, no questions asked.

I moved through the crowd swiftly, murmuring quick goodbyes to Nick and a few others, my gaze fixed ahead to avoid the curious, probing stares from the rest of the group.

As I reached the door, ready to step out and escape, the last thing that caught my attention was Chris, his eyes locked onto me with a look so intense I practically slammed the door shut.

READ ALL RELEASED PARTS HERE!

[a/n: wow....that was steamy for sure, haha! like and reblog! mwah] - ceyana

tags: @chynapleasehavemercy @sweetheartsturn @mattspillowprincess @oopsiedaisydeer @chriss-slutt @sturnsflirt @idkwhatthisis2009 @angelicsturns @fmg05 @enviedparty101 @cupiidsbows @malox12 @chrissturniolodailysluts @ribbonlovergirl @kitty-meow-meow44 @jaybirdie34 @mattscore @mattsfrenchtoast @sturnsobsessed21 @kingofeverythingmb @courta13 @slvtf0rchr1s @mattspillowprincess @thewizardfall @sturnsfluff @ifamils @le4hsblog @carrielovesmatt @mattysmrwrinkleton @sturnsplatter @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @ellssturn @meatballlover10 @sagesturns @kiarasmaybank @malox12 @sturnsblogs @mattsdivaa @wesj11

Comment taglist on this post to be added!

[martyreddie]

Ryan hates buddie. He's doing everything he can to hammer how Eddie is straight and needs a WOMAN.

Meanwhile, Lou just last week told his fans he's fighting for more Tommy. The difference is so insane.

Oh, how sweet it is to see your side losing. Your fandom is crashing out while we are having a great time. Please, cry harder.

psst anon can I let you in on a secret? you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? see the thing is... i'm still having a great time. with every 'brother' ryan drops, with every 'eddie needs a woman' that crosses his lips, my soul glows a brighter shade of crimson because i live for the tragic and the absurd. i know that all i can expect to hear when the man opens his mouth is the sound of the rocks inside his head knocking against each other as they tumble on. i do not cower and pray at the golden calf of actors' opinions for i know it is a false idol because fate only ever moves as cruelly and swiftly as old man minear's fingers on the keyboard of his personal computer. i laugh in the face of adversity, be it adorned with a mustache or not, because i know we shall prevail forever, no matter what wretched words leave his mouth.

look around yourself, anon. the walls of the church are lined with the tales of all those who came before. do you think this is the first time i have had to watch a man as the story he found himself in started to slowly solidify around him like a tar pit? do you think i do not know that there is a chance he never escapes? the steps to this waltz we're dancing are old and well-known to me, for i have danced it my whole life. i have been baited many a time, and i shall be baited many a time more. i need not let hope die in fear of the past repeating itself because i do not want to die a coward. i have faced disappointment before and know not to despair.

because the truth is, anon, that i would rather spend a thousand years of service worshipping the tomb of something true than to convert to idolatry of a vapid man and the forked tongue of his puppeteer. it is not glory or success that i seek; i need neither affirmation of nor confirmation for what i perceive with my own eyes and heart. it is for the love of the game, the thrill of the chase, that I spend my days on this website, that i wake at night to watch a tv series that has long since been lost in a swamp of mediocrity. i do not play to win. i play to play. and just by virtue of this, i will always come out on top.

anon, i shall unveil to you the deepest, darkest secret of them all: there is no way for me to lose without winning too. such is the way of meta rpf. if the hole is sealed forever, if eddie never climbs, if he is doomed to rot in the cold wet earth until the heat death of the sun devours us all, then i will still have won, for i'll know who has bound his hands and gagged his mouth, who embraced him so sweetly as they waited for the first shovel of soil to christen their heads. i'll know whose name to curse and whose breath to mourn, and when i lay my head on the darkened earth, i shall hear his sorry heart beat in tandem with that of the man he doomed, and for a brief moment, i'll feel bitter satisfaction.

you see, anon, i will win. the question is just at what cost.

[castielsonlyangel]

ᯓ★ˎˊ ‘emails i can’t send’

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

content: angst, comfort, slight mentions of cheating

pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

summary: you thought you were reliving what happened between your parents, but dean reassures you you’re the only one for him.

word count: 547

When you were 12 years old, your dad cheated on your mom. That one event changed your view on love for the rest of your life.

You were currently sitting on your bed, trying to stop the tears from flowing. Dean was your boyfriend, you met him three years ago while both working on the same case at the same time. After the hunt was finished, that ‘work’ relationship quickly turned into a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship, and then, a real relationship. He was your first full commitment relationship. You decided maybe it was time to let the walls down that you put up for your father.

Dean had swore to you that he was done flirting with bartenders and hiring hookers now that he had you, but you didn’t entirely trust him even if you didn’t tell him that. It had happened once in your life before, and why couldn’t it happen again? Anything is possible.

The sound of the door opening was quickly followed with a call of your name. It was Dean. It didn’t take him long to find you, sitting teary eyed in the bedroom. “Sweetheart.” He whispered softly, carefully making his way towards you. “It was not what it looked like. I swear.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You scoffed, your voice breaking as the tears started to run down your cheek. Dean gently wiped them away with his thumb, holding you tenderly. “Look at me, baby.” He said softly, waiting patiently.

When you eventually looked up at him, you studied his face. He didn’t look guilty, he looked worried. Apologetic, but not guilty. “What was it then? What did I see?” You sniffled.

“That girl at the bar you saw with me? I knew her. Her dad and sister died on a case I took, and I saved her life.” He began to explain gently. “She moved her recently, and obviously neither of us had expected to see each other. She had just told me that her mother passed recently, and they were very close.”

The guilt washed over you immediately. You had immediately assumed that he was about to fuck your life in one selfish night. You opened your mouth to speak, but Dean stopped you. “I understand how it looked to you, and I understand why you reacted how you did.” He told you, not a single bit of blame on his face.

“What happened when you were 12 and what happened right now was not your fault. You’re just trying to protect yourself, and I understand why.” Dean’s words soothed you, but they only made the tears flow harder. He frowned as you began to sob, pulling you into a hug.

“Let it all out, you’re okay. I’ve got you, always.” He whispered soothingly as he held your head to his chest and rubbed your back with the other. His leather jacket was getting soaked in tears, but he didn’t care. You were the most important thing to him right now, and forever.

“I love you, sweetheart. It’ll only ever be you. You hear me?” He said as he pulled you back from the hug, wiping your tears from your face again. When you nodded, he pulled you close again and kissed you softly, tasting your tears on his lips.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a/n: this song has had such a hold on me recently. the whole ‘emails i can’t send’ album is a masterpiece. sabrina carpenter, you are a genius. also, my first time writing angst, hope its not awkward

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taglist: @ambiguous-avery , @deansweetheart , @mulderssweetheart , @butterphii , @butterphiiss

[pearsandrust]

the eternal recurrence was the only solution phainon could've come up with. because as terrible as it was, it fits his character so perfectly.

in phainon's as i've written chapter, we get to see how he was as a student. when he realized that he couldn't retain anything by skimming texts, he started reading them repeatedly until the paper wore away. correspondingly, his original self tries every possible solution when he steps into the cycles. but eventually, he converges on a single method and uses it over and over again. just like his books, he wears himself to shreds.

and of course, there's the "duel" he had with mydei in the original timeline. when asked to place something worth more than the fate of the world on the scale, he chose the deliverer card. cyrene then told him that "you can't just stack the scales with your past suffering" ... yet that's exactly what he does in the end. he suffers through millions of cycles and collects millions of coreflames, using his memories to hone himself into a ruthless weapon.

i've seen people say that phainon should have found another solution, a way to outsmart the scepter while he waited for a true hero to arrive. but phainon was neither a logical genius nor a master of trickery. he was someone who used his own grief to propel himself forward. so, in a way, i feel like the eternal recurrence was his destiny. his fated way of defying fate, if you will

[lauluuuuu]

Stuff I remember from the Tiger, Inyo, and Miko centric Supa Strikas comic:

Disclaimer: I read the comic 9 years ago and I only read it once because the website where I read it was down the next day (I remember this so well because I had a dance competition that day and wanted to show it my friend who also watched Supa Strikas, only to find that the website couldn't be reached). I don't have a good memory of the dialogue, but I can remember some of the panels. The order in which I have written the bullet points is the order of what happens in the comic, although there are definitely gaps in my memory (specifically what happens between Tiger's flashback and present day, I can't remember at all how they end the flashback). Please take anything I say with a pinch of salt😶‍🌫️🙏

Images are from @/supa_sweetheart on Instagram!

ANYWHOOOOO LET'S GO!

Tiger and Miko grew up in an orphanage, where they met Inyo. They played football outdoors all the time, and Inyo would only be allowed to stay in her room. Tiger and Miko were younger and smaller than the other kids there which made them targets for bullies.

Not that big of a shocker but still. Tiger's hair isn't dyed, or it could be dyed and he's been dyeing it since he was a kid (I know Supa Strikas doesn't always stick to canon but this was a huge lore drop for me because Tiger's fandom wiki said his hair was dyed red since his eyebrows are black).

Tiger was the first person to meet Inyo. Him and Miko got a football stuck in a tree, Tiger climbed the tree to retrieve it. Inyo's room was right next to the tree, and Tiger spotted her when he got the ball back. He realised that he had no idea who she was, and neither did Miko (the panels for this sequence of events are what I definitely remember best about this comic).

Miko and Tiger started playing with her and also taught her how to play football. They were the first people she had ever interacted with.

In the comics, Inyo is allergic to sunlight or has some similar sort of sickness (this was why she always stayed indoors). If you have watched Eli (2019 film on Netflix), I thought her illness was similar to Eli's, only it's very obviously not supernatural. It's why she wears a hazmat-like suit.

Someone found out that Inyo was going outdoors, and Tiger & Miko got in trouble and were forbidden from spending time with Inyo. They thought they hurt her and they didn't even try to sort things out.

Inyo was upset they didn't even try to talk to her and thought she did something wrong (man, I love the miscommunication trope).

(Post-flashback) When she found out that Supa Strikas would be playing against Cognito FC, Inyo was excited to finally have a chance to talk to Tiger.

Supa Strikas thought Cognito FC was cheating somehow in their game. It turned out Inyo is just that smart, and she said that she hates teams that cheat in the Super League. I was so shocked when she was lowkey using psychological warfare in the show because YES, she's intelligent, but she was supposed to be the only other honest coach in the SL.

I don't think Tiger realised Inyo was the Cognito FC coach until half-time, and that was when he told Supa Strikas of their joint past.

Supa Strikas won against Cognito, obviously.

Their next match was an SL final against Invincible United, and guess who returned to IU... Dooma😨.

He trapped Tiger in a locker before the SL final (exactly like Roblok did to Shakes in 'Roblok wars').

Supa Strikas noticed Tiger was missing but I don't think they were able to put off starting the match any longer, Inyo realised something was wrong when she couldn't see Tiger on the pitch, so she started looking for him (I think Miko was there too, but I can't say for certain).

Inyo found Tiger, freed him, and helped him get to the pitch.

Obviously Supa Strikas won (wow, what a surprise).

After the match, Tiger, Miko, and Inyo were finally able to reconnect.

According to @/clydebeech on Instagram in the comments of the post where I found the images from the comic, Dooma also gets sent to jail (YIPPEE!!!).

Please feel free to correct me, because I'm aware I might have misremembered some things. Or if anyone remembers things I don't please let me know🫠🙏

[hyperfixingfr]

Hello! I'm very sorry to bother you. I didn't wanna bring this issue back, but things escalated and I fear I must step in while I can.

I am a good friend of the user mpregkingjulien. While I do not necessarily agree with encouraging others to harm themselves, he has apologized and owned up to his actions. I know he already apologized before, and why he went after you again I am unsure of.

But we have a more important issue at hand. He feels awful for what he has done, started hurting himself again, and even considered offing himself. He feels as if he can never show his presence in his fandoms again. While what he did wasn't great, no one deserves to feel so bad about something that they hurt and/or kill themselves over it.

If it's not too much trouble, I would like to ask that if you respond to this, please tag the fandoms that he is in and let them know what's going on. I'm not trying to guilt trip, or anything of the sort. As his friend, I am worried about him, and I don't want him to throw it all away over something like this.

You don't deserve harassment, and neither does he. Again, I'm truly sorry for butting in. I just want things to end peacefully... preferably without anyone dying.

Thank you, and have a good day.

Dude, holy fuck, you're being manipulated. This is insane to me.

I literally never interacted with this user, they come into my girlfriend's DMs wailing about how "fucked up" I am for things that are not even remotely true (despite the fact that I haven't even SEEN this person before), they proceed to toss shit at me, then whine when I react, then wait a week to have yet ANOTHER GO at me, then whine AGAIN for a SECOND TIME when not only do I react, but I call them out on the fact that they lied and pretended it wasn't them, and now they're trying to shift the whole fucking thing onto me and how MY ACTIONS (a regular human retaliation to unprompted bullshit) are somehow the reason that they are injuring themselves. They TOLD ME to cut myself, and then when I said "that's fucked up", now they're cutting themselves and wailing about it? Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit, all of you. You guys need to get out of there please. You are being strung along on a leash. He found a random internet user, fed you all lies about how I'm some disgusting creep to attempt to justify his own attempts at trying to make me hurt myself, and then flipped the switch when people weren't happy and is now trying to make you feel bad for him for something he did on purpose and with bad intentions. He has been doing this for as long as people can remember, this isn't new behavior, this is just the first time he's been called out. And you guys think I'M insane? Please, save yourselves. I worry for your group. He's guilt tripping all of you extensively for feeling uncomfortable with his behavior and it's NOT OKAY! This is something that happens in cases all the time. Have you ever heard of those people who take their lives after doing something awful to another person to make their families attack the victim? It's a really nasty stunt, and it does happen. People who are fucked up aren't against going to the extremes to guilt and manipulate the people they know. I was already concerned for you guys before, but this is getting out of hand. I don't know this kid, he randomly spawned into my life a week ago talking about all this junk he 100% pulled out of his ass, and suddenly now I'm supposed to be responsible for the sadness that he feels because he did something OBJECTIVELY FUCKED UP?

You all think I'm some lame ass, evil person who deserves just as much shit as him because he's MAKING YOU think that. I've done jack fucking shit to prompt him to go after me, both the first time and the second time. There's proof of this. I had nothing to do with his mental problems from the start, and now you guys are on about how I'm just as bad as him (not you in particular anon) because he has absolutely GUILTED you guys into believing I had done anything to him that was wrong. Please, please don't let him get away with his guilt tripping. This isn't fair to any of you. Maybe once you guys open your eyes a bit, you'll realize I'm just trying to warn you. I have studied psychology, especially abnormal psychology (disability, mental illness, etc) EXTENSIVELY. I know what I'm talking about, and me being a teenager already enrolled for higher education with a 4.0 GPA who has accurately assessed and prediagnosed multiple people with mental disorders should be enough to tell you guys that I'm not taking the piss, and I'm not being a dumbass. I am distinctly educated on this topic and I'm seeing patterns here that should NEVER be taken lightly. One last time, please save yourselves. Please save him, if he's still capable of it. I refuse to get involved in something that I shouldn't be involved with any further, considering I was roped into this whole situation to begin with. Stay safe.