#will solace occasionally joins in

[taiyakien]

making my return to tumblr in honor of the new pjo series to push forward the valdangelo agenda via this drawing I made during the height of the hyperfixation

[the-ghost-king]

I know the indigenous will solace fandom is basically just me and @gatesofember but kid will as a jingle dancer is something that can be so personal actually

[galactic-magick]

Be Proud: Viktor x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions and allusions to body dysmorphia/eating disorders

Author's Note: I starting writing this to play with the idea of how founding Hextech probably gave Jayce and Viktor celebrity status in a way and how that would affect them and people involved with them. It ended up turning into a vent fic about my body image issues as well, to the point I almost didn’t post because it got so personal. But I figured there’s people out there who relate and might find solace in reading this as I did writing it.

-

-

-

You’re so proud of him. Everything he’s accomplished, everyone he’s helped. He’s living his dream, creating the future, and he’s being listened to and valued by topsiders. This is all you’ve ever wanted for him, and you would never think of standing in his way.

Which is precisely why you’ve never told him how insecure it all makes you feel.

Before Viktor got involved with Hextech, life was so much more predictable. You both could live your days together in peace, never being in the spotlight and rarely interacting with the highest of powers in Piltover. Life was hard, sure, but nothing you couldn’t manage without some tasteful spite and stubbornness. Viktor always knew his background would be a stumbling block for him up here, and you really weren’t much farther ahead, being from a title-less family with half your relatives from the Undercity.

But you’re not used to being around such glamour and poise. As Viktor becomes more involved with the Council and the wealthier areas of Piltover, making Hextech gadgets per their requests and being invited to fancy events, you’re left mourning simpler times. You’ll never get used to people coming up to you on the street while you bring your husband some lunch, or people staring at you during conferences when you’re just there to support him. Everyday citizens want to know and analyze everything about you, simply because you’re married to Piltover’s finest scientist.

You don’t like to bother Viktor with how it’s affected you, especially since he’s so good at handling it all. He’s always been so proud of who he is—where he came from—because he’s had to be. He’s not phased by the new fame as the co-founder of Hextech, and he easily shrugs off any comments people make about his past or his looks. To him, celebrity status is just a slight annoyance that occasionally distracts him from doing his work in the labs. But for you, it’s brought back every insecurity you’ve ever had about yourself.

You’ve stopped joining him as much at dinners and banquets because you fear they’ll judge how you look in a dress. You’ve stopped chiming in to interviews so you don’t say something stupid and embarrass him. You’ve stopped visiting him so much while he’s working so people won’t talk to or see you on the street.

You’ve started picking yourself apart in the mirror again, fussing every morning until you might cry. You compare yourself to the beautiful specimens that surround you, perfect in face, body, and manners. You start wondering if people judge how you speak or how much you eat. You wonder if people gossip about your family origins or your marriage. You wonder if you really, really, tried—if you could look like them. If you could be like them.

Viktor has started to stay back from some events with you lately, claiming Jayce is better at being the face of Hextech anyway. But tonight marks the five year anniversary of the company, and Councilor Medarda insisted there be a grand celebration.

The feast and dance will be held in her personal mansion, with the rest of the council and all the investors invited, as well as several reporters and journalists. Jayce will give an update address on what they’ve been working on, and what they hope to achieve by the bicentennial Progress Day.

This is something you can’t get out of and you know it. You drive yourself crazy trying on every dress in your closet, hoping to find something suitable for the affair. Half of them don’t even fit, which sends you into a further spiral, and the ones that do still don’t look good enough in your reflection.

Now the floor is covered in failed attempts at getting dressed, negative thoughts taking over your mind. Thoughts you know aren’t true, but you can’t stop thinking them.

He’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.

I’m not good enough to be here.

I should eat less.

If I tried harder I could look like her.

I should check how much I weigh again. What happened to that damn scale?

They only invited me because they have to.

They probably talk about me—

You’re so deep in your head that you jump when you see Viktor leaning against the door frame, eyes full of love and concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You look down at yourself, wearing the last dress you had in your closet. It fits perfectly, but that’s part of the problem.

Viktor moves towards you as tears well in your eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, smearing some of the makeup you put on earlier.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“No.” you reply, avoiding his gaze.

“No?” he chuckles. “Why not?”

“It’s so stupid,” you sigh. “I thought I recovered from this. I should be able to handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“All this publicity shit!” you finally look at him. “I hate being watched and talked about and judged for what I say and look like all the time. I hate being asked about personal things and nearly passing out because I’m scared to eat in front of people. I hate all these superficial gatherings that are probably just for show-”

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he cuts you off, dropping his crutch to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me it was getting bad again?”

You sniffle, “I...I didn’t want to bother you with something that doesn’t seem to bother you. You’re so good at being confident no matter what people say about you.”

“You think it doesn’t bother me?” he questions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me every time I overhear insults about me or my home, let alone when they say it to my face? You think I don’t notice that most of these people wouldn’t blink an eye if I died if it wasn’t for what I can offer them?”

He squeezes you tighter before slightly pulling away to look at your face, “I’m just better at hiding what it does to me, darling. Having a drive to prove myself is not the same as confidence. Now,” he kisses your forehead, “Tell me why you’ve been in here for over an hour and still aren’t ready, hm?”

“Well,” you gesture to the piles on the floor. “Those ones don’t fit. I must’ve gained more weight but I don’t really know for sure because I can’t find the scale. And those ones I just don’t like. And this one does fit, but it’s tight and I’ve never worn something form-fitted to an event before. I don’t want to deal with comments about my stomach sticking out or my arms looking puffy or whether I’m proportioned to their tastes.”

“You truly believe they’ll say those things?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. That’s what’s so scary.”

The tears return, falling slowly down your cheeks.

“Darling,” Viktor says softly. “No one will ever think or say anything as horrible as what you think and say about yourself. I promise you that.”

You nod, allowing him to soothe you, “I know.”

“I need you to tell me when these thoughts are getting bad. Do you understand? I never want you to go so long feeling this way ever again,” he tilts your chin. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, if you really don’t want to go, I’ll make up an excuse to get us out of it. But…” he slides his hands down your curves, “...it would be quite a shame if I didn’t get to see you wearing this all night.”

“You actually think it looks good?”

“Of course,” his eyes travel down your figure. “You always look perfect to me.”

“But-”

“No buts. Listen to me,” he faces you towards the mirror. “This body has gotten you through so much. I want you to be proud. Most of these people have never known a day of true hardship, but not you. You’re strong and you’re soft and you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I’ll ever desire.”

You smile, knowing he means every word. You try to see what he sees, remembering every time he’s showered you with praise. You know he’s never once agreed with any of the horrible things you think about yourself. You know he loves everything about you, including how your body compliments his smaller, angular one. He’s never made you feel bad about anything, so why is it still so hard to believe him?

“Thank you, Viktor,” you say, turning to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to be proud.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, no more worrying about the scale or falling into old habits, alright? I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try,” you laugh a bit. “You know what happened to it, though, don’t you?”

“Of course. I threw it out months ago,” he smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you checking it every single day?”

“You’re too good to me,” you bend down to pick his crutch up off the floor and hand it to him. “Let me just fix my makeup and we can go.”

“No more crying it off, alright?” he chuckles.

-

Jayce and Mel are waiting for you, welcoming you both to the celebrations. You can already feel the eyes and cameras on you, but you hold your head high, squeezing Viktor’s hand extra tight.

It’s been awhile since you’ve attended an event, but they always seem to go the same. Investors and council members come up to chat, mostly directing their questions towards Jayce. Sometimes they act as if Viktor isn’t even there, which boils your blood to the point you’ve said something on multiple occasions. Viktor has told you many times that he doesn’t mind being behind the scenes, and that Jayce is better at talking anyway, but you can never fully let it go. If people are going to gossip about him and your lives but not actually talk to him, you’ll gladly take the liberty of giving people a piece of your mind. You’d rather focus on lifting him up than dwell on your own self-consciousness, anyway.

One thing is different this time though—being that Viktor is a lot more handsy tonight than usual. He’s not normally one for public displays of affection, sticking to hand-holding and a few reassuring touches here and there. But tonight he can’t keep his hands off you.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, whether it be listening to the conversations, answering questions, or participating in the feast and drinks. He always has a hand on your waist or your thigh, gliding to your hips and stomach every so often. It seems mindless, as if he does this every time you’re out together, but you know he’s putting in a special effort to make you feel good.

And damn is it working.

You feel more at peace than you ever have since entering the public eye, proud of who you are and who you’re with. Who cares if people are whispering about their opinions on the Zaunite inventor? Who cares if there’s pictures of you in tomorrow’s tabloids with unflattering angles? Maybe all that matters is you’re having fun with your husband, and he’s making you feel oh so beautiful.

The night goes on for hours, attendees fizzling out until there’s only a handful left. You convince Viktor to dance with you before you leave, leaning against you and swaying simply. You wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling your fingers into his hair. He looks at you with such admiration, such devotion.

How could you ever doubt yourself under the gaze of those eyes?

“You lovebugs ready to head out?” Jayce approaches you both. “Viktor and I have a meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.”

“Ah, yes, we do,” he briefly looks away from you. “But...perhaps we could push it until the afternoon?”

Jayce rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you guys are in for a long night. Have fun.”

He waves and walks away, and you burst out laughing.

“Is it really that obvious?” Viktor jokes, returning his full attention to you.

“Viktor, darling, you’ve been all over me since we got here. I’d say the entire city knows how bad you want me tonight.”

“Maybe I want them to know,” he grins, sliding a hand up your dress and squeezing your thigh.

“Viktor!” you gasp, playfully slapping his hand away.

“Alright, I suppose we can go home first,” he pivots around, moving towards the door and extending his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You nod, quickly returning to his side.

Jayce was right, it’s going to be a long, lovely night.

[maririna]

✧˚ · .Cat Got Your Tongue?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Dr. Ratio x Reader

> In which you bring home a stray.

Word Count: 1.7k

Mari's Note: So I had this dream with him and a cat and I felt compelled to write something with it lol. Surprisingly, it came out sorta cute than I thought <3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"No. Absolutely not, I would not agree to such a proposal."

"Aww, why not?" You raise its paw waving it as if saying hello towards a certain grumpy lover while you support the feline with your free hand, keeping it close to your chest. "I think it'll be beneficial to keep it."

Minutes prior to your arrival, you had overheard high pitched whines directing from a secluded alleyway that was surrounded by stagnant puddles as a result of the dreary rain that just occurred.

Discovering the source, you were met with a surprising sight of a cat in a box, finding solace in the warmth of a battered newspaper, eyes wide and seemingly clueless from the situation it was in. You ofcourse had fallen in love and before you came to your senses, you were already in front of the door with said cat. 

It's rather unusual for you to make a grandiose request to Veritas, being satisfied with what you have and had been given, you are never used to asking for anything more. Perhaps it was intuition that struck you and you decided to stick with it.

"What a preposterous idea. I do not need some creature's mouth to feed." Veritas sighs, his hand rubbing his forehead. "Such a despicable thing would have the potential to create chaos and disruption to my work and research."

You raise your eyebrows, "Oh? Who said you'll take care of it? I'll fully take responsibility."

"Please?" You press, "The poor thing must have been starving and besides, we need a friend at home." 

"Good grief, have you even acknowledged the fact that the Felis catus species possess only an average IQ of 2?" He sighs as you shoot him a pleading gaze, the cat mewling in your arms, unaware of the doctor's insult.

With a hard look, he huffs and finally gives in. 

"Fine, only if you were to provide adequate training, necessities, complete supervision and most significantly, establish proper behavior, I may allow your preposition. However!" he halts. "If it interferes with my research and our house conditions, it's out."

You cheer, scurrying your feet to give a peck on his cheek, following with a stretch of your arms for the cat to do the same except it was met with a palm of his hand. "Oh no, no. Not the animal." 

You wont lie, having a new family to the household made things livelier, especially on the days where Veritas had been absent due to the Intelligentsia Guild. The cat had quite a calming effect, you were able to indulge into your work and daily schedule without the rush of anxiety on those same days. With dedicating your free time towards bonding and training the cat, you had also set aside its own space in your humble abode far Veritas's work desk and absolutely further from the intricate stone carvings in the shape of your lover. 

You also discovered that your new companion is a lovely and polite tom cat.

Veritas so far (and so good) did not seem to mind, letting the animal even roam around the living room frequently since it was a portion of the home that contained none of his papers and nor does he seem to mind the soft meows requesting for attention or inquiries of the food bowl being filled.

You are currently settled down on your couch with your darling joined with you. His eyes concentrate at a book on hand, the gentle sound of pages being flipped by the featherlight touches of his fingers fills the room alongside the occasional soft purrs of your feline friend who is nestled comfortably onto your lap. Its rhythmic breathing soothes you as you hum in content, nothing but peace and tranquility envelopes the space.

You were interrupted from your thoughts with the sound of Veritas’s book slam shut.

“Have you gotten accustomed to the new addition to our household? I am not one who engages nor enjoys the affection and sentimentality derived from owning a domesticated animal, however in your case, you seem to say otherwise.”

“Does it seem obvious?” 

You focus on feeling the softness of the cat’s fur as you carefully thread it with your fingers. His ears twitch from your intrusion, eyes shot open like he was not asleep just a second ago, he lets out a yawn, flexing his back into a wide stretch with a flick of a tail. He jumps from your lap to the couch, kneading it. You grin, muttering a totally unapologetic ‘sorry’.

The cat strolls over, a faint purr rumbling from his chest as he begins nuzzling against Veritas's thigh who visibly flinches. You notice his hand almost ready to raise, only to have it actually end up meeting upon the animal’s head which meows in delight, pressing his muzzle to the palm of your significant other’s hand, rubbing against it.

You see him cringe and tense up but you still credit his effort and beam at the sight. To see him be physically affectionate with the animal was unexpected, deep down you assumed he might have disliked the cat. Maybe he is still foreign with the change. 

“I guess so, the cat has been very therapeutic to me if I'm being honest,” you add.

He scoffs, "Although that is something I can never relate to," you don't see it, but his eyes soften a bit. 

A hand rests on top of your hair, "If it refines your cognitive performance and brain activity then I would have no objections and no reason not to accept the animal."

Veritas removes his hand and you almost miss the warmth. "Regardless, if he does not come aligned with my terms and conditions–"

"I know I know, geez. The cat has been nothing but a sweetheart." You cut him off and pout, "Isn't that right...?”

You pause.

“Uhm…”

Your partner raises a brow, "...are you implying you had never designated a name for him until now?"

You sweat, "...I haven't"

"Ridiculous."

"Well, it's hard to think of one!" you retort.

"Nonsense. You had already established a bond with him, although I would not necessarily care but I assumed it would have been natural to issue him a name.”

“You think of one then!” you puff your cheeks.

Veritas places his hand under his chin, absorbed in thought. Wait, Is he actually considering it?

“I would rather not. I am in no way having the slightest care over it as I deem it not crucial.”

You stick a tongue out to him, so much for having the tiniest belief from your heart in him. You can't help but deflate, feeling dejected that he doesn't fully welcome the cat as you expected.

For the next few days, you have been brainstorming, stubbornly attempting to choose a name, basking in countless research and books.

"Hmm, I don't like any of these." You groan in exasperation, rummaging through the pages of a book for a potential fit of a name, only to prove you no luck. Cursing under your breath, your face falls flat on the surface of a page.

A name is crucial for a pet, one to call out to, to get attached to, and to bond with, he deserves to have one like every other being. You have asked Veritas for any suggestions or if he can at least help but your actions bear no results.

With heavy defeat, you are forced to drag yourself towards the shelves for the cat's lunch. Geez you can't keep calling him just ‘cat’ forever, can you?

You spot the animal mewling over from the corner of your eye, trying to catch your attention to fulfill his hunger but notice something out of the ordinary.

Huh?

You see that he is wearing...a collar?

He tilts his head curiously, looking at you with doe eyes, meowing once more. You don't recall ever giving him one, only toys and cardboard boxes he seemed to like to conceal himself in all the time.

As you take a closer look, you discover something even more odd. A silver metal hanging around the edges of the leather–a name tag.

Your fingers glaze over the tag, feeling the sturdiness of the material, seeing a word engraved on it.

'Archimedes'.

You couldn't contain the smile that goes up to your face, your heart starts to race with happiness and relief. Only one person would come up with a certain name like this.

It seemed perfect for you, to think that he chose this name seems undoubtedly much like him. 

"Just so you are aware, I had scientifically engineered the collar to be a precise fit for him, including the exact millimeters alongside taking consideration of the feline's anatomy and measurements." 

Following the sound of a voice, you see the man himself, holding a piece of graph paper of what you assume is a detailed illustration of his creation as he carries himself with elegance and confidence.

"I created it to be comfortable, durable, and lightweight. In addition to that, I installed features that can accurately measure his vitals, from heartbeat to temperature with a built-in system that will notify us if there exists any malfunctions to his vitals."

As much as you are filled with joy and gratitude you couldn’t help but feel the need to go for the tease. 

"Oh? I thought you didn't want to keep him? Hm?" your tone is mischievous but playful.

You feign being in deep thought, resting a thumb underneath your chin. "Why is there a collar in him which by the way was specifically made for him by you and named him yourself if you wanted to get rid of him oh so badly?" 

"Research indicates having a feline cultivates a productive space for effective studying. I am simply experimenting with Archimedes. It would be favorable in my end to conduct my hypothesis if there is a word for him to respond to." He crosses his arms, his eyes suddenly interested in one of his many statues from the corner of the room.

"Right. Whatever floats your boat.” 

“That is known as buoyancy.”

...this man.

You lightly flick his forehead, trying to stop him from speaking any further as to save yourself from being trapped into another one of his hours-long lectures. 

“You are a dummy, y’know?” Before he could reply, you wrap your arms around him, his body relaxes, a silent invite for you to continue, feeling the tenderness and warmth of his skin. You brushed off strands of purple locks from his face, giving him a loving kiss. 

“Thank you, Veritas."

His eyes refuse to meet yours as he is rendered speechless.

"...Idiot"

"...But honestly, Veritas, you should have just opted for a normal collar."

[reidmarieprentiss]

Dare Ya

Summary: Spencer and Penelope are roommates, you get a dare during girls night that changes your relationship with Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, mild crime description, sneaking into beds

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: this is so silly & cute ,, i saw someone say they love penelope and spencer being best friends and i can't disagree hehe

main masterlist

After surviving a terrifying attack outside her apartment, Penelope Garcia can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that now shadows her every step. Seeking solace, she reluctantly accepts Spencer Reid's offer to move in with him, hoping his quiet, protective presence will help her regain a sense of safety. 

—

Penelope was sprawled out on the couch, her colorful blanket draped over her as she scrolled through the latest memes on her tablet. Spencer walked in, holding two mugs of steaming tea, carefully balancing them as he made his way to the coffee table.

"Okay, Penelope, I’ve got your chamomile, extra honey, just the way you like it," Spencer announced with a proud smile, handing her the mug.

Penelope’s eyes lit up as she accepted the tea. "Spencer, you’re an absolute gem! What would I do without you?"

Spencer sat down beside her, taking a sip of his own tea before replying, "Probably starve, considering your idea of dinner is three packets of Pop Rocks and a diet soda."

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. "I’ll have you know that’s gourmet snacking in some cultures!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, in this apartment, it’s all about balanced meals and—"

"—and daily doses of nerdy lectures from my favorite genius!" Penelope finished his sentence, her grin widening.

"Exactly," Spencer agreed with a chuckle. "Besides, you’re the only person who appreciates my random facts at 2 AM."

Penelope nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Of course! And who else is going to let me blast show tunes at full volume while I reorganize your books by color?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in mock horror. "Wait, you wouldn’t dare…"

Penelope leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, sweetie, it’s already done."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

"And you’re lucky I love you," Penelope shot back, lifting her mug in a toast.

Spencer clinked his mug against hers. "Best roommates ever."

"Forever and always," Penelope agreed, smiling warmly at him.

—

“Reid, don’t forget I’m having the girls over tonight,” Penelope reminded him as she flitted around the kitchen, her excitement palpable.

“Girls' night, I know,” Spencer replied with a small smile, glancing over at the calendar on the wall where Penelope had circled the date in bright pink marker. “You wrote it on the calendar.”

Penelope paused, turning to face him with a hopeful look. “Are you going to join us this time? It’s going to be fun! We’re talking snacks, gossip, and maybe even some scandalous games…”

Spencer chuckled, already making his way toward his room with a book tucked under his arm. “I’ll pass, thank you,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. 

Penelope pouted playfully, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “One day, Dr. Reid, you’ll see the light and join us!”

“Maybe,” Spencer called back with a laugh, already imagining the lively scene that would soon fill the apartment. For now, though, he was content to let the girls enjoy their night.

Penelope Garcia loves hosting her infamous girls' nights with the BAU ladies, filling her and Reid's apartment with laughter, drinks, and the latest gossip. Spencer, ever the accommodating roommate, doesn’t mind the occasional takeover—he’s more than happy to retreat to his books. What he didn’t anticipate, though, is you always showing up in your cozy pajamas, looking irresistibly adorable and sending his heart into a tailspin. As the nights unfold with playful games and shared secrets, Spencer finds himself leaving his room more and more often, struggling to keep his cool amidst the lively chaos.

—

The apartment is buzzing with energy as you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit in a cozy circle on the living room floor, surrounded by empty wine bottles, snack wrappers, and the remnants of your laughter-filled evening. The air is thick with friendship, and after a few rounds of lighthearted gossip, the group decides to spice things up with a classic game of truth or dare.

Penelope leans forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, truth or dare?” she asks, her voice full of playful challenge.

Feeling the warmth of the wine and the comfort of your friends, you giggle. “Dare, obviously,” you say confidently, knowing full well that Penelope won’t go easy on you.

The girls exchange conspiratorial glances, their eyes practically twinkling with mischief. Emily is the first to speak up, grinning as she leans closer. “We dare you to… climb into Spencer’s bed while he’s sleeping.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks flushing at the thought. “Wait, what?!” you whisper, a mixture of shock and excitement bubbling up inside you. The mere idea of being that close to him, even in such a silly, innocent context, makes your heart race.

JJ nods enthusiastically, her smile widening. “Come on! You’ve been crushing on him forever. It’s the perfect opportunity to get a little closer,” she teases, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Penelope claps her hands together, her excitement barely contained. “Think of it as a harmless prank! He’ll never know, and it’ll be our little secret,” she adds with a wink.

You bite your lip, your mind racing. The thought of sneaking into Spencer’s room, tiptoeing over to his bed, and slipping under the covers while he sleeps soundly is both terrifying and thrilling. But the encouraging looks from your friends, coupled with the wine-induced confidence, push you to make a decision.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” you finally agree, your voice a little shaky but determined. The girls let out a collective squeal of delight, stifling their laughter as they quickly urge you toward Spencer’s bedroom.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully open the door to his room, the soft creak of the hinges sounding far too loud in the quiet of the night. Spencer is fast asleep, his face peaceful in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses are on the nightstand, and a book lies open beside him, his fingers still loosely resting on the pages.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly approach the bed, your steps light and cautious. You glance back at the doorway, where the girls are peeking in, holding their breaths in anticipation. Gathering every ounce of courage, you carefully lift the blanket and slide into the bed beside Spencer, your movements as gentle as possible.

As you carefully slide under the covers beside Spencer, you’re acutely aware of every sound, every movement, your heart hammering in your chest. You had been fully prepared to stay for only a few seconds before making your escape, but the moment you settle in, something unexpected happens—Spencer, in his sleep, rolls over and instinctively drapes an arm around you.

You freeze, eyes wide in shock, as you feel his warmth envelop you. His face nuzzles into your shoulder, his breath soft and steady against your neck. Your initial reaction is to panic, to jump out of the bed before things get any more complicated, but the sensation of his embrace is so comforting, so natural, that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into him, letting out a breath. Spencer’s grip tightens slightly as if seeking out your warmth in his sleep, and your heart melts at the sweet, innocent way he snuggles closer.

From the doorway, the girls are watching with wide eyes, trying desperately to suppress their giggles. Penelope claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a squeal of excitement, while Emily and JJ exchange looks of pure amusement, both of them barely containing their laughter.

You turn your head slightly, giving them a pleading look to stay quiet, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. There’s something about the way Spencer holds you, even in his unconscious state, that makes you feel safe, cherished, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt the moment.

As the minutes tick by, the warmth of Spencer’s embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing begin to lull you into a state of calm. You know you should slip out, return to the girls, and let them finish their game, but instead, you find yourself growing drowsy, the fatigue of the night catching up with you.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep, nestled comfortably in Spencer’s arms.

Back in the living room, the girls exchange glances, their excitement bubbling over. Penelope, always the ringleader, whispers with a grin, "Looks like she’s spending the night there. Mission accomplished, ladies."

Emily chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s really going for it, huh?"

JJ giggles, still trying to keep her voice low. "I think we just made Spencer’s dreams come true—literally!"

The girls continue to snicker and whisper amongst themselves, marveling at how perfectly the dare has played out. They decide to let you enjoy your impromptu cuddle session, knowing that this is one girls’ night that will go down in history.

—

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently stirring you awake. For a moment, you were wrapped in the cozy haze of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around you. As your eyes blinked open, reality came rushing back, and your heart dropped into your stomach—Spencer was still there, his arm draped across you, his face just inches from yours.

Panic set in as you realized exactly where you were and what had happened last night. Before you could gather your thoughts, Spencer stirred beside you, his brow furrowing in confusion as he slowly woke up. His eyes fluttered open, and the moment he saw you lying there, his expression shifted from sleepy contentment to utter shock.

“Wha—what’s going on?!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and panic as he scrambled back, pulling the blanket up as if it could somehow explain the situation.

You bolted upright, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Spencer, I—I can explain!” you stammered, trying desperately to find the right words. But the sight of his wide, bewildered eyes only made your heart race faster.

“Why were you…? How did you…?” Spencer was clearly struggling to make sense of it all, his mind racing as he tried to connect the dots.

You cringed, feeling mortified beyond belief. “It was just… it was a dare,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Penelope, Emily, and JJ—they dared me to sneak into your bed while you were sleeping. I swear, it was just a silly prank. I didn’t mean to—” You broke off, feeling the heat of humiliation crawl up your neck.

Spencer’s eyes widened even more, if that were possible. “A dare? You climbed into my bed because of a dare?” He sounded incredulous, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, biting your lip and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t think—I didn’t realize you’d… snuggle up to me like that.” Your voice trailed off, the words sounding as ridiculous out loud as they did in your head.

Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was possible, his mind clearly reeling as he processed what you had just told him. “I—I didn’t know. I must have been dreaming or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know you were there!” He was stumbling over his words, just as flustered as you were.

The awkwardness in the room was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. The last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you were some kind of creep. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, but no coherent words formed. The embarrassment was too overwhelming.

“I should go,” you finally managed to squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. You bolted for the door, your face burning with shame.

Spencer started to say something, but you didn’t stop to listen. You couldn’t—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible. You could hear the girls' giggles in the living room as you rushed past them, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t bear to face them, not after what had just happened.

The moment you were out of the apartment, you leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your heart still pounding. You had never been so embarrassed in your life. The whole thing had backfired spectacularly, and now you had no idea how you were ever going to face Spencer again.

Inside the apartment, Spencer was left sitting on the bed, staring at the door where you had just fled. His mind was still trying to process everything that had just happened, his cheeks still burning. He had never been so confused, or so flustered, in his entire life.

—

After the chaotic morning had settled down and the girls had finally left, the apartment grew quiet. Spencer was still in a bit of a daze from the unexpected events that had unfolded earlier. He moved around the kitchen mechanically, setting up breakfast while his thoughts churned. 

“So, boy wonder,” Penelope began, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table as Spencer placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. “Care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Spencer sighed, sitting down across from her with his own plate, though he wasn’t sure he had much of an appetite. “I’m just… confused, I guess,” he admitted, poking at his eggs with his fork. “About everything that happened this morning.”

Penelope nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it was definitely one for the books,” she agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than just a silly dare, isn’t there?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. It’s just—when I woke up and saw her there, I was… shocked, obviously. But then, after she explained, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have her there, so close. And now, I feel like I completely scared her off.”

Penelope’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Spencer, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here,” she said gently. “Do you like her?”

Spencer looked up at Penelope, a bit startled by the direct question. His cheeks flushed slightly as he considered it. “I mean, yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s smart, funny, and… she makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. But I never thought she’d be interested in me like that.”

Penelope’s smile widened, her heart warming at the sight of her friend finally acknowledging his feelings. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Doctor,” she said with a playful wink. “The reason we dared her to climb into your bed wasn’t just for fun. It was because we’ve all noticed how she looks at you, how she gets all flustered when you’re around. She’s been crushing on you hard, Spencer. We thought a little nudge might help her break the ice.”

Spencer blinked, the revelation sinking in. “She… she likes me?” he asked, surprise and hope flickering in his eyes.

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, she’s got it bad for you,” she confirmed. “But she’s also shy and probably feels like she’s not on your level. That’s why she freaked out this morning—she’s likely mortified because she thinks she messed everything up.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, processing Penelope’s words. It was almost too much to take in at once, but the more he thought about it, the more everything made sense. The way you always seemed a little nervous around him, the way you’d light up when he shared random facts or when you’d bump into each other in the hallway. And now, the fact that you’d been daring enough to go along with something as bold as sneaking into his bed—it all pointed to one thing: you had feelings for him, just as he had for you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Spencer said softly, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. “But now that I know… what do I do?”

Penelope reached across the table, placing a hand on his arm. “You talk to her, Spencer. You let her know how you feel, that you’re not upset about what happened. She’s probably freaking out right now, thinking she ruined everything. But you can turn this around, make it something good.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of determination growing within him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “I need to talk to her. I don’t want her to think I’m upset or that she did something wrong.”

Penelope beamed at him, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. “That’s the spirit! You’ve got this, Spencer. Just be your sweet, nerdy self, and everything will fall into place.”

—

Monday morning rolled around, and the usual bustle of the BAU was in full swing. The team was busy reviewing files, catching up on paperwork, and getting ready for whatever case might come their way. But Spencer Reid had something else on his mind—something far more nerve-wracking than profiling criminals.

With a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small, carefully wrapped box from your favorite bakery in the other, Spencer made his way to your desk. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he approached. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, but now that the moment was here, his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

You were focused on your work, completely unaware of the flurry of emotions heading your way. But when you sensed someone standing in front of your desk, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stood there, looking slightly nervous but determined, holding out the bouquet of flowers—a beautiful blend of your favorite blooms, carefully chosen with Penelope’s help. Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart skipping a beat.

“Hi,” Spencer said softly, his voice a little shaky but warm. “I, um… I got these for you.”

You stared at the flowers, then at Spencer, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Spencer… what’s all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I wanted to apologize for how things went on Saturday. I know it was a little… unconventional, but after thinking about it, I realized I shouldn’t have let you leave feeling so embarrassed.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, both touched and confused. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. I was the one who—”

He gently cut you off, holding up the box from the bakery. “And I also got you this. I know it’s your favorite,” he added, offering the box with a small, hopeful smile.

You hesitated for a moment before accepting the box, your fingers brushing against his as you did. The gesture made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside you.

Spencer shifted slightly, looking down at the flowers before meeting your eyes again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Penelope said, about how sometimes we all need a little push to see what’s right in front of us.” His gaze was earnest, his voice steady as he continued. “And I’ve realized that I don’t want to miss out on what could be something really great.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, your heart beating faster as hope began to bloom within you.

“So,” Spencer continued, a small but sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can start over, without the dares, and just… see where things go?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. The embarrassment from the weekend melted away, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. You glanced at the flowers and the pastry, your favorite treats carefully chosen just for you, and felt a smile spread across your face.

“I’d love that, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Spencer’s smile widened, relief and happiness evident on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. “And thank you for the flowers—and the pastry. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Spencer said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Your smile grew even brighter, and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at his words. “Well, in that case, I guess I’m going to have to say yes.”

Spencer’s face lit up with joy and relief, and he let out a breath he was holding. “Great,” he said, his voice full of quiet excitement. “How about dinner tonight?”

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

As Spencer walked away to return to his desk, a spring in his step, you couldn’t help but glance down at the flowers and the pastry. The weekend’s awkwardness seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the sweet possibility of something new and delicious.

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[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck. 

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise. 

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze. 

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes. 

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy. 

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute. 

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again. 

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior. 

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach. 

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you. 

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face. 

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely. 

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut. 

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved. 

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched. 

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John. 

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers. 

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue. 

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you. 

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle. 

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up. 

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust. 

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago. 

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion. 

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade. 

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put. 

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down. 

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck. 

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite. 

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms. 

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead. 

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up. 

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into. 

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

[goldfades]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒, 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍' / 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐌𝐒 ─ QH⁴³

TRACK 7 ─── FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | he was always the first person she calls when she's broken up with her boyfriend. will this be like every other time, or something new?

─ word count | 2.2k

─ warnings | NSFW! smut with lots of plot, so much fucking angst (it's ttpd what do we expect?), mentions of cheating and manipulative (ex) bf, breaking-up, lots of cheating (on reader + kinda quinn/reader but depends on how you look at it), nothing else pretty much

─ ev's notes | yaya! another part!!! WOOO, but this one's an angsty one (but hey, at least this time it has SMUT WOOHOO)

THE FALLING OUT was bound to happen. You knew that at the end of the day, it was just simply fate. You weren't sure what the last straw was, all you knew was that you knew it was inevitable ─ it was supposed to happen that way.

You didn't even know where you were going until you got there. It was a habit, the moment you broke up with your boyfriend, you found yourself on Quinn's doorstep. Your mind was racing and somehow empty at the same time as you raised your fist to knock on his door. The familiar wooden door loomed before you as your hand hovered in mid-air, trembling with uncertainty.

Your hand trembled as you raised it to knock, the thud echoing through the silent night. Seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the tension thickening with each passing moment. Then, as if on cue, the door swung open, revealing Quinn's disheveled appearance.

His gaze met yours and you offered no explanation, no justification for your sudden appearance on his doorstep. Instead, you simply stood there, searching for solace in the depths of his brown eyes.

Quinn's expression softened, a silent understanding passing between you. Without a word, he stepped aside, a silent invitation for you to enter his home once more.

You entered the familiar home. It's changed since the last time you'd been there, almost six months ago ─ the last time you and your boyfriend had taken a break, which funnily only had lasted a week, but you somehow still had time to see Quinn again.

You sat on his couch comfortably as a silent sigh left your plump lips. Quinn's gaze lingered on your form, a mixture of familiarity and longing evident in his eyes.

Quinn moved to join you on the couch, his presence a comforting in uncertainty that threatened to engulf you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders.

"You want coffee?" Quinn's voice was rough and low as he spoke. Even though it was well after midnight, he still offered coffee ─ he was a caffeine fein but you didn't mind the bit. He always said the best therapy was warm drinks.

You nodded gratefully in response to Quinn's offer, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. As he rose from the couch, you watched him move with quiet admiration. There was a grace to his movements, a quiet confidence that spoke volumes without the need for words. It was moments like these that reminded you why you had been drawn to him in the first place, why his presence felt like a lifeline in the midst of uncertainty.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed as Quinn returned with two steaming mugs of coffee cradled in his hands. He settled back beside you, offering you gray Canucks mug with a small, knowing smile. You accepted it with a word of thanks, the warmth of the cup seeping into your fingertips.

Together, you sat in companionable silence, the only sound the quiet hum of the night outside and the occasional sip of coffee shared between you. You could feel Quinn's gaze on you after a few minutes and eventually, he spoke up.

"Are you done with him? For good?" Quinn's voice was gentle, yet tinged with a hint of envy. You could sense the weight of his question hanging in the air, the longing for reassurance mirrored in his eyes.

The honest answer was: you didn't know. You never knew, especially not with your boyfriend ─ no, ex boyfriend. You wanted to be done, you wanted to be out of the relationship that truly felt like a prison. But there was always that nagging doubt, that fear of the unknown that held you back from fully committing to moving on.

You struggled to find the words to explain the conflicting emotions that churned within you, torn between the want for freedom and the comfort of familiarity.

"I... I'm trying," you admitted, your voice shaky. "But you know how it is... it's complicated."

Quinn wanted to be angry, wanted to shout out at you and tell you that it would be okay. That he was there for you ─ that you never needed that cheating asshole you call a boyfriend. But he just couldn't, you looked broken already.

So he did what he knew how to do best, touch you. Gently, Quinn reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. Without another word, Quinn pulled you closer, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace.

He pulled your chin up, for your eyes to meet his. He didn't say anything else, he just leaned in and planted a needy kiss on your red lips.

──

"I don't understand what the hell you mean," Nick's voice was bitter as he averted his gaze from your face. Your gaze was pleading ─ all you wanted was for him to have a shred of empathy, for him to understand you.

Before you could say another word, he threw his fork on the plate causing a loud noise to echo through your apartment. You flinched, the tears that were building in your eyes finally rolling down your cheeks.

"God, I can't even eat in peace anymore." Nick's voice was quiet but any less bitter. He finally met your eyes and you didn't see any empathy anymore, only anger.

You let out a shaky breath, squeezing your fists. "All I asked was for you to was for you to listen, to hear me out, to try to understand where I'm coming from."

"Understand, what exactly?" Nick scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain as he cut you off. "Understand your excuses? Your lies? Your betrayal? I'm tired of it, I'm tired of being the one who always has to bend over backwards to accommodate your feelings."

"My betrayal?" You responded, your hurt turning into anger. "My damn betrayal?! Me? You were the one who cheated on me, while we were together."

"What about Quinn, you think I don't know?" Nick glared at you with pure anger.

"What about Quinn?" You answered with the same tone, your voice tinged with defiance as you met Nick's glare.

"You think I don't know what's been going on between you two?" Nick shot back, his voice rising with each word. "I've seen the way you look at him, the way you act around him."

"I've never slept with him while we were together, Nick. Do you think I'm sick, like you? You've fucked every girl in Vancouver, you think I don't know?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your words.

The accusations hurled between you were like daggers, each one piercing through the fragile facade of your relationship, leaving behind a trail of devastation in its wake.

Nick's expression darkened at your retort. "Don't you dare turn this around on me," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "You're the one who's been lying to me, sneaking around behind my back."

You let out a bitter laugh and now it was your turn to throw the fork in the plate. You stood up from the seat, your heart racing with anger.

Standing up from your seat, you faced Nick with a fire burning in your eyes. "You accuse me of lying? Of sneaking around? Look in the damn mirror, Nick. You're the one who's been cheating, not me."

"You're the one who's been living a lie, Nick. Pretending to be something you're not, while sneaking around behind my back."

The words spilled from your lips in a torrent of pent-up emotion, each accusation a barb aimed squarely at the heart of the matter. You refused to back down, refusing to allow Nick to blame you for your relationship problems.

"I'm done." You grabbed your coat and purse, practically running out of the home. You pulled out your phone, shakily sending a text message.

i need you can i call you? please

He responded within a couple minutes and by then, you were almost at his house.

of course i'm home

──

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of Quinn's lips pressing against yours, a desperate plea for you. As your lips met his, the weight of the world fell away, replaced by the intoxicating rush of desire that surged between you.

You let him take control, his hands roaming your body. He pushed you down softly, letting you fall back on the couch as he got on top of you. You were breathless as he pulled back from you, his lips pressing soft kisses on your neck.

He pulled your legs up so that you were straddling his waist, while your hands pulled on his ruffled-up hair. You let out soft whimpers as you let him kiss you and take care of you ─ the way Nick never did. His touch was soft, tender and sweet. Every touch was meaningful and filled with care and neediness.

He hadn't felt your touch in months and he was so needy, so desperate but he was still careful and soft. The way you liked, the way he knew Nick never treated you. "God, you're beautiful."

He mumbled softly against your neck, soft praises leaving his chapped lips. Quinn pulled off your shorts carefully, throwing them on the ground before he pulled off his sweatpants.

Wordlessly, you both stripped until you were both naked. He held you close to his chest as he let out a desperate groan, your arms around his shoulders to keep close as possible. He needed you so bad and you wanted to feel him inside of you, to feel him as close as physically possible.

He didn't waste any time, he pulled out his hardened member as slowly pushed into your already soaking hole. He held you close as he bottomed you out, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as a moan fell from your lips. God, how much he missed that sound.

He waited as you adjusted to his length before he began thrusting in and out of you, his movements became more desperate. His hands gripped your hips as he fucked into you, making his own desperate grunts.

You felt so full and you swore this was exactly where you wanted to be, always and forever. All thoughts of your problems were dissipated the moments his lips touched yours and it felt like now you were floating, you and Quinn in your own world. Lost in the warmth of Quinn, you surrendered yourself to the blissful oblivion of the present moment; you felt weightless, untethered from the burdens that had weighed you down.

As the world faded into the background, you allowed yourself to be consumed by the overwhelming tide of emotion that surged between you and Quinn.

And as quick as it started, you felt yourself come close. "Fuck, Quinn. I'm so close," you whined as Quinn grunted in response. He pulled your legs further up, pulling them on to his shoulders so he could you feel even deeper.

The new angle made the knot in your stomach snap unexpectedly, a guttural moan coming out of your mouth as your head fell back. You cried out, tears slipping from your eyes from the pure bliss you felt.

A few more deep thrusts and Quinn's seed was spilling into you, he fell onto your chest quickly. Both of you caught your breaths, your minds empty except for each other.

As you lay entwined in Quinn's embrace, a sense of calm washed over you and in that intimidate moment, you felt the fear of unknown slowly dissipate as you felt Quinn's arm held you close.

With each beat of your heart, the truth became painfully clear: Quinn was the only person who truly understood you, who accepted you for who you were, flaws and all. In his arms, you felt seen, heard, and loved in a way that no one else could ever compare to.

"I don't wanna lose you, never again." Your voice was hoarse and full of emotion. "Quinn, look at me."

As you spoke, your voice trembled with the weight of your emotions, raw and unfiltered. With a gentle touch of his chin, you urged Quinn to meet your gaze, your heart laid bare before him, vulnerable yet overflowing with love. In that moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming need to express the depth of your love for him.

Quinn's gaze met yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and understanding. "I don't want to lose you either," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with a fierce determination. "You mean everything to me."

There was a vulnerability in his words, a raw honesty that came from the depths of his heart. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew without a doubt that he loved you.

With a trembling hand, you reached out to brush away the tears that glistened in Quinn's eyes, your touch a silent promise of the love that burned brightly within your heart.

"I'm here," you murmured softly, your voice a whispered vow of commitment. "I'm not going anywhere."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[maxxxineminxxx]

I wanna be more || eddie munson

Part two : https://www.tumblr.com/maxxxineminxxx/731064587980521472/i-wanna-be-more-part-2-eddie-munson

warnings : jealousy, angst, fluff and cursing.

paring: y/n x Eddie Munson

summary: Y/n tells Eddie she wants to join the cheer squad he has a bad reaction at first but then he calms down. y/n thinks everything is fine until she sees her replacement standing at eddies locker. they look close?

a/n : I'm thinking about uploading a part two but i kind of hate this lmao.

In the halls of school, you tuned out the chatter of passing faces, finding solace within your close circle of friends, Hellfire. They were your everything, your unbreakable bond. Yet, starting senior year, you’ve felt like you need more experiences and friends. This is why you have chosen to join the cheerleading team. Since forever you’ve wanted to be a cheerleader, to rally for your team at sports events, and soak in the electrifying atmosphere. This final year of high school arrives and your determined to make the most out of every moment. Your just not sure how well Eddie is going to react once you tell him.

The noisy cafeteria buzzes with activity as you find a seat. The clatter of trays, the hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter create a lively atmosphere. You settle into your seat at the lunch table, greeted by the familiar faces of your friends. The conversation flows around you, but your mind is preoccupied with the weight of the news you need to share with Eddie. You take a deep breath, trying to find the right moment. As you engage in the conversation you steal glances at Eddie, searching for the right opening. Finally, as the conversation dips into a lull, you catch Eddie's eye and motion for him to join you for a moment. Taking another deep breath, you prepare to share the news with him, hoping for understanding and support.

“WHAT?’’ Eddie screams across the cafeteria. Yeah, you figured he wasn't going to take this well.

“I want to try out new things Eds” you explain to him with pleading eyes hoping he understands.

You've observed Eddie's feelings towards the cheerleaders, and it's clear he's had negative experiences with them in the past. However, there's a glimmer of hope in Chrissy, who stands out as a kind and considerate person. You hold onto this as you approach Eddie. To explain that they are not all bad.

“I know what you're thinking, you're thinking I'm going to turn into one of them. I promise you I won't ever be like that besides look at Chrissy. She hangs out with them daily and she's as sweet as can be.” He lets out a big sigh and gives you a stern look.

“You are still coming to hellfire, and you have to promise you won't ever miss a meeting or campaign.” He says whilst embracing you into a tight hug. “I’ll come support you at try-outs, I'll even bring a sign.” he laughs and places his hands onto your cheeks. Looking into your eyes adoringly

“It's going to say, go y/n you're a superstar!” he teases, squishing your cheeks together making your lips look like a fish, whilst laughing loudly. You push his hands away and try to run away from him.

“Please god no, you can watch but no signs, cheering or whistling.”

“Whistling?” he says acting confused.

“I know you Eddie Munson and I don't want a peep coming out of that mouth”.

He gestures a zipped mouth. As you resume your seat at the table, the conversation shifts gears towards brainstorming new campaign ideas. The atmosphere becomes more focused and animated, with everyone eager to contribute their thoughts.

The nervous energy in the gymnasium is loud as you enter. However, seeing Eddie's smiling face in the crowd offers a reassuring boost of confidence. His presence is a source of comfort, and you know that he's there to support you.

To your surprise, the girls on the team welcome you warmly. They shower you with compliments on your appearance, instantly putting you at ease. Their kindness and willingness to help with the choreography made me feel welcomed. It’s a pleasant surprise to encounter such a supportive and friendly group.

As you begin to practice and interact with the team, you realize that this experience might be more enjoyable and fulfilling than you initially thought. The positive atmosphere and warm reception from everyone make you feel like your part of a team that genuinely cares about one another. This realization boosts your confidence and eases any remaining nerves.

You got accepted to be on the team and you ran straight to eddie.

“Guess who's a cheerleader now?” you said , buzzing with excitement.

Eddie's excitement is contagious, and without a moment's hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace. You can feel his genuine happiness radiating through the hug, and it's as if the world spins around you both. Laughter bubbles up from both of you, filling the gymnasium with a light and joyous energy. He whispered a million congratulations in your ear. As we pulled away from the hug He looked like he had something on his mind. Something important to tell you but he quickly shook the expression off and went back to congratulating you.

“We should celebrate over milkshakes, my treat okay?” he said, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. You looked up at him with a smile, the kind of smile you made whenever you were about to cause trouble. ”Race you to the car” you said, running out of the gymnasium and sprinting to the car. Suddenly, you feel strong hands on your waist, and before you know it, you're lifted off the ground. You let out a surprised laugh, feeling weightless for a moment. It's Eddie, his laughter mixing with yours as he playfully swings you around. “Gotcha” he whispers in your ear. He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to get in with a bow.

We arrived at benny's burger bar and ordered two chocolate milkshakes

“Carol, you know the one with the short blonde hair, well she invited me to a party to celebrate me joining the team i'm not sure if i'll even go it'll probably just be a bunch of jocks making out ” you rambled on while sipping on your milkshake, he let out a loud laugh causing everyone in the diner to look at us. After he composed himself he finally spoke.

“Maybe go for an hour then see how you feel and if you're not having fun or something happens call me okay. please?” he grabbed your hand from across the table giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I will, I promise.” You stayed silent for a moment

‘’You know you could always come with me” “nope” “eddie come on please” “not happening sweetheart” you crossed your arms and gave him a defeated look with a pout

you could tell he was trying to hold in his laughter.

The evening continues in a warm and comfortable manner. Eddie pays for the milkshakes, a gesture that makes you grateful. As you leave the diner, you walk hand in hand, a familiar and affectionate gesture between you two. It's not the first time that people have mistaken you for a couple, but you're both used to it by now. Eddie would always brush it off when someone would ask if the two of you were together but you couldn't help but want him to say yes. You wanted him to want you as something more than just his best friend.

The drive back is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter. Eddie drops you off at your house just in time for your curfew, a small but thoughtful detail that shows how much he cares. Eddie's thoughtfulness has always been a defining trait in your friendship. It's those extra gestures, like paying for milkshakes or making sure you get home on time, that make him stand out. It's not just about the big moments, but also the small, thoughtful gestures that make you feel valued and cherished in your friendship with Eddie. Like when you were young and he would paint your right hand nails with polish because you were still figuring out how to paint with your left hand. So he would try to do it for you, he would always give you the last slice of pizza even if you were full and the way he always made sure you were okay.

The street lights cast a soft, golden glow on the pavement, creating a serene atmosphere. You stand on the doorstep, reluctant to say goodbye after such a wonderful evening. As you bid Eddie goodnight, you're filled with a sense of contentment and gratitude for the special friendship you share. Waving and blowing kisses at him as he drives away.

At times, you found yourself wondering whether Eddie shared the same sentiments you had towards your relationship. You yearned for him to perceive you as something beyond just a friend.

Because every time you pictured yourself with anyone it was always him.

you had not seen Eddie all weekend, normally he would call or come over but not this weekend apparently. You went over to his trailer on Sunday but nobody was home, he normally went out of town with his uncle a couple times of the year so you assumed it was just that.

Entering the school halls, a subtle shift came over you. Adorned in your cheerleading attire to match the other girls, with your hair elegantly curled, you became a beacon of attention. It was as if every gaze was directed towards you, but in a most positive and affirming manner. You walked towards hellfire to say hi, but you were dragged away by carol who started introducing you to the cheerleaders.

“So are you coming to the party tonight? If you are, come to mine before we are all going to get ready together.” she said whilst reapplying her lip gloss.

“Okay yeah I will” you replied buzzing with excitement. She smiled and complimented your hair. You felt overjoyed at this new attention you were getting.

Turning towards Eddie's locker you saw a girl standing beside him she had a hellfire shirt on, loads of piercings and raven black hair. Eddie hand his hand on her waist and was smiling brightly at her. All of the hellfire members were staring at her as if she hung the moon.

You felt a wave of hurt rush over yourself. Carol turned to you and followed your gaze. Along with Olivia and Layla who were very close with carol and were also on the team.

“that’s the new girl Olivia was talking about I think her name is Roxanne or something. Apparently she’s a total loser, Wouldn’t be surprised.” Carol said with a laugh.

"apparently they have been seen hanging out all weekend" Layla said as she looked at the pair with disgust

“I heard she’s joining hellfire, which is like the worst thing you could ever do no offense y/n” Olivia said whilst fixing her hair. “Your pretty so you can get away with the whole nerdy thing” she slammed her locker shut.

“Yeah, some of us aren’t that lucky” carol said staring at Roxanne with a smirk.

As the bell echoed through the halls, you said bye to the girls and quickly rushed off to the bathroom. Fixing your hair and reapplying your lip-gloss. You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror replaying the scene you had just seen. Why was he looking at her like that. Shes why he didnt call.

You hadn't really seen Eddie all day except once at lunch. He was avoiding you and you knew that because every time you would walk up to him to say hi he would bolt the other way. He was sitting with hellfire at their lunch table, all of them laughing together. your heart swelled with relief as you caught sight of him. There he stood, a beacon of happiness, his face lit up with a radiant smile that seemed to chase away any lingering doubts or worries. It was as if his joy was contagious, enveloping the space around us with a warm and inviting glow. He was talking to Gareth and throwing his head back with laughter, but as you walked over to the table, you noticed her sitting next to him. In your spot. So, you did what any mature teenage girl would do. And instead of confronting her.

you walked straight past the table and headed over to the jocks table. Deciding to sit with them instead because when the cheerleaders saw you walk towards their table their smiles grew and they made space for you to sit with them. You felt wanted and included here. you looked over at Eddie and to your surprise he was already looking at you. Your smile faded once you saw his expression. He looked hurt. You saw Roxanne holding onto eddies arm and you looked away.

Were they dating? No way its been like 3 days. Maybe they have known eachother for longer? where did they even meet? why did he like her? You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice Chrissy talking to you.

“y/n are you even listening right now” Layla another cheerleader said with a pout as she stared at you waiting for you to reply. “Yeah, sorry what were you guys saying?”

“Does my hair look flat” they all said in union. You shook your head fighting the urge to laugh.

Turning your gaze back to Eddie, you observed him and Roxanne sharing a moment of genuine happiness. Their laughter danced through the air, painting the scene with vibrant hues of joy. You watched as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and winked at her. you needed to get over this crush now.

but you missed the way that when you looked away from Eddie his gaze and attention was all on you.

[forzarma]

Memories

Pairing: dad!lewis x wife!reader

author’s note: im a sucker for dad lewis

As the morning sunlight poured into the kitchen, painting everything in a soft golden hue, you took a moment to relish the peace of the morning. The gentle sounds of breakfast being prepared filled the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of coffee and pancakes.

“Morning, love,” Lewis greeted you with a smile, his eyes bright with affection as he tended to the stove. “Breakfast is almost ready. The kids are already up and about in the living room.”

Taking the cup of coffee he offered, you breathed in its warmth, feeling a sense of gratitude for these simple moments. “Thanks, Lewis,” you murmured, taking a sip. “I’ll go check on them.”

Entering the living room, you were met with a scene straight out of a family movie. Chanel, your daughter, twirled around in your heels, her laughter filling the room, while Cole, your son, built a cushion fort with meticulous care.

“Morning, Mommy!” Chanel greeted you with a wide grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at me, I’m a fashion queen!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her antics, but you knew you had to set some boundaries. “Chanel, sweetie, those are Mommy’s shoes,” you gently reminded her, trying to balance firmness with love.

With an exaggerated sigh, Chanel kicked off the heels, muttering something about unfair rules under her breath. Joining her brother in the cushion fort, she continued her play with renewed enthusiasm.

Watching your children, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. Despite the chaos, these moments were what made parenthood so special.

Back in the kitchen, you helped Lewis finish breakfast, enjoying the quiet camaraderie between you. As you set the table, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your family gathered together.

Sitting down to eat, conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional spill. It was these simple moments of togetherness that made everything worthwhile.

After breakfast, as Lewis headed out for his training, you were left alone with the kids. But even in his absence, his presence lingered in the warmth of the house.

When Lewis returned later that evening, tired but happy, you welcomed him with open arms. Together, you shared stories of your day, finding solace in each other’s company.

As night fell, Lewis suggested a movie night, and the kids eagerly agreed. Snuggled together on the couch, you watched as your children laughed and cheered, their joy contagious.

In that moment, surrounded by the people you loved most in the world, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. These were the moments that made life worth living, the moments that filled your heart with love and happiness.

As the movie ended and the kids drifted off to bed, you and Lewis lingered on the couch, basking in the quiet of the evening. It was during these stolen moments that you cherished the most, when the world seemed to slow down and it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“I love you,” Lewis whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the weight of those words settle deep within your soul.

Together, you sat in comfortable silence, content in each other’s presence. And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the beautiful chaos and joy that filled your life, knowing that as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

[marysfics]

The flowers came when the rain made you

As you’re growing, she seems frozen in time.

Slight Angst, Fluff

The first time Alexia brought you to Camp Nou, the stadium was empty.

She tugged at your hand, her touch firm but tender, guiding you through the players’ tunnel with an energy that was almost childlike. She was glowing—not with the confidence she wore in the public eye, but with something softer, more unguarded.

You’d seen her on the pitch before, commanding the field with a kind of grace that bordered on poetry. But here, stripped of the crowd’s roar and the pressure of expectation, she was just Alexia. A woman who had spent years carving her name into the history books, yet still sought the quiet solace of this sacred ground.

When you stepped out onto the grass, the sheer magnitude of the stadium made you pause. Rows upon rows of empty seats stretched skyward, their silence as deafening as the cheers they usually held. The air felt different here—charged, alive, yet hauntingly still.

Alexia tugged at your hand again, pulling you to the center of the field. “This,” she said, releasing you only to spin slowly in place, arms wide like a child greeting the sun, “is where I feel invincible.”

Her voice wavered on the word invincible, cracking slightly as if it wasn’t entirely true. You caught it—of course you did. She carried herself like an unstoppable force, but you had learned to read the moments when her strength faltered.

“You are invincible,” you whispered, stepping closer. Your arms slid around her waist, your chin resting gently on her shoulder.

She stilled in your embrace, leaning back into you as if drawing strength from your presence. Her breathing slowed, and for a heartbeat, you felt the weight she carried lift—just enough to let her relax against you.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, so quietly you almost missed it.

Her confession hung in the air, as vast and open as the field around you.

You tightened your hold on her, willing her to believe it, even if she couldn’t in that moment. “I do.”

Her head tilted slightly, her cheek brushing against yours. She closed her eyes, her lips curling into a faint smile, one that felt like a truce with herself.

For a while, the two of you stood there, your hearts beating in sync under the soft twilight. You didn’t need words to fill the space between you. The silence wasn’t empty; it was alive with the shared understanding that this—being here, together—was enough.

But later that night, the weight of whatever haunted her crept back in.

She’d insisted on walking through the city streets after dinner, her hand in yours as the golden glow of streetlights reflected off cobblestone. She talked about the game, her family, and the team’s upcoming schedule, but there was a distance to her voice. You could feel her slipping away, retreating into the fortress of her mind where you couldn’t reach her.

When you got home, she disappeared into the shower for longer than usual. By the time she joined you in bed, her silence was louder than ever.

She didn’t say goodnight, just slid under the covers and turned away, her back to you.

You reached out, hesitating before your fingers brushed against hers. You laced them together, squeezing gently, hoping it would tether her to the moment, to you.

But even then, her walls didn’t come down.

You laid there in the quiet, staring at the ceiling and wondering how someone who felt so invincible could seem so lost.

April’s Fool was the song playing on the radio when you first kissed her.

You were at a bar in Madrid, tucked into a corner booth where the noise of the crowd softened into a steady hum. The air was thick with the smell of beer, a faint haze of smoke lingering despite the no-smoking signs. Alexia sat beside you, her arm draped over the back of your chair, her fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder as if she couldn’t bear the distance.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your voice playful but your cheeks warm under her gaze.

“Can’t help it,” she murmured, leaning closer. Her voice was low, intimate, a secret shared only with you. “You’re all I see.”

Her words hit you like a jolt, the sincerity in her eyes stealing the breath from your lungs. You tried to laugh it off, brushing her shoulder with your own. “You’re cheesy, you know that?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her lips quirking into that half-smile that made your knees weak. “But it’s true.”

The song on the radio shifted, the first chords of April’s Fool cutting through the noise of the bar. The lyrics were melancholy, raw, a strange counterpoint to the bubbling excitement building in your chest.

You weren’t sure who moved first, whether it was her leaning in or you closing the gap. All you knew was the softness of her lips against yours, the way the world seemed to blur and fade until it was just her—her hands on your waist, her breath mingling with yours, her heart beating in time with the song.

It felt like fate, like the universe had aligned to bring you to this moment.

But now, months later, the song feels less like fate and more like a warning.

You’re changing. Growing.

You’ve started painting again, your once-dusty brushes now stained with vibrant hues. Your canvases, once blank and abandoned, are coming to life with bold strokes of color, each one a testament to the pieces of yourself you’ve begun to reclaim.

You laugh more, too. Not the polite, reserved kind you used to offer the world, but something freer, unrestrained. You’ve rediscovered the things that make you come alive—the books you used to lose yourself in, the morning runs where the world feels quiet and yours alone, the way sunlight dances on water.

And Alexia notices.

One morning, as you sit at the kitchen table sketching on the back of an old grocery list, she comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

“You’re glowing,” she says, her voice tinged with awe. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your shoulder, her touch warm and familiar.

You tilt your head back to look at her, smiling as you reach up to cover her hand with yours. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hums, but there’s something in her expression—a flicker of sadness, of something unsaid.

“Hey,” you say softly, turning in your chair to face her. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nothing. Just… I love seeing you like this.”

Her words warm you, but the shadow in her gaze lingers, and you can’t help but wonder what she’s holding back.

The thing is, while you’re growing, breaking free of old scars that used to define you, Alexia is standing still.

You’ve tried to pull her with you, to show her that life can be more than the weight she carries. But Alexia, for all her strength on the pitch, seems trapped in the confines of her own mind.

Some nights, you’ll find her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands as if searching for answers in the callouses and lines. Other nights, she’ll disappear onto the balcony with a glass of wine, her silhouette framed against the city lights, her thoughts as distant as the stars.

You try to reach her. To remind her that she doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone.

But Alexia, who can hold the world on her shoulders without flinching, struggles to let anyone else share the load.

“Come paint with me,” you suggest one afternoon, holding out a brush to her as she sits on the couch scrolling through her phone.

She looks up, startled, then smiles softly. “I’m terrible at painting.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you reply, grinning. “I am too, half the time. It’s not about being good—it’s about letting go.”

She hesitates, the wariness in her eyes unmistakable. But then she shakes her head. “Maybe later.”

Later never comes.

You try not to let it sting. Alexia loves you—of that, you’re certain. She shows it in a thousand small ways: the way she tucks a blanket around you when you fall asleep on the couch, the way she remembers exactly how you like your coffee, the way her hand always finds yours when you’re walking together.

But love isn’t always enough.

And as the months pass, the gap between your growth and her stagnation begins to feel insurmountable.

Alexia isn’t growing. Not in the same way.

You see it in the subtle way her eyes become distant when the conversations turn personal, in the way she retreats into herself, always a step behind, always holding a piece of her back from the world—and from you. She’s trying, God, is she trying. But no matter how hard she pushes, no matter how many wins she racks up, there’s something inside her that remains untouched, buried under layers of old wounds and unspoken fears.

She’s brilliant on the pitch, a force to be reckoned with, her name chanted by thousands, and yet, at home, she is quiet, contemplative.

Some nights, when the house falls silent and the weight of the day settles into the corners of your apartment, you find her sitting alone on the balcony. The dim light of the city flickers in the distance, and the air is cool, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of passing cars. A glass of wine is cradled loosely in her hand, her fingers playing with the stem in absentminded rhythm.

Her eyes are distant, locked onto something far beyond the horizon.

The silence between you stretches, heavy and unyielding. You watch her for a moment, hoping that maybe tonight, she’ll speak, but she doesn’t.

“Talk to me,” you urge, your voice soft but insistent. You kneel beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face before gently covering her trembling hands with your own.

Alexia looks at you, her expression unreadable for a moment, before she glances down at her hands. She shakes her head slightly, as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“It’s nothing,” she says, her voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it, laced with a sorrow you don’t know how to fix.

You’re not fooled. You never have been. There’s always something more, something lurking beneath the surface that she won’t—or can’t—let you see.

“It’s not nothing, Alexia,” you say, your thumb gently tracing the edge of her hand. “Please.”

The way she exhales is sharp, a release of tension that makes the air around you feel colder. She sets the glass down with a soft clink, the sound of it feeling final. Her hands are trembling now, her grip on yours tightening, and in that small, delicate moment, you realize the depth of her pain. For all her strength, for all the resilience she wears like armor, she’s still a woman carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The weight of expectations. The weight of the spotlight. The weight of every moment she’s been taught to push past.

You can feel it—her fear of being vulnerable, of allowing herself to break in front of someone else, even you.

“I don’t know how to let go,” she whispers, so quietly you almost miss it. The words hang in the air like smoke, heavy and haunting.

Her voice cracks, and you squeeze her hands tighter, your heart aching for the pieces of her you’ve never been allowed to see.

“Of what?” you ask, your own voice shaking, though you try to keep it steady.

Her eyes close, her chest rising and falling as she tries to steady herself, but the vulnerability in her gaze is undeniable. “Of the things I’ve done... the things I’ve lost. Of always having to be strong. Of never letting anyone see that I’m human.”

Her words, raw and broken, hit you like a wave, each one a quiet confession she’s never shared with anyone else. And though you want to say something to make it better, to tell her that she doesn’t have to carry it alone, you know that she has to decide to put it down herself.

But what do you do when the one you love refuses to let go?

You want to tell her that you see her. That you see the cracks beneath the surface, the things she tries so hard to hide, and that you love her all the same. But instead, you simply pull her into your arms, your hand cradling the back of her head as she sinks into your chest. You don’t need words for this moment. She doesn’t need to explain everything to you. You’re here, and that’s enough.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sounds are the distant hum of the city and the soft rhythm of her breathing, slow and steady against your heart.

And then, softly, almost as if she’s testing the waters, Alexia whispers, “I don’t know how to be… me anymore.”

The confession hits you like a punch. There’s no anger, no bitterness in her voice, only a deep sense of loss. It’s the sound of a woman who’s spent so much time building the person the world needs her to be, that she’s forgotten who she was before all of this. Forgotten the pieces of herself that didn’t belong to anyone but her.

“I think you’re already her,” you say, your voice soft and steady as you run your fingers through her hair. “You’re just… finding her again.”

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The weight of her pain is almost suffocating, and you can feel it pressing in on you, but you refuse to look away.

“I’m afraid that I won’t,” she admits, her voice breaking. “That maybe I’m too far gone.”

“Don’t say that,” you reply immediately, your voice firm with conviction. “You’re not gone. You’re right here. You’ve always been right here.”

The moonlight catches in her eyes, and for the first time in a long while, you see something shift. A quiet hope, fragile but unmistakable, blooms there.

Alexia is still carrying the weight of her past, her failures, her fears—but in this moment, she allows herself to lean on you. To admit that she doesn’t have to carry it alone.

And that’s enough.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that, holding her in the quiet of the night, the city murmuring softly in the distance. But in this moment, it feels like everything has stopped. No more expectations. No more pressure. Just the two of you, existing in the space between breaths, between the gaps of what’s said and what’s left unsaid.

But time moves differently for Alexia. And even in your arms, you can feel the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing down on her. There’s a heaviness in her shoulders, in the way she inhales and exhales as though the air is too thick to breathe.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she admits, breaking the silence after what feels like an eternity. Her voice is barely a whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it too real. She pulls back slightly, enough to meet your gaze, but she doesn’t look at you directly. Her eyes are unfocused, somewhere far away. “I don’t know how to make it better.”

You want to tell her that it doesn’t need to be fixed. That you don’t need to have all the answers. But instead, you simply hold her gaze, trying to convey everything you feel without speaking. You’re here. You’re not going anywhere.

Her lips tremble, and for a brief moment, you think she might pull away, might shut herself off again. But instead, she leans into you, her forehead resting against your chest, her breath shaky and uneven. And you feel the walls she’s built around herself begin to crack, just a little.

“I’ve spent so much time pretending,” she continues, her voice quiet but growing steadier, “pretending that I’m okay. That I don’t need anything. That I don’t need anyone.”

The words sting, not because you didn’t know it—because you’ve seen it, felt it—but because you know how deeply she believes it. She’s worn her strength like armor, but underneath, she’s been bleeding, silently.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” you murmur, your fingers threading through her hair, gently guiding her face back up to meet yours. “I see you, Alexia. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallows hard, a tear slipping down her cheek before she can stop it. You wipe it away with your thumb, heart aching at the rawness in her eyes.

“Even when I’m not… strong?” she asks, her voice fragile. It’s a question, but it feels more like a plea.

“Especially when you’re not,” you reply, your words firm, unwavering. “Because that’s when you need someone the most.”

For a long time, she doesn’t respond. She simply looks at you, her gaze searching, as if she’s trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth or if it’s just something you say because it’s what she wants to hear.

But in the end, she doesn’t need to ask. She knows. She feels it. The quiet strength in your words, the way you hold her without trying to fix her, without trying to make her feel like she has to be something she’s not.

Alexia exhales softly, her shoulders dropping just a fraction, as if the weight of the world is slightly easier to bear, just for a moment.

And then, she leans in, her lips brushing softly against yours, the kiss tender, almost tentative at first. Like she’s still unsure of what it means, still unsure of herself. But when you kiss her back, slow and sure, it’s as if the world falls away.

The kiss lingers. It’s a promise, quiet and unspoken, but full of understanding. You don’t need her to be perfect. You don’t need her to carry the weight alone.

For once, she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t retreat into herself. She lets herself be vulnerable, lets herself be held. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re not the only one growing, not the only one learning how to let go.

But as the night stretches on, you know the weight of everything isn’t gone. Alexia’s past will always be a part of her, just like your own scars are a part of you. There will still be days when the silence stretches too long, when the distance between you feels too wide. But tonight, in this moment, it doesn’t matter. Tonight, it’s enough to just be with her, to be here, together.

And when the quiet returns, wrapping around you like a soft blanket, you know that despite everything, there’s hope. There’s always hope.

The morning after that quiet, tender moment, Alexia wakes up with your hand still resting over hers. The sun filters through the curtains, casting soft light across the room, and for the first time in what feels like ages, the weight of the world doesn’t seem so heavy.

She’s lying on her back, but there’s a peace in the way she’s breathing, a steadiness in her chest that wasn’t there before. Her fingers twitch under yours, as if she’s aware of the shift between you both, of the promise that wasn’t there before.

When you stir, she turns toward you, her eyes softer, not the guarded distance you’re used to, but something more open.

"Morning," she murmurs, her voice hoarse but with a warmth to it that makes your heart flutter.

"Morning," you reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. You watch her for a moment, seeing the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It’s the first time in a while that she looks truly present, not lost in her thoughts or in the weight of past mistakes, but here with you, in this moment.

"Do you want to go for a run?" you ask, a playful glint in your eye. You’ve been waking early again, and while it’s become a routine for you, Alexia hasn’t joined you in a while.

She hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. "Yeah. I think I could use a run."

The two of you lace up your sneakers together, the morning air cool and refreshing as it brushes past you. As you run side by side, there’s a rhythm to it. The sound of your footsteps is in sync, like the two of you are moving together through time, not in competition, but in harmony.

During the run, Alexia doesn’t retreat inward. She talks about everything and nothing at all—her favorite songs, the latest team strategy, something funny her teammate said yesterday. Her voice is light, free, and even though it’s a small moment, it’s a big one for both of you. For the first time in a long time, it feels like Alexia is letting the layers she’s built up fall away, step by step.

When you reach the park, she slows her pace and stops at the edge of a large oak tree, her hands on her hips as she catches her breath. You stand beside her, panting lightly, both of you soaking in the morning light.

“Thanks for this,” she says, looking at you with a soft smile, her eyes a little less guarded. “I needed it. More than I realized.”

You nod, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. You’ve got me.”

Her smile widens, but there’s something different in it now. It’s a little more confident, a little less uncertain.

“I know,” she whispers, her voice catching just slightly. “I’m trying to believe that.”

The next few weeks pass, and while things aren’t always perfect, there’s a shift. The walls Alexia had built around herself begin to crumble in slow, small ways. She begins to talk more, about her fears, her regrets, her dreams for the future. It’s not all at once, and it’s not easy, but it’s progress. She learns to let go of the idea that she has to be invincible, that she has to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.

And you learn, too. You learn how to be patient, how to hold space for her without trying to fix everything, how to love her without asking her to be someone she’s not.

One evening, after dinner, you both sit on the couch with a glass of wine, the hum of the city softly filling the space around you. Alexia leans back into the cushions, her hand resting comfortably in yours. It’s quiet, but in the silence, there’s something profound—an understanding that wasn’t there before.

“Remember that night at Camp Nou?” she asks suddenly, her voice thoughtful. “When I told you I felt invincible?”

You smile, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. I remember.”

Alexia lets out a small laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “I don’t know if I feel invincible anymore. But I think that’s okay.”

You turn to look at her, your heart swelling with love. “Yeah, I think that’s more than okay.”

She meets your gaze, her smile deepening. There’s something new in her eyes now—something lighter. “I think I’m finally starting to feel like me again.”

And you know, in that moment, that she’s right. It might not be a perfect journey, and there will be bumps along the way, but she’s healing. You’re both healing. And that’s more than enough.

As you sit together, wrapped in the comfort of the night, the song April’s Fool plays softly on the radio, its melancholy notes drifting through the air. You don’t mind it anymore. You’ve come to understand the song’s quiet message—that growth comes in fragments, in pieces. Sometimes it’s messy, sometimes it’s slow, but it’s always worth it.

And so, together, you move forward. Not invincible, but strong in your own way. And with each passing day, you find a little more of yourselves, together.

And that’s enough.

----------------------------------------------------------

[lumiambrose]

he doesn’t stir as the alarm clock buzzes softly in the early morning light. you’re accustomed to this routine by now. that routine being waking your sleepy boyfriend up.

you nudge him carefully, brushing your palm over his face to softly caress his cheeks, “nagi,” your voice still hoarse as you yourself are still drowsy. “time to wake up.”

he groans, burying his face into your soft hand and the pillow beneath him. "five more minutes," he mumbles, the words barely coherent. you give a light chuckle to his words, knowing this game well. you lean down, pressing a light kiss to the side of his neck. "come on, sleepyhead."

with a heavy sigh, he finally opens one eye, peering up at you with a mixture of annoyance and affection. "getting up is a hassle. i hate mornings," he grumbles, but there's no real bite to his words. you giggle slightly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "i know sei. but you promised you'd help me with breakfast today."

his face softens, and he reaches up to grab your hand that is brushing his cheek. "fine," he says, his voice still sleepy but a bit more cooperative. "for you."

after a bit of encouragement and debate on whether you really need to get out of bed, you both stumble into the kitchen, the early morning light filtering through the curtains covering your apartment in a warm glow. nagi moves slowly, lethargically, albeit with a slight determination in his movements. as you mix the heap of ingredients together, he helps you crack eggs into a bowl, his hands clumsy and still half asleep. you smile, appreciating his effort.

as the coffee brews and the smell of breakfast fills your senses, you steal glances at nagi. he's still dazed, hair tousled and eyes heavy-lidded, but there's always a calmness about him that you find endearing. he catches you looking and quirks an eyebrow. "what?" he asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"nothing," you reply, shaking your head with a grin. "just... admiring the rare sighting."

he snorts softly, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "i'd rather be in bed," he mutters, but there's no real conviction behind his words. you laugh, nudging him playfully while making an overly dramatic remark on how he’s dating his bed instead of you.

breakfast is a quiet affair, filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the occasional murmur of conversation. nagi eats slowly, savoring each bite, and you find yourself watching him, appreciating the simplicity of such a mundane act.

after breakfast, nagi retreats to the couch, collapsing with a contented sigh. you join him, curling up beside him and resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

you try to pull away, meaning to go take a shower, but his grip holds you firm, cradled in his arms. "not yet," he mumbles into your hair, his voice soft, "don’t leave me."

you smile, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. internally you’re trying to convince yourself to go shower, you really are, but when he holds you so closely and begs you so sweetly… how could you ever say no to him?

giving into his wishes, you let yourself melt into his arms as he pulls you closer to lie on top of him. you find solace in each other's presence, seemingly enjoying the peace that comes with your sleepy boyfriend

he groans and buries his face into the pillow beneath him and your gentle touch. "five more minutes," he mumbles, his words hardly comprehensible. hearing this lousy attempt once again, you give him a light chuckle, as you know this game oh so well. you bend down to press a light kiss to the side of his neck. "come on, sleepyhead."

with a heavy sigh, he finally opens one eye, peering up at you with a mixture of annoyance and affection. "getting up is a hassle. i hate mornings," he complains. there's no real bite to his words, despite how annoyed he actually sounds. the childish complaint gets a giggle out of you as you reach to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "i know sei. but you promised to help with breakfast today."

his face softens at the reminder and he reaches up to take your hand as it brushes against his cheek. "fine," his voice is still drowsy. when is it now? but at least now there’s a bit more cooperation in his tone. "for you."

nagi tries to debate a bit on whether you really need to get out of bed but after a bit of encouragement you both stumble lazily into the kitchen, the warm glow of the early morning sun streaming through the drapes covering your apartment. despite nagi moving slowly and lethargically, you sense an ever so tiny piece of determination in his movements. his hands are clumsy and still half asleep as he assists you in cracking eggs while you combine the rest of the ingredients into a bowl together. you smile, appreciating his effort nobody really sees all that often from him.

as the coffee brews and the smell of breakfast fills your senses, you steal glances at nagi. he's still dazed, hair tousled and eyes heavy-lidded, but there's always a calmness about him that you find endearing. he catches you looking and quirks an eyebrow. "what?" he asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

you steal small glances at nagi as the coffee brews and the smell of breakfast fills your senses. he's still dazed, hair tousled and eyes heavy-lidded, but there's always this calmness about him that you find ever so endearing. nagi somehow catches you staring and raises an eyebrow. “what?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips.

"nothing," you smile and shake your head in response. "just... admiring the rare sighting."

he gives you a snort in retaliation, pretending to be offended as he mumbles about “rather being in bed”, but there's no real conviction behind his words. obviously having to outdo him, you nudge him playfully while making an overly dramatic remark on how he loves, and is dating his bed instead of you.

breakfast has always been a quiet affair with you two, filled with the cutlery clinking softly and the occasional small talk. you once again find yourself observing nagi as he eats slowly, savoring each bite, appreciating the simplicity of such a mundane activity between you and your boyfriend.

after breakfast you find nagi retreating to the couch, letting out a satisfied sigh as he finally collapses. you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. you feel his chest rising and falling steadily as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close.

you try to untangle yourself from him, as you initially planned on taking a shower, but his grip holds you firm as he cradles you in his arms. “not yet” he murmurs softly into your hair, “don’t leave me.”

who are you to argue with that? you press a kiss to his shoulder as you try your best to persuade yourself to go take a shower, you really try, but he’s holding you so closely, so intimately, and he’s begging you so sweetly… you could never say no?

giving into his wishes, you let yourself melt into his arms as he pulls you closer to lie on top of him. you find solace in each other's presence, seemingly enjoying the peace that comes with your sleepy boyfriend.

I FINALLY WROTE MY MANS UGH

[afsalovescats]

Hey!! I saw you need requests so I wondering if you would like, if you could write for Akutagawa where he gets a crush on the waitress at the cafe he frequently visits and all of the mafia members try to set the two up. Have fun writing!!

It was an unusually quiet afternoon at the cozy café tucked away in Yokohama’s bustling streets. Akutagawa, accustomed to the chaos of the Port Mafia’s daily affairs, found solace in this tranquil corner where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the gentle hum of conversations. Little did he know, a shift in routine awaited him that would stir his typically stoic demeanor.

As he sat by the window, meticulously sipping his espresso, his attention was drawn to a waitress weaving through the tables with effortless grace—You. You had a smile that could rival the sun. Akutagawa found himself captivated by your serene presence and the gentle way you interacted with customers.

Days turned into weeks, and Akutagawa’s visits to the café became more frequent. Each time he came, he found himself stealing glances at You, feeling a strange flutter in his chest whenever your eyes briefly met. His thoughts, usually consumed by missions and strategy, now wandered to thoughts of you—your laughter, the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the kindness in your eyes.

Meanwhile, the members of the Port Mafia couldn’t help but notice Akutagawa’s subtle change in demeanor. Chuuya, the observant one at present, was the first to pick up on it. "Hey, Akutagawa seems different lately. Ya’ think he’s got a little crush?" he whispered to Gin during a meeting.

Gin, with her quiet demeanor, observed her brother with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She nodded slightly, acknowledging Chuuya's observation. "It does seem that way," she replied softly, glancing discreetly at Akutagawa who was lost in thought.

Soon enough, word subtly spread through the ranks of the Port Mafia. It became a whispered topic among the members during breaks, with everyone secretly rooting for Akutagawa—some out of genuine goodwill, others purely for the entertainment value of seeing Akutagawa flustered over a woman.

One afternoon, after weeks of silent encouragement and not-so-subtle matchmaking attempts from his colleagues (mostly from Gin), Akutagawa found himself alone with You in the café during a rare lull in customers. His body was tense, awkwardly watching you, unnerving and fidgeting with his teacup. Finally, Akutagawa mustered the courage to speak.

"(Name)...," he began, his usually composed voice betraying a hint of nervousness, "I... I wanted to ask if you would... perhaps... like to... join me for tea sometime. Not here, of course, but..." He trailed off, inwardly cursing his inability to articulate what he meant.

To his surprise—and relief—You smiled warmly. "I would love to, Akutagawa-san," you replied softly, her eyes sparkling with genuine kindness.

And so, amidst the scheming and teasing of the Port Mafia (especially Gin), a quiet romance blossomed between the enigmatic assassin and the gentle waitress. They stole occasional moments between their respective responsibilities.

In the end, Akutagawa discovered that love was as unpredictable and dangerous as any enemy he faced in the underground world of Yokohama. Yet, it was a risk he was willing to take, for You had brought a light into his life that he never knew he needed—a light that softened his edges slightly and gave him a reason to think fondly amidst the shadows of his mind.

[eyesthatroll]

SKIN

pairing luke hughes x fem!reader

summary a late night at home with luke

warning(s) fluff, allusion/mention of smut (barely detailed), not sure what else

word count 1.1k

authors note this piece of writing for luke is probably my favorite i’ve ever written. i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do, and as always, any reblogs or constructive criticism is always appreciated <3 — mari

Your fingers navigated the intricate landscape of Luke's curls, a delicate dance that involved caressing the wild tangles, and occasionally tugging at the ends, your nails gently tracing across his scalp. Each pass of your fingertips sent shivers down his spine, evoking soft, contented sighs from him that whispered against your skin. He rested atop you, almost as if he'd melded with your form, his lean legs sprawled languidly over yours, the weight of his body a comforting anchor. His strong arms encircled your waist, offering both a sense of security and profound connection, radiating a warmth that permeated through your skin and enveloped your core. His head had found its sanctuary on your chest, rising and falling in perfect synchrony with your exhaled breaths and rhythm of your heartbeat.

As he drifted deeper into slumber, light snores occasionally escaped his parted lips, an endearing reminder of his peaceful surrender to rest. The muted tones of Sportscenter played softly in the background, an unobtrusive soundtrack to your shared moment, its distant glow casting a soft, blueish hue across your cozy space. You watch the screen with detached interest, not particularly invested in the broadcast, but unwilling to disrupt the stillness of the moment by searching for the remote, which had become an inconsequential trinket in this oasis of tranquility, where the world outside now ceased to matter.

Luke had made an impromptu visit to your apartment a few hours ago, his face illuminated by the glow of victory after his team's hard-fought win against the Rangers. The game had been a grueling, high-stakes battle that culminated in a rousing 6-5 overtime victory. You had been engrossed in the game on your laptop, the backdrop to your frantic efforts to complete some last-minute schoolwork.

As you watched, your heart had soared with pride for the boys on the ice, but it was Luke who had truly captured your admiration. He had been a standout player, netting a crucial goal and tallying four points in total. The achievement had warmed your heart to its core, but what had touched you even more was his choice to celebrate this victory with you. Rather than joining his teammates for a night out at the bar, he had chosen the intimacy of your company, a gesture that spoke volumes about the way he truly felt about you.

Together, you began the lovely task of preparing his favorite meal, fettuccine alfredo. As the savory aroma of the sauce filled the kitchen, the two of you effortlessly slipped into your own enchanting world. Lost in each other's gaze, you began a spontaneous slow dance to the soulful notes of 'Dijon's "Skin," which played softly through your speaker. You melted into his comforting touch, finding solace in the circle of his arms as you both moved gracefully, an intimate dance within the confines of your small kitchen. His chin rested tenderly atop your head, and in that fleeting moment, you yearned for time to stand still, allowing you to exist forever within this embrace. In this singular instance, worries and work faded away, leaving only the idyllic essence of your love, encapsulated in the gentle sway of your bodies to the sweet strains of a love ballad.

The soft glow of the living room provided a warm ambience, while Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift played quietly on the television. As the two of you indulged in your meals, Luke explained some of the inner workings of tonights game during the commercials, giving you an added appreciation for how arduous the win truly was. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his teammates' accomplishments, his humility shining through as he downplayed his own success from the night.

It didn't take long before the chemistry between you two grew palpable, and the desire became irresistible. You eventually abandoned the living room for the intimacy of your bedroom, eager to express your deep affection for each other in the tender embrace of the tangled sheets beneath your duvet.

Tonight was a celebration of him, and the man he was. You desired to cater to him, to convey your adoration not through mere words but through actions. To show how proud you were of him and and how deeply your love for him ran.

The sex was lazy and passionate, you doing most of the work as his energy was waning. He planted soft, wet kisses on your neck as you rode him through his orgasm, his soft whimpering of your name prompting your own release. You fell on top of him with a quiet moan, and his hands reached against your back, massaging the sweat stricken skin as he murmured praises into your ear.

The two of you shared a quick shower, washing away the temporary evidence of the heartfelt night you'd shared. You pampered him with your skincare routine, caring for his skin as well as your own. And after brushing your teeth side by side, you both retreated back to the comfort of your bed.

Luke now stirs on top of you, his eyes slowly fluttering open, only to squint in response to the sudden intrusion of light emanating from the television, which now displayed a random informercial.

"I can't believe you're still awake," Luke rasps, his voice a husky mumble from the brink of slumber. His gaze remains fixed on your intertwined bodies, not lifting to meet your eyes. Slipping his hand under your shirt, his fingers trace aimless patterns on your stomach, a gentle and affectionate touch in the quiet intimacy of the night.

A soft smile graces your lips. "I like to watch you sleep."

He snorts, and you feel the rumble of his laughter resonate through his chest against your body. "Such a creep," he teases, his voice filled with fondness.

An involuntary yawn escapes your lips, and as you turn to glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, your eyes widen at the time displayed – two am. Had you really been laying here, running your hands through Luke's hair for an hour and a half?

He rises from his sprawled position on top of you, unfolding his frame with a contented stretch. His bare feet meet the cool, unforgiving embrace of the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he ambles towards the bathroom. In the dim light, you seize the moment to search beneath the tangled sheets for the TV remote, waiting until Luke returns, before extinguishing the screen.

Another yawn escapes from your lips, marking the shift in positions as Luke draws you close against his chest. Nestling into his side, you're serenaded by the gentle metre of his heartbeat, its soothing echo resonating in your ear.

"Go to sleep, baby, I know you're tired."

You hum in response, finally content with allowing your eyes to close.

[bloomyeu]

with or without you (pt. 2)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: bottling you're feelings for so long, it begins to hurt. until you mention it.

word count: 5k

warnings: angst, heh not edited

a/n: long awaited pt 2 :0 hope u enjoy!

part 1 | masterlist | requests

You step through the door into the bustling New Year’s Eve party, the energy of the celebration immediately wrapping around you. The room is aglow with twinkling lights, silver streamers hanging from the ceiling like a cascade of stars. Laughter and the clinking of glasses fill the air, blending with the upbeat music that pulses through the space. The festive decorations, the cheerful faces, and the warmth of the room create an illusion of happiness, but beneath it, you feel an unshakable heaviness.

As you make your way further inside, you’re greeted by familiar faces and a sea of conversation. You offer polite smiles and exchange pleasantries with friends, trying to immerse yourself in the festivities. But every smile you give feels hollow, every laugh you share rings a bit too loud, as if you’re trying too hard to mask the sadness that lingers just beneath the surface.

Your gaze repeatedly drifts across the room to where Chan stands, effortlessly charming in the midst of his own circle. He’s laughing, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy, and you can’t help but notice how his attention is focused entirely on his girlfriend. They’re huddled close, their shared warmth and intimacy glaringly evident. Chan’s hand rests lightly on her back, a gesture so simple yet so intimate that it feels like a physical manifestation of the distance between you and him.

You attempt to engage in conversations, chatting with friends and participating in the party’s various activities, but each interaction feels like a distraction from the growing void within you. You sip on your drink and join in the occasional dance, trying to lose yourself in the crowd. Yet, the more you try to fit in, the more isolated you feel, as if an invisible barrier separates you from the celebration’s true joy.

The festive cheer seems to mock your internal struggle. Every cheer, every toast, every burst of laughter only highlights the stark contrast between the lively atmosphere and the quiet ache that fills your heart. The New Year’s resolutions and hopeful wishes being shared around you feel like a cruel reminder of what you lack—a meaningful connection that you’ve always longed for but never quite grasped.

As you glance back at Chan, you see him and his girlfriend sharing a tender moment, their conversation filled with the kind of closeness you’ve always wished for. It’s a reminder that while you’re surrounded by people and festive cheer, your heart remains distant and unfulfilled. The realization that Chan’s attention is so completely focused on someone else adds an extra layer of discomfort to your already mixed emotions.

The countdown to midnight begins, the room brimming with anticipation and excitement. You stand on the periphery of the celebration, watching as people gather to mark the New Year. Despite the lively surroundings, your heart feels heavy, and the hopeful excitement in the air feels distant, almost unreachable.

When the clock strikes midnight and cheers erupt around you, you try to join in the festivities, but the joy feels muted. The contrast between the party’s exuberance and your own sense of longing is more pronounced than ever. As you try to find solace in the crowd, the reality of Chan’s relationship and your unspoken feelings weigh heavily on you, making the celebration feel less like a new beginning and more like a poignant reminder of what might never be.

— 

You seek refuge from the party's clamor by slipping into a quieter corner of the room, the muffled sounds of celebration barely reaching you in this dimly lit space. You lean against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady your racing thoughts. It’s a small escape from the overwhelming mix of emotions that the night has brought.

Just as you’re beginning to gather your composure, Chan appears, his warm smile cutting through the dimness. His eyes light up as he spots you, and he makes his way over with an easy confidence that only makes your heart ache more.

“Hey, Y/N,” Chan greets you, his voice carrying a cheerful lilt. “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

You force a smile and nod. “Of course, Chan. I was just taking a break from the noise.”

Chan settles beside you, his demeanor relaxed as he leans casually against the wall. The contrast between his ease and the turmoil within you is stark. As you both stand there, the surrounding festivities fade into a distant hum, leaving you to focus on the conversation at hand.

“How are you? Anything new” He smiles at you

“I've been talking to this guy, he's pretty sweet but its new” the lie rolls off your tongue so naturally

“Oh thats cool! Good for you.”

Chan begins talking about how it's good you're opening yourself up but you just tune it out.

“I’ve got some big news. I’ve been planning something special for hana, and I think it’s going to be amazing.”

Your heart sinks at the mention of his girlfriend, but you do your best to mask your discomfort. “Oh? What’s the surprise?”

Chan’s face lights up even more as he continues. “I’m taking her on a surprise weekend getaway to this cozy cabin in the mountains. She’s always wanted to go, and I think it’s the perfect way to celebrate the New Year.”

As Chan talks, his enthusiasm is palpable. He describes the details with such joy that it almost feels like a physical weight pressing down on you. Each word he speaks, each gesture he makes as he talks about his plans, feels like a painful reminder of the gap between you.

“That sounds wonderful,” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to sound upbeat. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Chan’s eyes soften with affection as he continues, oblivious to the emotional strain he’s causing. “I really hope so. I want to make this special for her. It’s been amazing, honestly, feeling this way about someone. I’ve been thinking a lot about our future together lately. It feels like everything’s falling into place.”

The words cut through you like a knife. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. The idea of Chan and his girlfriend planning a future together is a sharp contrast to the unspoken feelings you’ve harbored in silence. You nod, though it feels like a hollow gesture. “That’s really great, Chan. I’m happy for you.”

He seems to sense your support, his smile widening. “Thanks. I really appreciate that. You know, you’ve always been such a great friend. Always there to listen, always supportive. It means a lot to me.”

Your heart aches at his words. You’ve been there for him, listening and supporting, all while hiding your own feelings. The weight of Chan’s gratitude feels heavy, a reminder of the love you’ve kept hidden. “I’m glad I could help,” you say, your voice barely steady. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Chan’s gaze turns thoughtful as he reflects on your words. “Yeah, definitely. I just wanted you to know how much I value your support. It’s made a huge difference on me.”

As Chan’s attention shifts back to the party, you find yourself standing on the edge of the conversation, feeling a profound sense of distance. You try to focus on his words, but the reality of his relationship and your own unspoken feelings create a barrier between you.

Chan eventually excuses himself to rejoin his girlfriend and the rest of the guests, leaving you alone in the quiet corner. You watch him go, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. The conversation, meant to be a brief exchange, has only intensified the pain of your unspoken longing.

As the sounds of the party slowly return to your awareness, you’re left with the weight of Chan’s revelations and the harsh truth of your own feelings. The festive atmosphere of the party now feels like a distant, almost cruel backdrop to the raw, unspoken ache within you.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before rejoining the crowd. The party’s energy feels both enticing and out of reach, as if you’re caught between the joy of the celebration and the quiet ache of your heart. Each step you take back into the fray of the festivities is accompanied by the bittersweet sting of realizing that while the New Year brings new beginnings for others, for you, it is a poignant reminder of what remains unfulfilled.

—

As you weave through the crowd of sweaty drunks, your attention is caught by a quiet conversation taking place in a secluded corner. You stop short, your curiosity piqued despite your better judgment. The voices are soft but clear enough for you to make out, and the realization hits you with a jolt: it’s Chan and his girlfriend.

You try to retreat, to give them their privacy, but something anchors you to the spot. Chan’s voice, filled with affection, mingles with the soft tones of his girlfriend’s replies, and you find yourself unable to move.

“You know,” Chan says, his voice tender and filled with warmth, “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. I’m so glad I met you. I dont know where I would be without you ya know. It feels like everything is falling into place.”

Hana’s response is equally warm, her words filled with love. “Are you trying to tease me ahaha? But seriously I love that you're in my life, Channie. I never imagined dating someone so sweet, I really got lucky with you, didn't I?”

The words cut through you like shards of glass. The intimacy of their conversation, the depth of their connection, and the way Chan speaks about his future with her are like a painful reminder of what you’ve been silently yearning for. Your heart races, each beat a reminder of the disparity between your hidden feelings and Chan’s open affection for someone else.

Your internal monologue is a storm of conflicting emotions. How did you end up here, on the outside of the warmth you’ve always wanted? Chan’s love, so genuine and real, feels like a world apart from your own unspoken longing. You’ve been there for him through everything, silently harboring feelings that now seem to be nothing more than a distant dream. The realization that Chan’s heart belongs to someone else, someone who is now a tangible part of his life, leaves you feeling both hollow and devastated.

You can’t stay in the corner any longer. The weight of your emotions feels unbearable, and you need to escape. You retreat to a more secluded area of the party, a small alcove away from the noise and the festive lights. Your breathing is shallow, your heart pounding as you try to control the tidal wave of emotion crashing over you.

Once you’re hidden away from prying eyes, the façade you’ve maintained begins to crumble. Your hands tremble as you sink to the floor, your back against the wall. The tears start slowly, almost hesitant, but quickly turn into a torrent of uncontrollable sobs. The weight of Chan’s affection for someone else crashes over you, and you struggle to catch your breath, the sobs coming in ragged bursts.

You’re overwhelmed by a sense of rejection and despair, your emotions spilling out in a torrent of hysteria. The festive sounds from the party seem distant and unreal, a sharp contrast to the crushing sorrow you feel. You clutch at your chest, trying to steady your shaking body, but the effort only makes the tears flow harder. The realization that your love was never meant to be, that your hopes and dreams were just a fantasy, feels almost unbearable.

Every sob and shake of your body is a manifestation of the heartache that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. You cry out, the sound muffled against your knees, each sob a testament to the love you’ve kept hidden and the rejection you’ve now faced. The solitude of the alcove offers no comfort, only a stark reminder of how alone you feel.

As the tears begin to subside, you’re left with a deep, aching emptiness. The breakdown, though cathartic, leaves you feeling drained and vulnerable. You sit there, your breathing slowly returning to normal, but the pain remains. The celebration outside seems like a distant echo, a cruel reminder of a world that continues to move forward while you’re stuck in your own private torment.

You eventually rise to your feet, your legs feeling heavy and unsteady. With a final, deep breath, you prepare to rejoin the party, though the weight of your emotions lingers heavily. The night, once filled with potential and hope, now feels like a stark reminder of the love you’ll never fully grasp.

— 

The lively energy of the party feels like a distant echo as you stand on the outskirts, battling the storm of emotions swirling inside you. The earlier meltdown has left you feeling raw and exposed, and the festive atmosphere only serves to highlight the void in your heart.

Felix, ever the perceptive friend, catches sight of your distress from across the room. Without hesitation, he makes his way to you, concern etched in every feature. He’s always been there for you, the one person who could sense when something was wrong, and tonight is no exception.

“Y/N,” Felix calls out softly, his voice laced with worry as he approaches. “You don’t look okay. What’s going on?”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the pain is too overwhelming. The moment Felix’s kind eyes meet yours, the dam breaks, and you find yourself spilling everything you've bottled up. “I heard Chan talking to Hana. He’s so happy, so in love with her, and I… I feel like I’m losing him. I feel so bad for having these feelings when he's so happy, I can't ruin it for him, I just don't know what to do because I just really wish that was me over there.”

Felix’s expression softens with understanding as he listens, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “Ynnie, Hey. It's okay. This must suck for you, you two have been friends for long. Maybe you just need space and it'll pass?”

A tear slips down your cheek as you struggle to put your emotions into words. “It’s more than that, Felix. I’ve been holding onto this hope, this dream that maybe one day he’d see me the way I see him. But now… now I know it’s never going to happen. And it hurts so much. How do I just let go?”

Felix’s eyes are full of sympathy as he searches for the right words. “I don't know, I really don't. I think you just need to move on, find somebody who loves you and sees you. Theres no point in chasing something that isnt going to happen; youre just hurting yourself.”

But you shake your head, the idea of moving on too painful to even consider. “I don’t want to move on, Felix. I can’t. I’ve loved him for so long, and the thought of letting go… it feels impossible. How do I stop loving him when every part of me is still holding onto him?”

Felix frowns, his concern deepening. “I get it, I really do. But holding onto this is only going to hurt you more in the long run. It’s not fair to yourself to keep clinging to something that isn’t there.”

The words sting, and you feel your heart clench in resistance. “But what if I’m not ready to give up on him? What if I can’t? I know it’s stupid, but I can’t just turn off my feelings, lix. He means everything to me.”

Felix sighs, his hand squeezing yours in a gesture of comfort. “It’s not stupid. Love isn’t something you can just switch off. But Y/N, you can’t keep hurting yourself like this. You have to think about what’s best for you.”

“I know you’re trying to help,” you whisper, tears brimming in your eyes again, “but I just… I can’t. I’m not ready to move on, and I don’t know if I ever will be. He’s too important to me.”

Felix’s expression is a mix of sadness and understanding as he pulls you into a hug. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”

You cling to Felix, grateful for his support, even as the ache in your heart refuses to fade. The thought of moving on feels like an insurmountable task, and deep down, you know you’re not ready to let go of the love you have for Chan. It’s a love that feels all-consuming, impossible to extinguish, even in the face of reality.

— 

As the New Year begins, you resolve to take charge of your life, determined to leave behind the emotional turmoil that has consumed you for far too long. The decision doesn’t come easily—each moment of clarity is hard-fought, the pain of unrequited love still sharp in your chest. But with the arrival of January, you know that something has to change. You can’t keep living in the shadow of what could have been, tethered to a hope that only brings heartache. The first you need is space; and that in itself feels like the impossible. He’s been such a constant presence in your life, but now, every interaction with him is a reminder of the love that will never be yours. You can only hope it will help ease the grip he has on your heart.

hiii ynnie are u busy 2day :3 what r u up 2 hehe

hai chan um a bit yea jst some stuff

anything exciting?

not really

It feels strange, almost wrong, to be so brief with him when you're used to sharing every detail of your day, but you force yourself to send the message without overthinking it. The moment it’s sent, a pang of guilt hits you, but you remind yourself that this is necessary. 

haiiii ynnieeee

heyy chan

missing hanging out with you wanna grab some coffee?

ahh im sorry i cant :/ iv been so busy lately maybe this weekend?

oo im going on a getaway hana this weekend maybe next week?

maybe Ill let you know know if im free

Each text feels like a small victory, a step toward reclaiming your emotional independence, even as it leaves you feeling hollow inside.

You throw yourself into new activities, trying to fill the void left by the emotional distance you’re creating. An art class that’s been on your bucket list for years becomes your new escape, a place where you can lose yourself in thoughts and daydreams even if only for an hour. You reconnect with old friends, people you’d drifted away from in your tunnel vision focused on Chan. You even go on a few dates, meeting new people who don’t carry the weight of unfulfilled dreams. But despite your best efforts, thoughts of Chan linger, creeping into your mind when you least expect it. Late at night, when the world is quiet, you find yourself scrolling through old photos, each image a painful reminder of what you once shared and what you’ll never have.

You even found a new cafe, its a place where you go to read and enjoy the quiet. 

The café is warm, the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You settle into a corner, the soft murmur of conversation around you creating a peaceful backdrop. But as you turn a page, a familiar laugh catches your attention, a sound that’s both sweet and bitter in your memory. Your heart skips a beat, and you glance up, only to see Chan. He’s sitting by the window, sunlight casting a golden halo around him, but it’s not the light that makes your breath catch. It’s the sight of Hana, sitting across from him, her eyes filled with the kind of affection you’ve always longed for. They’re leaning close, their heads almost touching as they talk in hushed tones, lost in their own world.

You can’t tear your gaze away, even as your chest tightens with a familiar ache. Chan’s face lights up as he talks to her, his smile wide and genuine in a way that makes your heart clench. Hana reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from his face, and the tenderness in the gesture nearly brings tears to your eyes. Before you can look away, they lean in, and you watch as they share a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a simple moment, a gesture of love between two people who belong together, but to you, it feels like a knife twisting in your heart. The café, once warm and inviting, now feels suffocating, the walls closing in as you struggle to breathe.

You close your book with trembling hands, unable to bear another moment of watching them together. Gathering your things, you rush out of the café, the cold air hitting you like a slap as you step outside. Tears blur your vision, and you walk aimlessly, trying to escape the pain that’s gnawing at your insides. You’ve worked so hard to distance yourself, to let go of the feelings that have held you captive, but seeing them together has undone all your progress. The wound you thought was healing has been ripped open, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

As you wander through the city streets, your resolution to move on feels shaky, uncertain. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, each time more painful than the last. Why can’t you let go? Why does it hurt so much to see him happy with someone else? The questions swirl in your mind, but deep down, you know the answer. Your heart is still tethered to Chan, even if you don’t want it to be. No matter how much distance you create, no matter how many new experiences you try to embrace, the truth remains: you’re not ready to let him go, not yet. And maybe, a small voice inside you whispers, you never will be.

The winter wind bites at your cheeks, but you barely feel it as you walk, lost in your thoughts. The city bustles around you, life moving forward, but you feel stuck, frozen in a moment of pain that you can’t escape. You stop at a park bench, the cold metal biting through your coat, and sit down heavily. Tears spill over, running hot down your cold cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands, letting the sobs come. The resolution you made at the start of the year feels distant, like a dream you once had but can no longer grasp. You want to be strong, to move on, but the reality of your feelings is so much more complicated than you ever imagined.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you out of your despair. It's a text from Chan

hey, haven't heard from you much. everything okay?

yea, jst been super busy. sorry

You stare at the words, knowing they’re a lie, knowing they can’t convey the storm raging inside you. But you send it anyway, because what else can you do?

Another buzz, and you see his reply:

no worries. let’s catch up soon?

Your heart aches at the thought, but you know you can’t keep putting it off. You’ve been distant, but he hasn’t pushed, and now you’re left with a choice. 

sure, maybe next week.

It feels like a betrayal, agreeing to see him when you know it will only bring more pain, but the idea of cutting him out completely is too much to bear. You pocket your phone, the tears drying on your cheeks as you sit in silence, trying to reconcile your resolve with the reality of your feelings. You’ve relapsed, fallen back into the pain you’ve been trying so hard to escape, and the weight of it threatens to crush you. But even in this moment of despair, a small part of you clings to hope. Hope that one day, you’ll find the strength to truly move on, to let go of the love that’s only ever brought you pain. You’re not there yet, but maybe, just maybe, you’ll get there eventually.

—

The café feels both familiar and strange as you sit across from Chan, nursing a cup of coffee that’s long since gone cold. The world outside is moving on, as it always does, with people bustling by, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. You’re here, in the present, but your heart is weighed down by the past, by everything that could have been but never was. Chan is talking about something, his voice as warm and comforting as ever, but the words barely register. You force a smile, nodding at the right moments, all the while feeling the weight of the lies you’re about to tell.

“So,” Chan says, leaning forward slightly, his eyes full of concern. “You’ve been really busy, huh? We haven’t hung out much lately. Everything okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yeah, school’s been crazy. You know how it is, just trying to keep up with everything.” The lie slips out easily, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. School isn’t the problem; it’s not what’s been keeping you away. It’s him, and the way every moment spent with him feels like a reminder of what you can’t have.

“And work?” he asks, genuinely curious, as if he’s been worrying about you more than he’s let on.

You force another smile, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Same old. Job’s keeping me on my toes. It’s good, though. I like staying busy.” Another lie. Work is just a distraction, something to fill the hours when you’re not consumed by thoughts of him.

Chan nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but there’s still a hint of concern in his eyes. “And that guy you mentioned last time? How’s that going?”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the guy—another fabrication you’ve woven to make it seem like you’re moving on, like you’re not hopelessly stuck on him. You hesitated before, but now there’s no turning back. “It’s... complicated,” you say, lowering your gaze to the table. “He’s giving me mixed signals. One day he’s all in, and the next, it’s like he’s pulling away. It’s frustrating.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the irony of the situation. You’re not describing some imaginary guy; you’re talking about Chan, about how every interaction with him feels like a push and pull, a constant reminder of what you want but can’t have. But he doesn’t know that, and he never will.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Chan says softly, his brow furrowed in concern. “That sounds tough. If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here, okay? You know that right?”

The sincerity in his voice only makes it worse. You nod again, unable to trust yourself to speak. If you do, you’re afraid the floodgates will open, and everything you’ve been holding back will come pouring out. But you can’t let that happen. Not here, not now. So you swallow the words, the tears, the pain, and put on a brave face.

The rest of the conversation is a blur. You go through the motions, laughing at his jokes, offering bits of your life that aren’t too revealing, all the while feeling like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. When it’s finally time to leave, you breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived. The moment you step outside, the cold air hits you, and the reality of what just happened crashes down.

You walk away from the café, your pace quickening as the emotions you’ve been suppressing start to rise to the surface. By the time you reach a secluded spot in the park, you’re trembling. The tears come suddenly, violently, as if they’ve been waiting for this moment to break free. You collapse onto a bench, burying your face in your hands as sobs wrack your body. It feels like the world is crumbling around you, like you’re being torn apart by the weight of your unspoken feelings.

You’ve reached your breaking point, and there’s no one here to catch you. No one to hold you and tell you it’s going to be okay. You’re alone, completely and utterly alone, and it’s devastating. The realization that you and Chan will never be together, that he’ll never know how deeply you love him, is like a dagger to the heart. It hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt, a pain so profound that it leaves you gasping for breath.

You cry until there are no tears left, until you’re empty and numb, sitting on that cold bench in the middle of winter, with nothing but your broken heart to keep you company. The world around you moves on, but you’re stuck in this moment, replaying every word, every lie, every smile that wasn’t quite real. You’ve tried so hard to be strong, to move on, but it’s all come crashing down. The love you’ve been holding onto is like a ghost, haunting you, and no matter how much you try to push it away, it lingers.

And so you sit there, alone in the dark, knowing that you have to let go but feeling like you never will. You’ve reached the end of the road, and all that’s left is the empty ache of unfulfilled dreams, the knowledge that you and Chan were never meant to be. And as you sit there, staring into the void, you realize that this is your reality now—living with the pain of a love that was never returned, and the hollow, endless silence that follows.

fin.

part 1 | masterlist | requests

[xas24]

I saw this on Tiktok and instantly thought of santiago and pedri, please write something short and fluffy on this 😭

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeRcB7cm/

solace ~ pedri

summary: in an eight hour road trip with her little brother and her boyfriend, y/n seems to find some solace where many would find frustration.

when y/ns parents suggested going on a road trip to granada to meet her grandparents for the weekend, y/n couldn’t be anymore excited. she loved her grandparents, as cheerful and kind as they could be. they treated her and santiago with the utmost love and affection and the two returned that with immense respect.

pedri had yet to meet y/ns grandparents. she just knew that they would wholeheartedly adore pedri as much as she and santiago did, which is why she thought of bringing him along. pedri didn’t mind as he didn’t have much planned for the weekend other than training, which he was able to take off with much convincing.

the thought of an eight hour drive sounded extremely boring but the three in the back seemed to make it all the more fun - y/n sat in the middle as santiago and pedri sat on each side of her.

their trip started off well - the all conversed with each other and talked about anything that came to mind. y/ns father had also joined the conversation, occasionally cracking a few jokes here and there. santiago was telling a few of his weird school stories again, which his family had no choice but to laugh along and ignore how the little boy loved telling the same stories over and over, without realisation.

pedri found that extremely humorous and adorable - the smile on the ten year olds face made it all the more worthy.

when the second hour hit, the excitement in the atmosphere in the car had started to die down. pedri and y/n shared a pair of airpods as they both watched videos on her phone, his head on her shoulder and his arm resting around her back. y/ns parents were in their own world whilst santiago played around on his ipad.

the low hum of the radio played in the background, filling the car with its usual play of spanish songs. the beating sun filtered through the tinted windows, splashing itself onto everyone. the warm heat of it was comforting and y/n could feel the tiredness starting to spark within her.

it was hour three and the sun had finally started to settle for the day. its dying embers painted the sky in a mixture of pink and yellow, y/n took a few pictures of the beautiful sunset view over pedris body before relaxing further into her seat. his hand returned to intertwine with hers as her head rested itself on his shoulder.

she bent her leg up onto the seat to be more comfortable but the feeling of pedris warm hands on her arms and waist was enough to lull her off into sleep. she could still hear the faint play of the radio and the partial silence in the car was comforting accompanied with the sound of santiago silently praising himself every ten seconds whilst playing his game.

“go to sleep.” pedri had whispered in her ear, kissing her temple as he watched her eyes start to flutter.

she fell asleep in her boyfriends hold, her one hand curled around his bicep whilst the other one held his hand, fingers intertwined and heart content.

it was around two hours later when y/n had woken up. it was hour five of the road trip and also completely dark outside. her head slightly hurt as she lifted it off the headrest of the seat, and felt a cramp starting to form from sleeping in that one position for so long.

her body slightly ached but she felt so much more refreshed from the fatigue that had circulated her body all day. one of the small blankets was draped over her body and when she moved, the cold instantly slapped against her skin.

she reached for the hoodie that pedri had given her before the trip, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into the warmth and familiarity that his clothing engulfed her with. she sighed in satisfaction when his scent invaded her senses.

“you’re awake.” santiago said with a tired smile on his face.

it was evident that he’d been playing on his ipad the whole time she was asleep, from the darkness under his eyes where he’d been rubbing them to the ruffle of his hair.

“yes and now you should sleep. you look tired, santi.” she raised her brows at him and the little boy nodded as he finished the fruit snack he was having.

y/n then looked over at her other boy to see him on his phone, or rather attempting to be. she chuckled as she saw his head drooping where it rested on his palm, his eyes were shut, and she knew he was just ‘resting’ them.

she also knew that he was refusing to sleep just because her sleeping body was laying against his, and her heart warmed at the thought.

y/n slightly shook her boyfriend, who instantly opened his eyes and turned to her with a questioning look before he relaxed.

“you’re awake.” he smiled at her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. y/n kept his face there, letting him rest it on her shoulder as she tapped his cheek with her fingers.

“sleep, baby. we still have three hours and i know you’re tired.” she muttered so only he could hear.

“you sure?” he mumbled, already starting to get comfy.

“mhm, go to sleep cariño, ill be here.” pressing a kiss to his head, she reassured him with a little smile on her lips.

santiago had moved to the absolute corner of the seats and rested his head on his palm against the window before he decided that wasn’t comfortable at all, so he moved to rest against his older sister instead.

y/n didn’t mind as his head lay against her arm. she slightly moved pedri so that his head was in her lap instead, and his legs were comfortable on the seat.

they both engulfed her body, practically using it as a human pillow as they fell into a comforting sleep. she was wide awake now, with nothing to do but let the two next to her fall into slumber. a smile graced her lips whilst her fingers combed themselves through pedris dark hair, playing with the soft strands and delicately scratching against his scalp just the way she knew he liked.

her mother and father were silently chatting in the front, and she had about two and a half hours left until they’d be with her grandparents. the ecstatic feeling returned.

they would finally get to meet the boy that had practically swept her off her feet, the boy that slept in her lap right now looking all too innocent and peaceful, the boy that loved her baby brother more than anyone did. they would get to see the reason behind her smile everyday, and santiago’s.

her body was squished between her two boys, but all she could think about was how grateful she was to have them in her life.

[mtchacffinz]

loose lips sink ships!

prompt! you don't talk much when you're tipsy, but when you do..

content! gn!reader, drunk confession, heavy on fluff, mutual pining, drabble ficlet, short and sweet ♡

note! kaf is here again !! not much words from me right now, but i want to feed Dan Heng stans so here you go (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ love you ~

Dan Heng doesn't seem to mind going out once and a while. Of course, being closed off in one space could get suffocating even for someone like him who enjoys his time in solace. In a time where one needs at least a breath of fresh air, he knows more than well that it's time to get a new landscape to take in for the sake of himself.

He didn't expect that landscape to be you. The sight of you, on the Express counter, dazed.

You looked heavily flushed. You're eyes were unfocused and hazed. It didn't take even a moment of pondering for Dan Heng to know you were intoxicated and he wasn't about to ask why. Don't get him wrong, this man doesn't like to pry. As he approaches your figure, he observed you were quiet, as always— absorbed in your own little bubble universe. Making his way to the counters, the Trains kitchen always kept an abundance of food sources; he got you a glass of cold water.

Tapping onto your shoulder lightly, he hands you the glass. Delighted, you take it from him gleefully; giving the teal eyed prince your thanks. Dan Heng knows you don't talk much when you're tipsy. Times like this were pretty rare, he knows you don't usually drink.

The raven haired boy sits beside you silently, joining you in comfortable silence. On the occasional tap of your fingernails on the glass, he counts the minutes he's been spending with you. Stealing a glance from your figure, he notices your face was flushed in hues of heat. Slowly, your gaze found themselves to be locked with his — as Dan Heng can't seem to look away from.

"I'm not drunk, you know."

His eyes narrow at you ever so slightly. Humouring your antics, he voices out his own thoughts.

"How so?"

"I'm dreaming. I definitely am!" You say that so proudly, he can't help but curb a smile. He almost sighs, leaning towards the counter— letting his jaw rest on his palm. You continue your musings. "I can barely make out of anything. Hey, there's this local specialty I've been gifted in a world recently. Its so strong, i think I'm going to pass out."

Dan Heng's gaze never left yours, urging you to continue. Did you know? Aside from the calming splash of ocean waves, he loves listening to your voice. He loves hearing you ramble about every little thing you'd like to share.

"I'm not surprised if I passed out just recently, so I might be dreaming right now."

"So you mean to say I'm a figment of your subconscious." With that remark, you can't seem to refute. Thats what he at least thought. But no, you surprise him with your next words.

"You're still divine, even in dreams."

It wasn't related to his previous response at all. Dan Heng seems to be taken aback, his eyes slightly widening. Nevertheless, he purses his lips and let's you keep talking.

"Ah, you've stuck to me so deeply even if I can't see at the moment, you're perfectly fine to me.." a slight pout on your lips, you shake your head dismissively. "Dream Heng, let me tell you something ~" you coo sweetly, trying to attain his interest. Come closer, you beckon. A little reluctant, he leans into you, his ears at your disposal.

Dream Heng? So you really do believe you're asleep. What in the world did you ingest anyway?

You lean into his ear. He feels your hot breath on his cheeks, inciting that fluttering churn in his stomach. You're hand lay rest in his shoulder, while the other slightly caress his green earpiece.

"I really like your earring. Is it an earring? I don't know.. I'm not sure." You ponder out loud. Heat rushes up to his cheeks very quickly; not just from the close proximity, but from your sincere praise as well. "Your eyeliners really nice too. Can you apply mine?"

There was a reason, and he knew. Dan Heng knew why his heart fluttered, the mere fact of that is extremely conflicting. If he gets you involved in his life, and gets you tangled in this mess..

You pull away so suddenly, flushed. He inwardly deflates. It's embarrassing that he almost pulled you back just to have you near him. In Dan Hengs defense, it was a reflex.

"I've always wanted to ask you that, I'm embarrassed.." gushing, fanning your face. He blinks. Sitting straight up, his ears was still dusted with a cute hue of peony. Dan Heng clears his throat before you continue. "Dream Heng, you'd do that for me, would you? Please? Awwe, this is so nice! I feel like I can do everything with Dream Heng ~" your voice was so sweet. As you play around, you almost trip when you stand up.

Ah, the floor is like jelly right now, it feels like you're in a Donut. Dan Heng was quick to put you back on your feet.

"Be careful." he says softly. The boys hold on you was firm, making sure you don't stumble. God, you really we're drunk. There was an entirely new aroma somewhere, not of the usual beverage he knows. Maybe it's the new specialty you've dug out in a new world? Nevertheless, your hold on him was just the same. Tension was in the air, and you were about to make a move on it.

Dan Heng's teal woven eyes slowly travels to your lips. Was it conscious cognition? Maybe, maybe not. But the dark haired prince knew you saw, and you weren't about to let go.

"You can kiss me. I really like you, so it's fine." His breath hitches, face brightening up with brilliant red. You say that with no reluctance, non-existent restraint, and with a grin so shameless! Of courses, he admits— he wants to! But he j can't. He just can't! In a attempt to collect himself, Dan Heng gives himself a pause.

After a few mere moments of him sulking, as you were completely oblivious to his internal crisis, he finally speaks.

"You.. like me?" Dan Heng asks, slowly. He swallows thickly. His voice lingered in your head— echoing his heartbeat. Was it his? No, maybe it was yours. You don't know!

"Hmm? I do." That seemed to flip something in him. Oh, he wants to keep hearing you say this. But at the same time, there's something crawling in his back. It watches him like a hawk and it gets under his skin— but before he could say something, you cut him off.

"Hmmm. Even Dream Heng can't kiss me in my dreams. How could I ever get with a real one?" you sigh, breathless. It came out more like a soft whine. What? Eyes avoidant of his, you go about your way of immersing in your own thoughts. Maybe you didn't have thoughts at all, just zoning out. Dan Heng holds you closer this time.

Suddenly, the so-called ice prince lifts you up into his arms, carrying you effortlessly. Surprised, you let out a yelp. Eyes averting yours, even if you're in his confinement, he disallows you to see his face. You can't help but think what's up with him?

"I can't." he says sternly; like there was no room for discussion. How could he? How could he when you're at your most vulnerable? Your thoughts may be distorted, and maybe it's feeding you these untrue and conflicting feelings.

What if he got this all wrong?

He'd prefer if you flirt with him sober.

"But what I can do is to let you get rest."

Upon hearing that, you quickly protest, trying to get out of his hold. "What? No! If I sleep here, I'd wake up pissed. Imagine sleeping in luxury and waking up in an alley way! Just put me on the floor. I'll wake up soon."

He shakes his head in disagreement, only holding you closer. "You'll be fine. I promise. If your real Dan Heng wouldn't lie to you, how could I be any different?" Dan Heng says this so calmly— as if it was natural. His words were truthful, and he could only wish you knew. He would never deceive you— Dan Heng would never dare take advantage of you.

You swore your heart leaped. Are you in it so deep your brain creates these fantastic fantasies? You've always loved his sincere attitude, as well as his considerate nature. Dan Heng was always a man of his words, rationalizing every bit for the sake of his dear ones and himself. As your thoughts for on, only before then your eyelids start to feel heavy. Drooping sleepily, your hands lay on your sides, snuggling to his body heat closely.

After that, all left was darkness.

He's genuinely such a sweet guy, even if you get to read his messages. I want to eat him like a cupcake (⁠●⁠’⁠3⁠)⁠♡⁠(⁠ε⁠`⁠●⁠)