#and then I just decided to color the whole thing ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭

[yukioos]

eri, hitoshi’s little sister, is absolutely obsessed with you

as soon as you are on the front porch of hitoshi’s household, aizawa greets you with a rare smile and messy hair pulled up into a ponytail. he opens the door for you, and once you pass by him, he frowns. he’s a bit disappointed hitoshi didn’t open the door for you himself, he’s sure he taught him better than that.

so he announces, “hitoshi, come down! y/n’s here!”

not even a few seconds later, two pairs of feet are running down the stairs, and once hitoshi sees you, he gives you a grin before slowing down, now just walking to you when a flash of light blue hair jumps up at you, and into your arms. quickly, you catch eri and hold her on your hip, and she’s already giggling and hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in forever, when in fact, she saw you a few hours ago when she was visiting your school.

“hitoshi didn’t tell me you were coming today!”

you grin, “well good thing i’m here now, right?”

“yeah, yeah!” she replies, pumping her fists in the air.

you walk over to hitoshi, who has a big old grin stretched across his face. he guides you to his room, but as soon as you’re next to him, he covers eri’s eyes, and she giggles, trying to pry his fingers off, but to no avail. when she isn’t able to see, he places a kiss on your soft lips.

eventually, you, eri, and hitoshi are drawing animals with crayons when eri randomly runs out of the room, bringing already cut-up apples from aizawa. you and hitoshi sit across each other on his bed, going through photos of him and his family. small steps run into the room, and eri sits on the bed behind you, gently grabbing your wrist and putting a colorful bracelet on you, one she made a few days ago but forgot to give you. you quietly thank her, brushing your hand through her long hair as she smiles.

“hey, don’t hog my girlfriend—“ hitoshi jokingly starts, but he’s softly interrupted by eri.

she says, with a wobbly and shaky voice, with tears springing in her eyes, “but— but i want to spend time with her…” and she looks up at him with big, sad eyes as she hides behind you, fiddling with her fingers.

you pat her head comfortingly and assure her, “eri, honey, he was just joking, but we can all spend time together, don’t you think?”

she nods, glassy eyes looking up at you sadly, before you burst out laughing once you look at hitoshi’s hand-drawn giraffe, which was weirdly off colored. you point, and eri starts laughing too, throwing insults at his poorly made and lazy drawing. hitoshi begins laughing as well, relishing the scene of his two favorite girls getting along so well, though at his expense.

but soon, in the middle of a movie, eri’s passed out and lying on your chest, as you’re cuddled up to hitoshi, with blankets covering all three of you. it’s then, when he sees that you’re amazing with children and his whole family, that he decides he wants to marry you.

i’m so sorry i feel like this is all over the place.. wanted to post something for hitoshi’s birthday today sooo.. happy bday toshi 💜💜

[charmedreincarnation]

My success story (fucking finally)

I’ve been using your lucid dreaming challenge, and couple of days ago, I had another lucid dream. I used both the MOAB and SSILD methods you provided, and I also created my own subliminal using CapCut AI and YouTube modifier.

In the dream, I was being chased by a killer. That’s usual tbh, my dreams are usually nightmares. In the dream I was climbing buildings, even though I’m terrified of heights and not a climber at all. So I became lucid. I realized the whole thing was just a dream because I can’t climb lol and in that moment I had that awareness, I slipped and began to fall. Out of nowhere, this bird thing appeared. It caught me mid-air and saved me. I remember spinning in circles quickly on purpose, to stabilize myself so I wouldn’t wake up like you said. As I was spinning, I looked at the creature thing and said pls, take me to my guardian angel and it did.

It brought me to a woman who had long blonde hair, wings, and a godly presence. She was beautiful. Her name was Helena. I don’t know if she’s really my guardian angel or if I created her in the dream, but either way idgaf but she felt familiar. She told me she’s been watching over me. I asked her to make the dream more beautiful, and instantly, the entire scene changed. She created colors I’ve never seen before shades that don’t even exist in waking life. It looked like a rainbow field, but more cosmic and way more surreal.

Then I asked her to Please, help stop my suffering. Even if I don’t shift right now, please wake me up in a reality where I don’t feel this way anymore, so I can finally focus on my journey She said okay and right after that, I fell off the bird and woke up.

Then i had another false awakening. I knew immediately that I was still dreaming. It was a false awakening, and I could tell unlike the first few times this happened to me. In this dream version of my room, my mom had a lottery ticket. It was dated March 2025. In the dream, it was the winning ticket and then I remembered Neville Goddard’s story about dramatizing the wish fulfilled in a lucid dream and waking up holding the physical item from your dream. So in my false awakening, I decided to do the same. I held onto the ticket tightly and laid back down in the dream bed still holding it as if I were going to sleep with it in my hand so I could wake up with it in real life.

I still can’t believe it actually worked. I woke up with the lottery ticket in real fucking life. It was a real, physical ticket and not just any ticket, but one dated from March like in the dream. I showed it to my mom, and told her it was one of her old ones I forgot to check and she told me to go ahead and check it, just in case. Honestly, I didn’t think anything would come of it. It felt too wild to be real. But it was the winning ticket.

It was a large amount. I won’t say the exact number because I know you can trace things like that online, but just know it’s enough that I don’t have to work. At all. My parents even texted me that morning telling me to just go get my master’s degree, which is literally all I wanted. I didn’t want luxury or fame or anything wildI just wanted time. I wanted freedom. I wanted to not suffer and stress about surviving while trying to shift. the craziest part is that same night, I went to bed and woke up in my dream life. I didn’t even use a method. Just knowing I had money now was enough to trigger the shift I had been chasing for years. And when I say years, I mean it. I’ve been trying to shift since 2016, even before I knew what shifting actually was. I didn’t have the language back then, hut I knew I wanted to explore realities and be apart fk books and movies I’ve been watching and reading. I’ve been consciously trying since probably since 2022 and now, it finally happened.

I had a detailed list of everything I ever wanted down to the tiniest details and I’m still in shock because it all manifested and even more than I asked for. I revised my family dynamic, I revised my appearance, my mental state, my location, my lifestyle, my confidence, and my bank account. I copied Jay @heliosoll and I created my own WR to be my “home reality”and now it’s where I spawn anytime I die in places I will shift to. I manifested everything I wanted. It’s actually overwhelming in the best way. I’m not even going to list it all because it would take forever, but I no longer have anxiety. I no longer struggle with depression. My parents, who used to be strict, emotionally distant, and dismissive like a lot of traditional African parents are now revised to be loving, emotionally present, supportive, and woke. I’m so gorgeous now. And I have real friends and so many of the when before, I was just mid (and very insecure) and surrounded by fake people who only kept me around to feel better about themselves. They just wanted someone to compare themselves to, someone to use for easy validation.

Now I have hobbies, passions, and interests that actually make me happy. Before, my only “hobby” was honestly just surviving my depression. Now I will read, l paint, cook, Work out, journal, write, and travel. My house is clean, spacious, and beautiful. Before it was small, cluttered, and dark. honestly, I used to think it was haunted. I have pets now, even though I used to be allergic. I have so much money like real, life-changing money. Generational wealth level even more than the lottery and I’m already thinking of what kind of business I want to start. I’m leaning toward something luxurious maybe creating my own high-end purse line or maybe something more scalable and simple like e-commerce. I don’t know yet, but I finally have the time, resources, and peace of mind to explore it. Right now, I don’t want a boyfriend But when I am ready, I’ll be manifesting someone tall, rich, attractive, and deeply in love with me. A respectful simp with range, loyalty, and no ego issues. Someone emotionally intelligent and obsessed with me, in the healthiest way.

I even left a few things open-ended, just to let the universe surprise me. For example, I didn’t script a specific car model I just asked for something beautiful and rare. I ended up with a matte black Bentley Bentayga, fully wrapped in metallic lavender detailing with a custom interior from Mansory. It literally looks like a concept car. We also have a yatch and it’s a Sunseeker 100 Yacht I didn’t even know what that was 2 days ago!

But yea….First of all, I want to thank myself, you, and @gorgeouslypink even though, at one point, I genuinely thought you two were the same person. Sorry about that. And also, thank you to @sugarcoatedcherry . You guys really helped me stay focused and hopeful.

I wasn’t even going to post this because im not gonna lie I hate this app sometimes. The drama, the performative advice, the endless paragraphs of recycled nonsense… it made me want to log off for good. But I promised a few friends I’d share what actually worked for me, especially on here and Tumblr, because there were some genuinely helpful people who kept it real.

So here’s what I did one last timefor the girls and gays:

1. I made my own subliminal.

I used CapCut and layered my affirmations over this sound:

https://youtu.be/60o-pNwOmCE?si=KmE52FM6eb_hziL3

To create the affirmations, I took all my doubts and anxieties and put them into AI and asked it to reframe those fears into positive, subconscious-language affirmations. Then, I recorded them in my own voice, because your subconscious responds more deeply to your own tone and rhythm.

2. I used the MOAB sub in the morning and then I listened to my subliminal all day and night

3. I ordered galantamine.

It was supposed to arrive that day, but clearly… I didn’t even need it, LOL. That said, I did research it, and I’ve heard great things especially for lucid dream induction. It just takes forever to ship.

4. I went to bed with a clear intention and naturally woke up around 4 a.m. and did SSILD, super lazily.

5. I read @charmedreincarnation post about dream character control.

This was a game-changer for me. One of my biggest struggles used to be chaos in my dreams characters acting wild, not listening, or turning on me. That post explained how to keep dream characters in line and reminded me that it’s my reality. My rules. Keeping things emotionally stable in the dream really helped me shift with clarity.

Thats it, either way, I’m free. And so are you. I won’t be answering DMs. I’m not even planning to post on my account anymore. I’m choosing to finally leave and live my life now. I really believe that using my own voice for my subliminal was the key that changed everything for me.

My only advice is this a lot of people on here are stuck. They argue over methods, obsess over drama, and waste time fighting on Tumblr instead of actually shifting. Stay far away from that energy. Focus on your life lol. Focus on your self. And don’t fear the world. With shifting, you’re no longer bound by it. When your consciousness is aligned, nothing outside of you can control your experience. That’s the real freedom.

Hey sorry I just saw this but idk if it will post bc the format is too long but that dream sounds wild, and now I’m seriously intrigued by the Neville Goddard lucid dreaming method. I’ve never tried it before, but I’m definitely interested now. I’ve also used the Hemi-Sync theta waves and I 100% recommend it. It works incredibly . I’m so happy the lottery win ended up being a gateway to something even bigger: stepping into your dream life.

I’m so happy for you!!!you truly deserve all your success. The commitment and patience you showed throughout the process is such great part of every success story. It’s always inspiring to see someone stay dedicated and trust the timing. Wishing this and so much more to everyone on their own journey. Thank you for sharing all the details it was inspiring to say the least and I’m going to try some of these techniques myself!

[namgoonerr]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴄᴇ~ɴᴀᴍɢʏᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

tw: smut, oral (m!recieving), mentions of drug use, swearing, mdni

You don’t know why you took them. To pretend you were someone you weren’t? To feel more or to feel less or just not feel at all. You don’t know why you made most the choices you did, yet you made them anyway.

To say you weren’t totally shocked when the games you entered turned out to be games of death would be the truth. You were a addict in extreme debt who could only keep a job for a bit over a month maximum, so when a man in a suit playing ddakji in a subway offered you a way to pay off all your debts you thought ‘what’s the worst that could happen.’

You somehow managed to make it through the first game with somewhat ease. When you were back in the bunk room you looked around, observed the others there with you. The people who stuck out the most to you were player 456 the guy who supposedly had played the games before though you thought he was full of shit, player 149 an older lady who seemed to know player 007, you could only assume they were related, and lastly player 230 and 124-230 being a ‘rapper’ but he just seemed stupid and 124 following him around like a toddler.

During the second game you somehow found yourself on a team with that “rapper” and toddler. While waiting for your teams turn you were sandwiched between players 380 and 124 who’s names you learned were Se-mi and nam-gyu. You were watching the other players who were up though you really were lost in thought, about what? You didn’t remember. Though you did remember glancing over and noticing colorful pills inside 230 or thanos cross. He was offering Nam-su some before you decided to speak up.

“Give me one.” You reach your hand over nam-gyu waiting for thanos to hand you one “Señorita I-" You roll your eyes not caring for the rest of his sentence and wanting the colorful pill "Look you either give me the pill or I freak out and get all of us killed" He stares at you before saying something and handing you one of the pills. You didnt know what he had said nor did you care.

after that you hung around them, not that you wanted allies or felt comfort in numbers, you felt comfort in drugs, which thanos provided. You also found the whole place boring without some conversation. After the third game se-mi and minsu voted to leave which clearly angered nam-gyu and thanos was annoyed but no where near as upset as nam-gyu. You voted to stay not for the fact nam-gyu was pressuring your whole group to vote stay, but because you had nothing to go to outside of the games expect the possibility of an eviction notice.

After the voting everything was truly a blur to you, granted you were tired and high, all you know is by the next day both thanos and se-mi were dead. You didn’t know what minsu or nam-gyu were doing and you truly didn’t care but you did care for the cross, which you had no clue of it’s where abouts.

“y/n, psst” you could hear someone talking to you but all you could think was where the cross might be. A high chance that it went with where ever the hell thanos body went, but there was a possibility somebody took it but who? Definitely not mi- “y/n.” your thoughts were interrupted and you turn to see nam-gyu standing beside your bunk, you noticed the little things but especially his dilated pupil-which could only mean he had the cross. “You have it?” you draw out and he raises a brow before laughing “Oh you mean the cross? Yeah, I have it, but I don’t plan on giving you anything out of it” he adds and that’s when you fully pay attention to him. Thanos had pills like none of the others you’d ever had, they were super strong and made everything better “W-what, no, come on nam-gyu I’ve done nothing to you” you whine, you didn’t want to have to beg him for them, but you were in the slightest tempted too “see you were the one of the group who really stood out, I almost found you interesting” you wondered what he meant but didn’t care enough to ask since you were more focused on the refusal to give you a pill. “Nam-gyu, please, I-I voted stay like you wanted, so come on” he rolls his eyes “you did that for yourself bitch” you turn your full body to face him. “Nam-gyu please I’ll do anything” that seemed to work, he thinks for a minute before his voice got lower “While everyone lines up for food, come to the bathroom” you were confused, taken back a bit before realizing what he meant as he walked off

You weren’t into nam-gyu though you didn’t find him ugly by no means, and without one of those pills before the game you were done for, so was fucking nam-gyu in the bathroom in exchange for a pill really so bad? As you walk past the lines for food you walk to the bathroom, not thinking about what was about to happen but about the cross and what was in it.

After entering the bathroom it was a matter of seconds before you found yourself on your knees taking his tip in his mouth and in one swift thrust you’re gagging on his length. “Who would’ve thought of all people you’d be on the bathroom floor taking me” you roll your eyes before gagging a bit as he sets his pace. You glance up at him seeing the cross around his neck. He quickens the pace tossing his head back and grunting before he glances down at you. “Fuck-” you feel the tears forming in your eyes as you take his length down your throat before hearing his groan before feeling the warm white liquid fill your mouth before he slowly pulls his dick from your mouth before you hesitantly swallow every drop and watch as he pulls up his boxers and the green tracksuit pants before you speak up “uh the pill?” he looks at you before opening the cross and handing the pill over and walking out.

a/n: first time writing smut not my proudest work and lowk rushed

[syrecjh]

Omg hii can u pls write smth where a cat keeps following Bakugo and wants his attention so when he gives in a few moments later it turns into reader but he never knew her quirk and was animal shapeshifting?

It started with a screech of tires and a blur of fur.

Katsuki Bakugo hadn’t meant to save the cat—hell, he didn’t even like them. But instinct pulled faster than logic, and one moment he was stepping off the curb, the next he was cradling a trembling, soot-colored creature in his arms, heart pounding louder than the traffic still rushing by.

“Dumbass,” he muttered, not unkindly, holding it up like it was radioactive. “You got a death wish or somethin’?”

The cat blinked up at him, unconcerned. One eye was gold, the other green. Familiar. Odd, like someone had stitched two different things together and decided to call it whole. It didn't meow. Just stared, ears twitching in the wind.

He crouched, set it down, expected it to bolt.

It didn’t.

The next day, it was there again. And the day after. And the one after that.

At first, he ignored it. Then he grumbled at it. Then he gave it the crust of his sandwich because it wouldn’t stop staring. Eventually, it started following him—through the alley behind the dorms, up the stairs, even onto the goddamn UA rooftop. Always quiet. Always watching. Never meowing, just that steady, unsettling gaze.

“You’re so fuckin’ clingy, ” he muttered one evening, lying back against the concrete, arms folded behind his head as the stars flickered to life above them. The cat curled beside him, tail wrapped around its paws like it belonged there.

And maybe, in a strange way, it did.

It was the first time he said it out loud: “You’re not so bad.” He sighs—and pets it.

The air stilled. A pause too long. Then—

A laugh.

Not a purr. Not a meow.

A laugh.

He shot upright.

“What the—?”

And then the cat shimmered.

Like a heatwave in the shape of a secret, its fur peeled back into light and breath and skin. Limbs elongated, bone and form shifting like liquid glass. Until there, in the dying light, sitting cross-legged on the rooftop where the cat once lay—was you.

Smirking. Stretching like you hadn’t been curled up as a feline five seconds ago.

“Yo,” you said, casual as wind through feathers. “Nice night, huh?”

Bakugo stared at you, eyes wide, mouth halfway to a curse. You wore the same hoodie you had in class that morning. Same chipped nail polish. Same mischievous gleam in your eye that always gave away you were about to say something stupid.

“You—What—That was you?!”

You tilted your head. “What, you didn’t know my quirk was animal shapeshifting? I figured someone as observant as you would've noticed by now. I'm literally in your homeroom, grumpy.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Counted to five. Tried again.

“I’ve been talkin’ to you like a damn stray for days.”

“Cute, right?” you said, propping your chin on your knee. “You’re surprisingly soft for someone whose entire personality is fire.”

He sputters. “I ain’t soft!”

You smile wider, and somehow, your grin feels warmer than sunlight. “You gave me head pats.”

“Once!”

“Twice,” you correct. “You scratched behind my ears, too. You liked me.”

“You were a cat!”

“And now I’m not.”

Silence lingers.

“You gave me food,” you added. “Talked to me about your patrol, let me nap in your lap…”

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“Still,” you said, standing now, brushing invisible dust from your thighs. “You didn’t push me away. Not really.”

Bakugo rubbed his face like he could scrub the blush off his ears. “I rescued you. You almost died.”

You stepped closer, face tilting. “You cared.”

“Tch. I care about dumbasses not dying on my watch.”

Your smile softened. “Still care, though.”

And for once, Bakugo had nothing to say.

The rooftop glowed in twilight. Your silhouette caught in moonlight. His face half-buried in his hand, half-daring himself to look at you without combusting.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said with a wink.

He grunted. “You’re lucky I didn’t dropkick you off this roof.”

But when you turned to go, he didn’t stop you.

He just watched, quietly, heart still stuttering in his chest like an engine trying to catch.

And when he glanced beside him—just for a second—he swore he still saw a flicker of fur. A pair of mismatched eyes, blinking slowly in the dark.

────୨ৎ────

This request was way too cute!!! I had so much fun writing it—hope you like it! 😭💜 I actually have two similar ones sitting in my drafts already lol. Thanks for sending this in, and sorry it took a while to finish 🥺✨

[pillow-coded]

To Have and To Hold — Chapter 10

Summary: Spencer shows up for Maddie’s birthday party with a gift straight out of a fairytale. Overwhelmed by how deeply he’s become a part of their world, Y/N does something that changes everything. Couple: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warnings: so much fluff, feelings of rejection, angst (towards the end) Word Count: 7.3k

Series Masterlist

There’s something about birthdays that makes you think about time. How it slips past you quietly, how it adds up. How it circles back around in ways you didn’t expect.

I’d been thinking about it all morning. Not consciously, at first. Just little things — the smell of wrapping paper, the way the light filtered in through my blinds, the sound of a child’s laughter echoing faintly from somewhere outside my apartment window. All of it kept tugging at something quiet in me. Something I hadn’t wanted to name.

I hadn’t gone to many birthdays as a kid. Not the kind with cake and balloons, anyway. Most years, it was just me and my mom. Sometimes she remembered the date, sometimes she didn’t. I never held it against her. But I think part of me learned early on not to expect much from those days.

Aside from me not having too many birthday parties of my own, I was also just never invited to many. There’d been a couple of times where I’d get a pity invite, but for most of it I’d just stay by myself.

Which is probably why I spent so long planning the perfect gift for Maddie.

“Garcia, do you know how I could illustrate a children’s book without any actual drawing experience?”

“A children’s book?” She spun around in her chair, narrowing her eyes at me. “Why would you need to illustrate a children’s book?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Part of it was self-preservation. Y/N and Maddie were… mine, in a way I wasn’t ready to explain out loud yet. I’d only just told her about the darkest parts of my life — the kind most people wouldn’t stick around for… I didn’t want to involve them further.

So I kept them to myself.

Maybe I shouldn’t have — especially considering how the last time I kept a relationship secret, it ended in ways I still can’t think about for too long. I knew I should be honest. I just didn’t know how to be. Not yet. Not all the way.

So I shrugged. “It’s for someone’s birthday.”

Garcia blinked. Her brows lifted slowly, like she was putting together a puzzle she already knew the answer to. “Who?”

“It’s for… my niece.”

She didn’t say anything for a second. Just stared at me with that knowing look that meant she absolutely didn’t believe me — but also wasn’t going to push. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said eventually. “You’re writing her a whole book?”

“I already wrote it,” I muttered. “I just need help with the illustrations.”

Of course, Garcia knew someone. A friend-of-a-friend who freelanced for indie authors. She texted me the contact information before I could change my mind. I sent the manuscript that same night — along with a painfully detailed list of character notes, color preferences, and very specific instructions for how Maddie’s dress had to be purple.

I ordered two copies of the book. One for them — and one for me.

Just in case.

In case one day they woke up and decided this was all a mistake. That I was a mistake. If that ever happened… at least I’d have this. A small, tangible reminder that for a little while, I got to care for something good. That I tried.

It was a simple book. Short. The kind with thick, cardboard pages meant to survive peanut butter fingers and bedtime rereads. The cover showed Maddie as a fairy princess, smiling mid-spin, her dress sparkling in layers of purple — just like I asked. Y/N and I stood in the background, slightly blurred, like illustrations often are. Not hyperrealistic, but recognizable enough that anyone who knew us would know.

It was perfect.

Exactly how I pictured it when I first wrote the story. Maybe even better.

I kept the extra copy tucked away in my apartment. Top shelf. Behind a stack of old psychology journals I hadn’t touched in years. Safe. Hidden. Just for me.

But the other — the one wrapped carefully in pastel tissue paper, sealed in a small gift bag with stars on it — that one sat in the passenger seat beside me as I drove to the park. I’d checked it three times before leaving. Adjusted the ribbon twice. It was ridiculous how nervous I was.

It wasn’t like I was proposing.

But still… it mattered. Too much, maybe.

The park was already filled with giggles when I got there. It was the kind of early afternoon that made everything feel a little softer — sunshine dappled through tree leaves, the faint scent of hot dogs from a nearby cart.

I spotted them almost immediately.

Y/N had set up beneath a wide oak tree, a picnic blanket sprawled across the grass, its corners fluttering in the breeze. Maddie sat cross-legged in the middle, paper crown tilted sideways, a streak of frosting on her cheek like a badge of honor. Y/N looked up just as I stepped out of the car, brushing hair from her face. Her eyes found mine instantly.

It had been a few weeks since the planetarium.

I’d like to say work got in the way — that the only reason I hadn’t seen them was the job — but that wasn’t the truth. Not really. The truth was, Y/N wasn't communicating as much as she used to. I thought about the many reasons she could be avoiding me, but each one tends to get more and more dramatic. Maybe she's just been busy, but still… things felt different.

And that scared me more than anything else.

She smiled — open and real, like she was glad I came. Like she’d been waiting.

And I felt it again. That ache I’d been trying not to name.

Because I wanted this.

I wanted them.

More than I probably should.

“Spencer!!” Maddie’s voice cracked through the afternoon like a firecracker.

She launched off the blanket with the kind of wild, sugar-fueled energy only birthdays can bring — arms outstretched, paper crown wobbling with every step.

I barely had time to catch her.

“You’re late!” she announced, throwing her arms around my waist.

“I’m exactly on time,” I murmured, hugging her back carefully — like I was afraid she might dissolve if I held too tight. “I brought you something.”

That got her attention. She pulled back instantly, eyes wide. “Is it magic?!”

“Better,” I said, holding out the star-covered gift bag.

Y/N stood then, brushing grass from her jeans. She didn’t say anything — just watched us with that unreadable softness she wore when she was trying not to let me see how much something mattered.

Maddie tore into the wrapping like it might contain fireworks.

“Maddie!” Y/N called, her voice half-laugh, half-motherly scold. “Don’t open it yet! You know the rule — gifts come after we sing happy birthday.”

Maddie froze mid-rip, pouting. “Okay.”

She hugged the bag to her chest anyway, like even waiting couldn’t undo how excited she already was.

I sat with them after that — a little stiff at first, knees tucked awkwardly under me at the corner of the blanket. Y/N handed me a juice box with a crooked grin, like she knew exactly how out of place I felt and was offering the simplest kind of kindness.

“Apple or grape?” she asked, holding both out like I was a very large child at a school picnic.

I blinked. “Grape, I guess.”

“Good choice. Apple’s for suck-ups.”

I gave her a look. She winked.

Maddie, meanwhile, was humming “Happy Birthday” under her breath, already halfway through her second cupcake. Purple frosting smeared across her chin like war paint, glitter from the crown in her hair, socks dusty from the grass. She looked feral. Perfectly, beautifully feral.

Y/N leaned back on her palms beside me, stretching her legs out lazily like she belonged to the sun. She had sunglasses perched on her nose and her shirt knotted at the hem, and I couldn’t stop noticing the way her shoulders moved — soft and unbothered, like she was finally relaxing for the first time in days. Her ankle brushed mine at one point. She didn’t move it.

And that shouldn't have meant anything.

But it did.

We sang the song a few minutes later — too loud, too fast, Maddie clapping offbeat and Y/N laughing halfway through. I watched them more than I sang. Watched the way Maddie’s cheeks flushed when we hit the “dear Maddie” part. The way Y/N’s smile went crooked when she tried not to tear up. The way their voices filled the space between my ribs like they belonged there.

I think that’s when it hit me — not just the ache, but the weight of it.

I no longer just wanted this, them… I ached for this. I needed them in my life like I needed air to survive.

Y/N lit the candle — a purple number five — and Maddie closed her eyes before blowing it out. She didn’t say her wish out loud, but I watched the way she peeked at me when she opened her eyes again. Like maybe her wish had something to do with me.

“Presents now?” she asked, practically vibrating.

Y/N made a show of checking an imaginary watch. “I don’t know… might be too soon.”

“Moooom.”

“Fine,” Y/N relented, reaching for her phone. “But let me take a picture of you two with the gift first.”

Maddie grinned, immediately scooting closer to me like it was routine — like we’d done this a hundred times before. Her head bumped against my arm, her crown tilting dangerously sideways. I instinctively reached up to fix it, and her hair — soft and warm from the sun — brushed my wrist.

Y/N stepped back a little, framing us in her phone. “Okay, Maddie, big smile.”

Maddie’s was automatic.

Mine wasn’t.

Not because I wasn’t happy — I was — but because I could feel the moment crystallizing. Y/N holding her phone steady. Maddie leaning into me like I belonged there. The late sun painting everything gold. And I knew, even before she clicked the shutter, that this photo would haunt me if I ever lost them.

“Spence,” Y/N called gently.

I looked up.

“Smile.”

So I did. Soft. Quiet. Barely-there.

Click.

“There,” she said, lowering the phone, already smiling at the screen. “One for the scrapbook.”

Something about that word — scrapbook — lodged in my throat.

Maddie didn’t wait. She immediately dove back into the gift bag like the brief delay hadn’t happened. She fished out the book, already familiar with the shape of it, like she’d memorized it by touch. When she pulled it into her lap again, she turned it around and held it up toward her mom like she was presenting a trophy.

“Look! It’s me!”

Y/N’s expression immediately changed.

It was subtle, but I noticed it — of course I noticed it. The slight parting of her lips, the sudden stillness in her shoulders, the way her fingers went lax around the phone like she’d forgotten she was holding it. Her eyes scanned the cover in slow motion — not blinking, not smiling, not yet. Just… looking.

And I knew that look.

I’d seen it before — on grieving families when we gave them answers, on victims who’d just been told they were finally safe. That look of something cracking open inside them. Relief, disbelief, awe, and sadness all sitting in the same breath.

She didn’t say anything right away.

And neither did I.

Because I could feel the gravity of the moment pulling tight between us — heavy and fragile and full of things I didn’t know how to say out loud.

Her daughter was holding a book I wrote. A story I built around her. A version of the world where she got to be a hero, a dreamer, a star. I hadn’t done it for credit. I hadn’t done it because I thought it was what a good person should do. I did it because I couldn’t not do it. Because ever since that day in the Library, with her teary eyes that turned excited once I did a magic trick — I’d felt this quiet, persistent need to give her something. Something kind. Something lasting.

And maybe, selfishly, something that proved I could be good for them.

I watched Y/N’s throat move as she swallowed.

Her fingers brushed Maddie’s curls absently — a grounding motion, but I could see her eyes start to gloss over.

She was trying not to cry.

I’d seen people getting emotional before, but this was different. There was no sadness in it. No fear. Just… overwhelm. The good kind. The kind that sneaks up on you and wraps around your ribs when you realize someone has seen the people you love and chosen to love them too.

And for some reason, that hit me harder than I expected.

She looked up at me.

Eyes soft. Wide. So full of feeling it almost knocked the air out of me.

“You made her a book,” she said, barely above a whisper.

I tried to smile. It came out lopsided. “It’s just a short story.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head slightly, voice breaking like she couldn’t hold all of it in at once. “You made this. You wrote her a book.”

Her voice cracked at the end. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough to make my chest tighten with something unbearably tender.

I wanted to reach out. Touch her hand. Say something — anything — that could make the feeling in my lungs settle. But I didn’t.

Because Maddie had already curled up against me, book in her lap, head resting on my leg like it was her default position.

And that, somehow, made the moment louder than anything I could’ve said.

She flipped the cover open gently, like it was something sacred.

“Mama,” she mumbled, “Spencer’s gonna read it to me.”

Y/N blinked, then nodded. “Okay, baby. Go ahead.”

I hesitated only a second — not because I didn’t want to read it, but because I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to breathe through this.

Through the feeling of this small, trusting body curled into mine.

Through the look in Y/N’s eyes like she was seeing me differently now — not as someone orbiting the edges of their lives, but someone inside the center of it.

I opened the book.

And read the first line.

“Once upon a time, in a world made of books and stars and peanut butter toast, there lived a girl with a laugh so bright, it made the flowers bloom twice as fast.

Her name was Madeline, but everyone in the Kingdom called her Maddie the fairy princess. She wore glittery skirts and mismatched socks, because she believed lucky socks helped her run faster through dreams.

One cloudy afternoon, while chasing a butterfly made of stardust through the Royal Library Gardens, Maddie found herself somewhere new. The book castle of the Great Wizard Spencer….”

At that, Maddie gasped. Her head lifted just enough to look up at me, wide-eyed and smiling. “That’s you!” she whispered.

I nodded, smiling back, my voice catching slightly on the next line.

“…a tall, silly man with too many books, too many facts, and not enough snacks.”

Y/N snorted — an actual snort — then quickly covered her mouth like she’d broken something sacred. Her eyes met mine and sparkled. “Accurate.”

I swallowed down a laugh and turned the page.

Maddie was still, listening. Her thumb traced the corner of the page, slow and methodical, like she was absorbing the words into her skin.

Y/N, meanwhile, wasn’t looking at the page at all.

She was watching me.

And not casually — not politely. Watching me like she could hear everything I wasn’t saying. Like she knew that I had written that line not just for the story, but for myself. Like she could see straight through me — into every silent hope I hadn’t admitted yet.

I looked back down at the page before I could let her see too much.

Yet still, I noticed everything.

Despite not wanting to — or maybe because I always do — I could see her from the corner of my eye. The way her fingers curled into the edge of the blanket. The way she blinked, deliberately and too often. The way her mouth pressed flat, like she was trying to stay composed for Maddie’s sake.

Maybe she thought we couldn’t see.

Maybe she thought we were too immersed in the story to notice. And to be fair, Maddie was immersed — curled tight against my leg, eyes wide, head tilted toward the page like it was casting a spell on her. But I wasn’t fully in the story anymore. Not with the way Y/N was slowly, silently coming undone beside me.

She wasn’t holding it in anymore.

She was crying. Quietly. Not with sound, not with breath. Just tears slipping down one by one, unannounced, as if her body had decided for her.

And still, she didn’t say anything.

Didn’t get up. Didn’t wipe them away. She just sat there, watching me — watching us — like this was the softest kind of heartbreak. Like she didn’t know what to do with the way it felt.

And I…

I didn’t know what to do either.

So I kept reading.

Not to ignore it. Not to pretend I didn’t see. But because stopping would have drawn attention to it, would have broken the spell — and I knew, somehow, she needed the spell to keep going. Just a little longer.

So I gave her that.

I let the words come soft and steady, even though my throat was starting to ache.

Even though my hands had gone clammy from the warmth of Maddie’s weight.

Even though my whole chest felt like it might split open if she looked at me like that for one more second.

And in between the pages, in between Maddie’s tiny whispers and occasional gasps, I thought about how it felt to sit here like this — with one of them against me, and the other quietly falling apart beside me, and both of them staying.

“And they all lived happily ever after… The end.”

My voice faltered slightly on the last word. Not enough for Maddie to notice — but enough for me to feel it.

It landed heavy in my chest. Not because of the line itself, but because I meant it. In that fragile, irrational way you mean things when you know they might not last. I wanted them to live happily ever after. Not the characters — us. Them. Me. This.

“I love it!” Maddie squealed, practically bouncing in my lap. “It’s my favorite book ever!”

She turned and threw her arms around my middle without warning, squeezing me so tight it knocked a breath out of me. She smelled like grass and cake and sunscreen. Her cheek was warm against my shirt.

I wrapped an arm around her carefully, trying not to let my hand shake.

“I’m glad,” I murmured. “It’s yours to keep.”

“I’m gonna read it every night,” she promised, pulling back just enough to look up at me. “But you have to read it again. At bedtime.”

Before I could answer, Y/N finally spoke — her voice quiet and a little hoarse.

“Baby, maybe Spencer’s tired…”

I looked at her.

Really looked.

Her eyes were still watery, but she’d wiped the tears away. Her hand was curled over her knee, knuckles pale from holding tension she hadn’t let out yet. But her expression — God, her expression — it was something I wasn’t sure I had the vocabulary for.

She looked at me like I’d done something irreversible.

And maybe I had.

Because nothing would ever be the same after this. Not for me. Not for her. Not for the three of us. No matter what happened tomorrow, or next week, or in a year — this would always be the moment everything changed.

I swallowed. Hard.

“If it’s okay,” I said, voice lower than usual, “I can stay for bedtime. Just for a little while.”

Maddie cheered.

Y/N didn’t say anything.

But she nodded once. Soft. Like she was afraid her voice might betray her.

And then she reached for the book — not to take it from me, but just to touch the cover. Her thumb moved over the illustration like she was still making sure it was real.

Her hand brushed mine.

Neither of us moved.

And for a second, I thought she might say something. Something big. Something that would make the ache in my chest snap wide open.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she looked down and whispered, “Thank you.”

And I think that might’ve ruined me more than anything else could have.

By the time we got back to the apartment, Maddie was trailing behind us like a balloon losing helium — crown in hand, glitter on her cheeks, book clutched to her chest like something sacred.

Spencer held the door open for us without saying anything. He hadn’t said much since we left the park, but his silence didn’t feel cold. It felt… full. Like there was too much inside him to spill out all at once.

And honestly? I understood the feeling.

Maddie padded inside first, holding the book close to her chest like she was afraid someone might take it. Her crown had been removed with care, cradled under her arm like a stuffed animal. There was frosting still crusted near her ear, and her eyes were a little sleepy now — that sweet, softened calm she always got after something big and exciting.

“Alright, birthday girl,” I said, crouching next to her. “Shoes off, book on the couch, and go take a quick shower while I make some dinner, okay?”

She pouted immediately, that tiny lip wobble she knew could sometimes buy her five extra minutes.

“But I wanted to read it again…”

“You can,” I said gently, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “After dinner. And after your shower. Deal?”

She hesitated. Then gave a tiny nod, already kicking off her shoes. “Deal.”

She walked past Spencer on her way to the bathroom and tilted her head up just long enough to whisper, “You’re gonna eat with us?”

“If it’s okay with your mom,”

She didn’t wait for my answer. Just gave him a quick smile and padded down the hallway, still holding the book tight to her chest instead of leaving it at the couch like Y/N said. A few seconds later, the bathroom door clicked shut, and the apartment felt suddenly quieter. Still warm — but quieter.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen for a beat, not moving. I could feel him behind me, standing near the table, probably trying to figure out whether he should sit down or hover or offer to help. I didn’t turn around.

Instead, I reached for the soup cans. My hands were steady, but my chest wasn’t.

The truth was, I didn’t want him to leave.

And that thought — so quiet, so sharp — made everything inside me ache.

“I have tomato or chicken noodle,” I said eventually, keeping my tone light.

Behind me, I heard him shift, finally taking the seat closest to the window.

“I’ll eat whatever Maddie likes.”

I smiled to myself. “That wasn’t the question.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I like tomato. But only if there’s grilled cheese.”

“There’s no grilled cheese,” I said, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Just soup and me.”

His gaze met mine. “That’s enough.”

Something in my stomach twisted, low and hot. I turned back to the stove before he could see what that did to me.

Still, I’m pretty sure the silly smile on my face was beyond obvious.

“I’ll make you a grilled cheese with it,” I said softly, setting the pan on the burner. “I’m sure Maddie would appreciate one too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” I murmured, buttering the bread. “But I want to.”

He didn’t say anything after that, but I could feel it again — that silent shift in the air, like he was about to say something and thought better of it. Like my answer had pressed on something he wasn’t ready to let move.

I dropped the slices into the pan and listened to the sizzle.

There was something grounding in the sound. Something normal. And yet nothing about this felt normal.

Spencer was sitting at my kitchen table like it wasn’t strange. Like we did this all the time. It wasn’t the first time we had spent time together in my home, or even the first time he was here late at night. In fact, he stayed the night the other day. Still, The domesticity of it wrapped around me so tightly, I almost forgot how rare it was.

“I’m glad you came,” I said, barely loud enough to be heard over the crackle of butter.

A pause.

“I’m glad you invited me,” he replied.

When I glanced back at him, his face was all soft lines and careful eyes. Not guarded, exactly — just like he was trying to memorize the way this felt. Like he didn’t want to risk breaking it by being too loud.

The grilled cheese hissed in the pan as I flipped it, the crust already golden.

I focused on the sandwich, but my mind was elsewhere. On the fact that he hadn’t hesitated when I asked him to stay. On the way he’d looked at Maddie like she was the center of something. On the way he looked at me now.

And I didn’t know what to do with all that softness, except pretend I wasn’t afraid of how badly I wanted it to stay.

I placed sandwich after sandwich on the plates, moving carefully, like rushing might shatter the quiet between us. Three grilled cheeses, sliced on the diagonal — the only correct way, according to Maddie — and set alongside three small bowls of tomato soup.

The smell filled the kitchen. Warm, nostalgic. Familiar in a way that felt foreign to me.

Spencer helped without asking, lifting two of the plates and carrying them to the table like he’d done it before. Like he’d done it here before. He didn’t ask where the napkins were. Didn’t need to. He just moved like someone who wanted to help, like someone who paid attention.

I watched him for a second, standing there in the soft yellow kitchen light, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, eyes scanning for where to set things down.

It made something in my chest pull tight.

Once everything was set, we paused — both of us hovering just slightly, neither sitting yet.

All that was left to do was wait for Maddie.

And then, softly, he spoke.

“You were crying.”

I turned toward him slowly.

It wasn’t an accusation. There was no edge to it. Just a quiet observation, spoken carefully, like he didn’t want to scare the truth back into hiding.

I let the words settle. Didn’t rush to explain. Then I gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” I said. “I was.”

He didn’t press. He just looked at me like he was listening, even in his silence.

“I’m sorry I made you cry…”

“It wasn’t you, Spence,” I chuckled. How could he possibly think that he made me cry? I mean he did, but not in the way he made it sound.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely over my chest. “It caught me off guard, I guess. What you did for her.”

He tilted his head slightly, not quite understanding.

I paused. Swallowed.

“I’ve spent so long trying to protect her from disappointment. From people who come close but don’t stay. I didn’t expect you to make space for her so easily. I didn’t expect it to matter this much.”

The room was still. The kind of still that only happens when something important has been said out loud.

He didn’t respond, not right away. But he didn’t look away, either.

I let out a soft breath. “I think I cried because I wasn’t ready for how good it felt.”

There was more I could’ve said. About how scared I was. About how easy it was becoming to picture him in this kitchen, at this table, beside us. About how I didn’t know what to do with that kind of softness.

But before I could say anything else, the sound of the bathroom door creaked open. Light footsteps padded into the hall.

Then, in a singsong voice, “I smell grilled cheeeeese!”

Maddie’s curls were damp and a little frizzy from the towel wrap. Her pajama shirt was slightly crooked, one sleeve tugged higher than the other. She made a beeline for the touch to get her new book. She held it under one arm like it was her most prized possession. 

She didn’t notice the way Spencer straightened when she entered. Or the way I quickly wiped my thumb under my eye even though no tears had fallen.

She just smiled.

And just like that, the moment folded itself away — quiet, unspoken, unfinished, but not forgotten.

“Just for you, Birthday Girl.”

Dinner passed in the soft way things sometimes do after big emotions — like the air had shifted just enough to slow us all down.

Maddie swung her feet under the table, one hand gripping her spoon while the other cradled the edge of her book, which sat beside her like a fourth guest. She insisted on placing it there — open to her favorite page, The final page where Fairy Princess Maddie, Wizard Spencer, and Queen Y/N, lived happily ever after in the magic star castle. She kept glancing down at it like she needed to remind herself it was real.

Spencer didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. His presence alone did more than words ever could. Every time Maddie laughed, he smiled like it caught him off guard. Like joy still surprised him. Like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to sit at this table, next to this little girl who adored him, across from me.

I barely ate. I pushed soup around in the bowl, took a few bites of sandwich, nodded along to Maddie’s monologue about her next birthday party even though this one wasn’t over yet. My body was here, but my head… my head was somewhere else entirely.

I kept stealing glances at him — not on purpose, not at first. But every time he laughed under his breath, or offered Maddie the last triangle of sandwich without being asked, I felt that ache come back. The one I thought I had under control.

It wasn’t even the grand gestures that did it. It wasn’t the book, though that nearly broke me. It was the small things. The way he listened like everything Maddie said mattered. The way he helped clean up with barely a word, quietly rinsing her cup in the sink like it was just second nature. The way he didn’t just make space for her in his world — he stepped into ours without rearranging a single thing.

I watched him from across the table and thought, not for the first time, I don’t know how I got here. Not in the sad way. In the way that felt a little like wonder, and a little like falling.

I’d been so careful with us. So slow. So guarded.

And yet tonight, despite having recognized these feelings already, everything inside me felt loosened. Warm. Lit up in places I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

When dinner ended, Maddie leaned her head against my arm and yawned — big and dramatic and half-fake, her version of a bedtime alarm.

“Come on,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go get cozy.”

“I get to sleep with you tonight,” she reminded me, already sliding off her chair. “You promised.”

“I remember,” I said, brushing a crumb from her cheek. “Go pick a movie. I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and disappeared down the hall, dragging her book behind her — the corner of it catching softly against the carpet, a rhythm I’d come to know as hers. The sound faded, replaced by the quiet hum of my apartment and the slight creak of Spencer shifting his weight behind me.

I didn’t move at first.

Neither did he.

There was something fragile about the stillness. Something holy. Like if we spoke too loudly, we might wake whatever spell had settled between us. So I just stood there, watching the empty hallway, feeling the pulse of everything I hadn’t said buzzing just beneath my skin.

Eventually, I turned.

He was already looking at me.

Not in a casual way — not like someone politely waiting to be excused. It was the kind of look you give when you’re trying to memorize a room you know you have to leave. His hands were relaxed at his sides, but his shoulders were tense, like he couldn’t decide whether to stay grounded or float away.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” I said, my voice too quiet, too careful.

He nodded once. Said nothing. And we walked, slowly, side by side.

The apartment felt different with him in it, even in silence. Or maybe it was me that felt different — like the gravity had shifted, like I was carrying too much of something unnamed in my chest. I could still hear Maddie singing softly to herself in the background, flipping through the movie drawer like it was her life’s purpose. It should’ve anchored me.

It didn’t.

At the front door, we both hesitated.

He didn’t reach for the knob. I didn’t move to open it. We just stood there, two people orbiting something neither of us had named yet. The light from the kitchen spilled out behind him, catching in the soft gold of his hair, turning it warm. And for the first time all evening, I let myself really look at him.

His profile was lit in this quiet, reverent glow — like a portrait half-painted in shadow. His lashes cast soft arches under his eyes, his mouth slightly parted, like he’d started to say something and forgotten how. His tie was loose now, the collar of his shirt wrinkled from the long day, and I knew he probably hated that. But I loved it. I loved that he wasn’t perfect here. That he let himself be here.

And God, he looked tired.

Not in a way that made me feel sorry for him — in a way that made me ache.

Because I knew that kind of tired. The kind you wear in your bones. The kind you don’t speak about. And still, there he was — here, with us, helping clean up after a four-year-old’s birthday party and smiling like it was the most important thing he’d done all day.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes finding mine again. “For what?”

“For showing up.”

He looked like he wanted to respond. Like there were a dozen things he might say, and none of them were coming out right. But he didn’t look away.

I stepped closer without meaning to.

It was small — just a shift in the natural pull of something soft and magnetic — but it was enough. I felt the air change. Felt it thicken between us.

He didn’t move back.

And now that I was closer, I could see more.

The faint stubble under his jaw. The small scar at the side of his neck. The way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides like he was holding something in, or holding something back.

I thought of everything he was. His quiet. His gentleness. His wild, unfocused thoughts and how hard he worked to harness them. The way he made space for Maddie, not like it was a duty, but like it was joy. The way he listened to me. The way he saw me.

His heart was the kind that didn’t ask to be held — but you held it anyway, just by being near it.

I couldn’t stop myself.

Another step. Closer.

I was close enough now to feel his breath, to see the way his chest rose and fell, steady but slow. His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second. Just one. And then back to my eyes.

Neither of us said a word.

And then I reached up — gentle, hesitant, like I was afraid to break him — and pressed my lips to his.

It was soft.

Not desperate. Not rushed.

Just a quiet, trembling kind of reverence.

The kind of kiss you give someone who doesn’t know how much you already love them.

It probably lasted about a second, maybe less, but to me it felt like a lifetime.

Unfortunately, things like this — moments this good — never stay too long for me.

I had once again gotten too close to the light, and I got burnt.

He pulled away.

Not with care. Not with hesitation. It was sharp — immediate. Like his body had acted before his mind caught up, like the panic shot through him faster than reason could. He stumbled back a step, breath catching in his throat, eyes wide with something that looked far too much like fear.

“Y/N…” he said, and just the sound of it — my name on his lips, weighted with hesitation — made my heart twist. The tone wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t reassuring or curious or kind. It was startled. Shaken. Like the ground had moved under him and he couldn’t quite find his balance again.

And that was all it took.

The warmth that had been building between us, slow and sacred, crumbled in an instant. It fell away like something I had made up, something that only lived in my head. One second I had been standing in it — in the glow of what felt like a real thing — and the next, I was outside of it. Locked out.

My throat went dry. My body filled with that awful, sinking heat that always followed embarrassment — not anger, not even sadness yet, just humiliation. My voice barely made it through the wall that suddenly existed between us.

“Sorry,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure if it was sound or breath.

I felt it leave me. A word so small it hurt. My apology, even when I hadn’t done anything wrong — but what else was there to offer? There was no way to undo the kiss. No way to forget what I had just felt. And no way to unsee the way he’d pulled back from it like it had burned him.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t explain. He didn’t soften the blow. He just stood there, frozen in that moment, eyes wide, mouth parted, saying nothing. And the longer the silence stretched between us, the more that nothing turned into something. It turned into rejection. It turned into confirmation. It turned into of course.

I blinked a few times, trying to ground myself, to push the heat out of my eyes before it turned into tears. I stepped back because it was the only direction I could go. The only way to give him space that he clearly needed. I tried to think of something to say that would make it okay, something light or dismissive or forgiving, but I couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t also break me.

“I should check on Maddie,” I said, and I didn’t mean it as an escape. I meant it as a shield. As the only thing I could offer to excuse myself from standing there and watching the distance grow wider and wider with every breath he didn’t take toward me.

But I couldn’t just walk away. I had to wait. I had to be sure he left.

He finally moved toward the door, and I followed — not closely, but enough to make it clear I was seeing him out. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t touch me. He just reached for the knob and stepped out into the hallway like he was leaving the scene of a mistake.

The door shut behind him with a finality that made my skin prickle. I stood still for a moment, blinking at it, trying to breathe through the way my body felt like it had been hollowed out.

Then I reached for the lock.

My hand stayed on it longer than it should have. The bolt slid into place with a click, and I stared at the door like maybe it would open again. Like maybe he’d come back. But nothing moved. Nothing changed. He was gone.

I leaned forward, forehead against the cool wood, and exhaled.

It was the kind of exhale that felt like a surrender — a quiet release of something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding onto all day. Hope, maybe. Or just the belief that I wasn’t alone in this. That he’d felt it, too.

Apparently not.

Apparently, I’d misread everything.

Maybe I was wrong at the planetarium. He did mean the clean cut of we’re not a family.

No matter what was actually going on in his brain, the result was the same.

He was gone.

And I was standing here, my lips still tingling, my chest aching, trying not to fall apart before I made it back to my daughter.

I didn’t even let myself wipe my eyes. I just turned away from the door, every step down the hall slow and heavy. The sound of cartoons echoed faintly from my bedroom. Maddie was waiting. She had no idea anything had happened. And she didn’t need to.

So I straightened my spine. I walked.

Because if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s pretend I’m okay when someone walks away.

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[allieslittlewritings]

A Place to Rest

Spencer Reid + toddler!reader

Summary: Spencer's daughter picks a better place to nap than her bed.

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: None, Spencer being a soft dad <3

Spencer valued few things more than days he got to spend with you. Whether you wanted to visit a museum or spend a whole day playing princesses (you were a big fan of putting tiaras on his head; he was a big fan of how happy it made you), he was there for all of it.

Recently, your favorite thing to do with your dad was play chess. Though, your version of chess was comprised of arbitrarily moving your chess pieces to places on the board that "felt right" and capturing pieces that you thought "looked like they wanted to leave."

The first time it happened, Spencer tried to explain the correct rules of the game in a way you could understand. The second time, he couldn't help but find your way of playing endearing. You still had plenty of years to learn the proper rules and principles. For now, Spencer was more than willing to follow yours.

In your version of chess, you always won. The one rule you partially understood and followed was that the game ended once the king was compromised. Except there was no strategy or logic for that, at some point in the game you would simply decide that you now wanted to capture his king and that was the end.

How your face lit up every time you "won" meant a lot more to Spencer than any rules or strategies, or winning. He only attempted to copy your logic of winning once, and never again, after he saw the heartbreak on your face when he did.

After a long morning of several chess matches and twice as many colored in pictures, Spencer could see your eyes becoming droopy.

"Do you want to take a nap, sweetie?" he offered.

You wrinkled your nose in thought before nodding your head and standing up. A yawn left your lips as you traipsed behind Spencer to your room.

Spencer drew your curtains closed to make your bedroom darker as you climbed up onto your bed and waited patiently for your dad to kiss your head so you could sleep peacefully.

Your dad sat down on the side of your bed and pulled your blanket up higher. He placed a gentle kiss your forehead—earning a content smile from you—and then quietly exited your room, leaving your door ajar.

Spencer debated on what to do with himself while you slept and settled on using that time to begin grading his students' most recent assignments.

He had just sat down on his armchair with a warm cup of fresh coffee by his side and the first paper in his hand when he heard the familiar light pitter-patter of you running to him.

He looked up and watched with a hint of worry as you came to a halt right in front of his armchair. Your blanket loosely lay on your shoulders and you had your favorite teddy bear gripped in your hand.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Are you struggling to sleep?" Spencer put the paper to the side and picked you up, letting you sit on his lap.

"I don't want to sleep in my bed," you confessed.

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed. "Okay. Do you want to sleep in my bed?"

You shook your head.

"No? Then where, honey?" He brushed a hair out of your face.

You let your teddy bear out of your hold—knowing your dad wouldn't let it fall—and gently poked Spencer's chest. "Here."

Spencer's eyes drifted to the short stack of papers waiting to be marked and he felt himself hesitate. And then he looked down and saw how you gazed up at him, eyes wide and full of childlike hope.

The corners of his mouth turned up into an involuntary smile, his face softening with adoration.

He let out a quiet, lighthearted sigh and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Okay."

"Yay," you grinned.

Spencer shifted slightly in his seat so you could lie down more comfortably. You let your eyes start to fall shut with tired contentment.

"I love you," you mumbled, lightly pressing your head further into his shirt.

Spencer's heart swelled in his chest as he watched your breathing slow down and hold on your bear ease.

"I love you more, sweetheart," he whispered.

[canonizzyhours]

The thing is, even as a staunch Izzy hater I do get it. I know what it's like to be a villain fucker, to have a guy who's objectively annoying and canonically antagonistic worm his way into your brain until you can't deny his hold on you. It's happening to me currently with a guy who is objectively far worse than anything Izzy has ever done in a different show.

The reason we get so frustrated with some fans isn't about Izzy being awful and unworthy of appreciation as a character in this story. The people who have taken it upon themselves to harass and belittle canyoners based solely on their own dislike of the character do not understand nor represent the core reason Izzy haters first took a stance against certain analysis/meta to begin with.

I remember when this fandom was still small; primarily made up of leftists and BIPOC just kinda vibing in the tags. I remember how this whole thing started. Izzy fans were consistently writing meta and fiction that was blatantly racist toward other characters using Izzy as a scapegoat for thier unchecked biases. And when we tried calling them out entire hoards of people accused us of bullying and block evading over very basic, earnest discussions we were trying to have with them. And this whole thing got blown way out of proportion by people who outright refused to take accountability for their actions.

And then self righteous Haters who thought this justified and moralized their dislike of a fictional character took things way too far and decided to start doxxing canyoners. Which didn't help the movement, and only wound up targeting actual BIPOC canyoners who weren't hurting anyone and were already being forced to play the part of mediater between friends who disagreed on certain important points, and never deserved to be the victims of this misinformation conglomeration in the first place.

And after that things just continued to get more and more out of hand, until we reached a point where everyone had their own misinformed idea of where things started and who the real "bad guys" were.

In the beginning there were no bad guys. There were just groups of BIPOC trying to speak earnestly to canyoners about real harm we were experiencing due to their treatment of characters of color in creative projects and meta/analysis. This was before they were even called canyoners. Which, I understand and respect the need to form a community like that - a safe space where they were not being horrendously harrassed for liking a character. Because those izzy haters were absolutely taking things way too far, and we never wanted things to get like this. We just wanted to have open and honest conversations about unchecked biases based on race.

But now here we are. And idk where I'm even going with this. I just feel like this whole thing went from a few small problems that could have been resolved with a little maturity, to... a huge mess no one really knows how to untangle. And it sucks because I remember how things were before it became a pissing war between canyoners and haters. And that whole mess kind of drove me out of the fandom because it sucked seeing our impirtant and nuanced points being hijacked to create stupid fandom wars of bullshit that didn't even matter.

#543.

[nouverx]

Day 5 and Day 6 of Radiostatic Week

Free day (Picture) and one sided attraction. Seems like purple doesn't suit Alastor...

[musubiki]

it's been a while since i've drawn but heres some rough concept ideas for a new store-type npc to add to the roster 🎭

[candyheartedchy]

From sunrise till sunset with you.

[aiikuraa]

Colored version of Paimon's likeability comic ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

[pineappical]

sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better

[whaliiwatching]

he is so. to me

closeups of my favorites <3

[yzafre]

"Gotta Draw Fast" Day 3 - Donatello group shot! Slightly different coloring method this time! Timed at 1 hr 24 minutes.

[elysiarte]

jayvik WIP!!

[aetalk]