#started the game recently only to find out I remember nothing

[riense]

Few sketches I did this…summer ?

I lowkey like Varre ones so maybe I’ll use them later digitally

[venusalexian]

solet I

just a kid

alexia putellas x teen!reader / barça femení x teen!reader

in which Alexia’s younger teammates are worried about a B team player and you start to let someone in

When Alexia finishes training, she’s looking forward to quickly showering and rushing home, where her newly-arrived-from-a-work-trip girlfriend and leftovers from dinner at her mami’s house the night before are waiting for her. Her plans are quickly derailed when she enters the locker room. In a corner, a group of the youngest members of the team are huddled, rapidly speaking over each other with concerned expressions. Yeah, she’d definitely have to do damage control before making it home.

Surprisingly, she does not even have to force one of them to confess to whatever mess they had got themselves into this time. Vicky, Jana, Kika and Sydney approach her themselves before she can move to their side.

“Hey Capi, do you have a minute?” Okay, now she really is worried. If Vicky is approaching her so bashfully, something must be really wrong.

“Always. What have you all done now?”

“Nothing! Honestly Ale, so rude to make that assumption.” Jana responds, exasperatedly.

“Okay, let’s focus here, please” redirects Kika quickly.

Alexia waits for one of them to continue, but they all seem suddenly nervous and out of words.

Unexpectedly, it is Sydney, the youngest and shiest of the group, who breaks the silence.

“Do you remember the 16-year-old girl from the B team? She was in the group that joined training on Saturday.” Alexia nods. Of course she does. After their first big win against Hammarby at Johan Cruyff, the staff had decided to have a joint training with the B team, looking to source for up-and-coming talents. Only recently having turned 16, you had amazed her. You had a great eye for plays, reading the game perfect and providing key pass after key pass. A perfect midfielder, only still slightly too young to transition into the first team. She does not understand why her teammates are bringing you up now, though.

“Well, the girls got worried because she wasn’t there when they came to see our game this weekend.” Sydney continues. “And I told them that she has been more distracted lately and showing up late to training. Our coaching team is more angry than concerned and we all think something is going on but we have no idea what to do.”

“So, um, we were thinking you could use your position as captain to try to find out more from the club? Please, Ale?” Jana finishes Sydney’s speech.

Alexia loves to see that you had already made a mark on the other players, and she felt so proud that they are looking after a younger player like she did for them.

“Okay.” Alexia sighs. “I’m not sure how much I can do, but I’ll keep an eye on it and ask some questions. Now, all of you a la ducha. C’mon kids, you stink!” The younger players roll their eyes at Alexia’s remark, but smile at her promise. They know she means it.

When Saturday comes along, you are surprised to find so many first team players at your match, including all four captains. It makes you even more nervous for today’s game. You had left your home after making sure your grandparents were set for the day and the neighbor was staying around to keep an eye on them. You do not wanna disappoint your team for a second week straight. And you know that another absence would get you benched. You had fought hard for your starting spot during the past year, having to prove yourself twice as much due to your age. You couldn’t give it up now.

You stretch with your team try to ignore the presence of the older players. Once the game starts, though, it is just you and the game. You tune out the yelling from the stands, your worry for your grandparents and your exhaustion after your abuelo’s surgery last week had meant a couple nights of sleeping in uncomfortable hospital chairs and getting up extra early to go to school.

It is a great match, especially for you. Two goals and an assistance later, you are beaming as they declare you player of the game. You are so relieved that such a good performance would quiet the concerns over your commitment to the club in the last couple of weeks.

You rush to the locker room, wanting to make it home as soon as possible and help your grandparents with their evening routine. But before you can run out the grounds to catch the train, you felt a hand tapping you from behind. Sydney, one of the kindest members of your team, is smiling at you. You also really admire her and the work she had been doing with the first team.

”Hey, congrats on the goals and thanks for the assist! The girls from the first team were telling me to bring you over. You made a mark during the joint training and they wanna congratulate you too. Wanna come?” You cannot believe what you are hearing. You forget all about the train you’re supposed to catch and nod enthusiastically. “Ye-yeah, let’s go!”

She smiles at you and pushes you towards the exit. The girls are waiting around in the parking lot. Vicky and Jana are the first to approach you, as you had attached yourself more to them during the training due to your closer ages. The rest come behind them, and you try not to blush when the older players congratulate you. You probably fail. The conversation moves from talking about your game to their future duels.

By the time you realise, an hour has gone by and the chances of you making it on time for dinner are slim. Your realization must have shown in your face, as Alexia touches your arm and frowns at your expression. “All good?”

“Yeah, I just…” You are unsure whether to share your concern, why would she care? But something in the kindness she has shown during the conversation, asking for your input and making sure you felt integrated, and the openness in her expression when she asks, moves you to respond. “I was supposed to be home already, and I’m not sure when the next train that reaches my town passes.” You worry at your lip.

“Would it be okay if I drive you then? It’ll be faster.” You’re shocked at her offer.

“Ye-yeah, that would be great.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” You’re both too busy saying your goodbyes to realize your smile has faltered and the pointed glances that Alexia is receiving.

The drive to your home is mostly silent after you give Alexia your address. She is shocked at how far away from the city it is, and you’re uncomfortable at her realization of how much time you spend commuting to training using public transport. The silence is not necessarily awkward though. The soft radio music and the constant thrum of the car settle you into a warm comfort. You feel cared for by an adult, instead of being worried about them, for the first team in a while. Alexia breaks the silence mid-way though.

“What happened last weekend? You weren’t there.” She flinches at her own tactlessness, but isn’t willing to let it go.

You squirm, not sure how much you’re comfortable sharing. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry like this, you barely know me. The girls were worried though, so I asked your coaching team and they also didn’t know. Is everything okay?” It takes you a bit to take in her words. You feel warm at the girls’ concern, but uncomfortable at the idea of people talking about you and trying to pry about your life. You’re used to doing everything yourself, and having other people involved is weird. Still, the kindness and concern are obvious in her voice and expression, so you decide to give a bit of information in the hopes that she will understand and leave it behind.

“Just some family things. All good though, it’s solved and I’m 110% committed to the team.”

“I never thought you weren’t. Just wanted to make sure you’ve got the support you need.” That leaves you silent again. You do, right? You don’t want to worry anyone because you don’t need it. You’ve got everything under control and things are okay.

“I do! Yeah.”

“Good, good.”

You return to silence for the rest of the drive, but both of you are stuck in the other's words.

When the car comes to a stop outside your home, you’re turning around to thank Alexia for the ride but she’s opening her own door and walking towards your door. The sight spurs you o, and you run to the door to reach her before she has a chance to ring the bell.

“You don’t have to come in!” Alexia raises an eyebrow.

“Thank you for driving me, it was so nice of you but I’m all good to go from here.” You quikcly add. She frowns, and looks ready to contradict you but your conversation is interrupted by the door opening.

“Good, you’re here! I heard the car coming and was unsure but I’m glad you got someone to drive you instead of catching the train so late, mi vida.” Your grandma is smiling at you from the door, and you forget about your conversation with Alexia in favor of hugging her. When you, after a few seconds, come out of the hug, Alexia’s eyes are back to a soft expression.

“Both of you, in you go! Dinner is at the table ready.”

“Uh… Grandma, this is…”

“Oh, mi vida. I know perfectly well who she is considering how much you talk about her and her career.”

You’ve already blushed a lot today, but now surely you must be the reddest so far. Alexia practically coos at the statement, proud to be a good role model for young players like you, but she’s reluctant to take your grandma’s offer.

“Thank you for the invitation but I would not want to impose on your dinner.”

“Nonsense. It’ll take too long for you to get back to the city. Stay. Dinner is with your team’s rules on diet for my mi nieta so I’m sure it’s suitable for you too.”

Alexia seems to be weighing her options. She doesn’t want to impose but she does want to get a better understanding of your situation so she can give a calming response to the girls.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

As you all walk toward the living room, your grandma must notice your inquisitive looks and reluctance to ask.

“He’s all good mi vida. We both had dinner an hour ago, and the neighbor came by to help me get him ready for bed. He’s sleeping now, don’t you worry.” You still felt guilty. You should have been there to help make dinner and make sure they took their meds and get them ready for bed.

“Now sit, both of you. I set another plate when I saw you came accompanied by car and I am gonna go to bed myself now. You both have a good night. And a safe trip back home for you Alexia.”

As she takes her leave up the stairs, the room is left silent until Alexia breaks it.

“Alright kid, let’s have dinner then.”

You’re on auto-pilot as you sit down at the table and start to eat, your mind still stuck on all the you weren’t here for.

“So, are your parents out of town for the night?” You swallow audibly. You don’t like to talk about this, but you know she won’t let it go.

“No, um, no. It’s just us three.” You avoid her gaze, not wanting to see the usual look of pity you receive.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that sucks.” You can tell she’s flinching.

“It’s always been the three of us. I was a baby when they passed.” You shrug.

You dare look at her, and her expression surprises you. There’s still the pity you hate, but there’s also an understanding. Right, her dad. Your circumstances might be different, but she does know loss.

“So, um, you help around a lot then?”

“Ye-yeah.” You don’t want her to doubt your commitment to the club though. “But I make it work! I have a good grasp on my schedule and great discipline.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re such a solet.” (good kid, but also literally little sun)

She smiles so kindly at you it overwhelms you. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, about your play style, both of your future games and even sharing small glimpses of each other’s lives. When you were done, she helped you clean up the table and dishes. She turns to you after you’re done.

“I’m gonna go home now, I don’t want my girlfriend to wait until late for me. Please tell your grandma thank you for the meal, it was delicious, and that you have a beautiful home.”

“Yeah, of course.” You smile easily now.

“And you…, you’re doing well. Believe it. But please also let yourself seek help when you need it. You’re not alone. Rely on your team and your coaches. You’re just a kid, let adults take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes, thank you again for driving me home.” You weren’t sure how much you could let go of the tight control you held in your life, but it felt nice to be told that you weren’t alone.

“Of course, my pleasure. I am happy to help. I’ll see you soon, yeah, solet?” 

And as you watch her drive out of your driveway, you cannot imagine how true that is.

A/N:

first re-upload, please give it love. <3

new solet adventures coming soon!

asks and requests are open, feel free to leave me a message there.

xoxo, a.c. 💫

[honeyslibrary]

Sweet Girl | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Dad!Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); None I believe. Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy + birth (ish), only edited once

Summary; The three times Quinn spoke to your belly + the one time he spoke to your baby

Word Count; 5.5k

Author’s note; I love this fic so much, I might make it a universe since I'm a sucker for girl dads + I'm not ready to give baby Scar and Quinn up (: As usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for all of the support! -Honey

When you heard a knock on the door, and opened it to find a package from Amazon sitting on your doorstep, your first thought was that it must be for Quinn. It wasn’t unusual for him to order things online, especially when he was on the road and needed something shipped to the house. And though you often used his Prime account to order things for yourself too, this time you were sure you hadn’t ordered anything recently. You bent down to pick it up, the familiar brown box light in your hands as you brought it inside.

Glancing at the label, you furrowed your brow slightly. It had your name on it, but nothing about it gave you any clue what was inside. Shrugging it off, you left the package on the nightstand by Quinn's side of the bed, figuring it was something he'd ordered for himself, maybe some last-minute necessity he’d remembered while traveling.

The hours passed, and with the Canucks playing in Minnesota on another road game stint, you didn’t give much thought to the package sitting by the bed. It wasn’t until later that night, after the game, that you got a FaceTime call from Quinn. The familiar ping of your phone lit up the screen, and you smiled as his name appeared. You answered quickly, eager to see his face after missing him more than you'd care to admit.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling softly when his face appeared on your screen. His hair was still damp from his postgame shower, strands falling messily over his forehead, and the sight of him looking relaxed in his hotel room after a win sent a warm feeling through your chest.

“Hey, baby,” Quinn replied, his voice soft, but with a touch of fatigue. You could tell he was still riding the post-game high, but the exhaustion of the season was starting to creep in.

You both spent a few minutes catching up—him telling you about the game, the energy in the arena, and you sharing small details about your day, filling in the little gaps left by his absence. The conversation flowed easily, like it always did, but then, as the conversation lulled, Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly, like he’d remembered something.

“Did you get the package?” he asked suddenly, his voice casual but with a hint of elation as he adjusted the phone, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily confused. "Package?" you echoed, your mind flipping back to the brown box you’d left on the nightstand. "Oh, yeah! That came this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I just left it on your side of the bed."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s lips, but he shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you through the screen. "It’s not for me," he said, his voice a little lower, with that familiar warmth that always made your heart flutter. “It’s for you, for us. I ordered it.”

Surprise flickered across your face, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly curious. "Really?" Your heart gave a little skip. Quinn wasn’t one to make a big deal out of surprises, but when he did, they were always thoughtful, something that showed how much attention he paid to the little details of your life.

He nodded, a small grin pulling at his lips as he watched your reaction. "Yeah. Go open it," he urged, his voice playful now, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you as you stood up from the couch and padded into the bedroom, phone in hand, feeling suddenly giddy. You picked up the box from the nightstand, shaking it lightly, though it didn’t give away much about what was inside. Setting your phone down on the bed so Quinn could still see you, you grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and sat down on the plush comforter, carefully slicing through the tape, your curiosity growing with every second.

"Any hints?" you asked as you opened the flaps of the box, glancing up at the screen to see him smiling.

"Not a chance," he replied, his voice filled with that playful mischief that always made your heart skip. "You’ll see in a second."

Inside the package, nestled among the packing paper, is a small green-and-white box that immediately catches your eye. You pull it out, flipping it over in your hands to examine the front. The box is labeled "Bellybuds," and your brow furrows slightly in curiosity. You’ve never heard of it before, and the image of a pregnant woman with small adhesive speakers attached to her belly leaves you wondering what exactly this is.

You hold it up toward your phone, angling it so Quinn can see the box through the screen. "What is this?" you ask, amusement coloring your voice as you turn it over again, your fingers lightly tracing the packaging.

On the other side of the phone, Quinn's face lights up, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "It's headphones... for babygirl," he says, his voice warm and filled with excitement, like a child presenting their favorite toy. "We can talk to her, play music, and stuff. Thought it'd be nice for her to hear us more clearly."

A small laugh escapes your lips, the sound light against the stillness of the room, as you glance down at your baby bump, gently resting your free hand on the slight curve of your belly. You look back at the screen, shaking your head affectionately at him. "But we already talk to her all the time," you say with a smile, "do we really need these?"

Quinn shrugs a little, but there’s a certain softness in the way he does it, a sheepish look crossing his face. His grin doesn’t fade, though—if anything, it only deepens as he watches your reaction, his eyes bright with affection. "I figured it could be fun," he admits, his voice quieter now, the tone laced with a hint of vulnerability that tugs at your heart. "You know... just something special we can do. I thought maybe she’d like hearing music, or hearing us talk to her in a different way."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words, a gentle wave of affection washing over you. The thought of Quinn, so excited to connect with your unborn daughter, to create memories and bonds even before she arrives—it fills you with a deep sense of love for him. He’s always been thoughtful, but there’s something about this moment, something about the quiet sincerity in his voice, that makes your heart swell.

You lower the box slightly, your hand still resting on your belly as you glance down at it again. The idea of playing music for her, of letting her hear the rhythm of your favorite songs, or of Quinn’s voice as he talks to her when he’s away on trips, suddenly feels incredibly sweet and meaningful.

"You’re so sweet," you murmur, lifting your gaze back to him, your voice soft and filled with affection. "I didn’t even think of something like this. But I love it."

Quinn’s grin widens at your words, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a flush of pride washes over his face. "I’m glad," he says, his tone lighter now, clearly pleased with himself. "Figured it was something a little different. Plus, I can play her some good music while I’m gone. Gotta get her used to my playlists early," he adds with a chuckle.

A snort escapes you, as you shake your head. "Right, because I’m sure she’s going to love Counting Crows just as much as you do," you tease, your smile growing as you imagine him curating a playlist of all his favorite songs just for her.

"Hey, she’ll have great taste, thanks to me," he replies, feigning mock offense, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s enjoying the playful banter as much as you are. "She’s gonna be the coolest kid around, trust me."

You roll your eyes with a grin, but your heart swells with warmth at the thought of the two of you already imagining what kind of music she’ll like, how she’ll react to the sounds of your voices. It makes everything feel more real, more tangible—like your little family is slowly but surely coming together.

You open the box carefully, pulling out the small circular speakers, running your fingers over the smooth surface. The adhesive pads are meant to stick to your belly, gently transmitting sound into your womb.

"You know," you begin, your gaze flickering back to the phone screen, "I think it’ll be really nice. She’ll get to hear your voice more often when you’re away for games... it’ll be like you’re still here, even when you’re not."

Quinn’s expression softens at that, his grin fading into something more tender, more intimate. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet warmth. "That’s exactly what I was hoping for. I hate being away, especially now. But this... I thought it could help. Like, she’ll know I’m still with you two, even when I’m on the road."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can feel the emotions welling up inside you, your eyes watering as you look at him. The way he talks about your daughter, the way he’s so thoughtful and attentive to both of you, makes you fall in love with him even more. You bite your lip, a smile spreading across your face as you press your hand a little more firmly against your belly, feeling the weight of your daughter resting there.

"She’s going to love hearing your voice," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "And so will I."

1

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn’s voice is a low, soothing murmur, barely above a whisper, as he speaks into the microphone of his phone. "Daddy here," he adds softly, his tone filled with warmth and tenderness, like every word is wrapped in love.

He shifts carefully on the bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb you from your deep sleep. The dim light from his phone screen casts a soft glow over the room, the only sound being the quiet hum of the fan and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. Quinn settles back against the pillows, adjusting himself so he can be closer to you, his body leaning into your side.

His free hand reaches out, fingertips grazing the soft fabric of your tank top before gently coming to rest on the curve of your baby bump. His touch is light, reverent, like he’s afraid he might wake you if he presses too hard. But even in your sleep, the warmth of his hand resting on your belly sends a sense of comfort through you, as though even unconsciously, your body knows that he's there. His thumb starts moving in slow, gentle circles over your bump, a calming rhythm that has become second nature to him—his way of connecting with both of you.

His eyes soften as he gazes down at the swell of your stomach, where your baby girl is growing, nestled safely inside you. The sight still fills him with awe every time he sees it—the miracle of life forming between you both, the quiet anticipation of becoming a father. He leans closer, careful not to disturb the Bellybuds that are attached to your bump, the small adhesive pads delivering his voice directly to the baby through the connected cord in the phone.

"Just wanted to let you know how much I love you," he whispers softly, his voice low and full of affection. "Before I go to sleep tonight."

The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile as he speaks, his thumb continuing its gentle movements over your belly, tracing slow, lazy circles. He takes a deep breath, letting the moment wash over him. It’s something he’s done often lately—these quiet talks with your baby girl before bed. He knows she might not fully understand, but the thought of her possibly hearing his voice, growing familiar with the sound of her dad, fills him with a sense of happiness he can’t quite put into words.

"I had a long day, and I know you’re probably resting too," he continues, his voice steady but filled with a kind of quiet wonder. "But I couldn’t let the night end without saying goodnight." He leans forward just slightly, brushing a soft kiss against the top of your belly, the warmth of his lips barely touching your skin. "I can’t wait to meet you, sweet girl. Every day, I think about what it’s going to be like when you’re finally here with us."

There’s a pause as he glances up at you, still sound asleep beside him, your breathing steady and peaceful. The room feels still, but in a way that makes everything feel more intimate, more present. His eyes flicker back down to your belly, the small life growing inside, and he feels the overwhelming sense of love flood him once again—an emotion so strong it almost takes his breath away.

"I promise I’ll always take care of you," Quinn whispers into the microphone, his voice dropping even lower, as though he’s sharing a secret just between him and his daughter. "And your mom, too. We’re a team, the three of us. And I’m gonna do my best to make sure you have everything you need, to keep you safe, and to love you more than anything in this world."

His hand moves slightly, his palm now resting flat against the curve of your belly, feeling the faint, subtle movements beneath. Sometimes, when the timing is right, he can feel her respond, little kicks or shifts, as though she knows he’s there. It’s in those moments that the reality of fatherhood feels most real to him, the little reminders that soon, she’ll be here in his arms.

"You’re already so loved, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he speaks into the microphone, his gaze never leaving your bump. "Your mom and I... we talk about you all the time. What you’ll be like, what you’ll look like. I think you’re going to be perfect. And I can’t wait to see who you become."

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and Quinn takes another breath, feeling the warmth of your body beside him, the closeness of your shared space. He glances back at you, his heart swelling with affection as he takes in the peaceful look on your face, the way you look so serene in your sleep. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing lightly against your skin.

"I’m so lucky to have you," he whispers, his voice barely audible, meant only for your sleeping ears. "Both of you."

For a long moment, Quinn just lays there, his hand resting protectively over your belly, his heart full of so much love he can barely contain it. He thinks about the future—the late-night feedings, the first steps, the endless love he’s ready to give to both you and your daughter. It all feels so real, so close, and he can’t help but feel grateful for everything you’ve built together.

After a few more moments of quiet, he shifts slightly, letting out a soft sigh as his hand lingers on your bump one last time. "Goodnight, sweet girl," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice full of tenderness and love. "I’ll see you soon."

2

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here." Quinn speaks into the microphone of his phone, the sound laced with a soft chuckle as he follows you around the kitchen, making sure the Bellybuds stay securely attached to your baby bump. Every step you take, he mirrors, careful not to let the wires tangle or the pads come loose.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile that tugs at your lips as you shuffle around the counter. "Quinn, I’m trying to cook," you say, your tone a mix of amusement and exasperation as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"It’s not my fault Mommy got out of bed before I could say good morning, right, sweet girl?" His grin widens as he speaks into the phone, leaning in slightly as though your daughter, nestled safely in your belly, can hear him more clearly that way. There’s a lightness in his voice, full of the kind of joy that comes naturally when he’s talking to your unborn child—like he’s already practicing the loving banter he’ll share with her once she’s here.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you move back to the stove, carefully flipping the strips of bacon sizzling in the pan. The kitchen is cozy, the rich, savory smell of breakfast filling the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee brewing on the counter. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a golden glow across the countertops, and the whole scene feels peaceful, wrapped in the simple comfort of a Saturday morning.

Quinn trails behind you, keeping close, the ever-present grin still on his face. His eyes are filled with that familiar playful glint, the one that tells you he’s not taking any of this too seriously—but at the same time, you know just how much these moments mean to him. He takes every chance he can get to bond with your little one, to talk to her, even if it’s just silly things or affectionate words whispered against your belly. It’s something you’ve grown to love even more about him during this pregnancy—how committed he is to being present, even before she’s here.

You shuffle across the kitchen to grab a plate for the bacon, and as you do, Quinn follows closely behind, adjusting the Bellybuds’ cord as you move. You shoot him another glance, one eyebrow raised, even as a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for morning skate?" you ask, your tone teasing as you gesture vaguely toward the clock on the wall.

Quinn shrugs, leaning casually against the counter, his hand resting on your bump for just a moment before he drops it back to his side. "Nah," he says with a playful smirk, "I’ve got a few minutes. Besides, what’s more important—hockey or talking to my daughter?" His eyes sparkle with mischief as he shifts his focus back to your belly, speaking directly into the microphone. "See, sweet girl? Daddy has his priorities straight. Morning skate can wait."

You let out another huff of amusement, shaking your head as you plate the crispy bacon. "Priorities, huh?" You glance at him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. "I’ll remember that the next time you’re in the playoffs."

He laughs, the sound rich and easy, and steps closer, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist from behind, careful not to disrupt your cooking. You feel the warmth of his chest press against your back, the familiar weight of his body comforting as he leans his chin gently on your shoulder, peeking around to watch you cook. His hand slides down, resting protectively over your bump, his fingers splayed across your belly as if he’s trying to feel every little movement she might make.

"I promise," he murmurs, his voice softer now, his lips brushing your ear, "she’ll always come first. Even during playoffs."

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, you pause in your task, turning your head just enough to catch his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, that quiet kind of love that’s always been there, but seems to have grown even deeper during this pregnancy. You lean back into him slightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back, and for a brief moment, everything feels perfectly still.

"I know," you murmur, your hand resting on top of his as it cradles your belly.

The moment stretches on for a beat longer, before Quinn presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls back with a playful grin. "But seriously," he adds, "we can’t have her growing up thinking she's not the light of my life."

You laugh, the sound bright and easy as you turn back to the stove, flipping the eggs that are now starting to sizzle in the pan. "No, we definitely can’t have that." You agree, amused.

Quinn leans against the counter, still keeping a close eye on you as you move around the kitchen, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, just watching, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Besides, I think she’s already going to have pretty high expectations for you," you say, glancing at him with a smile as you finish cooking, setting the eggs and bacon on the table. "Talking to her every day, following me around like a puppy..."

He shrugs again, not even trying to hide the grin this time. "Hey, I’ve got to make sure she knows she’s got the best dad in the world, right?"

You shake your head, laughing as you move toward him, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he pulls you close. "I think she’s going to know that no matter what," you say softly, your eyes meeting his, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the kind that’s full of love and gratitude, the kind that says more than words ever could. "I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but full of warmth.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. You glance down at your belly, where the Bellybuds are still securely attached, and grab his phone from his hand, bringing the microphone to your lips. "And I know you love daddy too, right sweet girl?"

3

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here," Quinn whispers softly into the microphone, his voice a murmur in the stillness of the night. The house around you is silent, save for the faint rustling of the trees outside the window and the gentle sound of your breathing as you sleep peacefully beside him. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm, golden light over the room, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of comfort.

Carefully, Quinn adjusts the Bellybuds, making sure the small adhesive speakers are securely attached to your growing belly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he does. Once satisfied that everything is in place, he leans back against the pillows, settling himself beside you and letting out a quiet, contented sigh.

"You're due to come see me and Mommy very soon," he begins. His free hand moves to rest gently on your belly, the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin as his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over the curve of your bump. "And we're so excited to finally meet you."

The smile on his face widens as he speaks the words aloud, the reality of it sinking in more and more with every passing day. His heart swells with emotion, a mixture of excitement and nerves at the thought of holding his daughter in his arms for the first time. He’s imagined it a thousand times already—what it will feel like, what she’ll look like—and yet, he knows nothing can truly prepare him for the moment when she finally arrives.

"We have your nursery all set up," he continues, his voice full of pride. "Mommy picked out the prettiest colors and decorations. And she bought you so many cute outfits... I know you’ll be just adorable." His words are filled with affection as he thinks about the hours you spent meticulously planning and decorating the nursery. He remembers the way your eyes lit up with excitement every time a new package arrived at the door—tiny clothes, soft blankets, little shoes too small to seem real.

Quinn chuckles softly to himself, his thumb still moving in slow circles over your belly. "I can already picture you wearing those little onesies. Mommy’s got good taste," he says with a grin, though his voice softens as he adds, "You’re going to be the most beautiful girl in the world, and I can’t wait to see you."

The room falls into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His gaze drifts back to you, watching as you shift slightly in your sleep, snuggling deeper into the blankets. He loves these quiet moments with you, when the world feels small and the love he has for you and your growing family feels like the only thing that matters.

"You're our first, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, as if he's sharing a secret meant just for her. His thumb continues its rhythmic motion on your belly, grounding him in the moment, the connection between the three of you palpable. "So Mommy and I... we might not be perfect. We’ll probably make mistakes, and we’re still learning. But I promise you, we’ll always try our best for you."

The sincerity in his words hangs in the air, a promise that he knows will shape the rest of his life. Fatherhood is something he’s thought about for so long, and now that it’s just around the corner, the weight of it feels both exhilarating and humbling. He knows there will be challenges, sleepless nights, moments of doubt—but he also knows that the love he feels for you and your daughter will guide him through it all. It already has.

"Daddy loves you," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice filled with all the love and devotion he can possibly give. "So much. And I can’t wait to show you just how much when you get here." He leans down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your belly, his lips warm against your skin.

+1

Scarlett Eloise Hughes was born on July 2nd, arriving into the world at seven pounds, four ounces, with the tiniest tuft of brown hair and the clearest green eyes you’d ever seen. From the moment you heard her first cry, a quiet, delicate sound that filled the room, your heart swelled with a love so overwhelming, it felt like nothing else existed beyond that moment. Time seemed to slow as the nurses moved around you, murmuring their congratulations as they swiftly began their work.

The delivery couldn’t have gone smoother. It was as if Scarlett herself had been eager to meet you and Quinn, arriving just two hours after you checked into the hospital. Your contractions had come on strong that morning, starting as a dull ache and quickly intensifying until you knew it was time.

But even considering the relative ease of it all, you were exhausted—utterly spent in the best possible way. The rush of adrenaline from labor, the flood of emotions that came with bringing new life into the world, had left you physically and emotionally drained, but also more fulfilled than ever before.

You watched through hazy eyes as Quinn, who had been by your side every second, stepped forward to cut Scarlett’s umbilical cord. The nurse handed him the scissors, and though his hand trembled slightly, his face was full of awe. You could see the tears glistening in his eyes as he gently snipped the cord, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was such a simple act, but in that moment, it felt monumental—like a bridge between pregnancy and the start of your new lives as parents.

Once the nurses had gently taken Scarlett away to clean her off, weigh her, and perform the routine newborn checks, the room felt quiet, almost surreal. You lay back against the pillows, your body heavy with fatigue but your heart full of love. Every so often, you could hear the soft sound of Scarlett’s tiny cries as they swaddled her in a warm blanket and placed her in the bassinet.

Then, at last, they brought her over to you.

The moment they placed her in your arms, everything else melted away. Scarlett was so small, so delicate, her skin still slightly flushed from the effort of being born. Her tiny fingers curled reflexively into a fist, her eyes blinking up at you as though she were trying to focus on the face she had yet to fully see but already knew so well. The warmth of her little body pressed against yours made your chest tighten with emotion, and as you gazed down at her, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Hi, Scarlett," you whispered softly, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned your forehead against hers for just a moment, taking in her scent, that unmistakable newborn smell that was somehow both sweet and comforting. "We’ve been waiting for you."

Scarlett blinked again, her tiny lips parting slightly as she made a soft cooing sound, and in that moment, it was as though your entire world had shifted. Every hope, every dream, every little piece of your life had led to this—this beautiful, perfect baby girl in your arms.

You shifted her gently, positioning her so you could nurse her for the first time. Her tiny mouth latched onto your breast instinctively, and the sensation was both strange and wonderful all at once.

It was breathtaking moment, just you and her, connected in a way that felt profound to you. You could feel her little body relax against yours as she fed, her breathing evening out, her tiny fingers resting against your chest.

Tears filled your eyes again, and you glanced over at Quinn, who stood watching silently. His eyes held a mix of emotions—joy, admiration, and a deep, unwavering love. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment she was born, but now, watching you nurse Scarlett, that smile softened into something more tender, more meaningful.

Once Scarlett finished feeding, you gently lifted her and cradled her close to your chest, marveling at how perfectly she fit into your arms, like she was meant to be there all along. After a few moments, you met Quinn’s gaze and smiled softly.

"You're up next, daddy." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn nodded, his throat visibly working as he tried to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to overcome him, though you could see the eagerness in his eyes.

"Take off your shirt," you added, remembering the advice about skin-to-skin contact. You wanted him to experience that bond, the warmth of her small body against his, just as you had.

Without hesitation, Quinn pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He stepped closer, his movements careful and measured, as though he were afraid of disturbing the fragile moment. Gently, you passed Scarlett into his arms, watching as he settled into the chair beside your hospital bed.

The second Scarlett was in his arms, her little body resting against his bare chest, something changed in Quinn. His entire posture softened, his shoulders relaxing as if every ounce of tension had melted away. He held her with the utmost care, his large hands supporting her tiny head, his thumb brushing gently across her back as she nestled against him.

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he gazed down at her in awe. "Daddy here."

Scarlett’s small hand flexed against his chest, and Quinn let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned his head down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.

The sight of them together—the love radiating from Quinn, the peaceful way Scarlett settled into his arms—filled you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness. This was your family now. The three of you, together, bound by the deepest kind of love.

Quinn rocked gently in the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett’s face, as though he were committing every detail of this moment to memory. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I love you so much. You have no idea."

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you watched them, your heart full to bursting. This was everything you had hoped for and more—a moment of pure, unfiltered love. "She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Quinn glanced up at you, his eyes shining with tears of his own. "Yeah, she really is."

[donat-senpai]

Can you please write a platonic Yandere Adrien with (best) friend reader. Reader also has a miraculous, Adrien finds out. Kinda like a scenario

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere!

Pairing: Yandere! Adrien x Reader

tw: platonic obsession, stealing other people's things

Adrian sighs heavily. Lately, too many problems have been piling up on him. He didn't get a moment's peace at school. His father was constantly demanding something. And Hawk Moth seemed to never sleep. He added work for the heroes at the most inconvenient times. During a recent attack on the city, another person joined the famous hero duo. A little later, Adrian (or Chat Noir, to be precise) learned that Ladybug had nothing to do with it. This made him worry. Who is this person? Can they be trusted? And where did another Miraculous come from that doesn't belong to the guardian of the box? Too many questions filled the blond's head.

———

You greet Adrien with a joyful hug. The boy finally relaxes and forgets all his worries. In your presence, he feels calm. You excitedly start telling him about a new game and make him promise to play it with you this weekend. Adrien looks around the classroom. Every classmate is busy with their own thing. Once (when he had just started going to school) they used to tease you with jokes about being long-lost sibling. You two had just become friends too quickly and easily. Adrien sometimes joked himself that you were actually an Agreste. A bright glint distracts Adrien from his memories, and he notices a new pendant on your chest.

"What’s that?" Adrien asks.

You don't immediately understand what he's talking about. But when you catch his gaze, you start to stammer.

"Oh… Umm… just a piece of jewelry," you answer awkwardly.

"I’ve never seen you wear it before."

"I found it recently in a shop. Just some junk. Doesn't matter," you laugh nervously and change the subject.

Adrien raises an eyebrow in surprise. You've never behaved like this before. So… strange. It's like you're hiding something.

———

The villain throws Chat Noir into some trash cans and moves further into the city center, leading Ladybug away. Cat Noir groans in pain and tries to stand up, not very gracefully. A new hero lands softly next to him and extends a hand.

"I thought cats always land on their feet."

"Ha. Very funny," Chat Noir grumbles, but accepts the help. Chat Noir's gaze stops at the new hero's Miraculous. It's a pendant. The jewelry reminds him of something, but he can't remember what exactly.

"Let's deal with this quickly. I still need to make it to the book fair," the hero heads towards the noise, not waiting for his partner.

Chat Noir freezes. There’s only one fair in the city today. And Adrien was already planning to go there with you. A strange feeling washes over him. Now that he knows the new hero will be there too, he’s not so sure if he should go. Although there will be hundreds of people. The chance of revealing someone's identity is practically zero. Even if he accidentally starts scanning the crowd.

———

Ladybug was delayed. The heroes found themselves in a disadvantageous position. They barely escaped. Chat Noir was in a panic. He admitted that he hadn’t come up with the best plan. But the idea was reliable if they wanted to throw the villain’s minions off their trail. The minions ability will not allow them to find specific heroes if the heroes exchange Miraculouses and become new heroes. They needed to buy time until Ladybug showed up. That was what Adrien thought as he handed his ring to his partner behind the door.

He shuddered at the thought that if they wanted to betray him and reveal their connection to Hawk Moth, now would be the perfect moment. But they obediently handed him their pendant. Adrien almost thanked them but restrained himself. It was best not to talk too much without the magic of the Miraculouses. After all, Adrien was a famous model and it wasn’t hard to recognize his voice.

He finally looked at the other’s Miraculous and felt a shock. In his fingers lay a very familiar object. He couldn’t help but recognize your pendant. He had looked at it too often since he first noticed it. You were the new hero. Adrien panicked, wondering if you would recognize his ring. You rarely paid close attention to his hands. The hero (it can’t be… it’s you!) knocked on the door and asked him to hurry. Adrien decided to put his inner turmoil aside. The city needed saving right now.

———

The next day, Adrien watches you more closely than ever. You act as usual, which leads him to think that you haven't figured out Chat Noir's identity. A whirlwind of emotions overwhelms him. He's angry that you haven't told him anything. He understands you because he kept his secret the same way. And he's scared. What if one day you can't handle a villain? What if Hawk Moth finds out too? What if all of Paris learns your identity? Adrien starts to have a small panic attack. Nino jumps up and tries to help. Adrien is gasping for breath and can't explain anything.

-------

Adrien sneaks into the empty locker room while you and the class are swimming in the pool. It's one of the rare moments when you take off your pendant. It turns out that not all Miraculouses are as convenient as his ring or Ladybug's earrings. He never thought about how lucky he was before. He quickly finds your locker and breaks into it. The lock is so flimsy that Adrien feels a bit ashamed of how easily he was able to open it. He grabs the pendant and goes to hide it in his bag.

Adrien mentally prepares himself to comfort you. If he lost his Miraculous, he would be horrified. He thinks about what words he could say to console you. Adrien wonders if you would tell him your secret if you had nothing left to lose. He wants this. This will prove your trust in him.

Adrien thinks about what to do with your Miraculous now. He would like to use it sometimes along with his ring. But that would completely ruin your opinion of Chat Noir. Maybe he should bury the Miraculous in the forest or throw it into the sea so that no one could find it.

Now, you don't have to worry about the villains. And Adrien doesn't have to worry about your safety. Protecting Paris is no longer your job. Ladybug and Chat Noir will handle it together.

[tsukii0002]

Mephistopheles ran after the young prince. They had been playmates since ever, it was up to him to accompany his young lord in any game he wanted. And as such, that day they were running through the forest in search of treasure.

Diavolo had told him the story of a monster guarding a treasure in that forest. So, against Mephisto's advice, they had escaped from his guards to go to said forest.

After hours of wandering without finding anything, an unfamiliar sound made the two young boys alert. Nothing was in sight, but that didn't stop a huge beast they had never seen before from blocking the path back.

They stood alert but the creature was faster, the young prince tried to stand up to it but, again, the creature was stronger. It was a blink of an eye, a sigh, Mephisto's body acted before his mind, and to protect his master he received the bite of the beast for him.

Mephistopheles felt a twinge in his leg that quickly turned into a sharp, excruciating pain. The boy could barely stand up and could hardly stay conscious. Diavolo at his side was screaming his name. He had failed to protect his master... and then everything went black.

When he awoke, he was still in pain, but it was bearable. He could hear adult voices outside the bedroom, so it took him a while to realize that the prince was sitting next to him, with tear-filled eyes and a face that showed he hadn't slept for days. In his hands he was holding an object Mephisto could not identify.

“The doctors have said that your leg will not work well for a while” he looked full of guilt, Mephisto watched him silently, “So I brought you this” the unidentified object was a cane, finely carved, with a black ivory grip. “It is for me?” the prince nodded and held it out to him. Mephisto looked at the object in fascination “Thank you very much my lord”. His friend, his master, could not stand it anymore and started to cry “I am so sorry Mephisto, I am sorry…” He did not understand why he was apologizing, he had fulfilled his duty, the reason why he was born, he wanted to tell him, that he would sacrifice his life for him as many times as necessary. “You are my best friend Mephisto, I couldn't stand not having you by my side… so please don't do it again”

Mephisto finished putting on his boots while looking at the cane in a corner of his bedroom. That had happened so long ago that he sometimes wondered if it had been nothing more than a dream. It no longer meant anything, and the words of Lord Diavolo had been diluted in time, that cane had only been an atonement for the guilt, but he could not stop carrying it, it was as normal as wearing shoes, it was part of his image, it was part of him.

He finished putting on his coat, picked up his cane, a recently made one, and headed for the RAD. There, Diavolo greeted him, as usual, before heading to the Student council room. He clenched his fist around the object, he didn't know why he cared, but it was clear that Lord Diavolo didn't remember it. And that meant no more, nothing more than a “badge” of his noble origin, an accessory that so many other nobles wore.

.

.

Could Mephisto's cane really be just a fashion choice? of course, surely. That the possibility of it being something else has so many potential angst that I have given it a thousand thoughts to find a reason for the damn cane? effectively 😂

Thank you for reading 🩷

.

.

[lunaatthezoo]

New Fic | Tarot & Chocolate

Moodboard made by @ater-love

I have started writing a new fanfic completely based on a headcanon by @ater-love (which you can see in this post) that I am sooooo excited for. It will be another modern AU Elriel fic, but this time magic and powers will play a big role.

This will be a high-tension, very steamy, alternating-POV longfic with a heavy focus on magic. Don't worry, I am going to be updating Sin & Salvation right along with it.

Chapter 1 will be posted soon.

Summary:

There is more than meets the eye in the city of Velaris. Magic lays hidden in plain sight, recognized only by wielders, the rest of the citizens ignorant to the supernatural goings on in the city. 

Elain is a confident magic wielder, using her powers of Sight and earthwork to make a living as a fortune teller, living a simple, peaceful life despite the recent heartbreak she has endured. Azriel is an aloof and emotionally unavailable financial manager at a business firm, adamantly opposed to anything that cannot be unequivocally proven by the scientific method and rational thought. 

But when he meets Elain, Azriel's commitment to rationality begins to fray as she slowly awakens something that has been crawling beneath his skin since childhood. Something he has spent years denying, refusing to remember, refusing to explore. And when Elain meets Azriel, her Sight begins to show her flashes of her past life, a past life where something terrible and tragic happened, and she fears history will repeat itself.

Their immediate and persistent attraction and draw to each other creates turbulence in both of their lives when their heads and their hearts cannot align, and their togetherness forces them both to confront pasts they would rather forget. 

I would just like to add that Azriel is a huge slut like will fuck anything that moves (man, woman, nonbinary person, he doesn't care as long as he can pound them from behind) just to feel less dead inside, and I couldn't find a way to gracefully put this in the summary but it's important to his character and also very very hot.

Thank you so much @ater-love for your brilliant Elain-as-a-fortune-teller headcanon and for letting me bounce ideas and excerpts off you! And for this beautiful moodboard.

Preview below the cut (NSFW warning!):

****Elain is misspelled on purpose, have faith my dears****

Azriel collapsed onto his bed thirty minutes later after having showered, brushed his teeth, and changed his sheets. He may be a piece of shit, but he was a neat piece of shit, and didn't like the idea of sleeping in Mickey-Jason’s cum.  Fuck, he hated himself. Why did he have to be such a goddamn asshole? That was a perfectly nice, very fucking good-looking man who Azriel was sure he would never see again. Especially not after he got his name wrong.  He had been so off his game for the last couple of months. His pattern was the same as it had always been: see a beautiful stranger at the bar, eye fuck them until they approached him, bring them home to his condo, pound the fuck out of them and send them on their way. But he normally wasn't so goddamn removed. Distracted. He sometimes even texted them for a round two another night.  But not since her. Since that one spring night months ago, when he had seen her at Rita’s and thought she was the most beautiful human he had ever encountered. With her dark brown eyes that sparkled like galaxies and her honey-brown hair that hung in whimsical curls over her breasts. Fuck, she had been like nothing he had ever seen.  Elaine. He hadn't been able to remember another person’s name since then. Since he had prowled up to her at the bar, asking if he could buy her a drink. Since they had moved on the dance floor together, her short but curvy frame sucking him in like a fucking black hole. Since he had brought her back to this very room, and had laid her down and fucked her. But no–that wasn't really right. First she had fucked his fingers with her mouth, slowly and sensually, until he was begging her to stop before he came. And then she was grinding on him, both of them still clothed, soaking his thigh through her tights as she rode him. And then she had opened her legs for him and he had feasted on her perfect cunt until she was screaming as he thrusted his fingers inside her while his lips sucked on her clit. And then she had climbed atop him, both of their clothes finally shed, and had fucked herself on his cock hard and fast, until he was moaning as he came inside her.  And he hadn’t fucking given her his number. He had been so absolutely stunned by her, her face and the way she moved and her soft voice and huge eyes and ethereal spirit and god the way she had fucked him, that he hadn’t even remembered to give her his goddamn number. 

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

POV: You are five, and are playing hide and seek with your papa. He always beats you in the game, but you are determined to win someday! Right now, he is counting to ten, so you are sneaking around in the hidden tunnels to find a hiding place. You wait for him to come. And he finds you...except it's not your papa. This...person, he looks like your papa, but he's not. Your papa always looked at you with tender eyes, but in this stranger's gaze, you see nothing but demented glee. You don't know why, but you can feel the fright slowly creeping on your back. And then he moves.

Hide and Seek

Summary: You always loved your weird papa. But you didn't know that one day you would be truly scared of him.

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, dubcon, angst

Word count: 1930

Author's note: It took me a long time to finally reply to this ask. But damn, I'm so glad it didn't get lost on the page. And I was able to figure out exactly how I wanted to write this drabble.

Tag List: @druidwolf21, @kit-williams

And also I want @passionofthesith, @lemon-russ, @moodymisty, @beckyninja, @solspina to see this. Sorry guys, no horny atmosphere. Only fear and angst.

You lived in softness from the moment you were born. The entire floor was covered with warm and plush blankets, pillows. Not to mention the two beds. The entire room was covered with soft cute toys, with which you fell asleep by your side. Even your mommy, a kind and quiet woman, slept with toys in her arms.

You didn't see the world outside the ship. Mommy said that it was very dangerous there. She herself was from a planet that did not want to join the Imperium (you still didn't understand what that was). But daddy came and told them how to live correctly. He fell in love with mom at first sight and immediately took her to his place. To a safe place.

You always thought it was a romantic story. Although mom told you it very quietly. Sometimes she looked sadly at the ceiling and you wondered if she remembered her home planet? Perhaps she missed her parents, but now she has a new home. You and daddy.

Daddy didn't come around that often because he was a primarch. Papa told you that meant he was the most important. He had pale skin, black eyes and slightly dirty hair. His teeth were clawed and he always smelled of something metallic. Daddy said it was blood.

He looked a bit scary, but Mummy said it was because he worked a lot. But thanks to that, you and she lived so well. Your cozy room was soft and warm. Daddy always washed himself before coming in here. He didn't want to "bring dirt into his little paradise," as he liked to say.

He often played with you and had tea party. He told you stories. And he was always touching Mummy. Hugging her, kissing her. One time you woke up in the middle of the night when you realized that strange sounds were coming from the bed. Papa stroked her hair, saying how much he loved her, how obsessed (what does that mean?) he was with her. For some reason, Mom cried.

In fact, you didn’t see the whole ship from the inside (you didn’t even know what it looked like from the outside). Your whole life was concentrated in one room. And yet, when you turned four, daddy started taking you “to a separate compartment”. Especially just for the two of you. You didn’t know why he did it until he told you to hide and you happily ran to explore the territory. You just recently told papa that you and mom often play hide and seek. But there’s so little space that you quickly finish playing.

Then he quickly found you. And the next time. And the one after that. He was so fast and secretive. As if he was born in the dark! But you so wanted to defeat him one day. To hear the cherished “I can’t find you” and proudly come out of hiding.

Now you’re five. And before the next game, you thought about where exactly you would hide this time. In one of the tunnels. When you saw the black depths, you were scared of it and burst into tears. You were still afraid to go there. But… it’s such a good chance to win. Papa will never guess where you decided to hide.

***

It's very dark and creepy in the hole. In other hide-and-seek places, you sometimes giggled in anticipation. But here, you don't want to. It's very dark. And scary. You want to escape from here as soon as possible, but you endure it. You want to beat daddy at the game. And even though you haven't seen him, you felt like more time has passed than usual. But he still hasn't found you. You almost won!

A sudden rustle from behind interrupted your happy thoughts. Your heart pounded and goosebumps ran down your spine. You swallowed, trying with all your might to stay in place. No, you have to win. You can't leave this hole no matter how scared you are. But another rustle makes you squeak in fear. You turn around sharply, hoping to see nothing behind you. To overcome your fear and understand that you can survive this for the sake of victory.

You wanted to scream, but you couldn't make a sound.

There was complete darkness. And yet the black eyes and pale face stood out brightly, as if there was a ghost in front of you. The clawed teeth spread in a smile from ear to ear. The man himself was sitting on all fours, like a dog ready to pounce. Ready to tear you to shreds.

It was papa. No. It was papa's face. But it was not him. He no longer looked at you with gentle and kind eyes. His face was not sad as usual. He was beside himself with delight. Saliva was ready to flow from the corners of his lips, and excitement splashed in his eyes. And something else. A bad word that mom said in her sleep, when she had nightmares. Madness.

“Found.” - the monster whispered softly, as if trying to calm the girl. To make contact with her. To make friends. Before sinking his teeth into her throat. You saw, you saw this desire. It wanted to eat you. To absorb you. It wanted to take you into the darkness of the tunnel and never let you go.

And then it moved.

“PAPA, SAVE ME!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, closing your eyes, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. You were sobbing like a little child. You were a child. Defenseless and abandoned to the mercy of a monster. Which immediately grabbed you in its arms and ran away laughing into the darkness of the tunnel.

Tears and snot ran down your face in disarray, you cried at the top of your lungs. But you didn’t even think about opening your eyes. You didn’t want to see this monster wearing your dad’s skin on its face. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the suffocating embrace of the monster’s stomach. How it giggled at your fear. It enjoyed it. Enjoyed your fear.

At some point, the monster slowed down and you felt it rise on two legs. Imitating a human. You weren't screaming anymore, your throat was hoarse. But you were ready to start bawling again, just so daddy could hear you. He had to hear, he had to save you.

“Here we are, home.” - the monster cooed in your ear. You trembled, but as soon as you heard the familiar creaking sound, hope appeared in your heart. - “Come on, delicious. Come to mommy.”

You slowly open your eyes and see your paradise. Your soft, toy-filled room. Books with children's fairy tales. Star-shaped lamps. And a little scared, but mostly sad mother. She sobs and stretches out her hands to you. Gentle, caring hands that always stroked you before bed.

"Come here, darling. Don't be afraid." - and her voice is gentle too. She looks only at you. Tries to ignore the monster.

But you are scared. And as soon as the stranger puts you down on your feet, you immediately run into the woman's arms. You hide in her chest, trying to ignore the evil giggling. The monster leaves you, locking the door. But you still hear his terrible voice.

“My girls.”

Your mommy gently rocks you on her lap, continuing to stroke you and kiss your forehead. You are still anxious. You want to forget this nightmare. And you calm down, surrounded by the care of a kind woman. Perhaps that is why daddy fell in love with her. Daddy…

“Mom.” - you finally raise your head and look at the woman with red, tired eyes. - “W-who is this man? Why does he look like papa? And where is papa himself?”

Your mother was always as quiet as a mouse. Neat and gentle, she did not attract attention to herself. She was often sad, especially when papa came. But there was light coming from her. Light that warmed and calmed you. You could always rely on her. But now she was silent. And this silence was tense.

You looked into her eyes and to your horror, you saw exactly the same fear there. Sadness. Despair. She was desperate. You hugged your mother tighter, rubbing her skin with your palms. Maybe she got cold? Maybe she needed to be warmed up?

“Mommy?” - you call her softly and she finally looks at you. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, honey.” - your mom took a deep breath and you flinched at the way she said those words. As if she had met that person before. And not for the first time.

“You see, it’s… another papa.” - your mom explains to you softly, continuing to stroke your head. - “He doesn’t come often. I’m sorry you saw him like that. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman said the last words so uncertainly, which made you press yourself closer to her.

“Does he hate us?” - you still remember his crazy look. His grin. How he giggled while you cried and called for papa.

“No, honey. He loves us. But he loves too harshly. Sometimes cruelly.” - you hear a quiet sob and understand that your mom is trying to hold back her tears. - “He’s just very lonely. And in pain. So he wants someone to share his pain with him. To calm him down.”

“And he can’t leave? "He can't leave us with our papa?" - you ask naively, expecting your mother to say the cherished "yes". That these are just temporary problems and daddy will cope. He is the primarch, he is the best.

But your hopes are shattered.

"No, dear." - your mother's voice sounds so quiet and hopeless that you want to hug her. To calm her down as she did you. - "This is your papa too. You will get used to him."

A sudden creak of the door scares you to the point of trembling. Your heart starts pounding like crazy and yet you turn around at the sound. You can't help but do it. You can't help but look because it seems to you that if you don't do it, he will get angry.

Absolutely black eyes are full of such universal sadness that a little more and you will suffocate. Papa did not smile and yet you knew that it was him. The ghost that haunted you. Who wanted to swallow you up and never give you to anyone. You wonder, maybe this is the real papa, and you saw daddy so often because you were little? Because he spared you? You didn't see him as often as mom.

And then it spoke.

"Are my sweet ones scared?" - you want to scream, you want to run away, but mom hugs you tightly, kissing your temple. You need to survive this meeting. And he will leave, leave. - "Well, it's okay, daddy is with you. He will protect you."

Night Haunter enters the plush room and carefully sits down with his two girls. He hugs you tenderly, but you want to cry. Daddy always smelled of blood, but he smells of death.

"Papa" - you squeak like a mouse, trying to reach daddy. Strange and sometimes frightening, but careful with you. Who smiled as if you and Mom were his whole life. Who had goodness in him, at least for the two of you. But Daddy is silent. Instead, a monster answers, a terrible creature who loves you just as much, which makes it even scarier.

“I'm here, delicious.”

[madhels-enby-boyfriend]

Play stupid games

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Joanne x reader (company, f!Bobbie)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!!, smutty thoughts but no actual smut, that’s it I think??

Tags: longing, established friendship between reader, Joanne and the others, smidge of angst if you squint, flirting, reader being down bad

Summary: Joanne and you have always been flirty with one another but what happens when it no longer is just a silly game for you??

Notes: English isn’t my first language so I apologise for any mistakes. I have never written ‘x reader’ fics before so please don’t judge this too harshly. This is going to be a multichapter fic but life is busy so I can’t promise regular updates. I suck at summaries…so I hope all of this makes sense 😅

Words: 3.3k

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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Chapter 1: Bobbie’s Birthday

Joanne being flirty with you was nothing new, ever since you had been introduced to Bobbie’s other friends Joanne had found a way to turn any comment into something filthy. And you, never being one to back down, always managed to shoot a flirty remark back. This back and forth had become your established dynamic, the remarks getting more outrageous as time went on. It was just playful banter really, the teasing touches being part of the game you two had started to play. The aim was to try and get the other person to blush first, most of the time you ended up losing, but that only made those few times where you did manage to fluster Joanne even better.

Your innocent little game was a great way to pass the time when the others were too engrossed in talking about their recent marriage troubles or about how the kids were doing. Joanne, having recently gone through her third divorce, had claimed she was done trying to find a husband that would stick around and wasn’t really interested in talking about marriage or kids with the others and you… well… you weren’t exactly lucky in love either, so you preferred to keep your escapades to yourself. And so you two had found the perfect person to get through these evenings with in one another.

There was only one.. small..tiny.. little.. insignificant… problem. Somewhere along the way your brain had forgotten that Joanne’s flirting was just that, a little game and that she wasn’t actually interested… and now you had developed feelings for her. You really were unlucky when it came to relationships and romance.

You couldn’t pinpoint precisely when this had stopped just being a way to pass the time for you, but you could remember exactly when you had realised that you caught feelings for the brunette.

Joanne and you had started hanging out together, outside of a group setting, for over a year now. It had started when she had invited you back to her place after a particularly intense hang out with the others, claiming that you and her both needed to unwind after the tumultuous conversations. Later, after getting to know her better, you’d come to find out that the real reason she had invited you, was that she really disliked coming home to an empty apartment after spending such a long time surrounded by others.

You had to admit that you preferred hanging out one-on-one with her over spending time with everyone in your friend group all together. Not because you disliked the others but because Joanne was different when it was just the two of you. Of course she still teased and jokingly flirted with you but the teasing lost its sharper edges and the flirting was softer and less dirty.

She seemed more at ease this way and slowly yet surely she had shown you bits and pieces of herself. She wasn’t vulnerable often but every now and then you could see through the little cracks that had appeared in her walls when it was just the two of you.

This had been one of those moments. You were lounging around her giant apartment, soft music was playing in the background and Joanne was rambling on about one of her latest annoyances. And every once in a while you could see them, right through the cracks, the real emotions behind what seemed to be superficial complaints. When you looked into her eyes you could see parts of the real Joanne and you wished time would stand still, just for a little while, so you could bask in the moment of being privileged enough to be able to share these little moments with her.

You were nodding along, agreeing to whatever seemingly unimportant thing she was complaining about while expertly reading between the lines, figuring out what this was really about. Some people, like her ex-husbands, might complain that the brunette needed to come with a manual but not you, you found that once you looked past the armour she wore to protect herself, she was rather easy to understand. You just needed to know what to look and listen for, all you had to do was look past the annoyed words she spewed and look for the real message she was trying to convey.

A small smile appeared on your lips as you realised just how well you knew her. You were aware that you only got to know her this well because she allowed you to see this side of her and that knowledge left you with a warm and fuzzy feeling inside your chest. You secretly longed to be the only one she showed this side to, to be special to her. The thought of someone else knowing her this well, getting to see her like this, left a vile aftertaste in your mouth… wait- was that a normal way to feel about a friend? Surely you should want her to have more friends she could be more open with.

But you wanted to be special to her…different from her other friends. Suddenly you became very aware of her hand on your thigh, it had been there a while, still left from earlier when she had tried to fluster you. Usually such a simple touch wouldn’t do the trick, she had to pull out the big guns to win your little game… but then why did you suddenly feel a familiar heat creep up your cheeks.

You tried to shake yourself out of it, focusing on what she was trying to tell you and those beautiful brown eyes.. god you could get lost in those, stare at them for hours and never grow tired of looking at them. A familiar feeling wove its way into your chest, the warmth that had settled there earlier spreading even further. And then you glanced at her lips, to better listen you told yourself at first. But then, out of nowhere, you had to fight the urge to reach out, cup her cheek and pull her into a kiss.

And all of a sudden, like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown over you, it hit you… it was plain as day… you had feelings for the woman in front of you. How long had you been feeling this way? You couldn’t remember anything really changing in how you felt towards her. Except lately she seemed to win the game more often and you seemed to fluster rather easily, and the compliments you threw at her held more sincerity and warmth and were less about trying to get her to falter and more about telling her how beautiful you thought she was… you couldn’t remember when it had started but her touch was driving you insane, even more than it did before, and now that you thought about it you found yourself often daydreaming about the brunette.

You had internally cursed yourself and had pushed those feelings down, they would be dealt with when the reason for your internal turmoil wasn’t sitting right in front of you. So you continued to listen to Joanne and decided you’d deal with this mess later.

“Are you still with me, doll? Or have you gotten lost in that pretty little head of yours again?” Joanne’s teasing voice cut through your thoughts.

How long had you been spiraling? You mentally cursed yourself, ever since finding out you had feelings for the woman, you couldn’t stop yourself from overthinking every moment and ruminating on the moment you had found out.

You shot her an apologetic smile, your cheeks threatening to flush at the use of the pet name and the slight teasing. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, it was Bobbie’s birthday party after all and a lot of stuff was happening around you two.. the perfect excuse, you realised as you quietly spoke, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Sorry, there’s just a lot going on… it’s a bit overwhelming.”

You hoped she wouldn’t see through you. It wasn’t entirely a lie, everything going on around you might have overwhelmed you in other circumstances… if you hadn’t been too busy thinking about her.

Joanne seemed to buy it… for now… and her normal teasing tone was exchanged for a more serious, caring one as she asked you the following.

“Do you want to go somewhere a little more quiet?” Usually she would have added something to make the sentence as suggestive as possible but when you looked into her eyes you could see the slightest sliver of worry in them.

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through you at the thought that she cared this much about you and your comfort, it was soon followed by a tinge of guilt for making her worry about you.

The rational part of you knew that you shouldn’t go somewhere more quiet, alone with Joanne, it would only make things worse. Her entire focus would be on you and you wouldn’t be able to distract yourself or use the ongoing party as an excuse. And yet part of you wanted to spend some more time alone with Joanne.. you couldn’t help it. Having the other woman’s attention solely focused on you was something intoxicating and you’d become addicted to it.

“No, I’m okay. I wouldn’t want to drag you away from a good party.” You sent her a reassuring smile as you both silently cursed and thanked the rational part of your brain for taking over.

Joanne chuckled dryly before teasingly replying. “Darling, if you think this is a good party then I need to take you out more.”

Before you even properly realised what she was doing, the brunette grabbed your hand and dragged you into Bobbie’s bedroom before closing the door. You knew she was only doing it because this was the only quiet spot in the apartment at the moment, but the second you registered where you were, your mind flooded with images.

You pushing Joanne against the door and kissing her till she was a moaning, whimpering mess. Joanne pushing you down on the bed as her hands quickly got rid of your clothes, those captivating brown eyes filling with hunger and desire. Your hand finding its way into her pants and-

“There, isn’t this much better?” Joanne’s voice cut through your racing thoughts and brought you back down to Earth, the images fading to the back of your mind.

The lack of any crude comments about you both being in Bobbie’s bedroom confirmed that she had been truly worried about you and it enhanced both the guilt and spreading warmth that you had felt earlier.

You hummed in confirmation then thanked her softly, sending her an appreciative smile while mentally cursing yourself for not being able to control your thoughts. You knew you had been acting strange around her lately, zoning out more often and getting way too flustered, too quickly. Joanne was a perceptive woman, she was bound to catch on at some point and you did not want to risk losing her entirely just because you couldn’t keep your feelings at bay.

“You know this wasn’t the reason I imagined you dragging me into a bedroom for the first time.” You teased, hoping to settle back into your established dynamic, fearing that any amount of silence stretching between you would result in you getting lost in your thoughts once again.

But then you began overthinking everything you were saying. Was this too much? Would this give you away? Could she see right through your façade and catch the truth behind your words? You internally groaned and hoped you’d get over this crush soon so you’d finally be able to act normal around her again, without overthinking every single thing.

The sudden change in mood seemed to catch Joanne off guard a little but it seemed to have convinced her that moving to a quieter place was all you needed and that you were now feeling better. Despite appearing a little surprised by your sudden teasing, she managed to quickly shoot back a rebuttal.

“Oh darling, the night is still young, you never know what might happen.” She sent a wink your way before sitting down on the bed and quickly adding. “Although I will have to take you back to mine because my bed is far more comfortable.” She added with a smirk.

“I don’t think I could wait to go all the way back to yours first, we might just have to make do with what we’ve been given.”

You said dramatically and jokingly as you leaned against the wall, making sure to keep your tone light and teasing as you tried your best to not imagine what Joanne’s bed would feel like… or what it would be like to have her moan your name in it.

Joanne gasped loudly and placed her hand on her chest, acting offended. “You think I won't last more than one round? We don’t have to finish where we started, you know.” Her eyes raked over your body with that playful glint so clearly present in them.

You willed yourself to not start blushing and to come up with a witty and even bolder remark but failed on both accounts so instead just playfully rolled your eyes and held your hands up in defeat.

Her smirk only grew when a pink hue coloured your cheeks. “You’re becoming too easy.. I’m going to start suspecting you of letting me win on purpose.” Joanne teased.

“Or maybe you just keep getting more vulgar.” You raised your eyebrow, shooting her an exaggerated questioning look.

“You love it.”

She shot back with a knowing smile and you felt the familiar ache of longing in your chest. If only she knew just how much you loved it… how your brain had forgotten this was all just some silly game you two had started to pass the time.

“I do.”

You chuckled softly, a full smile slowly returning to your lips, no matter how tumultuous the feelings inside you were, you couldn’t help but enjoy this little moment. The banter, Joanne caring about you and knowing you better than you had previously thought, and her smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, overshadowed the fear and worry that was ever present in the back of your mind.

“It’s good to see you feeling better.” The teasing and joking tone from earlier had completely disappeared and made way for a rare serious and genuine intonation and expression.

You were certain that your blush only deepened at the blatant display of care but, luckily for you, Joanne had decided not to comment on it.

“Spending time with you like this always makes me feel better.” You answered honestly, matching her serious and genuine tone.

Before Joanne could answer and before you could overthink the little confession and start spiralling once again, Bobbie burst into the room, clearly drunk. She sent a knowing smirk your way and you immediately regretted ever telling your best friend about your crush on Joanne. For a moment you feared she might say something that would give you away but instead she turned to the other woman, her face displayed a mock disgust, her voice was light and playful while her speech was slurred.

“Come on you guys, no getting it on in my bedroom! You’re missed at the party.”

Bobbie held the door open and waved her arm around, motioning for you both to get out of her bedroom.

Joanne shot you a worried look, that told you she was ready to tell the birthday girl to fuck off if you needed a couple more moments here alone with her. You smiled at her reassuringly, telling her without words that you were okay and that you didn’t mind returning back to the main event.

The brunette got up from Bobbie’s bed and walked up to you, gently squeezing your hand before walking past you and out of the room. You were about to follow her when Bobbie placed a hand on your shoulder and stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“You better tell me allll the details later.”

You groaned and whispered back. “Nothing happened, there is nothing to tell.”

Bobbie gave you a once over, as if to check if you were lying or not, when she was satisfied that you hadn’t lied to her, she disapprovingly shook her head, poking your shoulder after every word.

“Take. Action. You. Need. To. Get. Laid."

Her voice was louder than before and the blush that had finally started to disappear threatened to make its way back to your cheeks so you decided to simply roll your eyes and walk away, ending the conversation there.

There was no reasoning with a drunk Bobbie anyway and trying to tell her that it wasn’t like that, that you didn’t just want to screw Joanne but that it was deeper than that, was a futile task. And trying to convince her that you were almost certain that Joanne did not feel the same way and that you were quite sure you weren’t her type was already impossible when she was sober, so was completely hopeless now.

As you walked out of the room and made your way to the hall, so you could rejoin the others, you realised that Joanne had been waiting for you in the hall, meaning she most definitely heard the last part of your conversation with Bobbie. She looked at you, raising a brow, silently questioning you what that was all about.

You just shook your head and waved your hand, quietly telling her it was nothing for her to worry about, hoping that she wouldn’t question you about it. And it seemed like you were in luck because after studying your face for a bit, she simply walked back into the living room and joined the party again.

You quickly followed suit, silently thanking whatever was up there for not putting you through the pain of trying to come up with a convincing lie or a truth vague enough to tell Joanne. That woman knew you far too well and she did not hold back when it came to telling you that she knew you were bullshitting her.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur, you spent time talking to your friends, celebrating Bobbie, and complaining about life. You and Joanne didn’t manage to get any alone time again, you’d sometimes end up talking to the same people together or sometimes you’d shoot each other looks across the room but someone always seemed to be needing one of you just when you were about to head to the other.

The last time you saw her was when you were saying your goodbyes. She was talking to Bobbie about something, you had tried waiting till they finished their conversation but by the looks of it that wouldn’t be any time soon. Joanne was wildly flailing her arms around, gesticulating and punctuating her words with the movements of her hands. Bobbie was rolling her eyes even more than usual and was trying to act all laid back and nonchalant while sipping her drink every 5 seconds. These were clear signs that they were having a heated discussion and with those two, those discussions could last till the early morning hours..

So you had quickly and apologetically interrupted, told them both goodbye before kissing each of them on the cheek and abruptly leaving Bobbie’s apartment.

And now you found yourself laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking every single interaction you had had with a certain older woman. Your mind replaying every moment, trying to find some indication that you had fucked up and that Joanne was now aware of your feelings towards her. You groaned and tried any and everything to get that woman off your mind, to no avail.

Sleep did not come easy that night and when it did finally envelop you in its sweet embrace, you still couldn’t escape the woman that had been plaguing your mind. Your dreams were filled with her red lips, rich French perfume and sweet words, that had burrowed their way into your brain. There was no denying it, this woman had wormed her way into your heart and it didn’t seem like she would be leaving any time soon.

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 12

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,760

A/N: I'm back! Therapy has been great, I'm feeling like myself and that I can breath again. It's been a tough year and ya girl's mind needed a restart, but I am back and doing good.

Also, hope this chapter can be a bit of escape with the election insanity this week. Take care of yourselves everyone! 💖

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he rests against the door.

What the fuck are you doing? Is all that rings in his mind.

Here he is, with some random girl who's staying in his guest house, put there by his bitch of an ex wife, basically groping her while his mother is a room away. Like he’s seventeen again. 

Really and truly. What the fuck. Are. You. Doing?

Dean rubs an exasperated hand down his face, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes before his hands slap down against his sides. 

It’s the whiskey. He tells himself. Just the whiskey. 

It has nothing to do with your smile. Like when you lit up on the track when you found out Rick would be taking you racing in your dream car. 

Nor your smart ass remarks that always seem to be waiting behind those pretty lips of yours. Or how you drive him crazy in the best and worst ways. Like making him say “please” in the garage this afternoon. 

It definitely has nothing to do with the way you look at him, no longer with disdain, but more recently with shining Y/E/C eyes and something that makes him want to throw you against this damn door, his nose running down the delicate skin of your neck as he takes you in as his hands explore every part of you. 

It also doesn’t help how you react to him; like when he turned your manners game around on you in the garage, and your eyes lit up in a way that made him want to throw you across the hood of Baby and have his way with you. Then just now in the hallway, how you seemed to want this as much as he did. How you leaned into him at his touch, the feel of your curves everywhere as he held you against him.

Those god damn hips. 

Dean’s jaw tightens at the thought, his teeth grinding down as something besides his heart rate starts to rise. 

Fuck. His head falls back with a thud against the doorframe. 

Y/N is hardly the first woman he’s been attracted to since his separation from Lisa. Hell, in the beginning, women were what kept his mind off his imploded marriage. Benny had laughed that Dean was making up for lost time since he and Lisa had gotten together when they were so young, but in reality, Dean just hated coming home to an empty house every day. All he could think of was Lisa and Gavin in his house. In his bed.  

But Dean would be lying to himself if this was only attraction. Ever since their hike, he’s found himself looking towards your cabin everyday before work, hoping to catch a glance of you before he has to leave. When sitting at his empty dining table, he would think about texting you, or maybe even going over and knocking on the cabin door, envisioning interrupting your own meal and riling you up in the process. Watching that fire come alive in you set something alive in Dean. It was like a wildfire, and he was happily caught in its path. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that. Somehow, at some point, you had drawn him in, and god damn did he want more. So much more. 

And it’s not just your body he wants to get to know. He’s found himself wondering what your favorite color is, or what movies you like to watch. He wanted to know, besides him, what made you tick? What makes you happy?

Could I make her happy?

Dean shakes his head and toes his boots off, shaking his head, trying to rid his thoughts of you. He doesn’t want to think about that last question, because he knows the answer. 

And while he tries to focus on undressing, his body is not willing to let go of the idea of you just yet.  

He’s wound up, and god damnit did he need a release. 

He undoes his belt and reaches into his boxers, feeling himself strain against the fabric as he takes a deep breath. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut before pulling his hand out of his pants.

He shakes his head. He can’t do this. Not with you a wall away and his mother across the hall. He has some self respect. Not much, but he couldn’t sink as low as jerking off to you while you slept in his little brother’s room.

Sam.

And just like that, thinking of Sammy snaps him out of it. He relaxes with a deep breath, the tension finally beginning to fade away.

For extra measure, he pushes himself off the door and pulls it open, striding quickly down the hall to the unoccupied bathroom. He locks the door behind him and reaches into the shower and throws the water on. He drops his undone pants, letting them and his boxers pool around his feet before stepping out of them and throwing his sweater over his head before stepping into the shallow tub. 

He takes in a sharp breath as the cold spray of the shower meets his heated skin, his teeth clenched tight as he drowns himself under the stream as he works to think about anything but you.

Your eyes flutter open, a glimmer of the morning sun sneaking through the gaps of the curtained window. You take in a deep breath, flipping from your side to your back and sigh as you look up at the ceiling. 

Your mind is still reeling from last night; Dean’s hands holding you tight against him, his lips teasing your neck. 

You shut your eyes and swallow.

It was simultaneously one of the hottest and most frustrating things a man has ever done to you. Of course you had wished he had done a hell of a lot more, but the tease of it somehow made it that much more exciting. It made you wonder what else was in store for you. Just a sweet little taste of the possibilities that was Dean Winchester. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand beside you, and you shake off last night’s memories as you lean over to pick it up, the screen reading 9:52 with a few notifications beneath it.  

Shit. You quickly sit up. Normally, this would be a regular wakeup time for you on vacation or on the weekends, but you were a guest in someone’s home, and it felt incredibly rude to be up here sleeping while they were most likely downstairs waiting for you. 

As you scramble out of bed, the throb from last night’s wine is front and center in your head. You reach into your purse and throw back two Advil with a swash of water that you set out on your bedside last night before you throw on some fuzzy socks and a hoodie large enough to snuggle yourself into.

Before you reach for the door, you peek at yourself in the full-length mirror and grimace. You smooth down your hair and give it a fluff with your fingers before you reach into your makeup bag, dabbing on some concealer under your eyes and on a few of your red spots, with a light swipe of subtle blush on your cheeks before you deem you look good enough without looking like you’re trying.

You take a deep breath and open the door, taking in the quiet hallway and noticing both the doors to Mary and Dean’s rooms are ajar.

Fuck. You were at least hoping Dean might have also slept in after last night. But no such luck. 

You head down the stairs, your hand on the rail so you don’t slip in your socks before you wander into the kitchen. Mary is sitting at the table in front of the windows, one of her legs propped up and her head hidden by a book. Dean is hunched on a barstool at the island, a plate of food in front of him, currently being shoveled into his mouth, his usual caveman behavior, you’ve noticed, when it comes to food. 

“Morning,” you offer softly as you head over to the coffee maker, a half pot waiting for you. Mary had given you a tour of the kitchen while you cooked dinner last night, and you reach into the cabinet above the brewer and grab a light yellow ceramic mug and fill it about 3/4s of the way.

“Milk’s in the fridge.” Dean mumbles over the food in his mouth and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are cast down at a paper spread flat in front of him next to his breakfast. A smile you hadn’t intended falls at his lack of attention and you head over to the fridge, pouring until your coffee resembles the color of sand. Exactly how you liked it. 

“Want some coffee with that milk?” That deep voice rings out again, and this time when you look up, you’re met with Dean’s enchanting, forest eyes. Your heart skips a beat in your chest and you recap the milk before putting it away and closing the fridge door.

“Some of us enjoy flavor.” You smirk at him as you lean against the counter behind you, your hands wrapped tightly around the warmed mug, the kitchen cool in this March morning. 

“Milk doesn’t have flavor.” Dean grumbles, shoving a fork filled with eggs into his mouth. You frown at him. 

It’s like the tale of two Deans. The suave, sexy sweatered Dean who looks at you like he’ll throw you over your shoulder and make you scream until your voice is hoarse, and the pain-in-the-ass, mannerless idiot you’ve mostly grown accustomed to these last few weeks. 

Looks like you were getting the idiot this morning. You sigh at your own disappointment and swallow down your frown, wondering what that means about last night. 

When you don’t respond, Dean looks back to you, a question in his eyes. 

“There’s a plate for you in the oven.” Dean points his fork to said appliance. You turn your head, following the direction of his utensil-turned-compass.

“Oh,” your shoulders drop. “You didn’t have to save me a plate.” You feel your cheeks flush at the thought that they waited for you so long this morning that they had to keep a plate warm for you in the oven. 

“Oh don’t worry, Dean made it fresh.” Mary peeks out from behind her book for a quick second before disappearing again behind the cover. Dean drops his fork with a clank and shoots his mother a look, one she misses. 

You push off the counter and pad over to the oven. You pull open the door to find a blue ceramic plate.

No way.

You pull out the plate from the oven, the platter only slightly warm, and are greeted with two pancakes and a side of bacon. 

You quickly close the oven and turn on your heel facing Dean.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice catches in your throat as you stare down at the fluffy buttermilk pancakes sitting poised on the plate. 

“Yeah, well, mom made eggs and I know your picky ass won’t eat those. Can’t have you starve before a big day.” Dean’s eyes met yours for only a moment before he shifts on the barstool and returns to his paper. 

You smile, even though Dean’s not looking at you anymore. You maneuver around the kitchen, grabbing a fork and knife before settling down at the island, a barstool between you and Dean.

You turn and look at him, his shapely jawline adorned with a devilish level of scruff.

“Thank you.” You say earnestly. This catches Dean’s attention, his gaze finding and holding yours long enough to make your heart skip a beat. 

“Don’t mention it.” He lingers on you for a moment longer before turning back to his paper and flipping a page. 

Your lips quirk but you try to not think too much on it as you begin digging in; the pancakes, buttery and full of vanilla, melting deliciously in your mouth. 

The rest of breakfast goes on in silence; Mary reading her book, Dean focused on the paper, and you left flipping through your phone since no one seemed interested in chatting. 

As you load up your dishes in the dishwasher, Dean folders his paper up and slaps it down on the counter before sitting up straight and crossing his arms as he stares you down.

“Think you can be ready in an hour?” Your face falls.

“More notice would have been nice, but yes, I can be ready in an hour.” 

“Good, cause we’re leaving in an hour.” You cross your arms, matching his stance.

“You don’t say.” Dean rolls his eyes at you and you huff. 

“Just go get ready.” He shakes his head, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

Such a pain in the ass. A handsome pain with a handsome ass. But still a pain. 

“Fine. See you in an hour.”

Forty-seven minutes later, you’re showered, your hair is dried and curled into a soft wave, and you’re putting on the finishing touches of your makeup when there’s a soft knock on your door.

You peek at your watch.

“I still have thirteen minutes!” You call out. 

Dean really was pushing the boundaries today. And it was driving you crazy. 

He practically dry humps you last night, ignores you this morning, but makes you a delicious breakfast because he remembered you hate eggs. The man was impossible and it was starting to annoy you. And frustrate you, in a way you were not used to. You bite down on your lip.

“It’s just me.” Mary’s gentle voice calls back.

Shit. 

You drop your mascara into your makeup bag and push yourself off the floor and scurry to the door.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize as soon as Mary comes into view. “I assumed you were Dean.” You offer a half smile as Mary chuckles.

“It’s okay. Mind if I come in.” You step aside and open the door fully, allowing Mary to step in. 

“I just wanted to see if you need any help with your outfit.”

“My outfit?” Your brow furrows, and you look over to your bed where your black chunky sweater and jeans lay waiting for you. Mary’s eyes follow your line of sight. 

“I’m going to guess Dean didn’t give you a heads up, since men never think about these things, but these car shows tend to be on the dresser side.”

Fuck. No, Dean did not tell you that. Your jeans were the nicest thing you brought with you. 

“Yeah, he failed to mention that.” Now you stare at your outfit, anxiety flooding through you at the thought of sticking out for being underdressed. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Mary just smiles at you.

“Come with me.” She waves at you before heading out of the room, and like you’re told, you follow her, heading across the hall and into her bedroom.

The room is large and full of windows and natural light. The lake-chic theme of the downstairs continues through the primary bedroom, with white furniture, a canopy bed with a blue bedspread that matches the wainscot walls, and yellow accents throughout the room. On one of the dressers is a large, framed, selfie of Mary and John, which looks more recent than a lot of the pictures in the living room. Mary’s smile is bright as ever as John kisses her cheek, the two of them in heavy jackets and beanie hats, the hint of snow behind them. 

Mary continues through the room, stopping in a short hallway before disappearing through a doorway. 

“I’ve got a few options that will probably fit you.” Mary’s muffled voice carries through the open doorway before she steps back into view, several hangers in her hand. “You look to be about my size from twenty years ago. And luckily I’m terrible at throwing out old clothes.” She chuckles as she lays out her six options on the ombre comforter that probably matches the lake when it’s not frozen. 

They’re all a mix of dresses, different colors and styles, but the fifth from the end catches your eye.

“Ohh, how about that one.”

Dean taps his foot as he waits in the foyer, checking his watch again. It’s now been an hour and seven minutes since you went upstairs. 

“God dammit woman,” he mutters out in a sigh. 

He meant to tell you last night what time you had to be ready, but the two of you got a little preoccupied. Now he was paying for it by not giving you more of a heads up. 

He should have said something the moment you came downstairs this morning, but he wasn't ready to face you right at that moment. The dreams he had about you last night made it hard to look you in the eyes. And when he finally did, you looked absolutely beautiful, sleep still in your Y/E/C eyes and a glow in your cheeks. You looked like you belonged here, resting against the counter in his mother’s kitchen, cozied up in some giant hoodie and pajama pants with coffee-flavored milk in your hands. 

The floor above him creaks and he turns quickly on his heel, his face dropping with his mood when he sees who it is. 

“Is she ready yet?” Dean all but whines to his mother as she descends. Rather than answer him, she stops two steps from the bottom, standing slightly higher than her statuesque son, and smacks him right in the side of the head.

“Ow!” Dean’s hand jumps to where his mother landed her stinging blow. Not that there was much power behind her swat, but she hasn’t smacked him like this since he was a teenager. 

“What the hell was that for?” Dean bemoans with a grimace, cradling his head.

“Dean Michael Winchester.” Dean’s eyebrows furrow at his mother’s use of his full name.

This was not good.

“You didn’t think,” Mary takes another step down. “To one,” she raises a finger. “Tell her that the car show is cocktail attire.”

Shit. 

“And two.” The second finger goes up. “What time to be ready. So don’t you stand here with a puss face asking when she’s going to be ready.” Dean drops his hand at his mother’s scolding and rolls his eyes. 

He starts to shake his head when Mary’s hand makes contact again, the surprise sending Dean stumbling.

“OW!” Dean yells louder this time, more annoyed than actually hurt. With how much smaller Mary was compared to him, Dean doubted she could actually hurt him even if she really wanted to.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Dean.” Her voice is sharp as her grass-green eyes stare him down. 

“I’m sorry, fine.” Dean concedes. “I just didn’t think about it.” But Mary doesn’t break eye contact.

“She’ll be down in a few minutes.” Mary gives him one last pointed look before taking the final step down and disappearing into the living room. 

Dean watches her go before glancing back towards the empty staircase, sighing out his frustration and giving you a few more minutes of grace.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later, Dean is leaning against the frame of the front door when the upstairs landing groans again.

Dean’s head whips in that direction as he pushes off the door, just in time to see you take the first step. You’re wearing the black heeled boots you had on yesterday, but it’s paired with a strapless beige dress, the edges trimmed in black with a matching belt wrapped tight around the gentle curve of your waist.

Without thinking, Dean lets out a low, impressed whistle, ignoring the pounding in his chest as he stands up just a little straighter. 

Your hair is down, styled off to one side, with the most makeup Dean has seen you in so far; with full, dark lashes, pink cheeks, and bright red lips, which Dean can’t seem to look away from.

Something else is starting to stand a little straighter too.

Dean clears his throat, and offers out a hand as you get to the last step.

“Thanks,” you reply gently before you drop his hand and head for the coat rack.

“You look nice.” Dean’s now taking in the view of you from the back, leaving little to the imagination like those workout pants did a few weeks ago as the dress seemed to hug your body perfectly. 

Damn. And here mom thought you weren’t prepared. 

You spin on your heel, one arm shimming into your jacket sleeve, your eyes as bright at your smile.

“Thanks.” You repeat. “The dress is your mom’s.” You smirk.

Dean’s mouth drops open as his stomach falls.

“Please don’t tell me that.” Dean groans. The last thing he needs to think about is his mom in that dress. The same dress he was just checking out your ass in.

You just quietly chuckle as your other arm flails for your second sleeve, just missing the opening.

Without a word, Dean steps closer, grabbing your jacket for you and holding it steady so you can slip your arm into. Once it’s in, Dean raises your jacket just a bit before resting it on your shoulders. 

You turn back to him with a smile of thanks, which he can’t help but return.

“Ready?” 

“Sure am.” 

Dean opens the front door for you and you step outside into the bracing afternoon air.

“Have fun, kids!” Mary’s voice travels behind the two of you as Dean steps outside and closes the door behind him. 

You take gentle steps across the driveway, avoiding the few patches of ice that are still lingering. This gives Dean the opening he needs to step in front of you, getting to the passenger door of the Impala about three steps ahead of you.

Without a word, he pulls open the door.

“Wow, getting the full gentleman treatment today, huh.” Your cheek dimples with your half smile as you lower yourself into the passenger seat. Dean smiles down at you.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” You chuckle as Dean gently shuts the door before heading around to the driver’s seat and hopping in.

With one last check of the mirrors, Dean backs out of the driveway, and the two of you were off. 

[bootsukki]

AITA for "stealing" photo booth pictures from my girlfriend?

warnings:a bit suggestive but nothing nsfw, god i love tsukki

aita series masterlist

So, my girlfriend (20F) and I (20M) have this tradition of taking photo booth pictures whenever we stumble upon one. She has always had a lot of pictures of friends, memories and ourselves at her house and her apartment. She’s got this cute and goofy collection of pictures of us taken over the years and they are pretty much everywhere in the apartment, the fridge, her bedroom and even her vanity. I am not that fan of pictures but I can’t say no to her whenever we walk past one.

Recently, we took a new set of pictures at an arcade while we were out with friends and I pocketed them without telling her, which lead to a scavenger hunt around the apartment when she couldn’t find them and she got pretty bummed out about it. 

The thing is, that her disappointment has lasted a few days and the other day, thinking she lost them after telling her I didn't have them, she insisted we go back to the arcade and take another set of pictures. 

So, AITA for "stealing" our photo booth pictures and making my girlfriend think they were lost?

“Look! (Y/N) jumped up and down, pushing her boyfriend, Tsukishima, towards the empty photo booth at the arcade. They have been out with Yamaguchi and Yachi for a few hours before stumbling about the arcade, Yamaguchi insisting on playing some games and possibly winning a plushie for Yachi. “We need to take pictures. It’s our tradition”

Their tradition started early in their relationship, just a few months into it. The Karasuno volleyball team had been at Nationals, some people from their city and school driving the day of the matches to cheer on them. (Y/N), alongside other friends and including Akiteru, Tsukishima’s brother, rented some small rooms in a nearby inn to see all the matches. After one rough one, (Y/N) insisted on going for a walk, taking Tsukishima with her to ease his nerves and she soon found a photo booth right in the middle of the street, meant for ID pictures and she, puppy eyes, insisted on taking just a picture with him. The rest was history.

“Isn’t your apartment already full of pictures of us?”

“There will never be enough pictures of us, especially since these are the only ones I have convinced you to take.” 

Tsukishima didn’t really like photos. He enjoyed taking pictures of (Y/N) doing mundane things, trying on new clothes but when it came the time to be in one of the pictures himself, he didn’t enjoy it one bit. But, he couldn’t say no to his pretty girlfriend as she looked up at him, glossy lips and bright eyes.

“Yachi!” (Y/N) shouted, gaining the attention of their other two friends. “We are going to take a set of pictures, it’ll take just a second.”

“Okay!”

(Y/N) softly holds Tsukishima’s hand as she walks quickly towards the photo booth and she looks at her boyfriend, excitement written all over her face.

Tsukishima knew that (Y/N) loved photo booths and anything that had to do with photos. Her old high-school bedroom was filled with pictures of her and her friends, including some of Tsukishima when they weren’t even dating but her obsession grew especially after she moved into her college apartment with Yachi. There wasn’t an outing were Yachi wouldn't take her old camera and snapped photos of everyone. Tuskishima would never admit it out loud, but he enjoyed sleeping in her apartment because her bedroom was so… her. Trinkets, jewerelly and pictures were all around and he still clearly remembers his favourite picture of her, which, surprisingly, he took, where she was carrying a big stack of books while working a shift at the bookstore of their university, smile bright and rosy cheeks. That photo belonged to him and it sat prettily on a frame on his nightstand. Almost all their pictures sat in her vanity, the fridge and someplaces in her bedroom while others were hidden away in a box under her bed but (Y/N) stood up and told Tsukishima that there was, in her exact words, no way in hell that she would store their photobooth pictures away.

As they step inside, Tsukishima’s head nearly bumping onto the ceiling of the small machinery, (Y/N) closed the curtains, letting him sit down first.

Tsukishima patted his lap and (Y/N) sat down quickly, putting some cash into the machine. “Okay, five seconds, think of poses we can do.”

(Y/N) grinned widely as she waited for the flash to go and Tsukishima leaned his head on her shoulder, looking into the camera. In the second photo, (Y/N) stucked her tongue out and Tsukishima just smiled. Their third shot is more tender as they gaze into each other, their expressions softening into a moment of shared affection and intimacy. 

Finally, the final five seconds start and Tsukishima’s grabs (Y/N)’s back of her neck, pulling her close to him, lips brushing against each other as they kissed. Tsukishima groans lowly as he deepened the kiss and (Y/N) pressed herself closer to him, arms going around his neck. 

The photo booth plays some music as they pull away from each other, signalling that their photos were ready for pick up and (Y/N) blushes.

“I love you, baby.”

Tsukishima says, pecking her lips again, biting her lower lip for just a second and she gaps, standing up from his lap and getting out of the photo booth as Tsukishima picks up the pictures and looks at them, smiling as he hides them in his pocket.

*****

Baby: cutie

Baby: have you seen the pictures we took at the arcade the other day??

Baby: i can’t find them anywhere

Baby: i got so flustered i may have forgotten them

Baby: did you take them??

Tsukki <3: oh

Tsukki <3: flustered you say? I know you were flustered that night

Baby: don’t make fun of me rn

Tsukki <3: but no, sorry baby, i thought you had taken them

Baby: ugh, i can’t believe it :( i couldn’t even look at them

“It’s going to be 767 yen, sir.” 

Tsukishima locked his phone for a second, taking out his wallet from the back pockets of his trousers and opened his wallet, the set of pictures taken sitting right at the front and he softly smiled, taking out some notes to pay for his sandwich. 

“Keep the change.”

*****

“We should go back to the arcade”

“What?” Tsukishima sat down next to (Y/N) on the couch, leaving a bowl of popcorn on top of the table.

“We should go back and take pictures.”

“Baby, it’s just a set of pictures. We’ll take a lot more.”

“But I’m sure they were super cute!” (Y/N) placed her head on Tsukishima’s shoulder, putting the blanket on top of them. “You distracted me.”

“Did I?” Tsukishima smirked and (Y/N) playfully smacked his arm. “It’ll be alright, baby.”

“Hmm…” (Y/N) pouted, closing her eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I just need some good sushi to forget about it.”

“Ohhhhh.” Tsukishima laughed softly. “Okay, I’ll invite you.”

“Yay!” (Y/N) pecked his lips, standing up to get his phone and wallet from the counter, opening the food delivery app and typing her favourite sushi restaurant as she also opened his wallet to take his card. “What do you want? I think i’ll get so… Hey!”

“What?”

“You little liar, Tsukishima Kei!" (Y/N) walked back to the couch, shoving Tsukishima’s wallet up his face. “You had them!”

Tsukishima blushed, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at the pictures. “Oops.”

“You thief! I thought they were lost.” (Y/N) laughed “I was worried.”

“Sorry.”

(Y/N) closed his wallet and sat on top of him, hugging him tightly. “You are sneaky, aren’t you?” 

“Are you mad?”

“No, of course not. The fact that you have them in your wallet is so cute…” (Y/N) kissed his cheeks, lips and neck, a soft moan leaving Tsukishima’s lips as she moved her lips alongside his jaw  “I know you are mushy and a romantic on the inside and that makes me really happy…”

“Shut up…”

“Should I start hiding things so you do cute things for me, pretty?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Tsukishima picked her up from the sofa, laughter filling their living room as he walked towards his bedroom. “Forget about the sushi.”

*****

User 1.

INFO: What did you do with the pictures? Did you take them for something special?

(OP) tsuk113_: I had the photos in my wallet because they were really nice and I actually love them. She ended up finding the photos one night after she picked up my wallet to pay for dinner but she wasn't mad, just teased me about being a little thief and a liar for telling her I didn't have them lol. I really, really love this girl.

User 2.

NTA! Ugh, i'm glad I read this after your update. You were being cute, and she was just worried about losing something she loved. In the end, I think you both win—you’ve got the photos, and she gets the sweet gesture of you taking them in your wallet. Just maybe tell her next time, I'm sure she made a mess in the apartment, lol.

[heyimkana]

Desiderium - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist | AO3 Link

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu X Female Reader X Satoru Gojo

Genre: Reincarnation AU, Marriage AU, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn

Summary: Set in Tokyo, Japan, you and Yuuta were past lovers separated by the cruel hands of fate. That same fate brought you to him again a century later, but while you hold no memories of him or the beautiful life you had shared with him in the past, Yuuta remembers everything. He's waited forever to see you again, yearning for your love, not knowing that you already belong to someone else.

Word Count: 12K+

Content Warnings: None for this chapter.

Art drawn by @alwhmd_ on Twitter (commission)

“Hey, you’re late.”

Satoru’s rare greeting comes unexpectedly, staggering her before she can close the entrance door. 

“Oh—yeah, hi,” she replies with a smile, wondering why she sounds so strained. She lies. She knows exactly why. She was in the middle of reeling in the sweetness of the dream she had the previous night when her boyfriend’s voice broke in so suddenly into her head and disrupted the thousands of images of Yuuta she had inside, all at once. 

Dropping her keys on the counter, she makes her way further into the living room to find Satoru reclining on the couch, his feet on the table with his X-Box controller in his hands.

“How was work?” he questions, though both his heart and his mind are clearly somewhere else.

“It was…” Terrible. I couldn’t stop thinking about what nearly happened in the dream. And that makes me feel even worse because I shouldn’t have been thinking about another man at all. “Okay,” she finishes, to which he simply hums in response. “I didn’t think you’d be home this early. You said you had plans tonight.”

“Yeah, Suguru fucking canceled on me, so now I’ve got nothing to do.” He jams his thumbs repeatedly over the buttons, boredom in his face. The TV blares with the horror game he recently bought, though seeing how he’s finished an endless list of DVDs in the same genre, perhaps even the craziest jumpscare starts to feel a little dull to him.

“That’s okay, we can hang,” she offers, dragging a cushion over to her lap as she sits beside him. “Do you wanna watch a movie? It’s been a while since we—”

“Baby, I’m hungry,” he cuts her off, almost as if he didn’t realize she had words coming out of her mouth. Tossing his console to the side, he drops his head onto the pillow, looking up at her. “Did you get something for me?”

It takes her a second to answer, her heart grazed by his blatant disregard, but she’s grown accustomed to the pain. “No. Like I said, I didn’t know you’d be home. I thought about buying you something sweet, but you still have your puddings, so I didn’t—”

“Boooo,” he pouts, spoiled. “You could’ve gotten me something else.”

“I’m… You’re right, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Should we order some takeout, then?”

“Umm… What if we cook something? We can do it together. It’ll be fun.”

“What if you cook something for me?” Satoru grins. “It’ll be just as fun, I’m sure.”

“But…” She balls her fingers on the couch, forcing out a smile. “Remember how we promised to take turns? I’ll cook if you do the laundry.”

“I’ll do the laundry after you cook.”

“I already cooked for you the other day, Satoru, and you didn’t even do your chores.”

“’Cause I hate doing chores,” he whines, jutting out his lip. “You know what? Fine. I like cooking better anyway. If I make dinner tonight, will you do my laundry?” He sits up, his eyes sparkling like a child’s. He acts cute, wiggling his eyebrows as he sings, “I’ll make you whatever you want~”

She huffs out, “Fine,” only because she knows he won’t change his mind. 

“Yay, you’re the best!” Pecking her head before he jumps off the couch, Satoru makes his way to the kitchen with a hum. “So, what is it going to be, Your Grace? Classic chicken fajitas or the magnificent spaghetti aglio e olio Ala Chef Gojo?”

In a flash, a memory of the last time she spent with Yuuta—the real version of him—resurfaced. 

“There’s a new restaurant opening just a block away from here,” Yuuta said as he escorted her back to the nearest subway station after spending quite some time together in the library. They slowed down their pace the closer they got to the place, not wanting to part ways just yet. “They got amazing reviews. Do you have time to spare? I know how much you like Asian food. I thought maybe you’d like to try.”

She raised a suspicious brow. “I never told you I liked Asian food.”

If he sweated, he didn’t make it too obvious. “Everybody likes Asian food. It’s not that hard to guess.”

“Huh.” She poked her tongue against her cheek, eyeing him suspiciously just to see him fidget on his feet. “Fine. But if you can guess what I’m about to order, I’ll start filing a restraining order on you ’cause you’re definitely my stalker.”

“Okay.” He let a moment pass. “It’s not tonkatsu, is it?”

Feeling playful, she gasped, dramatic and loud, while pointing a finger at him. “Stalker!”

“A wild guess, I swear!” He raised both hands in the air, grinning.

“I think I’m gonna have to do a background check on you, Okkotsu. I don’t trust you.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think my history of being a kindergarten teacher would amuse you.”

She gasped again, repeating the exact same gesture. “Pedophile!”

He paled, noticing how a couple of adults walking before them started to turn their heads. “S-stop,” he whispered, “People are looking—”

“Police, help!”

 Yuuta leaped over to cover her mouth, begging her to stop as he broke into a cold sweat. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to shout again.” She nodded. “Y-You promise?” She gave another nod. “Okay…” Though reluctant, he decided to believe in her words, breathing out in relief when she cast him her innocent smile. “So, about the restaurant—”

“OFFICERS, OVER HERE!”

She smiles at the recollection of how he chased after her on the street, their waves of laughter echoing through the crowds like two teenagers running high on dopamine. It was fun, a rare occasion where she felt Yuuta finally let loose around her, acting much younger than his age. 

I wish I could see him now, she can’t help thinking. I want to see him laugh like that again. He’s—

“Bunny?” 

—not supposed to be in my mind. She breaks past Yuuta’s name in her thoughts, fumbling in her attempt. “Y-yeah?”

“What, something funny?” Satoru asks, raising a curious brow. “You were smiling to yourself.”

“Oh, I was just—” She clears her throat. “Never mind. Did you ask me something?”

“Yeah. What do you wanna have for dinner?”

“Oh, umm…” She turns flushed, somewhat jittery. “Something simple like… Like tonkatsu, maybe.”

“Tonkatsu?” He frowns upon her words. “I didn’t know you liked that.”

“I-it’s just something we haven’t eaten in a while.”

She doesn’t sound convincing, and she knows he senses it, too. Whatever it is running through his mind, he chooses to ignore it—or perhaps he doesn’t care. “I mean, I can make that, but… I don’t know, babe. I think we should go with spaghetti tonight,” Satoru says, retrieving a pot from the top drawer. “We’ve got all the ingredients, and it’s easier for me to make. That’s okay, right? We can order tonkatsu some other time, promise.”

She smiles, weak but hopefully not empty. “Sure.”  ***

Her dream continued last night, and it seemed to pick up not long after they departed from the kimono store. She thanked all the deities above for not letting time pass by so quickly, but the question she wanted an answer to remained untouched. She was still just as curious and just as clueless about the question Yuuta had asked her after their near-kiss situation. And there was no way she could find out now or ask about it, seeing she had no control over her lips. The dream, like always, had already written a script for her to follow, and she was just a marionette, while she—the dream version of her—was her puppeteer. 

They arrived at the theatre just a moment ago, their soles landing on the concrete ground after spending half an hour inside a carriage, stealing glances at each other. Moonlight shone above them, a comforting beauty to the graphite night, rivaled only by the tenderness of Yuuta’s smile. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand for her to take.

Her heart bore a weight she wished she could chase away. Nevertheless, she flashed him her best smile, accepting his offer.

Her anxiety nearly got the best of her when she was welcomed into a theatre filled with hundreds of unidentifiable faces, ones that belonged to strangers associated with luxury and aristocracy. Even when she was shrouded in the finest clothes she’d ever worn, she still felt like she didn’t belong, sticking out like a sore thumb among the crowd. 

Yuuta held her hand tighter the second he sensed her breaking into a cold sweat, smiling softly to pacify her. “You don’t have to greet anyone if you don’t want to,” he reminded her again with the kindest, understanding tone. “Try to think that it’s only the two of us here. No one else matters.”

To be the only two in the world… That would’ve been so nice, wouldn’t it?

But she knew how proud he was to have her at his side at that moment. How, had she given him the chance, Yuuta would have been so eager to introduce her to his associates and show just how lucky he was to have such a woman holding his hand. Despite how nerve-racking it sounded, it delighted her truly. 

“Let’s go meet your friends,” she said with a smile, squeezing his hand. It took her a little more effort to assure him that she’d be fine with it before he bought her words. 

Beaming with elation, he exclaimed, “They’re going to love you!”

Such a naive thought, she uttered inwardly. Unlike him, she kept her expectations low. A wise choice, it turned out, because once Yuuta presented her formally to a few men and women he considered to be his colleagues, she was met with scrutinizing eyes and words that were too honeyed to be coming from the heart. They weren’t fond of her; it was clear for her to see, but Yuuta was drowning too deeply in excitement at the thought of introducing her to everyone to decipher the fake lines within their smiles.

They bumped against a couple in particular. A man, older than him by a few years, she assumed, and a gorgeous, short-haired lady who was just about her age. The man’s look was striking enough to be remembered—a pair of sharp brown eyes, his chin held high, and a haughty grin plastered on his thin lips. He would’ve been a beautiful man if he hadn’t let his arrogance taint his face, his smirk too revolting for anyone to look past. The two of them were dressed traditionally in kimonos just like she was, but the way they carried themselves, brimming with confidence and a sense of superiority, made them seem completely different.

“Naoya-sama,” Yuuta greeted with a proper bow, although from the side, she could tell he couldn’t put his heart into it. He performed the same gesture to the lady standing behind him. “Mai-sama.”

“Oh, please. Mai is fine, Okkotsu-sama,” she crooned, folding her paper fan to give him her respect. 

“Then, please, call me by my name as well,” Yuuta says. “Perfect timing. I want you to meet someone. This lovely lady here is…” He introduced her to the couple, a pleasant look taking over his face as if looking at her for even a second washed away all the turmoil arising in his heart just a moment ago. 

“P-Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she lowered her head to them. None of them returned the bow. 

“My, my,” Mai cooed with a ridiculing smile playing on her curvy lips. “When I heard that my sister wasn’t planning to attend the event, I was expecting it was because you weren’t going to come. But now, you’re here with this…” She let her sentence hang in the air, sizing her up. “Girl,” she finished disparagingly.  “This is quite… surprising, I must say.”

Mai might have been dressed sophisticatedly in a stunning bold red kimono, but her stare and attitude toward her were anything but. The clear contempt in her words ached her heart, but it didn’t hurt as much as the mention of another woman.

Her sister… A Zenin? She swallowed. Isn’t Zenin one of the most prestigious clans in the country? She nibbled on her lip, her fingers curling against the side of her kimono. What kind of relationship does her sister have with Yuuta for Mai to expect her to come with him? She pondered agitatedly, but among the storms in her head, the one that struck her the most was—

What do I have to offer against someone like her?

“Oh,” Mai sighed dramatically, “Nee-sama will be heartbroken when she hears about this. Should we keep this a secret, Yuuta-sama?”

“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” Yuuta corrected her, his tone remaining polite and patient. “Maki-san and I are nothing more than friends. I think I’ve made that clear before.”

Mai threw a deriding glance at the woman standing beside him before she tossed another sickening, saccharine smile at him. “My apologies, I must have forgotten.”

Hearing their conversation, her heart twisted for two reasons. 

They’re just friends, she recalled, which assured her.

But he calls her Maki-san, which meant he was close to her enough to be addressing a noblewoman by her name. 

“You heard him, Mai,” Naoya chimed in with a smirk. “He doesn’t care about her. No one does.” 

Yuuta’s jaw twitched. “That’s not what I—”

“Okkotsu,” he grinned. “I wouldn’t have guessed for a thousand years that you’d have the bravery to bring someone like her here. Does your old man know about this?” He leaned in, his lips pulled back to show a string of pointy teeth. “Should I tell him? Your father must be ecstatic to learn how his little, obedient son wastes his time with a commoner.”

It hurt. Of course, it hurt. But more than that, it caused her resentment to boil. She could take any insult her way, but if it involved him, her anger would flare within seconds. She would’ve berated Naoya for his poor manners if she owned the power, but she didn’t wish to stain Yuuta’s reputation more than she already had. There was truth in his words, and that was the one thing she couldn’t fight back.

Not knowing what else to do, she just balled her small, silk-woven pouch between her hands, forcing herself to stay mute. 

I shouldn’t have agreed to this, she thought to herself regretfully,placing her gaze on the ground. I should’ve just—

“What goes between my father and I is none of your business.” Yuuta held his head high, ice in his voice, too thick to be dismissed that it even silenced the prideful young man before him. A smile still graced his lips, but the warmth in his eyes had morphed into something dark. “And if you consider yourself a nobleman, I suggest you try and behave like one, starting with how you treat my lady.”

My lady. His words rang like carillons in her head, vibrating to her every being and setting it to flames. With her heart pounding, she sneaked a glance at him, watching how Yuuta’s cold stare remained unwavering on the young lord’s face. 

Naoya’s lips tightened as his vexation grew, but whatever it was that he saw in Yuuta’s gaze caused him to swallow back the poison he wished to spit out. Instead, Naoya dragged his eyes to an easier target—the perfect choice to push Yuuta’s buttons. 

Feeling his attention on her, she brought her gaze to the carpeted floor, tense. She expected Naoya’s spiteful words to cut through her chest, preparing herself for them, but what she received was a pair of lean fingers framing her chin, forcing her to lift her stare before she could process the situation. 

Naoya stood before her, his stare denigrating, coated with a layer of interest. “Let me see your face—”

Yuuta’s hand wound around his wrist with a grip strong enough to make his veins resurface on his knuckles, stopping the other man from laying another finger on his woman. 

Naoya flinched, his face contorting in pain. “Easy, Okko—”

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” he said through clenched teeth, low and dangerous. “Naoya.”

She froze, staggered to see the always courteous Yuuta tossing away his manners to put on a brazen display of his anger. The suppressed rage in his voice was something she’d never expected to flow out of someone as sweet and merciful as him. And as she returned her gaze to his company, it appeared it struck them all just the same. 

To address the next lord of the Zenin Clan by his name was one thing, but to threaten him in front of everyone’s eyes to see… She prayed that it wouldn’t unravel their relationship into something worse than this. 

Naoya’s arrogant smile was long gone, replaced by thin lips quivering in the resentment he couldn’t unleash. He yanked his wrist free. He chose not to put up a fight, but whether he did it out of consideration of where they were or because he simply lacked bravery for it, she could not tell just yet. She wondered if Naoya felt fear from how quickly Yuuta’s personality switched whenever she was involved. She definitely did. It frightened her as much as it excited her. 

“N-Naoya-sama,” Mai shortened the distance between them, speaking quietly as she tugged on the sleeve of his kimono. “People are looking this way.”

She glanced at her surroundings to realize that her words were true. Yuuta did not care about it, not in the slightest, but Naoya did.

With a scoff, he chose to leave the scene. “I suggest you mind your fucking manners,” he snarled through gritted teeth, intentionally knocking his shoulder against him. “And it’s Zenin-sama to you, Okkotsu.” 

Yuuta remained quiet and unfazed, not giving him the satisfaction of getting any reaction out of him. Mai followed closely after her cousin’s trail, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her paper fan as she walked. As the Zenins disappeared into the crowd, she felt the tension lessen in the air.

And with it, her beloved Yuuta returned.

“Are you all right?” he quickly checked on her, his face contorted in concern as if lines of anger never flashed across them. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I was planning to avoid them, but—”

“Okkotsu-san.”

They froze, turning their heads around to see another man detaching himself from a group of people to pay them his greetings. He appeared to be a year younger than Yuuta was, dressed in a pure white kimono and a black haori that stood in stark contrast to the color of his eyes. His jet-black hair was untamed, pointing in every direction. His scowl appeared to be permanent on his otherwise very juvenile face, but his jade-like eyes were pretty. Fierce and piercing, but pretty.

“Oh, that’s Megumi,” Yuuta regained his affable smile within an instant. He held her hand, telling her, “He’s one of the close friends I wanted to introduce you to. Come.”

They met him halfway, her body turning rigid under his eyes. Megumi took one look at her, examining thoroughly but far from criticizing. If anything, his sharp gaze turned gentler once he captured the emotions shown on her face. “Good evening,” he said, performing a polite bow. “I believe we haven’t met. Megumi Zenin, my lady.” 

Another Zenin. Her agitation swelled. “H-hello,” she mimicked his gesture.

“It’s nice to see you again, Megumi.” Yuuta’s delight was exhibited clearly in his voice. “How long has it been?”

“Around a month or two? It’s a pleasure to see you, too, Okkotsu-san.” Megumi appeared quite stern for a man his age, but when he tossed his smile at her, small yet genuine, it lightened all the weight in her chest similarly to how Yuuta’s did. “And you, as well.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Zenin-sama,” she bowed.

“Megumi is fine. I’m not really fond of being addressed by my family name. I don’t want to put any distance between us.” 

Ah, she understood immediately. No wonder they get along.

He turned to Yuuta. “Is she…?”

The said man turned red before he gave him a little nod.

“I see,” Megumi gave her a little smile. “It’s nice to finally put a face on it.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“Oh, this man right here,” Megumi explained, lightly bumping his shoulder against Yuuta’s. He was dropping all formality, behaving around them the way a friend would, and with it, he put her at ease. “He hasn’t been able to stop talking about you since the first day he met you.”

Yuuta’s blush turned a shade darker. “M-Megumi—”

“He’s been talking about you so often that I’ve been contemplating chopping my ears for good, truth be told.”

“Megumiiii,” Yuuta whined despite being older, pleading for him to stop while clutching his sleeve like a child. She giggled at the sight, which caused both men to stare at her in surprise before their gazes softened in endearment. 

Yuuta, particularly, breathed out in relief, knowing she’d finally rediscovered the strength to smile again.

“Thank goodness,” he said. “I was worried you wouldn’t smile again tonight after what happened with Naoya.”

She grew embarrassed. Was my face that obvious to read? “I wasn’t going to let my mind linger on that for too long.”

“That’s right, you shouldn’t.” Yuuta took a step closer toward her, no longer remembering that he was in public with a friend to keep him company. Like always, he granted her his full attention, fixing the loose hair that fell from her bow. “I’m not sure if you know this, but… I feel truly honored tonight to have you by my side. So pay no mind to anyone else, and just focus on me. Focus on how I feel about you.”

She took a breath, urging her palpitating heart to slow down. “All right…”

“That’s nice,” Megumi muttered flatly. “But I’m still here in case you’ve forgotten.”

“S-sorry,” they both spoke in unison, breaking free from the invisible force that drew them together. “Have you met Itadori-kun and the rest? I want them to meet her, too.” Yuuta quickly added, “If she’s willing.” 

She smiled and gave him her approval.

“I have,” Megumi replied. “They’re already seated inside. The show will start in a few minutes. You can talk to them afterward.”

“You’re right. We should go to our seats. I will see you later then, Megumi.”

The young man nodded, and with a slight bow of his head, he excused himself and proceeded to the house. 

Holding onto Yuuta’s wrist, she asked, “I’d love to meet your friends, but we must return the kimono before the store is closed. Will we make it in time?”

“Oh, umm…” He sweated, scratching a finger to his cheek. “There’s… no need for us to do that.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I already bought it?” He followed his line with a nervous chuckle. At the sight of her dropping her jaw, staring at him in disbelief, he hastily diverted her attention. “Oh, did you hear that? I think the concert’s starting.”

She gripped him by the wrist, glowering at him. “We will talk about this later.” 

He gulped, “Y-yes, Ma’am.” ***

Time flowed faster in her dream than her mind could retain all the details.

The concert was as gorgeous as she thought it would be and more, magical from the very first echo of the cello string being plucked to the glorious symphony that blessed her ears till the end. She was enraptured in every second of the best hours of her life, her fingers dancing on her lap to the tempo, itching to run the same piece on her worn-out piano. 

The little gathering she had with his friends was unexpectedly pleasant, too.  There were three of them, she recalled, excluding Megumi—Yuuji Itadori, whom she’d learned in the past half an hour of knowing him, had a smile that could rival the summer sun itself; Nobara Kugisaki, a young lady who appeared to be curt and judgmental at first, only to resonate very well with her in the next minute once she learned about her encounter with Mai, all due harboring the same amount of hatred toward her; the last one was Toge Inumaki who quirked her interest due to the mischievous glint he wore in his eyes despite being very reticent about himself. She didn’t expect them to be so welcoming, knowing how all of them were sitting in different social positions than her. It was very heartwarming, to say the least, and she could understand why Yuuta was fond of them. It certainly didn’t take long for her to feel that way as well.

“Did you have fun?” Yuuta asked her with a crooked smile, amused at how she was still swaying on her feet to the beat of her own hum even when a fair amount of time had passed since they left the theater. 

“Did I have fun—Yuuta,” she sighed into the air, bliss sketched over her face. “This is the best night of my life. To hear one of my favorite Liszt’s works performed before my eyes in such a grandiose way… I wish I could rewind the time so I could see it again.”

“Which one was that again? The second song? I know the first one was from Beethoven.”

“The second one was Radetzky March by Strauss.”

“Oh, the third one, then. I saw you smiling the entire time when it was performed.”

“The third one was Serenade by Schubert—Yuuta.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not tell me you fell asleep during the performance. I might have to commit a serious crime to you if that was the case.”

Yuuta laughed, and it was adorable. He was more beautiful than words could say. “I admit I was… a bit distracted throughout the show,” he bashfully smiled. “I, umm… I was worried about how your reaction would be. I kept thinking whether you’d like it or not. Whether our seats were too far from the stage or too close. Whether the setlist was to your liking—everything worried me. I know very little about classical music—I know nothing compared to you—but I wanted this to be one of the best experiences you’ve ever had. So, I kept glancing at you to make sure you were enjoying it, and then…” His heart swelled with joy and relief, all written in his eyes. “I saw you smiling.” The bow of his lips made his eyes thinning into pretty lines, beaming at her. “I’ve never seen you look so happy. And seeing you so happy made me feel happy, so I kept looking at you, and before I knew it, the concert ended,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he grew embarrassed. “I’m such a fool, aren’t I?”

She nearly clung a hand to her chest. She had lost count of how many times she had fallen for him today. Over and over again, she asked herself, am I allowed to be this happy? To have such a wonderful man like him—a man who could have anything the world could offer—love me so ardently like this? 

“I was happy,” she whispered back, stopping in her tracks to grasp his hand in gratitude. “I am happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, all because of you. Thank you, Yuuta. Truly.” She locked their eyes together, hoping he’d fathom just how much tonight meant to her. “For everything.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands, crimson bursting on his face. “I—you—you’re welcome.”

She could never get enough of him when he turned beet red over the slightest touch. At this rate, he’d die over a kiss, she giggled to herself—until the thought sank in. 

A… kiss..?

Her mind wandered back to the intimate moment they shared in the changing room, how his gaze lingered on the inviting shape of her mouth, how her own darted back and forth between his eyes and his beautiful thin lips. 

He was… about to kiss me back then, wasn’t he..?

Now that she mulled about it again, maybe she’d die over a kiss.

“So, umm—” Quickly growing hot under the collar, she diverted the topic, hoping he wouldn’t notice the oddity in her actions. “You said you didn’t know much about classical music.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ve never touched an instrument my whole life.” 

They carried on with their late-night stroll. She took a couple of steps ahead of him, too mortified to catch a glimpse of his face as improper thoughts continued to gyrate in her head. “That’s weird.” 

“Weird?” He raised a brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you’ve played some before.” Inside the books she read, they always seemed to portray children—those born out of wealth and royalty—getting musical lessons during childhood. It was the source of her envy back when she was younger, as well as one of the main reasons why she dedicated hours of her life to practicing music—to make herself equal somehow. “What do you like to do, then? When the heavens above granted the high and noble prince Yuuta Okkotsu some time to spare, what kind of wondrous things did he do?”

He scrunched his nose adorably at her choice of words. “I like to read.”

“Oh, dear, what a surprise,” she replied flatly, followed by an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Come on now,” she bumped her shoulder playfully against him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He pondered for a moment, hesitation hinted in his tone. “Well, umm… I like to paint.”

“Really?” She blinked. “Why haven’t you mentioned it before? More than that, why haven’t you shown me any of your work yet?”

He tittered a little tensely, “Because I’m still learning, and I’m… not really confident with my skills.”

“There you go, acting humble again,” she pouted. “Yuuta, you’re brilliant at anything you do. I’m sure your paintings are wonderful. I would love to see them one day. What kind of art do you do?”

“I started by learning how to do realistic drawings. But now, I paint landscapes more.”

Landscapes, huh… As she marveled at the thought, her eyes naturally landed on the scenery before her. It was only then she realized that they had strayed quite a long way from Shinagawa, one of the busiest wards in Tokyo. They’d just continuously walked without knowing where their feet would take them, too engaged with each other to pay heed to their surroundings. Before she knew it, they had reached the edge of the city, their hair ruffled by the ocean breeze as they now stood with their hands on the railing. 

For a moment, she basked herself in the calmness of the seaside. It felt strange to see it so quiet, knowing how crowded it could be under the sun, particularly during the peak of summer. The percussion of waves caressed her ears like a mother’s lullaby, and if this wasn’t a dream, she could probably taste salt in the air. The velvety night sky lacked the presence of the white-gold moon, but the stars painted their reflections on the water, each fragment becoming a part of the body of brine, turning it into a blanket of diamonds. 

She suddenly felt the weight of his coat on her shoulders, something to shield her from the night breeze. She turned her head just enough to thank him for his courtesy.

“I wonder how the world looks like through your eyes,” she said, musing on just how much of this beauty he could capture with his hands, how much of its tranquility he could imitate on a blank, dull canvas. With his gentle, meticulous hands, perhaps he could even bring life into it. “Must have been beautiful. You always seem to catch even the slightest detail. Maybe it’s more because your heart is so pure that the world seems prettier in your eyes. You always look at the bright side of things, your mind trained to find beauty instead of focusing on imperfections just like everybody else. I think that’s a very wonderful trait to have.”

He blushed, “Y-you speak too highly of me.”

“Which makes me so curious.” She smacked her hand against the railing, startling him. “I want to see you draw! Can you do it now? If I give you a paper and a pencil, can you sketch something for me?”

“I… can,” he said unconvincingly, turning stiff. “B-but not when you’re with me.”

“What? Why not?”

 “Because you’ll make me nervous. I’m already nervous, even now.”

“Yuuta, please,” she chuckled. “It’s just me.”

“It’s because it’s you,” he corrected, causing her to grow mute. “It’s… because it’s you,” he repeated, much softer this time. “If there was one person I wanted to impress—one person whose opinion mattered to me, it would be you. I’ll show you my work one day, I promise, just… Just let me prepare my heart first.”

The soft glow of the lamp posts above them was enough for her eyes to witness the plum blossom petals being carried by the wind. Some of them made their way to the sea. A few stroked their cheeks before they danced away. One of the petals was caught in his hair, shell-pink in pitch-black sea. And as she looked at it, giggling internally at how very… heroine-esque he looked like this with his face gorgeously illuminated by the warm light, a flower in his hair, a pretty blush, and a hand plastered over his racing heart.

Once he calmed down, Yuuta inclined his head to the side, curious as to why she was watching him. But she was always watching him, wasn’t she? Her eyes always returned to him, even when she didn’t realize it. “Umm… Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Just being incredibly dramatic,” she said affectionately. “Thank you for thinking about me that way. Stop saying things like that, though. You’re making me feelembarrassed.”

“S-sorry,” he fidgeted.

“I’m joking. Can you bend down a little for me?”

“What? Why?”

“You have a flower in your hair, Princess,” she giggled. He’s like a scared puppy. She rose on her toes, reaching up to steal the tiny flower. He held his breath in the sudden proximity, staying as still as a statue as she brushed her hand against his strands. Yuuta watched her with his heart worn on his sleeves, a lovesick boy down to his core.

“So, you paint, and you read.” She placed the flower on his palm, curling his fingers around it. “Is there something else you do to pass the time?”

It took him a couple of seconds to reply, fascinated by how small and pretty her fingers were compared to his own. “I often find myself wondering what it would be like to have my own company,” he uttered. “All this time, I’ve only been learning how to fill my father’s shoes, how to do everything exactly in his way, down to the minor details. And it’s great even if it feels suffocating sometimes. I appreciate the lessons and the experiences he gave me, and I feel proud of myself when I can meet my parents’ expectations, but…” 

He held the plum blossom between his fingers, placing it in her hair, just behind her ear. He smiled, softer than cotton, while tucking away her loose strands. “I can’t help but feel like there’s something missing, you know? I don’t feel like I belong there, sitting in the chair my father provided to me. With me being the only heir of my family, I would have these companies under my name by the time Father is too old to manage them, but I think I’ll never be satisfied until I could something out of my own hands.”

She pulled herself away before she drowned further in his eyes. “So, uhh, why don’t you?”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “Father wouldn’t let me. He told me to be grateful and just do as I’m told. He doesn’t believe that I’m capable of making something as profitable as the ones under his belt. He said I’d be wasting my time—and his.”

“He said that?” She asked incredulously, almost cursing out loud. How can a parent have so little trust when their child is this bright and talented?! “You should just ignore him,” she muttered in suppressed vexation.

“What?”

“I don’t think you’ll waste anyone’s time, Yuu. I know how diligent you are, and although sometimes you can be a little bit of a pushover—“

“Hey.”

“—Deep down, you’re very ambitious. Once you have your eyes set on something, you won’t stop until you reach your goal. Maybe your father can’t see it, but I do. And even if your father was right, if it didn’t work out because you lacked the experience for it, why should that stop you from trying? Failure is what makes us better. We can learn from our mistakes. And you’re trying your best to make yourself happy. Your happiness is worth more than a million yen in your pocket, I always said. There’s no fault in that!”

He blinked, shocked at how worked up she was for his sake. “You’re always like this, aren’t you?” His gaze softened. “Getting angry on my behalf.”

“Because you never get angry,” she brooded. 

He simply chuckled. “Then, what would you do if you were me? Picture yourself living my life for a while. What kind of company would you build if you had my, uhh, resources?”

“Your resources. Hmm…” She couldn’t help but make fun of him a little, trapping her chin between her fingers as she pretended to think. “So, I’d have natural good looks, sad puppy eyes, and an endless amount of money, huh?” She turned him flustered. “I think I’ll just trade all my yens to gold, put them inside a safe for my future should anything go wrong, go seduce a wealthy mistress, and leech off of her so I’ll never have to work a day in my life ever again.”

He sighed, “I should’ve known not to expect a serious answer coming from you when you have that look on your face.”

She chortled, but not long after, her smile turned fainter. Her previous mischief was replaced with something profound. “A publishing company,” she said. “I would’ve built my own publishing company. It’s always been a dream of mine. But not just like any other publishers that are profit-oriented, I want to focus on the quality of the books.”

That piqued his curiosity. “What do you mean?”

She tarried for a moment. “Yuuta, do you know what my favorite book is?” It was a tricky one to answer, she knew, because every time he asked her that question, she’d always reply with, I don’t really have one. I love everything I read almost equally.

“Hmm…” He tapped his chin, musing. “Is it… The Makioka Sisters by Tanizaki-sensei?”

“Close,” she smiled. “But I’m impressed with your guess. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that to you.”

“You never did. I just figured that’s the one because when you showed me your copy the other day, the pages had many creases on them, which means you must be flipping through them a lot, either to re-read it or find your favorite scenes.”

She scrunched up her nose. He saw right through her. “All right, Mr. Detective. Well, that’s the second one on my list, actually. Revival is the first one.” 

Yuuta knitted his forehead. “Have you shown me that before?”

“I haven’t because it’s never been published as a book. It’s still a manuscript, handwritten by Saori-sensei herself.”

His frown only deepened. “Saori-sensei…?”

“She’s a small writer,” she explained. “She lived somewhere in Hokkaido, but she came to Tokyo to try her luck. I had the pleasure of meeting her in person a couple of years ago when she visited the library. Revival is her third piece, but just like her other two, it never made it to the public’s eyes. She had approached many publishers in the past, but with no connections and no name for herself, they turned her over without even sparing her a glance. 

“She came to my library one day, tired and frustrated, and she asked me if she could place her manuscript there on our shelf. I was confused, but I had time to spare, so I listened to her story. By the end of it, she said that the reason why she became a writer was never about money or fame. She just had stories to tell, stories that she longed to be read. She said she wanted people to feel connected to the emotions she portrayed in the book. To make someone happy with her writings. I’m not a writer myself, but I can imagine how an artist would love to have their work seen and appreciated. 

“So, I said yes. More than that, I told her that I’d love to give her book a try. And she broke down crying, crumbling to her feet. It was the first time I’d ever seen someone weep that loudly before, almost like a child. I asked her whether I said something wrong, and she shook her head, wiping her eyes dry. She told me that I was the first person to say that to her. That I was the one who ever showed any interest in her work. She had traveled far away from home with barely any money in her pocket, and she had met many different people, and yet, I was the first one to say that to her. Seeing her like that saddened me, but I didn’t shed tears for her. Not until I finished reading her manuscript. By the time I got to the end, it took all of me to stop myself from crying.

“It was the best thing I’ve ever read. The first book that spoke to me. The premise was hard to believe at first—it tells a story about a couple who were separated by death, traveling through times and spaces just to be with each other again. Maybe it’s even laughable to some, but the way she wrote it… It made me believe in it. The yearning, the struggle, the desperation of being so close to each other and yet so far… It pulled me in. I spent all night finishing it and did it again the next night, reading from the start. I sent her a letter a few days later, telling her how wonderful her writing was, and she replied with, Thank you for reading my story. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. And I thought… She deserves so much more than just a letter.”

She leaned back, resting her back against the railing. “I’ve read all kinds of books in the library to pass the time, not caring about its genre or topic, or whether it’s from a well-known author or someone from the outskirts of town who just made their first novel. I read everything I could get my hands on, but the books written by small authors never failed to intrigue me the most. Sometimes, they only have a few copies, still handwrittenlike the one Saori-sensei gave me. After reading hers, I started finding more of those in the library. They had always been sitting there, but I was just like everyone else, not paying attention to them. And that’s why, even though that place is old and cramped, I love working there. 

“Some of them were lucky enough to be printed, but they’re often published independently, and because of that, they’re not heavily edited. Every author has a distinct style, but when they hand their work over to the giant publishers, they’re forced to suit the public’s taste. It’s not a bad thing, obviously, but when you’ve read someone’s original work, someone brimming with talent, you’ll see the difference. I could feel their raw emotions when I read them. I could feel their authenticity in every word they chose.”   

His understanding dawned on him. “So, you want to give these underrated authors a chance.”

“Yes. I want them to get the recognition they deserve. Most publishers would choose to translate famous works or urge well-known authors to produce new books every year, and they never really give these small writers the opportunity to compete. I know it doesn’t offer much money if you look at it from a business perspective. I know nothing about making profits from books, but I can imagine that publishing works written by popular authors would offer much more fortune than distributing works from unknown writers. I just thought… Maybe there are people out there who wish to read these beautiful stories, but they never get the chance to. I want to help those people and these authors connect.”

Silence settled between them once she ran out of words, and she grew self-conscious. “Gods, I’ve spoken too much, haven’t I?” She tossed him an awkward laugh. “Sorry. Let’s focus back on what you want to do—”

“You said it was your dream, right?”

She blinked. She didn’t expect him to listen to her rambling so intently, let alone take her word seriously. “A silly, silly dream—” 

“It’s not silly,” he affirmed it with deep sincerity. “It’s not silly at all. I think it’s wonderful that you thought about it that way. And even if it isn’t profitable, if it makes you happy, it’s fine, isn’t it? Your happiness is worth more than a million yen in your pocket, I always said,” he couldn’t help but tease her at the last part, throwing her lines back at her; mischievous imps swam in his deep blue eyes.

“Well, you can say that since you’re rich,” she playfully rolled her eyes. Yuuta was no longer poking fun at her. If anything, he turned solemn. “Yuuta?”

He tapped his fingers against the railing, his gaze stretching far away as if it longed to become one with the sea. “What if I said I’d do it for you?”

Her heart churned. “What?”

“I’ll do it for you.” He turned around to face her fully, determination in his eyes. “Give me some time to think. I’ll do what I can to make your dream come true.”

“Yuuta,” she almost laughed out of the incredulity of his words, hoping it would pass as just another jest. Yuuta remained unsmiling, and after a second, her smile dropped, too. “W-wait, Yuu, I appreciate the thought, but you couldn’t just—” 

“I want to do it.” He held her gaze firmly. “Let me do it.” 

She exhaled heavily through her nose, not knowing what to say. “What… would your father say?”

“Didn’t you say I should ignore what he told me?”

Oh, Gods. “Well, yes, but—”

“But what?” He took her hand so abruptly that it almost stole a gasp from her lips, but his touch remained gentle. “Didn’t you hear me? I want to do this. Not just for you, but for me, too. I think it’s a wonderful idea, and I’m as passionate about books as you are, you know that. And…” He stroked the ridges on her knuckles, gazing at them as if he wanted to place another sweet kiss upon her skin. “If it’s within my power to make your dream come true, then I’ll do whatever it takes to realize it.”

He was already hell-bent on it, fire in his gaze, and she felt it penetrating her soul. Her heart rate started to soar. He’s insane. He should’ve thought it through. He said he was going to do this for his sake, too, but I couldn’t help but think that… he’d do this solely for me.

And if that’s not out of love, then what is it?

She tucked her chin, watching how his fingers still lingered around her own. “If you could do it,” she said so shyly she almost felt as if she wasn’t herself. “I’ll…. I’ll give you something in return. Anything you ask me, I’ll do it. As a thank you.”

Yuuta’s eyes widened slightly, flickering with hope. “A-anything?”

The way he said it made heat rush to her face. She nodded diffidently. “Anything.” He wouldn’t ask for something… indecent, would he? He’s not that kind of man. “If it’s something I could do for—”

“Marry me.”

She choked on her breath, coughing twice before she forced her eyes to return to his face. “What?!” She squeaked.

“Marry me,” Yuuta uttered, somehow looking even more resolved on his wish than he was a moment ago. “A year. I’ll build the company within a year, and once it’s done, you have to marry me.” His gaze had never been so intense that it robbed her of her breath. Noticing her swallowing hard at his words, he returned to his fidgety self. “I-I sounded so forceful before. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to coerce you or anything! I swear, I already decided to ask you even without you offering that to me, I just—you said I could—” He took a breath, begging himself to calm down. “All I’m saying is… If there was one thing in the world I wished of you… It’s for you to marry me.” He lowered his gaze as his face burst into flames, adding a timorous, “P-please.”

Despite how ridiculous and sudden the situation was, none of this was a laughing matter. Yuuta was sincere—as sincere as he could be—but still, never in her right mind had she ever thought a man would blurt out something as momentous as a marriage proposal in the middle of the night out of nowhere. The thought tickled her stomach. 

We were talking about business a minute ago, for God’s sake. “Yuuta,” she gave her best attempt at withholding her giggles. “We’re not even lovers yet.”

He blanched, all colors washed out at once. “We’re not?”

She nearly dropped her jaw. He thinks we are?! Since when?!

Oh, she thought, her mischievousness climbing up her throat fast. Oh, this is going to be fun. She put on a poker face, blinking her eyes cutely as she feigned surprise. “We are?”

“I mean—” He started gesticulating out of panic. “H-haven’t we done things that lovers do? Things like—like taking a late-night stroll like this, spending hours talking just the two of us? We—” He was drowning in worry and confusion with each second passing by. “We went to a concert together. We had dinner together, we…” He ran out of words, his face almost turning blue in horror. “Am I the only one who sees it this way…?”

She, the devil that she was, just continued with her torture. “Well, I do those things with my friends, too, you know.”

“Oh…” She could almost see the way his heart shattered in his eyes. “But…” He turned small. Maybe if she weren’t there, he would’ve curled up into a ball and lay down in the middle of the road until one of his butlers came to pick him up. “I already…. think of you as my lover…” 

Cute. Cute. Cute. He’s so cute. “Yuuta, you’ve never even asked me to be your lover before.” She inwardly cackled. “How would I know what you think of me if you never put it into words?”

To her surprise, his head shot back up. “Then, would you be my lover?!” He promptly asked, and only a second after that, he looked regretful, as if he was chastising himself for being so straightforward and not putting enough effort into wooing her heart first. “I love you, I—” He nearly wheezed. “I love you from the very first time I laid my eyes on you. I love you more than anything in the world, and I will love you until all my bones shatter to dust. I will sacrifice my life for you, I will—”

“I-I get it,” she cut him off quickly before he melted her face with his embarrassing words. Her plan to tease him backfires because now, her heart beat so clamorously in her ears that she could barely hear anything else. I just had my first love confession, she almost shouted in glee. And from a man more beautiful than the moon itself. Oh, Lord, thank you for all your blessings, I will never forsake You for the rest of my life.

“But I don’t know, Yuuta…” She faked a pout. This is the last time I’m teasing him, I swear. “I’m not utterly convinced yet. We’ve been friends for so long, what if it gets awkward between us once we start calling each other that way? What if we can’t do… things that lovers do?”

For a second, he was lost. Then— “We can,” Yuuta convinced her, even when his awkwardness clearly proved her point. He twined his fingers around her wrist, his hand trembling and laced with cold sweat. He was adorable. It’s funny how easily he’d held her hand romantically before when he didn’t realize it, but now, when asked to do it, he held her wrist like a mother forcing her child to return home. 

She looked at their joined hands with a flat stare. “What am I, your daughter?”

“S-sorry.” Quivers resurfaced in his fingertips as he slid his hand down to her own, hooking one finger around her pinky before he found the bravery to do more. With a smile, she helped him intertwine their fingers better, each gap filled with warmth the same way the ones in their hearts were. “You, umm…” He began anxiously. “You don’t do this with your friends, do you?”

“I do. Females often hold hands when they walk, don’t you know?”

A pout nearly manifested on his face while she tried to bite back her simper. “Then…” He wound his arms around her, pulling her into a deep embrace. As she had no choice but to plaster her head on his chest, she could hear the rapid beating of his heart. “What about this…?” he asked, his arms coiled tightly around her. She wished he had done more, suffocated her entirely, and if she died in his arms, just like this, she’d go with a satisfied smile. 

But on the outside, she said, “Maybe not. But I hug my sister this way all the time, too. It’s nothing special.”

He became more desperate on his next attempt, his fingers sneaking their way through her strands, holding her still as he planted a shy peck on the center of her forehead. She giggled, didn’t even bother to mask her childish devilry any longer. “My father does that.” He kissed her cheek next. “My mother does that.”

He gave up with a soft groan erupting out of his mouth. “I don’t know what else am I supposed to—” 

Fisting his collar in her hands, she yanked him down toward her, tiptoeing to meet him halfway. Their lips connected in a kiss, and with it, his words died before they could take form.

His eyes turned round, overflowing with surprise. She might have been planning this from the start of her little game, but Yuuta, the sweet, innocent young man that he was, remained clueless till the end. The kiss ended before his mind could comprehend the situation, his body staying rigid even after she loosened her grip from his shirt and returned the small distance between them.

She drew a breath, her blood pumping fast through her veins. 

I did it. I did it! I kissed him. Oh, Gods, I kissed him.

She wished her nervousness wouldn’t show too much, but she could hear it in her breath when she whispered,  “I don’t… do that one with anyone else.” Her hand felt heavier than a boulder when she withdrew it from his chest. “I’ve never done something like that before, actually. Only with you.”

“I…” He lagged a little, still half-paralyzed from her unexpected kiss. “I’ve never done that one either…”

It gave her a sense of triumph. We’re each other’s first, she exclaimed giddily inside. “Did you… like it?”

“I love it,” he reciprocated rapidly, his little nods shy yet eager. “It’s so much better than what I’ve imagined it would be.”

“You’ve fantasized about doing this with me?”

His brain turned to mush, melted by his shame. “M-many times, yes,” he admitted. “But never without your consent, don’t worry!”

Her refrained laughter came out as a snort. “Should we do it again, then?”

“C-can I?” 

She adored him so, so much. Every act of innocence he committed never failed to thaw her heart. “Only if you kiss me first,” she said, her smile tantalizing.

Yuuta noticeably gulped, anxious at the thought, but he wasn’t dumb enough to pass up on such an opportunity. His breathing tattered as he gathered the courage, his blush reaching the tip of his ears. He tried to lean closer, slowly, carefully, his eyes already shutting tight even when there was still quite a space between their faces. 

She almost laughed. I’m torturing him again, aren’t I? But she waited patiently, her lids closing in a piece of euphoria before he granted another with his lips. 

Their mouths caressed one another, lighter than a brush of a feather. A second passed, then two, and by then, she realized that eternity could set in between them, and it would’ve still felt too short once their kiss ended.

Yuuta pulled away, his gaze still fixated on her lips as if he was as spellbound by the kiss as much as she was. “Can I—”

“Yes.” She drew him back to her, molding their mouths together a little deeper, a little tighter, her hands finding their way to tangle around his neck. His lips tasted like a drop of nectar, and they were soft, softer than she imagined a boy’s lips would be. They were warm. Exciting. Addicting. 

He gasped against her mouth, matching her pace as best as he could. He was clumsy, his brain so occupied by the thoughts of her that he couldn’t stop these soft noises from escaping the back of his throat. She loved them. Every bit of whimper and moan he emitted, they flipped and twisted her stomach so exhilaratingly, awakening something inside her that craved to hear more of those sweet sounds. 

And yet, despite all of that, his hands still settled too stiffly on her waist, as if he was desisting himself from such pleasure. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me,” she breathed out when their mouths separated for a brief second. “I want you to kiss me the way you want to—mmph!”

Like a branch snapping under gravity’s pull, his passion took over without warning. He pulled her toward him so abruptly that she fell onto his chest, his suit slipping off her shoulders to land on the ground below. His palm, large and calloused despite how gentle he was, took prisoner of her face, angling her head to the side, holding her still, and slanting their lips better. Deeper. Harder. His other hand slithered dangerously low around her waist before it slid up her spine, crumpling the fabric of her kimono within his hold.

“W-Wait—mmph!” He was no longer listening, holding onto her tight, clutching like she was his lifeline. Butterflies came alive in her stomach when she felt his tongue stroking her own, tentatively at first to see her reaction, but once a moan escaped her, soft yet obscene to his ears, his desire possessed him once more.

Yuuta loved it when she parted her lips for him. His quiet whimpers turned into groans as he tasted her, her body pushed further against the railing and caged between his arms.

“Yuuta—” She was dying for a chance to breathe. 

He couldn’t grant it for her, not now, his lips devouring her still. “Open your mouth again,” he rasped out with haste, his voice so thick with lust that it was almost unrecognizable.

This was a different man kissing her; she loved him just the same.

Clawing against his shirt, she drowned further in this foreign, intoxicating sensation. Being with him like this felt like free-falling from the sky, so thrilling, so—

A bright light flickered toward them. They froze. 

We’re not alone.

They broke apart within a blink of an eye, barely a second before a police officer, who hopefully remained oblivious, patrolled down the road on his bicycle. She whirled around to clench her hands around the railing, pretending to gaze at the sea. Her ragged breathing would give her away instantly, and thus, she prayed for the darkness to be kind enough to act as her veil.

Yuuta, on the contrary, with his hair terribly disheveled, all due to the frantic work of her hands, was not a very good liar. His pale skin betrayed him, showing vividly how flustered he was, like a pure white canvas tainted madly by thick lines of red. The officer met his gaze as the poor boy busied himself with his hair, throwing his gaze to the ground.

“Good evening, Sir,” a male officer, possibly a few years older than Yuuta, greeted him with a polite bow, decelerating the speed of his bicycle.

Yuuta cleared his throat. “Good—” It still came out as a squeak, his voice pitchy enough that she almost flinched when she heard it. “Good evening, Officer.”

“Ma’am,” he greeted her next. “Is everything all right here?”

“Yes, Officer, umm—” She decided to think fast, clutching her hand around Yuuta’s arm. “This is my husband. We’re just taking a little stroll at the beach.”

“It’s already quite late for that, don’t you think?” He angled his head toward Yuuta. “Sir?”

It took an elbow to his side for him to reply awkwardly with, “Ah, yes! W-we’re on our way home.”

Yuuta’s words offered very little convincing, but it seemed that the way she wrapped her arms around his assured him that they were, indeed, lovers. “I see. Be careful on your way, then.”

She smiled, “Yes, Officer, thank you.”

He pedaled away, most likely too exhausted to chastise a pair of newlyweds at this hour. They both breathed in relief, their eyes finding each other once more before she broke into giggles.

“Sorry for suddenly calling you my husband,” she teased him. “Is your heart all right?”

“I almost fainted,” he confessed before he, too, found the energy to laugh at the situation. Once it passed, Yuuta stroked her hair, tucking the stray ones behind her ear. His smile left him as he gazed at her worriedly. “Are we… lovers now?”

She arched her brows, not expecting him to ask that question after what had happened between them. It must be because I’ve been teasing him so much. “If that’s what you want us to be,” she tittered.

“Do you want to?” His hand found hers again, much naturally this time, though his tone remained bashful. “To be mine?”

Do I want to be yours?

“Yes…” The rest of her answer comes out in a sleepy mumble as she returns to reality. Suddenly having Yuuta’s beautiful face replaced by the dull sight of her living room is quite perplexing that it leaves her incapable of doing anything but continue lying on the couch.

What just… happened…?

“Baby?” Satoru’s voice rings from the other side of the sofa. 

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she fixes herself on the seat. “H-hey!” Fuck. “How—how long have I been asleep?”

“Around two hours. You completely missed the movie, by the way.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.” She rubs her temple, trying not to focus on the way her face heats up quickly. “I guess I was tired.”

“I don’t think you were that tired,” he snickers, tossing her a naughty smirk. “You were making noises in your sleep. Did you dream about having sex with me?”

Her face catches fire. Just how good was that kiss for me to make noises in my sleep?! Mortified, she jumps to her feet. “I’m—I’m gonna go take a shower,” she sputters, a moment before she hares off.

“Bunny!” Satoru gasps from behind. “Don’t tell me I was right?!”

“Yes!” She exclaims before shutting the door behind her, knowing it’s easier to lie than to have him interrogate her for the truth.

Leaning her back against the door, she drowns her face in her hands. God, what is wrong with me? Why do I keep having these dreams? What do they mean—if they had any meaning at all? Why is it always him?!

Even hearing herself question such things sounds ridiculous in her head. Dreams are just dreams, they’re not real. She knows that. She’s been telling herself that, but… It’s getting harder and harder to pretend that way.

Nevertheless, this needs to stop. 

She shouldn’t let herself feel attached to them any more than she already has.

It’s a dream, I have no control over it, she thinks to herself as she returns to her feet. Staring into her reflection in the mirror, she promises that she’ll keep them separate, her reality and her dreams, the way they are meant to be.

“Yeah,” she swallows. “Yeah, I’ll do just that.”  ***

Last night, she made that promise.

Today, she betrays herself as soon as the morning sun flows past her window to bathe her skin in a golden shower, warming her bed and reminding her that—

Oh no, I have to see Yuuta today.

It’s the first time she has felt that way. Her fear of acting awkwardly in front of him over something as silly as a dream prevails over her usual excitement of meeting him, and ugh, she hates it.

As her brain is in the middle of registering that her boyfriend has woken up earlier than her for his morning run, her phone screen flashes, notifying her that a text has arrived. Her stomach churns the moment her eyes land on his name. With her heart beating faster than usual, she clicks it open, finding a wall of text written most formally with perfect punctuation and zero cases of childish emojis. 

Good morning. I hope you slept well. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you this early, but I want to remind you to bring an umbrella today, just in case. The weather forecast said there’s a 60% chance of rain today. I just thought you should know. 

- Yuuta Okkotsu

God, she almost laughs. Before she knows it, she’s already smiling at the thought of him again. Thank you for the gentle reminder, Secretary Okkotsu, she types her jest with her thumbs. Please remind me of my upcoming meeting at 10 a.m. I need to have a thorough discussion with a colleague of mine on how to exchange casual texts with a friend. The first step is called Dude, Why So Formal? Chill, It’s Just Me. She presses send.

Not a minute later, another text arrives.

I’m sorry, he says, followed by excessive crying emojis, but we’re still on for today’s plans, right?

Only if you behave like a normal human being, she bites back her smile.

Okay, I promise, he replies. Be safe on your way. Again, don’t forget your umbrella. 

Yes, Mom. Though she adds an eye-rolling emoji, nothing but a smile is written on her face.

Despite her expecting their chat to end there, her screen brightens with another one: See you later, Dude 😏

A chortle bursts out of her before she quickly types back, never mind, Yuu. It doesn’t suit you.

Eh? She can almost hear his tone in her ear. But I’m saying what you wanted me to say, he says, followed by a pleading face emoji.

Well, yeah, she snorts, but I can’t imagine you saying that. 

Then, what should I say, he whines, emphasized by a string of highly unnecessary crying faces.

As nonsensical and as unimportant as it is, their texting continues longer than anything they’ve exchanged before. Giggles fill the quietude of her bedroom with every chat sent and received. Yuuta, unbeknownst to him, has washed her anxiousness away—despite him beingthe one who caused it, also unknowingly. She wishes things could go on like this forever. Easy, fun, casual. And she can make it come true if she tries. She just needs to stay focused on her reality. That’s all she has to do.

Just stay focused. ***

It’s frightening how the kiss she shared with Yuuta in the dream bore more details than the one she had with Satoru. She could blame it on time—after all, Yuuta’s ’kiss’ had happened less than 24 hours ago, while her first time with Satoru had happened a little after they had started dating six years prior. Even so, she knew the truth: our minds do not remember days; we remember moments. And that’s why, even if six years passed by from now, she would still remember everything just as it was yesterday—the tension she felt in the room when Yuuta saw her walking out in the kimono he’d chosen for her, the way he introduced her to his colleagues with the brightest, proudest smile she’d ever seen worn on his face; his dream, their conversation, his confession and… His lips. How soft and warm and wonderful they were, how innocent their first kiss was, and how obscene the rest of them were. Everything became a moment beautiful enough to withstand the cruel passing of time.

Her mind drifts toward her dream again, which slowly morphs into a fantasy of her. I wonder what happened after that, she muses to herself, her eyes turning vacant as they linger on the same passage she’s been staring at for the past five minutes. 

What… happened after he took me home? Did he kiss me again? 

Did he…

Her gaze travels up, stretching past her novel to the man sitting before her. 

….spend the night..?

She gulps, trying to think past the harsh pounding of her heart. Yuuta is too immersed in the book he’s reading between his hands to notice her. It’s an unusual sight if she thinks about it, remembering how their eyes usually meet within seconds since he often glances back at her as well. She takes the chance, using this rare opportunity to marvel at him longer.

His hair is falling over his eyes. That’s… pretty.

Oh, he tucks it behind his ear. God, I love it when he does that. He did that often, too, in the dream, didn’t he? Is it one of his habits? She’s in a trance, her mind rambling on its own. I wonder what… else he does that’s similar to the version of him in my dream..? 

Her hazy gaze then drops to his lips.

Does he… kiss the same way?

Yuuta’s sapphire blue eyes suddenly flicker towards her, and she freezes, face aflame. She promptly drags her stare back to her book, flipping over a page—doing anything that keeps her busy. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, closing his book to give her undivided attention—to her horror. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies with a small laugh. It sounds so strained; she hates it. And she hates herself for the unstoppable train of thoughts that’s been passing through her mind today. “It’s, uhh, I was just wondering if we could get something to eat after this.”

“Yes, of course, I’d love to.”

“What do you want to have?”

“Anything you want,” he answers with a smile, just like always. 

“Okay.”

When silence sets in, their tension rises, and so does his curiosity. “Is… that why you were staring at me so much? Trying to figure out what I wanted to eat?”

Fuck. She casts away her gaze. “I wasn’t staring.” But she grows self-conscious under his stare, and he notices it. 

He approaches her a little differently, being gentler with her, more than he has been. “I can tell there’s something going on in your mind.” He places his book down on the table, not planning to pick it up anytime soon, telling her indirectly that he’s here for her, and her only. “I’m here if you want to talk. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Not this one, no, she answers internally, but there’s a piece of her that wishes to take on his offer, the same piece that’s been dying to tell someone about this. Maybe if I’m careful about it, I can… “Have you, umm… Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that you could remember every detail even when you’re awake?”

The word yes seems to fleet across his face, though it may have been something she imagined as his lips only shape the words, “What kind of dreams? Nightmares?” 

“No, nothing scary like that, it’s…” She struggles to find the words. “I don’t know, like a weird dream where you just do something normal, but it feels so real. Like, instead of dreaming, it’s more as if you were… walking through a memory.”

His body stills, but within a blink of an eye, he returns to his usual composure. “Your memory?”

Yes, her heart answers to her own surprise. “No,” she says, echoing what her mind tells her. “Someone else’s memory. It felt like I was trapped inside a body—a body that looked just like mine. I heard myself talking about things that I wasn’t aware of, but I felt all her emotions enough to feel like it was me—a different version of me. What makes me feel weird is that the whole time it happened, I was conscious that I was inside a dream. Usually, when you’re in a dream, you can’t tell that it’s a dream because everything looks real, right? My case is the opposite. Whenever I’m in my dream, I’m aware that it’s not real. But when I wake up, I feel like… the dream isn’t just a dream. I didn’t recognize where I was most of the time, but I had some dreams where I was spending my time in the library—this library. The place I was in looked so much like this,” she gestures to her surroundings. “Even down to the little details. I want to say that maybe my mind was just projecting it, but… I don’t know, it just feels weird.”

Yuuta appears to be in deep rumination, but if anything crosses his mind, he doesn’t let it show on his face. “Were you alone in those dreams?”

“Huh?”

“Were you alone, or were you with… someone else? Someone you knew?”

She stops. Returning her eyes to him, she reads what lies between the lines of his features. He seems… hopeful, as if he was expecting, or rather, praying, for her answer to come in the shape of his name. She curls her fingers, wishing she could sound even a little convincing when she says, “There were... people, yes. But I didn’t recognize any of them. They were just… faces.” 

His eyes widen, but instead of hope, she witnesses pain. “I see…” He averts his gaze, his expression no longer readable. 

“Yuuta..?”

“Well, dreams can be strange sometimes,” he attempts to comfort her, the cheerfulness in his tone sounding a bit over the top. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. I once dreamt about my cat turning into a lion and feeding me some grapes.” He forces out a chuckle. “But dreams are just dreams, right? They’re not real.”

She frowns, confused. There’s something concerningly off about him, she just can’t tell what it is. “You’ve never had that kind of dream before?”

“No,” he smiles. “I don’t think I have.”

The curve of his lips never reaches his eyes. ***

Next Chapter

[shalfeis]

I really like your hsr character as a cat can you do the other way around?

Like reader as their cat 👀?

cat!reader x astral express

possible ooc

The Astral Express often travels to a variety of places and planets, and it's no secret that the crew finds interesting curiosities, things, and so on from time to time. Or the residents themselves bring unusual items as a thank you.

Actually, this time you and the other crew members helped one merchant, and he showered you with thanks and gave you a whole box of various cool things.

Some were very ordinary and nondescript, others were a little more interesting. But what caught your attention the most was an amulet with a blue gemstone. Surprisingly, it perfectly matched your image, as if it was originally made especially for you.

You calmly walked with him all day and at some point began to feel strange. The last thing you remember is going to your room. You woke up on the floor, fumbling with your paws and meowing, instead of talking normally.

What happened next?

March 7 was the first to discover that you were missing. Although, like, she was just walking towards you, as you had agreed to spend the night, and found you. At first she didn't understand where the cat was coming from on board the train, but from your desperate attempts to explain and reactions, she guessed what was what.

She thinks you're charming. She didn't stop chirping about how cute you were and took a whole bunch of photos non-stop. You're afraid that the camera might run out of memory. And when she heard you meowing and purring softly from her caresses, that's it, March grabbed the blow. It's too charming.

Caelus didn't help either. He flew into March's room, saying something about trash and a recently released game along the way, and fell silent when he saw you. After a moment of hesitation, he joined March. Caelus wouldn't be Caelus if he didn't tease you and act like you're really a cat instead of a human in a cat's body.

Of course, it was fun with these two, but this situation started to bother you. I would like to get my original body back. But you couldn't not take advantage of your situation. So while March and Caelus were distracted by an argument about some nonsense, you slipped through the door and headed for the only sane person on the express.

To whom? That's right, to Dan Heng. Since Himeko and Welt were away because they were away on business, you could only count on him.

You prayed to find him in the archive, and fortunately, the eons heard you. He was sorting through the data when you snuck into his room. You gently touched his hand, and he was surprised to find a cat in his room.

- Hmm? Hmm, I don't remember that we took animals on an express train - Dany picked you up and began to examine you.

It didn't take him long to put two and two together and realize that you were in front of him.

Before he could come up with a plan of action, Caelus and March 7 came to him with a very guilty look, crying that they had lost you. However, they quickly calmed down when they saw you in Dan Heng's arms.

- Y/n, that's not fair! We almost had a heart attack! - Caelus looked offended and relieved at the same time.

- Exactly! You need to warn us before you go anywhere in this state! - March was indignant, although she gradually calmed down that you were okay.

You, as is typical of a cat, turned away from them, wagging your tail. I also made myself more comfortable at Dan Heng's. The three of you started a playful altercation, which caused the archivist to smile slightly. He was definitely enjoying this situation.

After calming down, they began to discuss what to do. Having made the most reasonable decision, Dan Heng contacted that merchant and began to ask about this amulet. As it turned out, he did not think that there was still energy in the amulet, so he gave it as a gift. Fortunately, the amulet's effect doesn't last longer than a day, so all you have to do is wait.

Although, sitting back and doing nothing is too boring, isn't it? That's what you thought, and you decided to have a pajama party in Dan Heng's room (not that he was against it). After a few hours, you were completely exhausted and fell asleep.

Upon returning to the train, Himeko and Welt found the four of you sleeping with your arms around each other. They giggled and decided not to wake you up, quietly going to another place to discuss a recent trip.

a/n: I thought it would be a bit boring to write as reader is a cat of the characters, as I did before, only the other way around, so this came out.

[kcdarchives]

so i've been doing some thinking on the opening section of kcd2 and hans. sorry huuuuuge analysis text post incoming

thinking soooooo much about hans dragging a delirious and distraught henry through the woods at night and trying his best to reassure him. like, henry is probably not carrying a ton of his own weight while he's walking here, probably made even worse with him looking around and reacting wildly to the various hallucinations he's seeing around. and despite this, hans with all his strength manages to drag henry to bozhena's hut, and then overcomes some incredible odds to beat a man wielding a sword with just his fists. not only would this be really hard in actual real life, if you have played the game, you know beating a guy with a sword with only your fists and no armor is also like. an incredible feat. it's insane. (i do remember hans saying something about the guy taking a bad fall and hitting his head or something like that, which helped, but STILL) hans did something which, as a player, I think is almost impossible and he did it to save henry. but he still ends up really injured, which is to be expected in that kind of scenario because that's what would happen to literally anyone including henry. but hans is bedridden with fever, and he eventually wakes up just to find that once again, henry has saved the day by getting the stuff for his medicine and fending off some more of those outlaws that attacked their camp. hans expended so much energy and effort trying to save henry and he DID, but for him, it seems like at the end of the day, henry ended up having to clean up after the mess he made. i think this is a feeling hans really starts incubating at this moment.

when he is rejected at the gates of trosky and all his noble manners and bearing get him nothing but a bucket of shit splashed onto his head, this is when he really starts to mentally freak out. they came here for ONE thing and they can't do it. there's no solution in sight.

when they go down to the tavern, my little headcanon is that part of the reason hans refused to help carry sacks is because he was still sore from hauling henry's heavy ass through the forest and also from being cut up by a sword but he has too much pride to admit this to henry, especially since henry seems to have no issue with it even after receiving a recent arrow to his shoulder/back. henry's working to bail them out of another mess with the tavern tab and hans can't even contribute. i think leaning on his status as noble is a good excuse, and also a great way of convincing himself, especially after the rejection at the gates of trosky. hans probably feels like he doesn't really have much going for him, besides his status as a noble. he doesn't even have control over his own inheritance right now, it's in the care of his guardian, hanush. when he's lecturing henry on the divine order, he's also trying to remind himself of his own status and worth. for us as henry and the player, it's frustrating. "why can't this guy just carry some sacks like the rest of us?" but for hans, he NEEDS to cling to this distinction in this moment. if he's not a noble, if he's just like everyone else, then does he really have anything? if he's too sore to actually help carry the sacks, then he really IS useless. he insists on henry treating him like a noble, because he knows literally NO ONE else around him will. and his title as a noble is worthless if no one actually treats him like a noble. and henry, eventually, relents because he's henry and perhaps can sense something in hans during this discussion.

later on, we can see that it's a few things pushing hans over the edge when he gets into the fight with that guy. the argument really starts with the guy saying "its those guys' own fault that they got killed for camping out in the open by the pond" because I just KNOW that was like a stab in the heart for hans. these were guys he knew for years and trusted to lead them, and the idea that it was his decision that got them all killed must eat him up inside. it's a kneejerk reaction to argue back, only for the guy to follow up with doubting his identity. having his status doubted not only hurts his pride, but its especially because it's that lack of belief in his identity that caused them to be turned away at the gates of trosky. when the guy tauntingly parrots his title back at him, it's just another reminder of the mockery at trosky castle, of his noble status being worthless in this moment when no on believes him. that's when he throws the first punch. and once again, henry ends up getting dragged into it when the brawl breaks out.

when the two of them land in the stocks, hans' frustration is through the roof. when he and henry fight, hans is upset that henry joined in the fight not because he felt like henry overreacted or that its really henry's fault somehow, but because it feels like henry was bailing him out of yet another mess. hans is wrestling with the idea that it's his own fault that they're in this situation. not just the fight at the tavern, but also the attack by the outlaws, and maybe even the rejection of the gates at trosky. was he lacking in some way? if he had conducted himself differently, said something else, would the guards have believed him? hans pushes henry away not because he truly feels like its henry's fault, but because he feels like he needs time away from him. hans needs to prove to himself that he's capable, that he doesn't need henry to achieve something and that he's not a failure. he's literally been sent on this task by hanush, and whether it's a test by his uncle or a sign of trust, he doesn't want to fail. and from a player standpoint and henry's as well, when you don't really understand what's going through hans' mind as he spits unwarranted vitriol in a moment of frustration, it truly does feel like "hey, at least some of this IS his fault? he's yelling at me for helping out in a fight HE started?" when even the player/henry feels this way, there's no doubt that hans is the person struggling the most with guilt and anger directed at himself.

when he leaves, you accept it. if he's going to be so stubborn and emotional for reasons that henry can't understand BECAUSE he doesn't bear the same expectations and pressure of status that hans is under, then fine. there's a little bit of a feeling of relief in that moment when henry separates from hans. hans was putting himself under a LOT of pressure, and in turn, a lot of that pressure was spilling over to henry as well. of course henry is still going to do the task they set out to do, but there's a palpable feeling of FREEDOM when you separate from hans here, because you're no longer chained under the expectations and restrictions of a noble's status that hans is constantly tied down by, even if some of it is self-imposed by his own need to prove himself as a worthy noble.

if henry runs into hans at his camp before the semine wedding, you can see hans in his element. he's much happier and more confident, feeling like he's found some measure of success here. he's hunting, something he's GOOD at, something special he's allowed to do because of his noble status (even if no one in this region recognizes it). i love that when he speaks, it's obvious that he had no intention of truly leaving henry behind. if hans succeeded in getting into the wedding and delivering his message, he would have found henry again, and proudly announced his accomplishments to him.

i think the things that make henry and hans' relationship so compelling is the complexity that arises from this constant wrestling with status and expectation. the main driver of the plot in kcd2 is hans, and his desire to prove himself. to his uncle, to henry, and maybe most of all, to himself. he's constantly pushing himself, and he's met with hardship at every turn, but he has both an impressive amount of perseverance (and perhaps also an incredible stubborn streak). henry, loyal and true, helps him throughout all of this. yes, henry is constantly getting hans out of messes, and hans has realized this early on. he struggles with it so much, not just because it makes him feel helpless or useless, but because he's stuck in a constant cycle of trying to prove himself, only to face some sort of setback where henry once again comes to his rescue. when hans is told that he's getting married, he doesn't raise as much of a fuss as we know he's capable of, because it's something he knows he needs to accept if he truly wants to meet the expectation of both his uncle and the other nobles around him. as a noble, an identity we know he places a lot of value it, this is the kind of thing they do. but it's still something he doesn't feel good about. whatever feelings he may have for henry aside, the small amount of freedom he previously had is getting restricted even further by this social contract of marriage. so much of hans character struggle is wanting to prove himself as a worthy noble, yet desiring the sort of freedom that he sees henry enjoying and wishing he could have both.

meanwhile, henry is hugely important in his life not just because he helps him out all the time, but because Henry doesn't have the same kinds of expectations and ideas about him that everyone else does. Henry, growing up as a peasant in a village and mostly having little contact with nobles up until the events of kcd1, really only knows the broad general knowledge about nobles that most other people do. with hans, someone he's grown to spend a lot of time with and seen many of his best and worst moments, he treats hans simply as the person as he is, first and foremost. he respects hans as a noble because he knows hans cares a lot about it but he doesn't let that create a sense of distance between them. henry's always very good about referring to him has sir hans and lord capon when talking to other people, but he most often just addresses him as "hans" when speaking to him. hans has never had someone like this around his own age, surrounded by servants and fellow nobles who were very cognizant of his noble status. henry, not a noble himself, doesn't place these heavy or strict expectations on hans, and he develops a caring and genuine relationship with him with little regard for their difference in status. i think a huge part of their relationship development lies in hans growing to accept henry's help as just being something that's a result of their strong relationship, and not an indicator of his own personal failings. henry is an anchor for him and often (if the player chooses to) touts hans' positive traits and capability, reassuring hans of his own worth.

in the romance culmination scene, hans' struggle with not being able to help henry is made more complex by the fact that the reason he can't help is BECAUSE he's a noble. when you recall hans' early refusal to carry sacks with his nobility as an excuse, you can really see the development of their relationship and hans' understanding of his own status as a noble as not only a privilege but a restriction.

when henry and hans talk after the siege of suchdol, it's really interesting to see this sort of...acceptance of everything. hans' status is something the two of them have always been aware of, but they developed a relationship regardless. a wedding is completely in line with what is expected of hans as a noble, so it's not unexpected, nor would it invalidate the bond hans and henry have built up over the course of the two games.

for hans, henry is a person with whom he can be honest, show vulnerability, and find moments of freedom with when he's finding he increasingly has less and less. and for henry, hans is someone who lets him have access to a world that would normally be untouchable for him. yes, he's a noble's bastard son, but it's his association with hans that's let him be in all these places where he normally would never be allowed to go, like trosky castle, noble meetings, wartime discussions. he's treated with so much more authority than he would usually have as a peasant not just because he's capable, but because hans is there to vouch for him (almost) every step of the way. hans has helped to give henry real power to avenge his village and family by taking henry with him, but (and i could be wrong, i only played kcd2) i can't think of a single time when hans has ever held this over henry's head. and while he might jokingly complain about henry talking about it all the time (when they do a tiny bit of catch-up exposition during the opening pond camp conversation), hans has only shown unconditional support for henry during the moments when it seriously comes up. hans takes henry's loss seriously, even if it's not something he can personally relate to with his relatively cushy noble upbringing and not having lost anyone in his life who he was close to in the way henry was with his parents.

anyways this sort of turned into an essay when i did not intend it to be, but anyways i hope this conveys why i find hans to be such an interesting and compelling character and why i find his relationship with henry to be so interesting.

[cheshireliam]

"Once More, An Evil From Which You Can't Return" Story Event: Chapter 2

Roger Barel & Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

This event story works in such a way that Chapter 1 is for Suitor A and Chapter 2 is for Suitor B, before splitting into two endings.

⇦ Chapter 1

━━━━

Thanks to Roger taking me outside, my energy and appetite were back.

I continued with my walks around Crown’s castle while rereading the contents of my notebook, determined to find my lost memories.

(Right! I should go to the palace too.)

Thinking there could be something there that would help me with my memories, I headed in the direction of the royal palace—.

…

Ring: … 

(Is that…?)

Walking down the hallway toward me was Ring, a member of Vogel and a guest from Germany. 

(I heard he'll be staying here in the palace for a few months… I wonder if we had any interactions before I lost my memories.) 

My only memory of him was the welcome banquet held on the day Vogel arrived in England. 

Kate: Good afternoon, Mr Ring. 

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at my greeting, looking sympathetic. It seemed he was aware of my situation.

Ring: … Ah, right. You lost your memories, so you’re back to addressing me that way.

Ring: You used to just call me “Ring”.

Kate: R-Ring… 

I muttered under my breath the unfamiliar way of addressing him, and suddenly felt an intense stare piercing right through me. 

I looked up to see Ring staring at me with a facial expression so serious it almost scared me.

Ring: …

Kate: Uhh… something wrong? 

Ring: …

He suddenly took a deep breath and looked at me again; this time, it felt more like he was glaring at me.

Ring: Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.

Ring: The truth is… I’m… I’m your l-lo-lo-lov…

Kate: Lo…?

Ring: … Your lover! 

Kate: What!? 

Ring: I’m your lover. 

Ring repeated to further emphasise his point.

Kate: You’re my… lover… 

Kate: … 

Kate: —... I’m really sorry, I don’t remember anything about it at all! 

Ring: Huh…?

He froze. 

Ring: T-this wasn’t part of the plan…

Kate: Did you say something?

Ring: Ah… no, it’s nothing. I see, the shock wasn’t enough to trigger your lost memories. 

Ring: In that case, to create an even bigger shock…

(Shock?) 

Ring: Alright, let’s go on a date.

Kate: A d-date? 

Ring: There might be something that'd trigger your memories if we go on a date… or do you not want to? 

It made sense that thinking happy thoughts with my lover would be more likely to help bring back any lost memories than anything else.

Kate: I do want to! Please show me the special places and things in our relationship. 

Ring: Special places!? 

Kate: Like where we went on our first date, or where he had our first kiss, you know?

Ring: We… uhh… haven’t kissed yet… 

(I guess that means we've only started dating very recently, right?) 

…

And so, Ring and I went out on a date. 

Ring: By the way, Robin…

Kate: Robin…? Ring, you’re my lover, right?

Ring: Y-yeah. Why do you ask? 

Kate: I was just thinking, should we be on a first-name basis if we’re a couple? 

Ring: Ah, y-yeah… that’s… true. 

Ring awkwardly averted his gaze and took a deep breath…

Ring: … Kate…

He called my name with a trembling voice.

Ring: Let’s go visit our special place, K-Kate… 

(Something about Ring’s behaviour feels… weird.)

He was undeniably awkward— to the point where I was starting to doubt if we were really a couple.

(But I can tell Ring’s genuinely trying to help me regain my memories…)

(So I’ll keep quiet about it for now and spend a little more time with him.) 

…

The next place Ring brought me to was—

Ring: This is our special place. 

People hurried around hauling their luggage while a steam locomotive stopped in the background, trailing white smoke.

Some were setting off their respective journeys, others had just arrived from distant lands.

Some bid their tearful goodbyes, while others reunited with their loved ones.

It was a crossroad of various life events — the National Station of London City, Paddington Station. 

Kate: What kind of memories do we have of this place, Ring? 

Ring: Uhh…

He froze, his mouth hanging open.

Ring: … Oh, well… we… uhh—

Kate: ?

Ring: There is where we… hugged for the first time.

(The place we first hugged…)

I muttered to myself while scanning my surroundings. But no matter how many times I looked around, I couldn't seem to recall any memories about it. 

(If only I could visualise the moment more clearly… oh!) 

Kate: Maybe reenacting it will make me remember. Help me out, Ring! 

Ring: W-what!? 

Kate: Please? I think repeating the same act might trigger my memories. 

Ring: … 

Ring lowered his bright red face and appeared deep in thought. 

And then,— 

Ring: … Fine.

Kate: Thank you! 

Eager to recreate the supposed memory, I stepped in front of Ring and spread my arms wide. 

Kate: Should my arms go around your back? Or rest on your chest? 

Ring: B-both are fine.  

(Did he say both? Or did I mishear him?)

Unsure where to place my hands, I wrapped my right hand around his back and my left hand on his chest. 

Ring: … 

(Ring’s heartbeat…) 

His heart was beating faster than usual.

(His heart is racing… does this mean he truly has feelings for me, his lover?) 

[yesimwriting]

Do you think best friend!felix would kiss the reader “for fun” but really…

hm. good question bc i really had to think about this bc if anyone can get away with platonically kissing someone it's 110% felix, and it does feel in character

i was on the fence until i remembered that the first (and only) guy i dated started off as a really good friend and before dating we'd kiss at parties and laugh it off the next day bc of the alcohol/atmosphere so it's very much realistic bc i did not notice for an entire semester😭

so let's discuss!!

felix would definitely hide behind the "for fun" defense by being as casual as possible with it. while out partying/drinking, he'd kiss reader so briefly the reader can barely register what's happening until it's happened. also this is mainly done after a particularly good/happy moment,, maybe after you two take a shot together, with that touch of adrenaline and the sting of alcohol still lingering there. would definitely do this if he felt jealous/saw someone checking out reader.

now, if we're talking actual, more intentional kisses that are harder to explain away....i think these are a definitely a lot rarer, but for sure have happened.

still uses the "for fun" argument if it's a party thing, like if everyone's kissing someone (like a NYE kiss) or it's bc of some party game, then he's lingering/being touchier than usual bc he can get away with it.

also not to take this a step further and make it even more difficult to justify, but i think there's a level of intimacy to it bc felix is so touchy/open with everyone, that eventually the only way to be particularly close to someone is to do more.

so,, and this is definitely the rarest type of kiss ( like it's happened at most 2-3 times) after drinking/smoking together, felix will kiss reader when they're completely alone, with no one to blame or goad you on or interrupt. these are slow and heavy. concentrated.

there's always an emotional component,, maybe reader had been poorly trying to hide their mood because felix had been a little too into being admired recently. or maybe felix feels left out about something and needs to find a way to feel even closer to reader.

after felix is definitely being more open than he usual is, telling you things like "i trust you more than i've ever trusted anyone, you know that right?" and "it's just you and me."

the first time this happened is the first time reader has a oh my god?? do i actually have a thing for felix? moment,, and after felix finally falls asleep, reader freaks out bc what if what happened ruined your friendship?

but then the next morning comes and it's like nothing happened, he doesn't even do that guy thing where they ignore you the next day, it's literally like nothing out of the ordinary happened and out of instinct, reader follows felix's lead

then reader convinces themselves that it's not that weird by telling themselves that felix has probably at least kissed most of the people that are around him for long enough which is kind of true and you know several people that he still hangs out with that he hooks up with on and off,,

so, with the amount of time you spend together,, it isn't strange. not when you know felix the way reader does.

when taylor wrote “and you kiss me in a way that’s going to screw me up forever” it was for felix

----

this might be a little much,, but i can see it for felix tbh 😭

anyways, if anyone's interested in a drabble based on any part of this, lmk!!

[kathlare]

unfinished business

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie finds herself confiding in Gracie Abrams backstage about an unexpected encounter with Lando Norris at a recent party.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

August 7th, 2024 - Los Angeles, CA

Amelie sat on the leather couch in Gracie Abrams’ dressing room, the lights from the vanity mirror casting a soft glow on her features. She looked exhausted but content, having just finished a grueling leg of her Emails I Can't Send tour in Asia. It felt surreal to be back in Los Angeles, where the bustling energy of the city mixed with the excitement of Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour. Amelie was opening for Taylor later this month in Mexico, but for now, she had a bit of time to herself before the madness started again.

Gracie sat beside her, adjusting her stage outfit in front of the mirror. Gracie had been kind enough to let Amelie hang out in her dressing room before her own set, and it was a relief for Amelie to finally have someone to talk to.

—So, I ran into Lando again,— Amelie muttered, her voice laced with frustration.

Gracie’s head snapped up from the mirror, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. She already knew about Lando—the history between them was no secret. From their days playing video games in 2020, to their short but intense relationship in 2021, Gracie had heard it all. She knew how much Amelie tried to move on, but no matter how hard she tried, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of her mind.

—No way, where?!— Gracie leaned in, her eyes wide with excitement. —Spill, I need details.—

Amelie took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. —It was at Penelope's birthday party in Monaco, just a couple of weeks ago. Honestly, I didn’t even know if I was ready to see him again, but there he was.— She paused, her frustration bubbling to the surface. —And he looked... he looked so damn good. Like, it’s not even fair. How does he do it?—

Gracie smirked, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as she turned fully to face Amelie. —Okay, but did he say anything? Or was it one of those 'awkward glance across the room while the sexual tension suffocates everyone else' kind of moments?—

Amelie let out a dry laugh, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. —Oh, he said something, all right. He came over to say hi like nothing had ever happened between us, all casual and charming. He even asked how I’ve been, like he genuinely gave a shit.— She groaned, covering her face with her hands for a moment before looking at Gracie again. —And then, as if the universe wanted to mess with me even more, he was just... nice. He didn’t try to flirt or make things weird. He was just... Lando.—

Gracie leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. —And that’s what gets to you, isn’t it? That he can just be so fucking effortless while you’re sitting here overthinking everything. Classic guy move.—

—Exactly!— Amelie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. —It’s like, how dare you show up looking like that and being all calm and composed when we have so much... history. I was ready to ignore him all night, you know? I had a plan. But then he had to go and smile at me, and suddenly I couldn’t even remember why I was mad in the first place.—

Gracie gave her a sympathetic smile, scooting closer to Amelie on the couch. —It’s because you’re not really over him. And before you start with the 'I don’t love him anymore' speech, I get it. You don’t have to be in love with someone to still feel... something. Especially when things ended the way they did.—

Amelie sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. —I don’t even know if it’s him I miss, or just... what we had. It was so easy with him at first. He made me laugh when I thought I’d never feel happy again. And for a while, it felt like he was the only person who really saw me, you know? Not Amelie the actress or the singer. Just me.—

Gracie reached out and squeezed Amelie’s hand. —I get that. But if he made you feel that way, why did it go so wrong? What’s stopping you from... trying again?—

Amelie hesitated, biting her lip as she considered the question. —Because he hurt me, Gracie. He made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like my career and my life were too much for him to handle. And I know I wasn’t perfect either—I was busy, distracted, and maybe not as present as I should’ve been. But he started talking to someone else while we were still figuring things out, and that broke me. I don’t think I’ve forgiven him for that.—

Gracie’s face softened, her usual playful demeanor replaced with genuine concern. —That’s valid, Am. What he did was shitty, and you’re allowed to still be angry about it. But... do you think he regrets it? Do you think he’s changed?—

Amelie shrugged, picking at the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. —I don’t know. Maybe. He seemed different at the party, like he’s grown up a bit. But I’m scared, Gracie. What if I let him back in, and he does it again? Or worse, what if I’m just some lingering crush he can’t let go of, and it doesn’t mean as much to him as it does to me?—

Gracie leaned back, crossing her arms as she thought. —You’re overthinking it. But honestly, if you still feel this strongly about him—even after everything—you owe it to yourself to figure out what that means. Whether that’s telling him how you feel or deciding to truly let it go, you can’t keep living in this limbo. It’s not fair to you, and it’s definitely not fair to whoever comes next in your life.—

Amelie nodded slowly, her fingers drumming against her knee. —I just... I don’t want to look weak, you know? Like, if I even hint at wanting him back, he’ll think he has all the power. And I can’t be that girl, Gracie. Not again.—

Gracie gave her a firm look. —Wanting someone back doesn’t make you weak, Ames. It makes you human. But if you’re going to do it, you have to do it on your terms. You set the boundaries, you call the shots. And if he’s serious about you, he’ll respect that. If not, then fuck him. You’ll know you tried.—

Amelie let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. —I hate that you’re making sense right now. It’s so annoying.—

Gracie grinned, leaning over to bump her shoulder against Amelie’s. —That’s what I’m here for. To annoy you with good advice and remind you that you’re a badass who deserves someone who’s all in. Whether that’s Lando or not, only you can decide.—

The room fell silent for a moment, the distant hum of the concert venue filling the space. Amelie stared at the floor, her mind racing with memories and emotions she thought she’d buried long ago.

—Do you think he still cares?— she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Gracie hesitated before answering, her voice gentle. —I think... if he looked at you the way you’re describing, then yeah. He cares. But the real question is, does he care enough to make it right?—

Amelie didn’t respond, her thoughts too tangled to put into words. All she knew was that seeing Lando again had stirred something in her, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront.

But maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop running from it.