#and it’s always made me sad so having a nickname here where I feel like I have a little community is so special !!

[reverie-starlight]

“rev” is nowhere near my actual name but it genuinely has to be my favourite nickname/online name I’ve ever had like it’s so cute and I get so happy when people use it idk 😭

[little-diable]

Forever Mine – Harvey Specter (smut)

Y'all voted on reading my Harvey stuff, so here we go! I am so in love with this man, it's insane. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Harvey and the reader are best friends, but on the night when she asks him to pick her up from yet another horrible date, neither of them manages to hide their feelings any longer.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, jealousy, possessiveness, lots of feelings, friends to lovers

Pairing: Harvey Specter x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“Harvey?” Her voice rang in his ear, drawing his tired eyes towards the clock on his nightstand. It was far past midnight, and even though it wasn’t unusual for Harvey to be awake late into the night, it had been one of those nights where he had passed out the second he had found shelter in his bed, hours ago. 

“(Y/n)? What’s going on?” It took her a moment to reply, to let go of a sigh before finding her voice to answer her best friend’s question. 

“Could you pick me up from somewhere?” Harvey had already set into motion to put on his clothes with the phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. Heavy breaths left her, filled with a sadness that made his heart clench in his chest. 

“What happened, baby?” The nickname left him all too easily, even though it was something he hadn’t called his best friend in years. The sharp intake of air he heard urged him on to move even quicker to find his way out of his apartment.

“Do you remember the bar we went to last month with Mike?” Harvey gripped his car keys tighter, clenching them in his fist. A hum left him as he stepped out of the elevator, letting his shoes meet the cold ground while jogging towards his car. 

“I’m waiting there.” And without another word, (y/n) had ended the call. 

……

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, with her coat tightly wrapped around her frame, and her hands buried in the pockets of said coat. It had been a stupid idea, a fucking stupid idea, she shouldn’t have listened to her friends and how they had urged her to go on that date to finally get over her best friend – Harvey fucking Specter. 

It had been an awful date, nothing but a waste of her time, but deep down she had hoped it’d finally manage to take her mind off her best friend, the man (y/n) longed for with every rising of the sun. The man who’d never be hers. The man who looked at her with a love only family members shared, and nothing more. 

A cry wanted to break out of (y/n) at the familiar pain in her chest, squeezing her heart with its all too familiar grasp. Shaky breaths left her as she saw his car approach, needing to prepare herself for an uncomfortable conversation where Harvey would scold her for meeting up with a man like this, while being all too oblivious about her reasons for that date. 

“Thank you for picking me up.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before properly sinking into the comfortable leather seat. Harvey’s hand found its rest on her knee, and with his thumb running over the exposed parts of her skin, due to her dress, he began driving. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” (Y/n) could tell that he was driving her back to his place, taking the all too familiar route she could probably walk blindfolded. Her heart was racing in her chest as it whispered to her, begging (y/n) to finally tell Harvey about the emotional chaos growing deep inside of her, while her mind forced her to stay quiet, to not risk a friendship she couldn’t live without. 

“Just a horrible date, nothing special.” The hand resting on her knee stopped moving, frozen to the spot as his eyes flickered to meet hers. For a moment, an uncomfortable silence began to fill the car, it clung to her like a second layer of skin, crawling up its limbs like a parasite. Dates had always been a struggling topic between the two, uncomfortable conversations they both tried to avoid. 

“Do I know the guy?” His voice was husky, growing lower with every further word he spoke. His fingers no longer stroked her skin, they had a tight grasp on her knee as if he was making sure she wouldn’t leave his side, not daring to let go as if he was scared to be alone.

“No, the girls introduced me to him.” Nothing but a hum left Harvey as a reply, letting the sound buzz through (y/n). Only as they arrived at his apartment complex to park the car did they find their voices again, sharing a small “Thank you” while Harvey helped her out of the car and led her to the elevator, with his hand placed on her lower back and his jacket wrapped around her frame. 

“Why do you always go on dates with these men? By now we both know your friends don’t have the best taste.” The question hung in the air, it forced a shudder down her spine while her heart slowly began to win the upper hand to silence her mind. Harvey was intently staring down at her, while keeping close to (y/n) with his hand moving from her lower back to her waist. 

“Don’t ask me this, please, Harvey.” Sadness dripped from her voice, followed by something he couldn’t pinpoint. But something inside of Harvey began to shift, it was whispering to him as if he could tell that whatever he’d force out of her, would change the outcome of this very night, a turning point neither could run from.

“You know I’m not one to back down, sweetheart.” Her tongue kissed her teeth while (y/n) pondered over her choices. She was grateful for the few seconds of silence they were offered as they stepped out of the elevator and entered the apartment she knew like the back of her hand. 

“Talk to me, (y/n), what’s going on?” Harvey was towering over her, even as she kicked off her heels and shrugged out of his jacket to expose the dress he loved seeing on her. His hands held onto her to guide her towards the couch, and even as they sat down next to one another, his hands held contact with her body. 

“Harvey, please, don’t make me do this.” She could tell that whatever he was waiting for her to say was different to what she was about to confess. Harvey was too oblivious, he wouldn’t ever pick up on the love she fostered for him, a secret that would turn their friendship into something (y/n) would curse herself for. Uneasy waters that would swallow them both without giving them a chance to swim. 

“It can’t be that bad, sweetheart. Is there something I don’t know? Did somebody hurt you?” Her glassy eyes got lost in his. She allowed herself to study her handsome best friend for a moment before slowly rising to her feet, desperately searching the now growing distance between the. If she was about to lay this on him, she needed some space, enough room to prepare herself to walk out of his door any moment now. 

Harvey’s jaw muscles ticked, he was growing impatient, angry even – about something he had awfully mixed up. He would burn down the earth for (y/n), would hurt anybody who dared to come too close to her. And yet he still didn't know that he was causing her this pain, a biting sensation that made bile rise in her throat.

“You wouldn’t get it, Harvey. Let it go.” Her eyes found the city below their feet, allowing her to study the numerous lights filling the darkness, the high buildings growing nearby and far away. It was a beautiful sight, a sight that tried to calm her aching heart, though without any luck. She heard Harvey move, could watch in the reflection of his big windows how he rose to his feet and walked up to her. 

“Talk to me, baby.” His muscular front was pressed against back, and for a moment (y/n) allowed herself to imagine being held by him like a lover would cling to their significant other. A thought that guided her next movements as she slowly turned in his grasp to stare up at her handsome best friend. 

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) shifted her weight to press her lips against his. It was a quick kiss, a simple kiss, and yet it carried more meaning than any other kiss (y/n) had ever given. She felt him freeze at the touch, seemingly not expecting his best friend to cross that invisible line. 

“This is why I don’t want to talk about it with you, Harvey.” A tear dripped from her eye as the words rolled off her tongue. Harvey stared down at her with something so intense, (y/n) couldn’t help but peel herself out of his grasp, set on leaving his apartment and the man she had been in love with for years behind. 

“How dare you!” His angry words made her halt in her steps. Slowly, (y/n) turned back towards Harvey who wore an expression filled with hurt and anger. (Y/n) could only imagine how his opponents in court must feel whenever he directed his anger at them, forcing them to back down from any fight they couldn’t win – not against Harvey Specter.

“How dare you act as if I have no say in this. Have you ever wondered for just a second if I feel the same? If I was forced to carry the same heartbreak for years whenever you called me to pick you up from shitty dates with men who weren’t me?” Even though her heart began to race once again, begging (y/n) to realise what he had just confessed, her anger managed to guide her, letting her voice grow louder just like Harvey’s. 

“Then why didn’t you say something?” He stalked towards her, with eyes so fiery, (y/n) feared he’d burn her on the spot. Almost no space was left between them, with his chest pressed against hers to push her against the door, and his hand pressed to the spot next to her head. 

“Because I’d rather suffer from this heartbreak for years than risk losing you.” She got no time to reply as his lips came down on hers in a stormy kiss. (Y/n) instantly allowed her lips to move with his, letting their tongues tangle while her arms found their way around his neck. Moans rumbled through the both of them, sounds that rang in their ears like a song solemnly composed for this night only. Harvey’s hands found their way down her frame to pick her up without breaking the kiss, guiding them towards the kitchen where he placed her down on his kitchen island. 

“Promise I’ll take my time with you later, but fuck I need to be inside of you now.” Her excited chuckles left Harvey smirking as he shuffled her dress up to her waist, groaning at the sight of her drenched panties. She was mesmerised by the sight of Harvey lingering between her thighs, something (y/n) had only dared to dream of. 

“I bet your date thought he could have you like this tonight, spread out and ready to be fucked. But let me promise you something, sweetheart,” without breaking eye contact, Harvey ripped her panties apart to expose her aching heat to the colder temperatures now stroking her limbs. “No other man but me will ever get to see you like this again, from now on, you’re mine, you belong to me, and I will never share you.” 

“I only want to be yours, Harvey, like you will always be mine.” (Y/n) pulled him down for a kiss while he freed his cock from his dark trousers and reached for a condom. The seconds kept blurring by until Harvey finally pushed into her, letting his cock stretch her walls as his thumb circled her pulsing bundle.

Both moaned at the new sensation, having to adjust to something they had longed for all these years. With her back arched off the kitchen island, she let Harvey fuck her, letting their bodies meet with every thrust as if they were magnets finding together. A storm was rocking through them both, binding them together to forge another bond so strong, neither of them would ever be able to shake it off again.

Harvey’s name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, filling the apartment that would forever keep their deepest secrets. Both clung to the other as if they were scared that this was nothing but a dream, about to evaporate into a bitter nothingness as they’d be ripped from their sleep. 

Wandering hands kept searching the other’s closeness, clinging to the reminder that this was real, that this was not a trick of their brains but something they could forever cling to.

“I love you, fuck, I love you so goddamn much, (y/n).” Harvey’s moaned words left her heart somersaulting, forcing her upper body off the cold top of the kitchen island to meet his lips for a kiss. They were a tangled mess, and yet a mess so sweet, both were high on all the different sensations. 

“I love you too, Harvey.” Her walls fluttered around his cock as he met her swollen spot, pushing her closer to the edge. (Y/n) trembled beneath him, wordlessly begging his thumb to move faster, to circle her bundle with more pressure to push her closer towards her orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby, show me how pretty you look when you cum on my cock.” Harvey’s gritty voice gave her the needed push to cum beneath him. Her moans rang in his ears, filling every part of his body with an unfamiliar kind of pride he hadn't ever felt with another woman. His eyes didn’t stray from her pleasure-drunken features while fucking her through her high, a high he chased with ferocious thrusts.

Harvey came moments later with curses rumbling through him. She clung to him while his cock twitched inside of her, filling the condom with his release. Neither spoke a word as they stayed connected in the most intimate way, clinging to each other while the hazy fog of lust slowly began to lift. 

“Did this really just happen, Harvey?” Her whispered question left Harvey laughing. Slowly, he pulled out of her to toss away the condom before cupping (y/n)'s cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes studied her for a moment before pressing his forehead against hers to let go of a deep, relieved sigh. 

“It did, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me forever, sweetheart.”

[pitchsidestories]

treat you better II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2451

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, please enjoy. <3

warnings: toxic (ex-)partner, but with a happy ending.

You had been staring on your phone all evening, impatiently waiting to see your girlfriends number appear on the screen. But your phone stayed silent.

Subconsciously, you tapped on the photos icon on your home screen and started to scroll through pictures of you and her together.

Since you parted ways last summer when you moved to Barcelona and she joined Chelsea, you talked less and less. She said she was cool with it but you had the feeling that this lack of communication strained your relationship.

“Y/n?“, Ingrids voice disrupted your thoughts.

“Yes?“ You looked up, surprised about the fact that you were not the only one in the changing room after your late gym session.

The Norwegian sat down on the bench next to you: “Are you still waiting?“

You sighed and forced yourself to put your phone aside: “She promised to call me tonight…“

“You’ve been waiting for hours.“, Mapi reminded you from the other side of the room where she casually leaned against the lockers.

You remained silent. Somehow you felt very stupid in that situation.

Ingrid gently laid a hand on your knee. With slight concern in her voice, she asked: “Have you had dinner yet?“

“No…“, you admitted reluctantly.

With a smirk, Mapi folded her arms across her chest: “Let’s go get some then.“

“Wear something you love. We’ll pick you up later.“, Ingrid winked before taking her bag and leaving the changing room with her girlfriend.

You silently nodded to yourself. They really tricked you into having to go home instead of sitting on the hard bench for hours, waiting for that call.

You followed their instructions as soon as you returned to your apartment and slipped into lacy black top and your favourite suit. You were just in the process of doing your hair when the couple rang at your door.

“I’m ready.“, you called out to them while grabbing a black handbag and slipping on a pair of sneakers.

“Good, lets go.“, Mapi grinned as you joined them outside.

“You look stunning by the way.“, Ingrid complimented your outfit.

You beamed: “Thank you.“

“You both do.“, Mapi joined in, taking both you and Ingrid in.

“Ingrid and you always look so beautiful.“, you said. A lot of people on your team dressed well but you often found yourself in awe of what a gorgeous couple they were. And then you remembered something: “My girlfriend doesn’t like me in suits.“

Mapis smile turned immediately into a frown: “Why not?“

“She said it looks too gay.“, you relayed what your girlfriend had told you several times before.

You noticed Mapi and Ingrid sharing a concerned look.

“But…“, Ingrid began.

“What a weird thing to say!”, the Spanish defender commented outraged on both of their behalf’s.

Her Norwegian girlfriend nodded in silent agreement.

“It kind of is right?”, you bit your lip guiltily while you three took your seats at the table of the restaurant. It was way fancier than you expected. But just like the couple it had an elegant touch to it. The candlelight tinted your faces shine in a warm, soft glow.

“I only know that from people who don’t want other women to notice their girlfriends.”, Mapi admitted, sounding serious.

“Which is weird because no matter how you dress y/n, people will always notice you. You’re always gorgeous.”, the younger woman observed, looking deep into your eyes as she spoke.

These words coming from such a beautiful human herself made your cheeks turn pink. You were never happier for the dimly lit room, so it was hard to see the change of your face colour.

“Exactly, you’re our team Estrella for a reason.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard reminded you of the nickname you had in your team.

A sad smile appeared on her lips, remembering how you changed since your girlfriend has stepped into your life. The Barcelona girls were all a bit worried as your spark has lessened over the time.

“Although you lost a bit of your light.”, Mapi sighed.

“I didn’t loose my light.”, you protested weakly. Unsure if you really trusted your own words in the situation.

“Y/n, you deserve better.”, Ingrid replied, taking your hand into hers to squeeze it empathetically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”, you tried to assure them.

“Do you know what you want to order?”, the defender swiftly changed the topic to something more enjoyable.

When the meals arrived, you clapped excitedly into your hands:” This looks so delicious.”

“It’s the best, trust us.”, Mapi grinned.

“I do.”, you answered smiling. Everyone in your team knew that the two women didn’t only have great taste in clothes, but in food as well.

“As you should.”, the Scandinavian chirmed.

Looking around, soaking into the calm atmosphere of your surroundings, you declared:” This is really nice here.”

“It’s our favourite.”, the older woman confessed beaming.

“It’s perfect for dates..”, your heart sank once the sentence was out. Wishing your girlfriend was here in this moment even though you knew deep inside that it was almost more fun with your two teammates, less stressful for you. Their relaxedness rubbed a bit on to you and you felt a sense of calm.

“Yes, very romantic.”, Ingrid answered delighted.

“You two are so cute.”, you hummed.

Mapi exchanged a look with Ingrid before she leaned over the table and whispered: “Ingrid always is when she really likes someone…“

“She’s?“, you asked, not sure what the defender was hinting at.

“I guess thats true, yes.“, Ingrid admitted, slightly flustered. Her long fingers barely touching yours on the table.

You looked up at her: “Oh.“

“Wasn’t your girlfriend supposed to come tomorrow to spend your free weekend together? What did you plan for that?“, Mapi inquired suddenly. She studied your face for any change.

You shrugged nonchalantly as if you had not planned this for over a week now: “Oh, I thought I would show her Barcelona. And then we could have a little picnic down at the beach.“

“Oh my god. That’s so sweet.“, Ingrid squeed.

“I thought she would enjoy that. But she hasn’t confirmed yet that she would be able to make it.“ You tried to keep any disappointment out of your voice.

“If she can’t make it in time, we’d love to come and do it with you.“, Mapi smiled.

“You’d?“

Ingrid confirmed with a nod: “Yes, we would.“

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest. “That’s so nice of you.“

“It’ll be a pleasure, y/n.“, Mapi said, reaching for your hand.

You had such a lovely evening with your teammates that when the call came the next morning, it felt like a shock. You knew what she was about to say before she even greeted you.

“Sorry, y/n. I can’t come… Emma said we need to do extra training on the weekend.“

“Oh… that’s okay. Next time maybe.“, you replied almost automatically.

You knew you should feel sad or disappointed about her cancellation but there was also a part of you that felt nothing but relief in this moment.

You immediately took your phone and messaged Mapi and Ingrid to come down to the beach later today if they were still down for it.

Weirdly, you found yourself less anxious and more excitement for the picnic with the two of them while you started packing everything.

You met Mapi and Ingrid in the late evening. A blanket and a few pillows were already spread out on the fine sand when they arrived. Freshly baked bread, cheese and ham as well as olives and grapes were piled high on plates.

“This is literally perfect.“, Ingrid marvelled at the sight.

Mapi sat down: “I agree, this is so nice.“

“We’ll see the sunset too.“, you added, pointing towards the horizon.

Ingrid popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and laid her head into you lap: “I hope you don’t mind too much that you have to spend the evening with us.“

Absentmindedly, you started to stroke her dark hair: “I mean I’m a bit sad that she couldn’t come but your company definitely makes it better.“

“Don’t worry, we can make sure you have a good time too.”, the Spanish defender promised.

“You already do a great job at that.”, you assured the couple. With a melancholic glance at the sea you added:” I just miss her and being touched, does that sound weird?”

“No, that makes perfect sense.”, the Norwegian told you while simultaneously exchanging a knowing look between her and her girlfriend.

Afterwards a pleasant silence descended upon you three, the only sound came from the waves crashing on the shore, until Mapi raised her voice.

“We’d treat you better.”

“What?”, you looked at her in surprise.

“You’re unhappy with her. She’s been ignoring you, she always wants to have the upper hand.. and we saw that she likes to leave her marks when you saw each other.”, Ingrid listed the reasons why you should break up with your girlfriend on her long, elegant fingers.

“And you two think you can treat me better?”, you nervously licked your lips, too afraid to look directly into their eyes, so you chose to watch at the water instead.

“No. We know we can treat you better.”, the tattooed woman corrected you in a serious tone. Her girlfriend nodded in quiet agreement.

“Which isn’t hard because I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone else behind your back.”, Mapi continued, there was anger towards your lover swinging in her voice.

“The whole team thinks so.”, the Scandinavian cleared her throat. Every teammate thought that you deserved better than that.

You were startled by your own words coming out of your mouth next:” I suspected it, because I asked Millie if they had training on the weekend, she said no.”

The one thing you were sure was that your England teammate and co-captain would never lie to you.  Remembering the short call made you tear up all over again. Nothing hurt more when knowing that everyone knew someone was betraying you behind your back.

“I’m sorry, amor. But we don’t want to see you suffer any longer.”, empathetically Mapi laid an arm around you:

“I feel so stupid, girls.”, you confessed, trying to swipe away the tears streaming down your cheek.

“You’re not stupid.”, Ingrid pressed a kiss on to your hand before raising up to hug you from the other side.

“We all have been here.”, the defender told you.

“Really?”

“Really.”, she replied.

Suddenly you knew what to do, you didn’t knew where the bravery came from, but you were grateful for it as you announced: “ I’ll tell her that I’m done with her games, the only game I’m interested in is football.”

“That sounds reasonable.”, the Norwegian beamed at you proudly.

“It’s for the best.“, you said quietly, not sure if you were talking to them or to yourself.

Mapi flashed you an encouraging smile: “Yes, but you’ll always have us.“

“Right, you can count on us.“, Ingrid agreed.

“Thank you, girls.“

“You’re welcome.“

You slowly stood up from the blanket, pulling your phone out of your pocket and took a deep breath: “Excuse me. I think I’ll have to make a call.“

Ingrid nodded: “Go on.“

“See you in a minute.“ You forced yourself to a smile.

There was something in the way, they looked at you that gave you the confidence to walk a few steps closer to the water and dial you girlfriends phone number.

“Hi, y/n.“, she greeted you. She never sounded happy when you called, only annoyed as if you were always calling at the wrong time.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something…“, you came straight to the point. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Sure, but I need to leave soon so you better make it quick.“

In this moment, you knew you made the right decision. There was no fear or doubt, the words just came to you: “I can make it very quick. I want to break up.“

There was a moment of silence on her end and you briefly wondered if she had even heard you. Her voice was high-pitched and she was yelling when she finally replied: “What?! Are you kidding me? I’m the best thing you’ve ever had!“

You remained calm and composed: “You’ve been avoiding me for some time now. I think I deserve better.“

She laughed: “Oh please, you’re so pathetic, y/n.“

“You’re with someone else. I know that. It was pathetic that I believed you.“

“You’ll never find someone as good as me!“, your now ex-girlfriend spat.

Subconsciously, your gaze drifted back to the picnic blanket. You realized that Mapi and Ingrid were no longer sitting there.

Gentle fingers took the phone out of your hand. You looked up to see Mapi speaking into the phone: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got someone better now. Someone who actually appreciates her.“

Your ex-girlfriend went quiet. “Good luck with that, y/n.“, she said, her voice icy cold before hanging up.

Ingrid stood in front of you, studying your face. You were confused but also relieved. It was finally over.

“Hey, come here. You did so well.“, you felt Ingrids arms wrap around your torso. You held out one arm as an invitation for Mapi to join the hug.

The Spanish defender pressed a kiss to your temple: “You deserve this.“

There was so much you wanted to tell them but you had no words for it. So you just stood there for the moment, grateful and safe in their embrace.

Immediately after the breakup, Mapi and Ingrid started to take you out to more dates. A few months later, you were officially in a relationship with both of them.

You could have never imagined yourself in a polyamorous relationship before but the two of them made it easy. It was probably one of the healthiest relationships you had ever been in. In contrast to your previous relationship, there was no mistrust and no jealousy.

Seeing your girlfriend on the pitch in your Champions League matches agains Chelsea surprisingly did not bother you at all. Especially not, once you knocked them out of the UWCL.

As soon as the final whistle blew, Mapi jogged towards you and kissed you excitedly: “You’ve been amazing, amor!“

“My girls! We won!“, Ingrid joined the two of you.

You turned towards her to give her a celebratory kiss as well.

You could feel your exes angry stares at you but could not care less. You just booked the ticket to the UWCL final with your amazing and supportive girlfriends, there was no space in your life for her anymore.

a/n: we always appreciate comments, likes and reblogs. <3

[lokisivy]

Hi! Im a big fan of your work and I saw you were taking requests :) I had a smut fic idea in mind with young (before paralysis) Professor Charles Xavier x fem!student reader. Maybe you and Charles have had some flirty/sexual tension for the longest time until one night when everyone is in bed in their dorms, he reads your mind and notices that you are still awake, touching yourself and having just obscene thoughts of him till he comes into your room and takes matters into his own hands and the rest just be pure smut lmao 👀👀👀 keep up the good work!!

First of all, thank you soooo much for u liking my work. Second of all, it took me like 3 times to process what you requested. I'm ovulating rn, so I'm just so stunned.

Warnings: age gap, mind reading, slight breeding kink, reader is above 18, cursing. use of nicknames, p in v, unprotected sex, daddy kink, slight size kink. let me know if i missed anything

READERS POV

I'm a good student, I focus in class, get good grades, and am always polite to my professors. but there is this one class where I can't seem to focus no matter how hard I try.

Professor Xavier's class like right now I'm sitting in today's class what is the topic? DNA mutation blah blah blah.

he was looking and me oh his eyes were so blue like the ocean I could drown in them- Fuck he can read my mind.

GENATICS! FLOWERS! this isn't working he is smirking he knows what I'm thinking of. I bite my lips hard, trying to think of something else. His arms in that dress shirt sleeves rolled up his hands on my throat- FUCK think of something dark.

"Y/N read page 269 about Genetic mutations" the professor announced "Ahh-" fuck I didn't even have my book open shit. I used my telekinesis to open the page but it didn't I was fumbling for the page until Professor Xavier came behind me and opened the page for me.

"next time focus in class and refrain from having dirty thoughts about me," he whispers in my ears his sharp voice making me sudden goose bumps arise.

"Sorry professor. I promise that it won't happen again" I flirt looking up through my lashes and giving an innocent look.

he leans down to give me back my book "Good Girl."

With my powers, it was gonna be impossible for me to keep him out of my thoughts I was basically a magnet for him my mind like an open book for him. It doesn't matter because no matter what he was my teacher and nothing could happen between us even though I'd sell my soul to the devil for us to touch. and our age gap people would think he was a predator but at this point, I think I am the predator with the unholy thoughts I'm getting.

1:39 Am my clock read I couldn't sleep my interaction with Professor Xavier kept replaying 'having dirty thoughts about me in class'

'good girl' my hands snuck past my nightgown rubbing circles on my clit. imagining Charles bending me down the desk fucking me into oblivion 'Such a naughty girl only focusing on my cock and not the class' I imagined his rough thick accent. I pushed one finger inside me feeling the warmth it was relieving the pressure but not enough I needed more I needed him in every way possible.

3rd pov

You and Charles had always flirted with each other during office hours it was obvious in the being you were attracted to him he was very good-looking and muscular made women weak in the knee and because he could read any person's mind it made it easier for him to know when to flirt back he knew when you were sad or feeling under the weather but when the rumours started to spread around the acted tough with you in class you knew it was a show and it kept all gossip down it not like you were very young you came here after finishing high school to learn about your abilities and how to control them but you were still a student but something Charles never did was crossing the line until today he was awake trying to study a new students abilities. He wondered if you were awake and he was met but dirty thoughts that made his cock burst.

a growl came out of his throat "fuck me!" he adjusted his pants the thought of you touching yourself while thinking of him was gonna make him burst this second he started to palm his cock but could take anymore when your moans grew louder coming close to your orgasm.

Fuck it he thought and walked to your dorm room absolutely angry about the way you made him feel hands running through his hair he was gonna punish you for every time you made him hard, for every time your mischievous ass made him think about you.

He reached your room door knocking lightly not waking anyone and talked to you through your thoughts 'Open this door now!' He interrupted your fantasies making you rise in panic

Readers POV

Fuck Fuck FUCK! How did he read my mind it was 1 am everyone is asleep. I panic opening the door panting from how fast I got up.

"hey proff how you doing, bro?" I opened the door trying to act casual.

"Are you messing with me right now." It was more rhetorical than a question. He slammed the door, pining me against it.

"I-"

"What you thought you could be whore and touch yourself thinking about me and get away with it." He was frustrated both sexually and mentally "and why were you listening to my thoughts anyway I should be able to think what I want without having to worry about you getting into my head." I rolled my eyes. A part of me liked the thrill, but sometimes it was nice to have my thoughts to myself.

"You can block me out but you don't."

"It's exuasting. what you want me to masterbate and think about you and block you out." I sigh

"You don't know how hard it is for me to contain myself from letting all these thoughts of yours come true right now." He leans closer, his body towering in front of me.

Closer.

And Closer.

our lips so close but yet so far.

Till there was nothing but a fine line between our lips.

"Then make them come true." I barely got the words out.

"This is wrong." He voice became deeper

"I saved your life in Cuba professor." I whispered

"Fuck it." He said kissing me knocking the air out of my lungs, his hand come to cup my face our his toung fighting with mine. moving us towards the bed his hands roaming through my my silk PJs unbouting the buttons.

"Charles!" i moaned when his lips contact with my neck marking me plaming and squeezing my breasts, "please" I didn't know what I was pleading for but I needed the relief with the ache that was growing I was so wet aching for him to touch me.

" What darling, what do you want me to do?" he smirked, he knew what I wanted he could read my mind "I- I want you to touch me." I barely whispered my voice practricly unaudioble,"Louder darling?" he disaproved "I want you to fuck me charles like the way I was thinking about when I was touching me self on here." I run my hands through the sheets of the bed.

"Fuck my little whore wants me to fuck her," he growls, he grabs my neck and slams me down the bed causing a moan to leave me. His knee separated my legs from closing. he slid off the top I had on letting my breasts hit the cold air causing my nipples to harden. his thumb ran on my nipples rubbing and pinching. "Charles Please" I beg.

"Have I taught you nothing?" he kissed my chest slowly down to my breasts "Patience is how you achieve everything perfectly. "

"Charles Xavier if you don't fuck me right now I'll throw you against the wall." pull him by his shirt collar kissing him

"I may teach you science, but I think I need to teach you good manners." I rolled my eyes, ripping off his shirt. I stopped to take a moment to take in the sight of his toned muscles, running my fingers through his abs in awe. something inside him snapped at the way I looked at him. he immediately took down my shorts and unbuckled his pants.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked me,"Yes ever since Cuba Charles," I assured me, but something told me he was reading my mind to check if I had any doubts. "Good. Because the moment I start, I won't stop"

"Start first then we can speak about stopping because all I'm hearing is yap yap no acti--" I was interrupted by his fingers entering me all three of them. making me moan very loudly.

"Shh baby your classmates will hear you." he groans at the sight. "S-sorry."

his hands worked magic, and the rhythm was steady, hitting all the good points, building up the fire in my stomach fire that might explode any moment "Charles I'm so close." I whimpered at the loss of contact "Too bad your only gonna cum on my cock tonight" I looked down at his length it was big and thick and precum leaked out his hardness he positioned my left leg on his shoulder positioning himself and entering me at a slow excruciating pace stretching me into half.

"Fuck your so big." now I understood why he was taking it too slow his cock was gigantic that's why he walked around so confidently he is packing.

"Fuck you're tight." he groans the burn started to fade into pleasure "Charles please" probably begged for the millionth time tonight he was killing me. his pace started to grow faster "You are taking me so well darling." he praised me sending it to my pussy clenching on him tighter."Fuck Y/N!" he growls

"Charles faster" he complied going at an unforgivable pace the angle he fucked me in was make me feel all of his length he keeps hitting that spot that was about to explode any second now. my moaning became louder and harder to control probably making someone from outside hear us "Be quiet sunshine" he told me in between his rough thrusts he pinched my nipples lightly causing an overly loud moaning to come out he silenced me with a kiss and replaced his lips with his hand he gave me a warning look then removed his hands. my fingers running through his hair tugging on it tiny moans slipping out of him sending me over the edge with bliss and euphoria washing over me seeing starts in the back of my eyes. his cock twitching "Yes give me all your cum Daddy." I moaned my back arching scratches down his back. his hot warm cum filling my walls making me moan with pleasure it felt right. Charles put my legs down making me turn on my side, as I was about to sleep he grabbed my jaw. "Daddy is not done with you yet sunshine" he teases me.

"let's get you cleaned up sweetheart." he carried me to the bathroom

[gojoidyll]

thinking of boothill x insecure ! reader.

warnings | pre-release boothill & grammatical errors

All your life there was always someone who tore you down and made you feel lesser than those around you.

But when you met Boothill, well, you thought that maybe you could finally get the peace you've been searching for. Besides, unlike everyone else, he doesn't tell you to clean your forehead so he can place a bullet between your eyes. (You saw that as a compliment since everyone else gets threatened here and there.)

However, your scars, though invisible and deeply rooted where no one can see, are still there. Eating away at you.

And you know that someone tampered with Boothill's Synesthesia Beacon, so you know that when he says something like "cutie" it isn't something nice at all.

Which is why you couldn't stop that nagging feeling in the back of your head everytime Boothill calls you as such.

"Hey cutie-"

"Cutie."

"So, how about it, cutie?"

His tone would always be flirtatious and smooth. But, you were never good at reading people. Was he mocking you? Was he abusing his tampered beacon and using it as a chance to call you crude names without you knowing?

It always made your body tense and your eyes to look away from him.

Boothill was always quick to notice your change in demeanor when the nickname would leave his lips.

"Watch ya overthinking about now, cutie?"

Now it was one of those rare days where he didn't have anyone to chase after or a bounty to collect, and here you were sitting at a bar all by your lonesome self. And, as per usual, he didn't fail to notice your tensed up shoulders the moment "cutie" left his mouth.

"Nothing..."

"Don't be like that, cutie, go on and tell ol' Boothill what's troubling ya."

He decided to push your buttons. If you weren't going to answer him normally, then calling you cutie a bunch of times was bound to do the trick.

"Can you," you mumbles the rest of your request causing him to lean into you. Your elbows just barely touching as you gripped your class of (favorite) drink tightly. The condensation of the glass soaking your hands.

"What was that, cutie?"

He emphasized the nickname while being sure to pop the "t".

"That nickname... please stop calling me that. I know your synesthesia beacon is broken, so i-"

"Let me stop ya right there," he threw and arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat you could feel radiating off of him. It was an odd feeling.

"I got that beacon fixed a few months ago and even before I got it fixed.. when I would call you cutie or something else, it was never meant to be an insult."

You opened and closed your mouth trying to find the words to say something, anything.

HE GOT IT FIXED?!?!?!

"I- you- what?!"

He laughed at your dumbfounded expression and gave your hip a firm slap, "the expressions you make are sure worthwhile to see, cutie. Now, let's drink!"

After that, you were sad to say that your insecurities were still there. They still haunted you everytime you looked in a mirror or were around people who you genuinely thought were better than you in every possible way.

But when you were with Boothill, well, he made you feel worth it.

[corroded-hellfire]

Finally His Year - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collab with my soulmate @munson-blurbs 🩵

Summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday and what he really wants is you.

Note: In honor of JQ’s 30th birthday woohoo 🎉

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The Munson house is buzzing when you arrive. There are three unfamiliar cars parked in front of it, probably from the other people celebrating Eddie’s birthday with him. You have his gift tucked under your arm and a Tupperware of raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies in that same hand, using the free one to ring the doorbell. 

You barely have time to pull your forefinger back before the door swings open. Luke peeks his head around, grinning when he sees you standing there. 

“Good evening, madam-a-zell,” he says in a vague concoction of European accents—none of them even resembling French. “May I take your—ooh, cookies!”

Laughing, you reach over and ruffle his mop of curls. “These are for Daddy, Luke-miere.” When his face falls, you quickly add, “but maybe he’ll share.”

This placates him, and he skips off to announce your arrival. As soon as he says your name, you hear the sound of Eddie’s feet shuffling towards the entryway. 

“You made it!” He says with a huge smile. In your dreams, he pulls you in for a hug and kisses you tenderly. But this is real life, so he just stands with his hands in his pockets. 

“I made it,” you agree awkwardly. It takes a moment for you to remember everything you’re holding. “Oh, these are all for you.” You maneuver it all, handing him the cylindrical tube and then the plastic container. Luke loudly clears his throat, and you grin. “Unless you feel like sharing the cookies.”

Eddie takes the presents, shaking his head at his younger son’s interruption. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, Sweetheart.”

That stupid nickname. You love and hate it; as much as he calls you that, you know you’re not his sweetheart. Because he’s married. 

His wife—God, you hated that she held that title—was sipping a full glass of wine. Though she’s standing next to Nancy, the two aren’t exchanging any words. 

You should go over there. Brittany is technically one of your employers, so it’s best not to rock the boat. Unless, of course, you could ensure she’d fall overboard. 

Plastering a feigned smile on your face, you walk over to her. Before you can even get out a hello, she points towards Ryan and Luke. 

“They have to go to bed at nine o’clock, so just have them in their pajamas with their teeth brushed by then.”

Embarrassment crawls under your skin. “Oh, I, um, I’m actually here for the party. Not to babysit.”

Brittany doesn’t seem thrown off at all; she just rolls her eyes and turns to Nancy. “Didn’t realize people still needed parties after they turned thirty,” she quips. 

To her credit, Nancy just shrugs and walks to you, ignoring the snark hurled your way. She guides you over to where the rest of the group is chatting. 

“Can you say, ‘Uncle Dusty’?” Dustin asks little Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair, gently bouncing her in his arms. “C’mon…Un-kul Duh-stee!”

“Elmo!” Tiffany claps her chubby hands together gleefully, unbothered by Dustin’s frustration. 

“I think your kid’s broken,” he grumbles, handing the little girl back to Lucas. 

“She was fine until you held her,” Lucas quips as he holds his daughter against his chest.

“Or maybe she just thinks you look like Elmo,” Steve offers with a shrug. 

“What is this, high school?” Dustin asks, looking between his friends. “Ganging up on me?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a loud tsk. 

“It’s because you’re not part of the club, Henderson.”

“Oh, because I’m not a dad?” Dustin asks, gesturing with a motion that looks very similar to jazz hands. “That’s fine. Because I’m the coolest uncle these kids have. Someone has to be that figure in their lives.”

“Are they always like this?” you ask Nancy with an amused chuckle.

“Since high school,” Nancy confirms with a sigh. “The sad thing is, I can see how they’ve matured since then.”

You giggle at her response before there’s a weighted thunk against the front of your legs. Ryan’s chocolate eyes peer up at you, a huge grin on his round face. 

“Well hello, you,” you greet him, reaching down to ruffle his honey colored hair. 

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Ryan cheers. Warmth spreads in your chest at his words. You’re touched until he opens his mouth again to ask, “Luke said you brought cookies?”

“I did,” you tell him, tugging on a lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “But they’re for your dad. It’s up to him if he wants to share with you guys.” Of course he will, you think to yourself. Eddie loves these boys more than Luke loves his Hot Wheels collection; and as you’re reminded by the five-year-old almost every day you babysit, that’s a lot. 

“Maybe after he opens his presents,” Ryan muses, more to himself than you. “Or after we have the cake Aunt Nancy made.

“Ryan!”

A little girl’s call echoes around the room. The older Munson boy gives you a quick smile before running towards the kitchen where Natalie Harrington is drawing a picture. 

Something Ryan said sticks in your brain though. You turn towards Nancy, brow pinching slightly.

“You made Eddie’s cake?” you ask. 

The deep breath Nancy takes lets you know there’s more to the story than she’s probably going to tell you. After all, she hardly knows you. The two of you had only met a handful of times since you started watching the boys last year and none of the visits were particularly long. It's an annoyed sigh that Nancy heaves out, her petite shoulders falling with the release. She’s not annoyed at you, if her kindness and body language towards you are anything to go on. So, what’s got her so tense?

“I did,” Nancy affirms. She’s quiet for a moment and at first you think that’s all she’s going to say. But the way her head bobbles slightly from side to side and her jaw muscles tighten and release, you can tell she’s picking her words carefully before she speaks. To her, you’re her friend’s employee so how much should she reveal? “Steve, um, called Eddie yesterday morning to confirm the time for the party today. Eddie was headed out the door just as Steve called. He said he was going to the grocery store. To buy his own birthday cake.”

“His own? Why couldn’t his wife get it? Or better yet, why didn’t she make one for him with the boys?” Your mind floats back to when you and the boys made a cake for Ryan’s birthday over the summer. It was messy and overly sweet, but the love and care put into it are what made it special. 

“That’s what I said,” Nancy grits out through a clenched jaw. After a few moments, you see Nancy’s body deflate. The tension rolls off her like a wave returning to the sea. “So, I made him one. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”

“Carrot cake?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose. It’s not that you disliked the dessert, it just wasn’t what you would’ve pegged Eddie for on his birthday. 

“I know,” Nancy says with a small chuckle. She shakes her head in amusement, wavy locks of hair swaying at the movement. “He can’t be typical, right? Not chocolate or vanilla—or even strawberry, but carrot cake. That’s Eddie for ya.”

The party continues with casual conversations: milestones Tiffany is meeting, work updates for the “kids” (who were now full-fledged adults, but would always be freshmen to Eddie), and a tentatively scheduled reunion for their high school Dungeons & Dragons club. It only came to a stop when there was a crash in the kitchen. 

Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound, worried that one of the Munson or Harrington children was causing chaos, but the reason for the clamor was none other than Brittany. She’d dropped the cheese and cracker board on the ground and was laughing like she’d just heard the funniest joke. 

“Oopsie daisy!” She cackles, nearly falling over with the force of her laugh. While the rest of you had been casually sipping wine or beer, she had been drinking like she was at a frat party. 

“Jesus,” Nancy mutters under her breath. 

Eddie glances at Steve, who nods at Lucas, and the two of them step in towards Brittany. 

“C’mon, time for bed, Britt,” Steve says as patiently as he can manage. He hooks an arm around her, and Lucas does the same on the other side. It’s obvious that this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. A well-oiled machine, ensuring that the kids are none the wiser.

Small miracles, you suppose. 

“We can do presents when they get back,” Max jumps in, trying to keep the attention away from the drunk woman stumbling away. 

Eddie nods in agreement, collecting the various gifts from the kitchen table and placing them next to his spot on the sofa. When he sits, he spreads his legs enough that you can imagine yourself between them, pressing kisses up his thighs to his—

No. Stop it. 

When Steve and Lucas return, Eddie reaches for the first package. Though the room is filled with excited murmurs and crinkling wrapping paper, you can still make out the quiet conversation between Nancy and her husband. 

“Did you hold a pillow over her head?”

“No, Nance.”

“Damn it.”

You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a smile. 

Eddie pulls out a pair of sneakers from the box: white with a black check mark on the side. He immediately slides them on his feet, wiggling his toes around to ensure enough room. “These are perfect! My old ones were falling apart.”

“We know,” Nancy says wryly as Steve proudly announces, “You said you liked mine, so I got you the same ones.”

“Aww!” Dustin coos, pursing his lips exaggeratedly. “You guys are twins!

Eddie discreetly flips him off before continuing through his stash. Theo and Natalie Harrington made him woven friendship bracelets, which he immediately slid onto his left wrist. When he opens Dustin’s gift, a mug printed with the words “rock ‘n roll” underneath a cartoon rock and dinner roll, Wayne proclaims that it’s even cornier than the ones in the trailer. 

Eddie’s face lights up at the present from Max and Lucas—a new Walkman and some heavy metal cassettes. 

A pit forms in your stomach: is your gift going to be enough? Will he even like it? Was this whole thing a bad—

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see Eddie staring awestruck at the now-unwrapped present; specifically, the present you got for him. It’s an autographed Metallica poster that you’d spotted at the mall months ago, before his birthday was even a consideration. You’d bought it and kept it safely in your room, waiting for the perfect time to give it to him. 

“Sweetheart, this is…” He just shakes his head, blinking misty eyes. “Wow. I, um…thank you,” he finally manages. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had seen that same poster just last week. He had Brittany’s shopping bags clutched in his hands when he walked towards the record store. 

Kirk Hammett’s signature called to him like a siren. 

Eddie was just about ready to pay for it when Brittany marched over, plucking it from his grip and mumbling something about not having room for any more of his stupid music shit. 

That had been the end of that. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a small shrug, as if it was nothing at all. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” That wasn’t too much to say, right? It’s normal to think of someone when you see something you know they’d love, right? Even if that person is your boss?

Once Luke stops scavenging through his father’s presents like one might be hidden there for him, he looks up at his dad with wide, pleading eyes that he most definitely inherited from the man. 

“Time for caaaake?”

Eddie snorts and playfully rolls his eyes. A ringed hand comes down to ruffle the little boy’s curls.

“I guess we could have cake now.”

The Munson boys and the Harrington sibling duo cheer in excitement and beat everyone else into the kitchen. All you can hear as the kids disappear into the next room is an I’m okay! from Luke.

Steve taps you on the shoulder as you step over the threshold into the kitchen.

“Hey, could you give me a hand with the cake?” he asks. 

“Sure.” You follow Steve over to the refrigerator, silently wondering how many women had actually denied the handsome man anything when he asked in such a smooth voice. 

The cake looks delicious as Steve pulls it out of the fridge. Nancy definitely put in some work to make sure it turned out this lovely. The cream cheese frosting is smooth on all sides with delicate piping lining the edge of the rectangular sheet cake. In a beautiful scrawl that is far nicer than your own handwriting, she had written “Happy Birthday Eddie!” in black gel icing. 

Steve sets the cake down on the gray granite counter and reaches for a drugstore bag that has a pack of candles and a lighter in it. The two of you work as a team to plug the cake with the multicolored striped sticks and take turns lighting different sides of the cake. 

“You got it?” Steve asks as he steps over towards the light switches on the wall.

“Yep,” you assure him as you carefully lift the flaming desert off the counter. Turning around to face the table proves the most difficult part as you slowly spin your body while keeping the cake steady. 

Eddie is seated at the table, kids surrounding him on all sides as they clamor about what’s taking so long with the cake. Taking so long? You thought you and Steve worked pretty efficiently together. 

“Watch out rugrats,” Dustin says, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulling him out of your way. 

You give the curly haired man a grateful smile before you slide the cake onto the table right in front of Eddie. As you go to pull your arms away, pale, calloused fingers reach up and rest against your skin for a moment.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eddie says. 

All you did was carry a cake over but you’re more than glad to receive praise from your boss any time that you can. 

Steve flips the kitchen lights off and everyone breaks into a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. Ryan stands right in front of you as you sing, and you rest your hands on his small shoulders. 

“Make a wish!” Luke calls from Dustin’s side once the singing ended. He watches as his dad purses his lips, thinking of a wish. The dim lighting in the room may be playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Eddie’s eyes flickered over to you before he took a deep breath and blew out all thirty-something of the candles on the first try. 

“Yay!” Luke cheers while everyone else claps. “Whatcha wish for?”

Ryan scoffs and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “He can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“For my last birthday I wished for a pet,” Luke says. 

“Is that why you dug up the worm in the backyard?” Eddie asks.

“Yep,” Luke announces, a proud smile on his face. 

“Wormy Munson is missed,” Ryan says, patting his little brother’s shoulder. 

The attention quickly turns from squiggly little pets when Nancy asks the room, “Who wants a piece?”

“Me!” Four children’s hands shoot up at the same time, but Nancy just shakes her head at them.

“Birthday boy gets first crack at it,” she says as she slices a piece and transfers it to a Darth Vader paper plate. Nancy delivers that and a plastic fork to Eddie before returning to the counter to cut slices for the rest of the guests. 

When you get your piece of cake, you slip into a seat next to Eddie’s at the table. 

“So, carrot cake, huh?” you ask him with a playful smirk on your face. 

“Hey, gotta get vegetables into these kids somehow,” Eddie says, reaching behind him to tickle Ryan’s belly. The older boy laughs and moves out of his dad’s reach. 

“Broccoli brownies next?” you ask, a shit eating grin on your face before you pop a chunk of cake into your mouth.

“Such a smart ass,” Eddie teases, scooping some of his icing onto his pinky and wiping it off on the tip of your nose. Both boys giggle as you try to reach it with your tongue, trying to stretch it out as far as possible to lick it off. Though the boys found it funny, Eddie had an entirely different feeling wash over him as he watched your tongue snake out to try and lick the white substance off your face. His pants tighten and Eddie shifts in his seat, trying to hide his crotch further beneath the table. 

Guests drift in and out of the kitchen with their plates of cake, mingling with one another out in the living room. You offer to collect the paper plates up for the garbage once everyone is done. You’re carrying the stack back towards the kitchen when you hear Steve and Eddie having a conversation in there. It’s pretty clear this is just meant to be between them, but when you hear Steve’s question to his best friend, your feet become glued to the floor. 

“Think you’ll finally get lucky tonight since it’s your birthday?” 

Eddie snorts. “It doesn’t seem like it.” You can practically picture him nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom where Brittany is probably snoring her ass off as she sleeps off her alcohol. You really hope she has a hangover tomorrow. 

“Not what I meant, dude,” Steve replies.

This catches you off guard. Who could Steve possibly be talking about if not Brittany? Does… A sickening thought winds its way through your brain, claws taking hold in those places that are already prone to insecurities. Does Eddie have a girlfriend? It’s not like you would judge him for it after Brittany’s whoring around is common knowledge. But it drives an ice pick through your heart just picturing Eddie with his own awful, evil wife. Knowing he might be with someone who could be kind and caring should comfort you—but it doesn’t. It makes you want to tear your skin off to think of Eddie with anyone else but you. Because if he wasn’t going to be with Brittany, you wanted him to be with you. And if you didn’t even get a chance to show him what the two of you could be together? The idea threatened to destroy you. 

“Watch it Harrington,” Eddie answers Steve, his voice low. It’s the closest thing to a warning you’ve ever heard from him. 

A familiar toddler’s cry abruptly ends their conversation and your now-agonizing eavesdropping. Eddie shakes his head, giving Steve one last glare as he walks out of the kitchen, and looks over at a wailing Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair. 

Ryan scrunches his face. “Daddy, play her the song!”

“Yeah, play it!” Luke echoes, hands pressed to his ears. 

Now you’re intrigued. “What song?”

Eddie sighs. “Boys, I don’t think anyone wants to hear me play—”

“Au contraire,” Dustin butts in with a smirk. He hands Eddie his acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner. “I think we’d all love a little concert.”

Eddie gives you a look that pleads help me out here, but you’re already invested. 

“Concert! Concert!” You chant, laughing when the others join in. 

He doesn’t say anything, just slips the strap over his shoulder and quickly tunes the guitar. 

“If…you’re…happy and you know it, clap your hands!”

Everyone in the room claps twice. Everyone except Tiffany, who is still wailing. 

“If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands!”

Same result. 

“All right, all right. Let’s skip to a different verse.” Eddie takes in the baby’s squealing form. 

“If…you’re…angry and you know it, do a growl.” He lets out the most ridiculous roar you’ve ever heard, and you can’t help but laugh. 

From her mother’s arms, Tiffany lets out a roar of her own. Your giggle catches her attention, and she reaches out for you to hold her. 

For a moment, Eddie believes his heart is going to implode from the sweet scene in front of him. He wills himself to concentrate on playing, but the sight of you holding a baby girl weakens his resolve. How many times has he daydreamed about you holding his baby girl that he shares with you? Probably too many times on the job for someone who deals with heavy machinery. In his mind she has your hair and his eyes—though he knows she’d probably gets his curls since both boys have them to a degree.

Tiffany bounces in your arms, enraptured in the music. If Eddie plays Old MacDonald, she’ll be mind-blown. 

The soft timbre of Eddie’s voice, enthusiastic enough to capture Tiffany’s attention without riling her up, has your heart beating double time. Though you’ve known from the beginning that Eddie plays guitar, this is the first time you actually get to witness it. It’s as sexy as you’ve always imagined—even if he’s only playing nursery rhymes.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs as whatever had been bothering the little girl seemingly dissipates. He grins at Max and Lucas. “That should buy you about five minutes before the next meltdown.”

Sure enough, the crying starts up again, signaling the party’s end. Hugs are exchanged as everyone clears out; final “happy birthday’s” sent Eddie’s way.

There’s a small tug on your arm just as you’re about to grab your purse. “Can you tuck us into bed?” Ryan asks, eyes wide. Luke’s at his side, nodding in agreement. 

“Of course.” Always the babysitter, you think, but you truly enjoy being a part of their lives. The fact that they also enjoy it makes it even better.

The youngest Munson beams at you. “Maybe you can sleep over!”

“Uh, not this time. Sorry, kiddo.”

After teeth have been brushed and bedtime stories have been read, you retreat back to the kitchen. Eddie is clipping open bags of potato chips, and you start to gather any used paper platesto toss in the trash. 

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the stack of disposable cups in your hand. 

You cock your brow and smirk. “Do you really wanna clean all of this by yourself?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head when he notices icing smeared on the back of a kitchen chair. “Should’ve put the boys on clean-up duty” he grunts.

“Then everything would just get shoved under the couch and they’d call it a day,” you point out, and he readily agrees.

Once the floor has been swept and the leftover food has been placed in the refrigerator, you have no valid excuse to stay any longer.

“I should get going,” you say, plucking your keys from your bag and twirling the chain around your forefinger. “I hope you had a good birthday.”

Eddie nods as he walks with you to the front door. He holds it open for you, then follows you out to your car. “Yeah, it was great. Especially your gift. It, um, meant a lot.” A slight rosiness tinges his cheeks, and he pulls you in for a hug.

You return it easily, your arms wrapping around his torso. Both of you hold on a beat longer than necessary, but you can’t seem to pull away.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. He leans in; for a moment, it seems like he’s going to kiss the top of your head, but he takes a step back. Eddie’s done it so many times in his mind before that he almost forgot he doesn’t get to do it in real life. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will.” You duck into your car, giving him a small wave before you pull out of the driveway. As you drive, you watch Eddie trudge back into the house from your rearview mirror.

Once he’s inside, he closes the door and breathes out a sigh. He adjusts himself over his pants, painfully aware that he’s half-hard from a simple hug. Looking towards the bedroom he shares with Brittany, he pivots away and beelines towards the Tupperware of cookies you’d made.

Taking a big bite, he chews thoughtfully, delaying the inevitable. If only he could curl up next to you instead of her. He chuckles at the insanity of the idea and takes another bite of cookie.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

[anjellaufeyson]

Hate with attraction - Bellamy Blake

I hated Bellamy and despised him since the beginning. He always had to counter my arguments and disagree with me on every move I made. Every step I took–he criticized. The feeling of hatred was mutual, I never failed to return the remarks he made.

           Bellamy brushed past as if I weren't there, yet he still managed to whisper, “You're falling behind.” 

           I picked up my pace as we walked through the forest. The whole hunting group was filled with all my friends–besides Bellamy. I shoved him almost into a tree, “Catch up soldier boy.” 

My best friend, Octavia turned around while walking, and Bellamy glared at me. “I get Bellamy is an ass but why can't you guys just get along?”

I could feel his stare on me, “Your brother started it on day 1 of coming back to earth. The power must’ve gone to his hollow head, can’t say more than that–” My words were cut off at the sound of arrows flying past us. 

“Grounders,” Bellamy yelled. 

Clarke and Monty spread out of their spot because that’s where most of the fire was, “Guys we have to split up! We all have intercoms so once it’s safe we’ll come back together.” 

Octavia reached for my hand but missed me by a couple of inches, an arrow grazed my palm and cut me, “Just go,” I yelled. She ran away but was hesitant. I was about to reach for my gun before a hand stopped me–Bellamy. 

“We have time to run, don’t waste your bullets.”

I crouched down with him so no one gets hurt again, “If you keep ordering me around, I’m about to waste one.” 

He groaned as he grabbed me and we both made a run for it, “Keep this shit up and maybe I’ll throw you to the grounders.” 

I pushed him off me as we walked into a tiny cave for cover, “I’d rather be with them than you,” I mumbled. 

“What was that princess,” he asked knowing he heard every word I said. His anger was pissing me off. He ripped a part of his shirt off and began wrapping it around my cut.

“I hate when you call me that.” He only called me that because my father is Kane and he won’t let go that I’m “privileged” just like Clarke. “I didn’t make the rules on the ship, It’s not my fault that–”

He pulled hard on the tie he was making causing me to wince in pain, “Don’t finish that sentence.” Bellamy glanced up at me then annoyingly back at my cut as he wrapped it to perfection–I hated how good he was at helping when I needed it. “I know it’s not your fault but your father and every privileged person on that ship let her die for what reason? Because she had one more kid?” 

“You know the rules,” I spoke lowly. It was a sensitive topic and even though I hated his guts and wouldn’t mind if he got floated, I did sympathize. I never liked what happened and the fact no one could have siblings. “The more space taken by more kids would’ve left us overpopulated Bell–” I paused when talking, his nickname Octavia slipped out so easily. 

He looked up at me whilst still holding my hand even though the t-shirt bandage was as good as it was going to get. “I’m sorry she was floated, but it was the rules. And you know the Ark was already overpopulated enough. That’s why they sent us down here in the first place, the stupid 100 who had to risk their criminalistic lives for the others.” This topic always got me upset, not sad but mad. My father, Jaha, and Clarke's mom, Abby, were all willing to risk our lives as if we were all test subjects. 

“We mean nothing to them, that’s why I was so hell-bent on making sure all of the 100 could survive.”

I rolled my eyes remembering this wasn’t a friend I was talking to, “No, Bellamy you wanted all of us to remove our locators so that you could make sure they didn’t come down here because your reckless ass shot Jaha. I understand it was for Octavia but don’t act as if you’re some hero.” 

He pressed down on my wound before dropping his hand, “I never said I was. You always think you’re better than me.” 

I went to punch Bellamy but he moved out of the way, I was always good at hand-to-hand, my father got me a trainer, one of the guards. I knew how to fight, shoot, plant, etc. I was built to survive as if he’s been planning this forever. I smiled as I ducked the attack he threw at me, “You can only stand your ground because of the training you and Lincoln did together.” I went to kick him but he caught my leg, kicks were the one thing I couldn’t get the hang of. 

“Learn to be faster, princess,” he had a tiny grin on his face as he twisted my leg so I was hopping. 

I’d never give him the satisfaction of beating me, I kicked my leg again and got out of his grip. I elbowed him and punched him. His lip began to bleed, he had a smile on his face as his finger touched his lip. “Better,” he whispered. 

I went to hit him again but he blocked it and turned me around and kicked behind my leg causing me to fall onto one knee. He grabbed my hair, not too rough to hurt me but enough to move my head so I’d look up at him. “Train more and maybe you’ll beat me.” 

Slowly I rose and hit him at his throat causing him to back up. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough so he’d fuck off. I regained enough strength to cause him to lose his balance, then I got him to hit his back onto the ground. I kept my knee on his chest as I looked down at him, “You’ll never beat me, Bellamy. And I don’t think I’m better than you–” Our breaths filled the cave, “I know I am.” 

I stayed with my knee on his chest until he gave me a look that I couldn’t comprehend. His lips parted and he moved in to kiss me. I don’t know why but I didn’t back away, I took my knee off of his chest slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair and he pulled me deeper in. He kissed me roughly and I could taste the hate he held for me. Then he pushed me with a betrayal of a smile, “Never let your guard down, princess.” 

I made myself look hurt, he stepped closer and I pulled him in for a kiss. He seemed hesitant but easily fell into it. I bit down on his lip causing him to wince in pain. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, blood was dripping more than before. 

I pushed him away from me, I hated him now more than before. But God, I’d kiss him again with hate once more if given the chance. “Never let your guard down, Bell.” 

Suddenly Octavia ran into the cave looking frantic, “Jesus, did the grounders attack you guys?” 

Bellamy and I shared a glance, I turned back to Octavia and smiled as if I wasn’t in pain. “No, no we made it out. Well not without one price to pay,” I said as I held my hand up. 

Octavia looked shocked, she now realized our words were no longer threats, they were promises. “Bellamy,” she said in confusion but also her annoyance was beginning to focus on both of us for being stupid enough to fight each other. “O,” he said while walking past her. I stopped walking so I could talk with Octavia. He turned to me and whispered, “Next time you won’t get off that easily.” I paused, next time?

[denwritesandcries]

Call me Yours – N.S

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You’re in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: NSFW minors dni, no crash!AU, cursing, arguing, jealousy, makeout session, thigh riding, slightly toxic behavior?? but it wouldn't be a yellowjacket relationship if it weren't just a little.

Note: Is it a secret relationship?? Friends with benefits??? I don't know man but they’re horny.

English is not my first language.

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio.

There is a party going on outside, students filling the rooms of Lottie's house with loud generic music playing in the background, but the small room you two were locked in remained silent, too silent.

“See ya’ in 7 minutes, ladies!” Van's mocking voice cuts through the air, but a knife could have done the same; the blonde snorts and you roll your eyes, fixing your gaze somewhere in the darkness so you don't have to face her.

“Ugh, how old does she think we are?” Natalie hisses, you can feel her eyes on your face, even though you can't see much more than the outline of her body at the moment.

You say nothing, arms crossed over your chest and a frown covering your face, Nat tries again:

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

“I get it,” you bite, just because you know her well enough to guess that she won’t stop complaining until she gets something out of you, “I get that you don’t want to be here, Natalie.”

She must finally realize how mad you are – mad at her – at the sound of her full name instead of the nickname that always seemed to be on the tip of your tongue, because you swear you can hear her teeth chattering when she shuts her mouth.

With a growl of frustration, you let your head hit the wall with a thud. Great, your night was already being shit, the last thing you needed was to end up playing 7 minutes in heaven with the person who was the cause of your bad mood. Simply amazing.

You see, Natalie had been acting weird for days now, randomly avoiding your company and acting like she didn't know you in the school hallways and being really rude to you during practice. Now, this might even be normal and acceptable behavior from the quiet blonde if you were anyone else, but you weren't. You are her girlfriend.

Are? Were? You don't know for sure anymore given the way she's been acting lately.

Maybe it wouldn't have made you so angry – confused? Yes. Sad? Definitely, but not angry like that – if it weren't for today, for the party.

You had planned to meet Nat at Lottie's party and corner her to finally make her explain what the hell is wrong, dammit, because one afternoon you're smoking with your girlfriend and friends quietly in the basement and the next she's throwing you daggers with her glance every time you open your mouth around her. Anyway, that's what you were going to do, until you found her in the Matthews' giant kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of beer in her hand and Kevyn Tan practically throwing himself at her, keeping an arm full of spike bracelets wrapped around her shoulders and face with heavy makeup too close to hers to be considered friendly, drooling for Nat like he's always done since you've known about his existence.

Now that really pissed you off.

Who does that sad, emo, pitiful boy think he is to touch your girlfriend like that? And why is she letting him?

You think she could feel you fuming as you stared at them from the door, because the next second she lifted her head and looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights, as if she knew exactly that she was doing something she shouldn't have.

Screw it, you thought, if she'd rather act like you didn't matter anymore, then fine. You won't be standing just watching.

You turned around and only managed to disappear around the house for the next half hour before Taissa appeared with a tired frown and practically dragged you to where the group had gathered with an empty bottle, because Van and Jackie wanted to play something – 'If I'm in this, then you’re too!’ – and well, fuck.

You two have been completely quiet for almost a whole minute and that it's eating you alive; Nat has always handled silence well, you haven't.

Fidgeting with the hem of your own shirt angrily, you huff and give up on the tough act, the blonde straightens up when she hears your footsteps approaching her.

"What is happening?" Your voice comes out in a shamefully desperate tone, “Why are you acting like this with me? What did I do?"

You can see her now, being so close and now used to the dark; her fists are clenched, Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on your figure. For a moment, you think she's going to keep her cold facade and avoid your question with some sarcastic response, she most likely considered it, from the way her mouth opens and closes for a quick moment.

She turns her face to the side, trying to hide, but you can see the difference in tone in the paleness of her skin anyway. Oh, she's embarrassed.

“Nat?”

She mumbles something you don't understand, then your curiosity gives way to the anger and your hands find her face, turning it so Natalie is looking at you.

"What was this?" You ask again, softly this time.

“You called me your girlfriend.” She spits it out fast as if it were just a single sentence, rolling her eyes at your confused face, “You called me your girlfriend to everyone when we were smoking after practice last week.”

Oh, you remember that, when Jackie decided to lecture you all about the smell of smoke that lingered on her clothes after she and Shauna decided to tag along on one of your hangouts with Lottie, Van and Tai, turning up her nose and talking about how you all – and especially Nat – should stop with this habit. ‘Jackie, stop bothering my girlfriend!’, that’s what you said. Is that what made you spend a whole week grounded in the doghouse?

“...And isn’t that what we are?” You try, unsure. This conversation is not taking a very pleasant turn toward a reconciliation.

Nat bites hard her bottom lip, you can see her struggling with the next words:

“It’s just… no one was supposed to know.”

“Oh,” you mutter pathetically, sounding very much like a wounded puppy, “So that’s the problem.”

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

You can tell she regrets it the moment she says it, grabbing your hands in hers as you pull away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you meant that then?” Your initial anger and frustration return with a vengeance, you move forward until Nat's back hits a shelf in the small room.

Natalie always does this. Avoid anything that labels your relationship as real; calling your dates ‘hangouts’, not touching you when there are people around, leaving your house before you wake up in the morning, avoiding kisses and caresses that don't initiate anything sexual, calling you ‘friend’ when you can see that the whole team knows this is not all you two are.

Still, – still – she always shows up at your house when she's upset; she doesn't like it when you miss your 'hangouts'; always stays close to you wherever you are together; gets mad when she sees you talking to other girls, even if they are nothing more than classmates; leaves marks all over your body, but doesn't let you do the same, spots and more spots all over your neck that are impossible to cover. People know that you're dating, they just don't know that you're dating Natalie.

And then she gets mad at you for finally putting a name to whatever this is and starts avoiding you completely, even though it's been months since it all started and you've known each other for years.

Nat gasps when your hands find her waist with a firm grip, bringing your lips closer to her ear:

“I’m gonna make you want me to be your girlfriend.”

You swear you feel the shiver that runs through her body. Nat smells like cigarettes and mint gum and it tastes the same when your mouth meets hers.

Her arms are around your neck before she's even processed what's happening, black painted nails playing with the hair on the back of your neck like it's second nature – and it is.

The way Natalie tilts her head to deepen the kiss and bites your lip hard when your hands come up to caress the skin under her shirt says your actions are much appreciated.

The husky, needy moan that escapes your throat when you realize she's braless, palming and massaging her soft skin brings a cocky smile to her face, she sighs, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back against the shelf in satisfaction.

Nat doesn't moan, not like you do. She seems to want to hold back as much as possible, taking all kinds of reactions from you and your body, but not giving the pleasure of having the same from her. You want to change this.

You let your mouth roam from her strong jaw to her pale neck, leaving wet kisses, bites, and marks. Many marks. You bite the thin skin in different spots, soothing the bite with your tongue, hoping for the spots to form and stay there for days, for everyone to see.

You lazily slide a knee between her legs when you feel Natalie try to turn you around to take control. You usually let her do it, but not today. She squeals in surprise and pleasure, hips instantly grinding against you.

“Nah-ah, Nat,” you cut, bringing a hand down to slow the pace of her hips, “I guess you shouldn’t take anything today, or do you think I forgot about how much you paid attention to that little emo bastard earlier, huh?”

“You hate him that much, huh?” She tries to say in a mockery tone, wanting to turn the tables again, but it sounds pathetic as her voice breaks later in the last words.

“Yes,” you say easily, leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder, finding her pulse point, “He was touching you. Touching my girlfriend.”

You bite down hard on the skin when Natalie turns her head to grant access and she moans, actually moans, fuck, you did it. A full sound, loud enough to make your pupils dilate until your irises almost disappear. This, this sound, you want to hear this forever.

It's been more than seven minutes, you think, or maybe our discussion was just really quick. You wonder if you would have time to take one of her breasts into your mouth, feeling the way she rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips against your thigh, now free from your hands, when you roll her nipples hard between your fingers.

She sighs as she receives another kiss from you, much softer now, more affectionate, feeling her hand tracing circles on your cheek.

A quick, loud knock on the door startles you both, making Nat jump and bang her head against one of the shelves behind her and knock something over, “Fuck!” She screams and you instinctively reach for her head to check for injuries.

You look at the source of the knock, it's definitely not Van calling, she would have opened the door at once just to laugh at your faces.

“Girls, time is over!” Jackie's voice sings on the other side.

“Ugh,” Natalie grunts, clearly frustrated at being interrupted so abruptly, she takes the opportunity to finally take a look at the closet as you head towards the door, “Is this some kind of pantry?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Rich people have so many random rooms scattered around their houses.”

There are loud whistles and jeers as you leave, half the football team gathered in the busy room and giving you knowing looks, you give Van the finger when she points out the traces of dark lipstick on your mouth.

“Were you guys actually going to fuck in there?” She teases, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

You open your mouth to retort – probably with something stupid – but Natalie is quicker:

“Fuck off Van, stop bothering my girlfriend.”

Van gives up the provocation, raising her arms in surrender and Nat rolls her eyes as if she hadn't said anything important, but you're absolutely frozen, listening to your heart beating rapidly against your ears.

Natalie looks back when she notices you standing still and snorts in amusement at your reaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with her.

“C’mon,” she says, “Let’s go, silly, I got something to do–”

“Move!” Jackie interrupts with an anxious tone, pushing you gently by the shoulder and bouncing on her heels, “It’s our turn.”

You catch a glimpse of Shauna standing shyly behind her like a shadow being dragged to the closet and Jeff sitting on the floor with the rest of his classmates with the most confused and defeated expression you've ever seen as Nat hurriedly guides you out.

When you're about to get into her car, Natalie surprises you, grabbing your waist with her cold hands and pressing you against the door, hungry eyes fixed on your form.

“I–” you stutter nervously, “I thought we were going home?”

Natalie nods.

“We are,” she agrees, “I just have to do you first.”

Well, maybe your night won't end as bad as you thought it would.

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi dear ☺️ could I ask for an imagine with Bucky where you can't sleep, so you walk around through the compound enjoying the silence. Just as you find a wide awake Bucky as well. You then just talk about senseless stuff till you find yourself in each other's embrace on the couch where he finally gets the guts to kiss you and tell you how much you mean to him. Eventually you fall asleep and the others find you both tangled together the next morning and are very happy for you 🙊

night

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: just fluff

Author's note: thank you for the request, love. this is my first attempt to write it, so I hope you'll be satisfied with it💘

Walking around the quiet and empty compound in the middle of the night was satisfying. No arguing, no screams, no laughter—just long corridors and free common rooms that gave you a place to distance yourself from thoughts and feelings. 

You have done it a lot lately. Since the missions were always unexpected and not always easy, your whole sleep routine got quickly ruined, and now you couldn't fall asleep at a proper time. 

Your feet in fluffy socks softly tapped on a cold floor when you headed towards the connected kitchen and living room, where the Avengers spend more of their free time. Humming some song that you heard earlier, you turned on the low lights and opened a fridge for an ice cream, too lost in your head to notice a figure sitting on the couch. 

You found your favorite one and scooped the whole spoon, quietly moaning at the flavor on your tongue. Still with a spoon in your mouth, you turned around and almost choked when you saw Bucky sitting a few feet away from you and intently looking at you. 

“Oh my god, Bucky! I almost had a heart attack!” Your free hand flew to the left side of your chest, trying to calm down your heartbeat. “What are you doing here?” You smiled at him, noticing that he was sitting in complete darkness and looked exhausted.  

“Nightmare.” He gave you a sad smile and moved to the side. “Wanna sit with me? I see you’re far from being asleep too, doll.” His nickname made redness creep onto your cheeks. You took another spoon and sat by his right side. 

“Yeah, my whole night routine is messed up, and my eyes won't even close.” You chuckled, not missing how Bucky’s eyes studied your face. He saw that you had caught him and quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the pint of ice cream in your hands. “I– um, do you want to talk about your nightmare? You know I’m always here if you need me, Buck.” 

Before you could even think, your hand covered his in a supportive gesture. Bucky was slightly taken aback, but the warm feeling at the fact that you had always been so nice and open to him blossomed in his chest. He slowly turned his hand over so your fingers slipped in between his, and gave you a soft squeeze. 

"No. We can talk about anything except for this. But thank you, doll.” He looked at you again with those soft blue eyes and a little smile on his lips. 

You were talking for at least an hour, discussing news in the compound and the book that Bucky had read recently. The ice cream pin was almost finished. You moved closer to Bucky, starting to feel sleepy, and put your head on his shoulder. He smelled so good and basically radiated that comfortable warmth, so you wanted to burry yourself in him. His low and muffled voice above your head worked as a lullaby on you, but you tried everything to stay awake and finally spend as much time together as you could. 

“Doll, you’re barely staying awake.” He couldn’t resist himself and placed a soft kiss on your hair. “You’re ready for bed.” The moment he started moving to stand up, you gripped his forearm, not letting him go. 

“No, Bucky, can we stay here for a few more minutes? Please? I really like talking to you.” You mumbled against his shirt. Bucky looked down at you, surprised and happy at the same time. 

“You do?” His lips curled into a smile, which he really tried to control but completely failed. You just slightly nodded, still holding eye contact with him. 

You both were silent for a few seconds, suddenly too lost in each other’s eyes, until Bucky couldn’t hold back any more and looked at your soft lips. You were so close to him, all sleepy and cute, that it was impossible to deny the fact that he had been hiding his feelings for you for too long. He could ruin everything, but it felt right to do so in that moment, so he just gave in. 

Your eyes instantly closed at the feeling of Bucky’s lips on yours. Pint had fallen somewhere on the floor when you emptied your hand to place it on his stubble cheek. The kiss was slow and sweet, as if Bucky tried to savor you as much as he could. His metal hand held the side of your neck, slightly moving you closer to him. 

You had never gotten butterflies from a simple kiss. It was exactly what you needed—what you craved for so long. You felt secure in Bucky’s presence, feeling like your body was flowing when he slowly moved his lips against yours. 

“Fuck.” He slightly pulled away and connected your foreheads. It was so intimate, like you two were in a bubble in your own world. “I wanted to do that for so long.” 

“Mhm.” You hummed with still closed eyes. Bucky’s thumb gently rubbed your cheek, and you leaned closer to his touch. “Me too, Buck. I thought about it more times than I can admit.” 

“You’re amazing, so pretty, and cute, and kind... Gosh, I don’t remember the last time I felt this way. Will you go on a date with me? If you don’t want to, it’s o–" 

“I want. I really do. I wish other people saw this side of you. You are so sweet.” You bit your lip, and now, without hiding it, you studied his face. Then, without a warning, he just hugged you, as if he were holding himself back from doing it. Your body melted into his, and you let out a satisfied sight, feeling so warm and secure. The sleepiness started to crawl back again, and your eyelids became too heavy to keep them open.

Still holding you in his arms, Bucky laid back on the couch and covered your bodies with a soft blanket that was nearby. You nuzzled into his neck, enjoying that overwhelming scent, and wrapped your arms around Bucky’s torso. 

“G’night, Bucky. I'm happy to be here with you.”

“Me too. Sleep well, doll.” He placed another kiss on your forehead, but you had already fallen asleep. 

Bucky felt happy. The aching feeling in his chest had finally calmed down, and he held the girl of his dreams right near him. 

He didn’t think that he would fall asleep—not after that horrifying nightmare, but the grounding weight of your hands and legs on top of him, your soft breathing, and the whole feeling of calmness that you had always surrounded him with made it’s job. Just in a span of a few minutes, Bucky was sleeping, holding you even tighter than before. 

“Am I seeing it right?” Tony froze in the doorframe, looking at the picture in front of him.

“What do you m–” Steve stood near him, true shock and disbelief written on his face. “How did that happen? Did they– oh my god.” He whispered not to wake either of you up.

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t know about their feelings for each other.” Natasha gave him a cocky smile and snached a cereal box out of Sam’s hands.

“Hey! Give it back to me, Romanoff!” Sam tried to take it back, but after receiving that look from Nat, he just sat back in his place. “He looked at Y/N like a kicked puppy every time she wasn’t paying attention. Barnes finally made a smart decision.” 

“Can all of you just shut up and let us sleep?” Bucky covered your ears with a blanket and hissed at the people who were bothering you. 

“Sorry, buddy. I’m happy for you.” Steve whispered back with the biggest and brightest smile on his face, pushing his friends out of the room. 

“You’re m’ hero.” You mumbled from under the blanket, still mostly asleep. Bucky smiled, laying back in his place and wrapping his hands around you.

“Always for you, doll.”

[afreakingdork]

Deep Dive: Rise of the TMNT Donatello's Bad Boy Persona, His Cute, But Mean Type, and Why He is None of These Things

I made this presentation to delve into my take on Rise Donnie!

It was a power point, but I'm going to break it down here. I do want to preserve the first slide though because...

Did you know Black dahlia's aren't actually black? They're very dark red and in flower language they represent dishonesty!

Apropos, let's get into it...

Donnie is a Bad Liar

We see this throughout the show

“No? No… Of course I did… n't.”

"Uh, nothing. Just having a typical normal mystic free day."

"We are just typical, normal humans who got lost in the middle of our normal, everyday human lives. Nailed it."

"Oh man. Uh. This hurts me. Uh. I'm very sad?"

He has all the characteristics of a terrible liar. He sweats, his pitch warbles, his eyes dart, ect, everything you would expect.

Sarcasm! The Perfect Cover?

When Donnie does go for the use of sarcasm, he almost always points it out.

"I feel better already," he said without a hint of sarcasm."

"Oh, sure. Let me just load my tap-into-every-security-camera-in-New-York app. I'm sorry if that sounded like sarcasm, it wasn't. I am in."

Point Out the Obvious Much

However, when he doesn't point out the sarcasm, he also can't help but make mention of the oxymoron. We see this a lot, especially in Donnie vs. Witch Town.

"Oh yes very cool says Donnie as he quietly lets something go."

"Ooh, fireworks. Science never would have thought of something it was originally inventor of."

So basically, if Donnie tries to lie; he gives himself away. If Donnie tries to fudge the truth; he's compelled to make note of it.

I bring this all up to specifically tackle this sentence:

“So unfair. Although it is a boost for my emotionally unavailable bad boy image. “Y’ello.””

Why do I do so? Let me remind you of my first slide...

But how can that be? We just established that he's a bad liar. In the 'bad boy' line, he's not falling for any of his tells. He's body language gives no indication of lying. He doesn't make any note of sarcasm. No one after this line makes a face or corrects Donnie and he doesn't point out any discrepancies.

How could this be a lie?

Because Donnie himself doesn't know it's a lie.

Let Me Take You Back

Things I Did Unironically as a Teenager

Added Japanese honorifics to the end of my friends nicknames (-san, -chan, -kun)

Had my friends help me wrap myself up in caution tape for my birthday, but told people they made me

Wore a dog collar with a dog tag that had my name in Romanji on it

Had screen names like RubyBlueSango62 and blahweeblah626

But That’s Just Personal Experience!

Things Donnie has Unironically as a Teenager

"Ah, yes, so in this case a game of bask-eh-ball."

"Prepare to eateth thy words."

"Oh, hey guys. What’s the haps? Huh? Oh, oh this? I didn’t realize I had it on. This is my sweet new purple satin jacket- Got it from being a bit of a tech wiz. Purple Dragons. Members only. No big deal. Mm-hm. Well, you better grab some toast, fellas, 'cause you are all jelly!"

“It's Bootyyyshakker9000. Capital B and three Ys in booty.”

I believe it's a universal experience for teenagers to push boundaries. For so long, most parents decide everything for you. With hormones and growth, you want to experiment, but since autonomy is new, you try to break from the mold and do it uniquely. Anything that is outside your norm, especially things that swing wildly from what you once new seems especially exciting. From embellishing speech, to wearing specific clothing items, and even your first screen name, you don't know boundaries! It may be 'cringe' in the future, but when you first do it, it seems like the coolest thing ever! It's something that wholly represents you. This online space you. This you that is ungoverned! I'm an only child so I can't imagine, but I bet you especially want to do this when you have siblings. Where the shame in that?

I mean... Kat Haynes agrees with me on this...

Low Empathy

Now to get a little more serious. Alexithymia is a term that describes those who have difficulty feeling emotions. While not always associated with autism, it is more common in individuals with it. About 1 in 5 people who have autism also have alexithymia.

As already stated, it is clear the Donnie suffers from alexithymia. Most Donatello-centric conflicts in Rise have nothing to do with Donnie being emotionless and instead often deal with him lashing out due to his confusion or insecurities. We see this a lot especially in Witch Town where he is grappling with himself the entire episode. He's insecure about how he doesn't understand mysticism and he doesn't know how to process it or his place on the team. He's not emotionless, he's insecure when he doesn't understand something.

"Yes, feelings. Hot, cold, sleepy, hungry…"

"I don't normally feel things, but that one got through!"

Emotions on his Metaphorical Sleeve

Nothing about alexithymia says that you don't feel emotions. Instead, it's characterized by not understanding them. Donnie feels his emotions big and large just like Mikey does and especially if something is important to him, you'll see those reactions dialed up to eleven.

All Talk

While many think of the classic "semi-lethal" line and the "Speak for yourself" when Mikey says they aren't savages in regard to Donnie, he's not really the bad boy he plays himself up to be. When the theatrics are set aside, most of Donnie’s snap judgements are the altruistic kind or he thoughtfully plans out ways to not only take care of his family, but actively ensure their safety (to varying degrees of success, but that's not what we're saying here):

created devices which both counteracted his brother's flaws because they were getting them hurt

Used himself as a shield for Mikey on multiple occasions 

Risks his own safety and bodily harm especially in Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man and Breaking Purple

Builds Escape pods for everyone 

Enters a sensory nightmare for the sake of the world

Often asks, especially Raph, if he's okay and looks out for the oldest brother

Yet the Presentation Continues?

Why yes, because there is another line of Donnie's that I want to tackle that I believe falls exactly in line with the 'bad boy image' one...

"Oh, you’re so cute, but so mean. Why do I always go for your type?"

You know what I'm about to posit again...

Insecure

As touched on previously, Donnie is insecure. He's insecure about his emotions. He's insecure about his place on the team. He's insecure about anything he doesn't understand and his insecurities are exceedingly personal in nature because he ties them intrinsically to his personality.

"The real thing is much more personal and thoughtful, and I really hope you like it, ‘cause if you don’t I will just be crushed!"

"This’ll teach you to compliment my work and give me my first positive reinforcement from a parent aged adult, ever!"

Speaking of parent aged adults... i wonder where this could stem from...

Role Model

Who do all the turtles model themselves after, but their own father? Whether they knew it or not, Lou Jitsu was someone they all strived to be like. They commited to learning all the lines from his movies. They fought like him outside of the training course Splinter sets them on. Heck, Donnie takes his hero worship so far that his character defining brows are exactly Lou Jitsu's! Babies start learning how to establish social and emotional relationships around 18 months. We have Splinter, a despondent, but loving care giver who unfortunately did not give Donnie the validation he craved. This manifests in his insecurities where he bends over backwards to get the attention he craves. He wants to be seen, again compounded by having three rowdy mutant-powered brothers, and so he ends up tying his worth into his ability.

Now, while for a majority of the series, the turtles don't know about Splinter's past or that he dated Big Mama, but it wasn't as if Splinter hid that part of himself away so obviously. In fact, because he himself is still mourning his lost humanity, he ends up feeding his son's a hardy diet of his life's existence. The boys are secondarily raised by Lou Jitsu movies in place where Splinter is not always present. Obviously, Lou Jitsu seemingly disappears, but Splinter's feelings on the matter don't. He openly still cares about Big Mama in the present and this I don't think it's a stretch to say that he would let these feelings leak in a similar way to how he presents Lou Jitsu in the boys lives. Big Mama is a attractive, albeit manipulative woman. This is awfully close to a little line someone says, especially when we consider that he models himself after this man.

Also, if we're taking models into account. Something we know for a fact shapes teenagers. Something we know for a fact that Donnie does. Something that is equally canonized in the show, then we have to talk about.

Donnie’s True Canonical Idol

That's right. You know her. You love her. You believe that Donnie is a thigh man because of this Lass' existence. Donnie says flat out that Atomic Lass is his childhood idol. He goes to great lengths to dance with her, smashing Leo out of the way. He then even goes so far as to ask if her and Atomic Lad have split up because his intention to date her is so clear. Now she was obviously a mutant in a costume, but that didn't matter because he loves Atomic Lass that much and Atomic Lass?

She's a heroine.

Only cute and mean in the context of the episode, this is not the Lass he fell in love with. The Lass he loves is a comic book hero that travels the universe doing good.

Also....

Ron Corcillo Agrees With Me

A staff writer on Rise, I apologize I can't show the origin tweet because it was deleted, but it was a dual question that asked both about the Turtles meeting Spider-man and about Donnie's preference. Now you could say he's forgotten a line that may not be as important to him, but doesn't that in and of itself say something? It says that it could have been a one-off joke or that it wasn't something that was necessarily intrinsic to the character.

To Recap:

Donnie doesn’t always know himself

Donnie is a cringey teen

Donnie is insecure

Donnie has difficulty understanding emotions and himself

Donnie isn’t actually an 'emotionally unavailable bad boy'

Donnie doesn’t actually like the ‘mean’ type

Sources:

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episodes:

Mystic Mayhem

Donnie's Gifts

Pizza Pit

Hot Soup: The Game

Shadow of Evil

Donnie vs. Witch Town

The Mutant Menace

Breaking Purple

Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man

End Game

Repo Mantis

Mascot Melee

Donnie's Gifts

Bug Busters

War and Pizza

Goyles, Goyles, Goyles

Lair Games

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie

lactoseintolerentswag's post on Rise Characterizations Pt. 3!!!

skulltrot's Donnie (Rise of the TMNT) | Autism Representation in Media video

Ron Corcillo's tweet from Cartoon Brew's Feb 10, 2024 AMA

Alexithymia | Autistica

earthytzipi's post not understanding why people characterize Donnie has hiding his emotions

hyperfixatinator's post about ROTTMNT Theory: Donatello's Hidden Role

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Seven

Words: 7k Minors DNI

As it becomes increasingly clear Sarah's mom is here to stay in Jackson, you realise whatever's going on with you and Joel needs to stop. It's fine, because you've already decided you're not that sad about it. Telling Ellie you can't tutor her anymore, though...that one's going to be tough.

Chapter warnings: Finally get to some of the SMUT team! Oral (f receiving), tiny little bit of dirty talk

A/N: Things are still a little bit crap for me but writing has actually been a nice release (heh). I know some people aren't feeling super safe around here at the moment, but I want to reiterate you will always be safe with me. And in the meantime I will just keep writing my angsty smut for my own amusement, and suggest ya'll do, too.

Six | Series Masterlist | Eight

The new arrivals cleared quarantine in 48 hours. The two men, Wren and Steven, were put up in a share house with a few of the other men around town but Shauna was given her own place, a studio out the back of Tommy’s, nothing much more than a converted garage. Joel didn’t understand why Tommy wanted her so close, and also understood exactly, seeing as how he wanted to both crawl out of his skin when he thought of her, and also into her chest.

He waited exactly a day and a half after she settled into her studio before knocking on her door. The evening was just settling in, and it had been a warm day, the kind of day that gives you a warning of the summer about to descend. She wasn’t even surprised when she opened the door to him. Just beckoned him inside, pushed some old blankets off a chair and pulled it out for him.

The place had a long window running up near the ceiling to let the light in, but other than that it was cool, dark.

‘You’ll need heat in the winter,’ he said, smelling mildew. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had been back here. Tommy didn’t even use it to store his tools.

‘You got any suggestions?’ Shauna asked, smiling thinly at him.

‘Move into a better place,’ he replied.

She snorted. ‘Figure I got a couple of months to figure that out I guess,’ she replied.

‘So you’re stayin’? You settlin’ in?’ Joel asked her, firing questions at her like an interrogation, hearing it in his voice, the sadness and the fear and the sound of something tinkling at the bottom of a well.

‘Don’t know, Joel,’ she replied, sitting heavy on the bed while he stood up, took three or four paces before he had to turn around and pace back again. There was a bare bulb hanging in the middle of the room. He checked for outlets, found a few where you could set up a nice lamp. He had one she could borrow, over by the bed, so she could read of a nighttime.

‘Fuck, Shauna,’ he started, and she shrugged at him. ‘You had no idea I was here?’

‘How could I have, Joel?’ she asked. In the half-light the curls of her hair glowed around her head like a crown. He could remember the smell of Sarah’s shampoo, the first time he’d been able to recall it in years.

‘Twenty-five years and you happen to head here?’

‘Of all the gin-joints…’ she started, but he raised his hand to stop her. He couldn’t do jokes right now. He couldn’t do much but gawp at her and try and get his brain to stay with him, here in this moment, in this little garage at the end of the Earth.

‘I just…I never thought I’d see you again.’

‘I know, baby,’ she said, and he winced a little at the nickname. She caught it, cheeks red at the habit. ‘Sorry,’ she said, when he glared at her. ‘Mistake.’

‘What do we do now? How do we do this?’ he asked, turning to her. She had always been good with the decisions. Had made him eat healthy, not stay out too late, had filled his head with ambitions of owning his own business, of bringing Tommy on with him, showing him the ropes. He remembered then that she didn’t know he’d done it, that she’d been right, and he’d never let her have that. He opened his mouth to tell her, catching himself just in time.

‘I don’t know, Joel. Wren and Steve are here, and we’ve been a pretty tight crew for a while…’

‘You with one of them?’ he asked, and she smiled.

When she’d been pregnant, properly pregnant, her bump finally poking out from beneath her ribcage, Joel had developed a habit of resting his hand on it in supermarkets, out for dinner with Tommy and her parents, would follow her to the bar and rest his chin on her shoulder as she ordered a seltzer and a beer for him. Even then, barely out of school and struggling to grow into his limbs he was protective of her, possessive of her and the baby in her belly. There were times she could practically hear him chanting ‘my girls, my girls, mine,’ as she walked beside him.

‘It’s complicated,’ she said, after a while. ‘They’re brothers. I met them coming out of the QZ in Kansas, and its...well, y’know how brothers share.’

She watched as he reared back, his shoulders rising so fast he nearly knocked into his earlobes.

‘You’re with both of them?’ he asked, and he could hear how panicked he sounded, and couldn’t be certain what was behind it, but he didn’t like it, didn’t like Wren or Steven, didn’t trust ‘em.

‘Technically, Joel, I’m not with either of them. Not with with. Just…it gets cold on the sides of mountains. It gets hard to keep going. It’s about…securing the bond. Loyalty.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, cocking a knee and wresting his hands on his hips. ‘Are you…in some kind of sex cult with those men?’

‘Joel, you can not be this naïve. Not after twenty years in the apocalypse. You know women have to…we gotta survive.’

Thoughts of you popped up in his head, instant and unbidden. You hadn’t done any of that stuff, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine any different. He knew you’d been in a QZ for a while, but you’d been FEDRA, and that would have afforded you some kind of luxuries. Security. Fuckin’ loyalty.

He swallowed. He knew FEDRA were as bad as all the others, possibly even worse since they were armed. He knew what women had to do to curry favour with them. But not you, he decided. Not you, because you would have talked your way out of it, would have charmed them with your smile and your sweet, pretty face hiding your enormous, glorious brain. You would have figured out a way around it. You would have…you wouldn’t have…

‘Joel?’ Shauna called him out of his panic, and he swallowed down.

‘Ain’t judgin’ ya,’ he said, and she scoffed a little.

‘You sure about that?’

‘I can’t…imagine…’ he said, and he felt the heat on his cheeks now. He could imagine. He just didn’t want to.

‘Yeah, well…things were bad in Kanas. They got me out. I guess I was grateful to them.’

‘You ain’t movin’ in with ‘em?’

‘It served a purpose and maybe now it’s done? Besides, not sure Maria really understands, or endorses…’

Joel nodded, grunting his understanding. Jackson ran on family values, and scorching gossip. Maria would have done it to protect Shauna as much as to keep up appearances.

‘Joel, can we talk about her?’ Shauna asked, and he found himself shaking his head.

‘Can’t,’ he said.

‘Please, Joel, I just want to know how-’

Joel felt the switch flip in his brain, the one that meant he could talk about her while he slipped himself out of the way to let the facts through.

‘Army, military, the first night. I was gettin’ her out, me and Tommy, if we could just find a road. She was hurt but I had her. They…’

‘No, no,’ Shauna said, stopping him because she could see he had fallen into the vortex, that he was miles away now, years away, bleeding and scared and holding their girl in his arms. ‘No, I…I meant, I wanted to know how she grew up. What was she like, when she was a teenager?’

Joel swallowed, felt the tears in the back of his eyes, the strain across the back of his throat.

‘She was…’ he didn’t know how to describe her. Shauna had left when Sarah was 9. 10 years they’d spent together after they’d found out she was pregnant, trying to save a marriage that had barely been more than a high school romance. He’d known it wasn’t working, had known that he was hurting her by making her stay, but he couldn’t imagine a world where Sarah would choose him if her parents split, couldn’t bear the idea of his little girl splitting her time between two houses, two Christmases, two sets of books, two sets of school bags dropped by two different doors.

He'd underestimated them both. Shauna for her ability to just outright abandon them. Sarah for her ability to know that loving her mom meant setting her free.

‘She was brilliant,’ he said, after a while. ‘So smart, basically ran the household, kept me and Tommy in line. N’she was capable, could handle her own shit. I guess…she had to grow up pretty fast, but she did it, and she was sweet about it too. Made me drink my juice in the morning,’ at this Joel smiled, tears threatening to spill, Shauna’s eyes wet as she watched him. ‘She was a brilliant little girl, and she was turning into a beautiful woman.’

He cleared his throat, letting himself remember her head on his shoulder as he all but forced her to watch some shitty Western on TV. Carrying her to bed, tucking her in, praying she never got so big he couldn’t lift her anymore, then after she was gone praying one day, somehow, she would.

Shauna wiped the tear from her cheek. ‘I figured when she was older, when I had my life back together, maybe we could…reconnect,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Joel, I know I left you both, left you the most, but…’

‘You were already gone,’ Joel said. ‘All those years, you were never really in it.’

Shauna let out a quiet little sob. ‘I wanted to be,’ she said, and he could tell that she meant it, and also he didn’t care, could never really care, when he saw the chunk she took out of their daughter when she left them, watched as that brave little girl grew out of the scar.

‘She never asked about you,’ he said, and he wanted it to be comforting and he wanted it to be cruel. He wanted to hurt her, and he wanted to hold her, wanted her to know that he’d long given up on her, even before she left them, but that he had been holding on anyway, because he thought that was what you did when you had a kid.

Shauna gasped, letting out a little hiccup of sadness.

‘Is that true?’ she asked, and she fixed him then with a hurt on her face unlike anything he’d seen in a long while. No one walked around that sad for the world to see in a place that would kill you for any weakness. He swallowed down the bile burning at the back of his throat.

‘No,’ he said, because she had written letters every week for a year to her mother that he had never sent. Because each Christmas she wrapped up a little gift for her mother that she hid behind the tree down by the corner, where she thought he couldn’t see. Because each year on her birthday she waited for the mailman, sat with a book on her lap she was pretending to read while she watched out the window, and he had to see her face fall when all that got delivered was just bills and a lottery ticket from Uncle Tommy. She never said the fuckin’ words, but she asked for her mother every day.

He had hated Shauna for it. Had burned up all the energy he had left in him working to hide his fury from his little girl.

Looking at her now, sad and folded up against herself on the end of the bed he wondered what for. All those feelings, so hot and so bright and so sharp at the time now faded, now boxed up. He wasn’t even sure if this was the same person in front of him, the one who started taking shards of his heart the moment he met her, who stranded him with the weight of her absence over years.

He wasn’t sure if he hated her anymore for it. He wasn’t sure if he felt anything at all.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said, because she was still snuffling.

‘I thought I was making it better for her, that she could finally be herself if I stopped crowding her. You know when two vines are planted in the same pot either one of them will strangle the other to survive? Only way to save them both is to get ‘em out.’  

Joel watched her, understanding, not wanting to.

‘I didn’t want to…pull the life out of her anymore, Joel. I had to break the pot.’

He felt the creak in his knees, the old scar on his abdomen starting to ache from standing too long. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked down at his shoes to assure himself he was still on solid ground.

‘Yeah, well, you broke it,’ he said. Shauna nodded, pulling at her sling and wincing slightly. ‘You hurtin’?’ Joel asked, and she sighed.

‘Yeah, but Wren said he’d try and get me something from the infirmary. I told him not to bother. Don’t feel like I can ask for anything when we just got here.’

‘The town’ll be suspicious,’ he informed her, plainly. ‘Three of you in one go, s’a lot.’

‘I figured I could tell them I’m a Miller,’ she said, watching his face, the way it fell. He swallowed. ‘I mean, technically I still am.’

‘You ain’t been a Miller for years, even when we were still together,’ he said, and this time he didn’t want to hurt her so much as state the plain truth.

‘I know, but…could be useful in a place like this.’  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah, aged 9, at the doorway, peeking in at her separating parents, wondering out of her room for all the shouting. He blinked her away. ‘I won’t do it if you don’t want me to,’ Shauna continued.

He thought of you. Your warm classroom, the little wood figurines he’d carved for you lined up on the edge of your desk.

‘Don’t,’ he said, grim and firm and honest.

‘Ok, Ok,’ she said, raising her hands in defeat. She sighed, dramatic and maybe just a little for effect. ‘I’ll let the town hate me.’

He remembered what it was like to argue with her. How she’d end up bursting into tears and he’d rush to comfort her, always wrap his arms around her even if he still seethed, and afterwards he’d always wonder if she was actually sad or if it was only ever just to win a point. Worse, when he realised he didn’t care, didn’t feel anything, either way.

‘They might hate ya,’ he agreed. ‘But just until they discover your winnin’ personality.’ She examined his face, searching it for anger, for hurt. He grinned at her. Let her off the hook.

--

It wasn’t that you were sad, exactly, although some part of you knew that you were. It wasn’t that you were mourning, because you knew what that felt like, and besides which, you hadn’t lost anything, not really. It wasn’t that you were lonely, because you’d already decided not to be. It was just that for a second there, things had been different. There had been the prospect of something, and now it was gone.

You watched as Joel sat with Ellie, Tommy, Maria and now Shauna. Maria bouncing Robin, growing like a weed despite barely more than a newborn, on her knee while Ellie cooed at him, tried to spoon feed him stew. You couldn’t help noticing the way Shauna ignored him, the way she almost turned her back to the infant, to instead lean in close to the adults at the table. You were probably missing it. You were only stealing glances, after all.

Word had spread that the three were staying, and you knew that Wren was already out on patrols because you’d seen him go out with the morning group to check the perimeter. The other one, Steven, was apparently good with animals so he had been placed on stable duty. Shauna was helping out with the town council, doing admin and filing and things. It made sense, and it was easy work, and you wondered how she’d survived so long on her own without apparently being able to shoot or ride worth a damn, but it didn’t matter because it didn’t involve you, anyway, unless Shauna happened to decide she needed to redo grade school.

Joel didn’t look at you, and you didn’t want him to, you really didn’t, not at all. A few times Ellie waved you over and you had to pretend you hadn’t seen her. You should have brought a book with you to try and make it even vaguely plausible. You would remember, next time.

You just weren’t sure how you were going to tell Ellie that you couldn’t tutor her anymore. It didn’t feel fair that she had to lose out, but at the same time you knew you didn’t have it in you. The idea of sitting at Joel’s kitchen table, remembering his lips on yours, his arms holding you to his chest, his little gasp as he consumed you. Rose would have been able to carry on. You weren’t Rose.

You weren’t sure why you came down to the mess for breakfast. Normally you just grabbed an apple and ate it at your desk. As you left, you noticed some of Ellie’s stars were still strung up along the walls. You wondered if they would ever come down.

--

‘Didn’t you see me?’ Ellie asked, bounding up to at the end of the school day as you wiped the chalk from the board.

‘Pretty sure I’ve been seeing you all day,’ you said, and she made a face.

‘No, I mean this morning. You came by and then you sat on your own?’

‘Oh, you were there? Sorry, I had my mind on…the eggs. Just hadn’t had them in a while. Must have been craving it.’

‘Are you ovulating?’ Ellie asked, in that unnerving way she had of cutting you directly to the quick.

You paused, considering your answer for a moment.

‘I’m not sure why you ask,’ you said, eventually, settling for truth.

‘Craving eggs,’ Ellie shrugged, as if this was the most obvious explanation.

‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ you said, and then you paused, because to be honest your sex education also stopped around the end of the world. ‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ you clarified.

‘Well, whatever, I just wanted to ask you what time you wanted me for tutoring today. You didn’t tell me last time.’

You felt your heart rate pick up. Part of you had wondered if you just said nothing maybe she would forget.

‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about that,’ you said, smiling like you were about to bestow her with good news. ‘You’ve been doing some really great work, really strong, and I can see that you’ve come along so much.’

You paused for a moment, watching the pride break like a dawn over her face, wanted to take a mental photo of it, laminate it and stick it in your memory for eternity.

‘So yeah, I don’t think you need me anymore,’ you said, the smile feeling forced across your cheeks now, the strain in the muscle pulling across the back of your scalp.

You watched as her face collapsed, the light immediately shuttering away from it. You swallowed. ‘Tutoring, I mean…I don’t think you need tutoring,’ you said.

You knew Ellie was doing better socially, you could see she was more talkative in class, that she and Dina were edging their way towards friendship. But you knew, too, how much of a comfort it was to have routine after so long of living through chaos. That the two of you in the dying light of the evening waiting for Joel to finish cooking dinner so you could stop pretending that you were doing any work and take yourselves in to him, that there was a gift in that, that there was a prize in it, and that you were taking it back from her now, snatching it from her arms. You swallowed, heavy and tired and wondering if you were doing the right thing and knowing that you were. That it was necessity. That it was choice.

‘Oh,’ she said, and you nodded at her, smiling still, trying to keep her energy up, trying to dull the blow.

‘You really are doing so well, I’m super proud,’ you said, and then you felt wrong, like you were her mother when really, you realised, you had become her friend.

‘Is this because of Joel being a shithead?’ she asked, and you shook your head to hard and so fast you could hear your neck creak in protest.

‘No,’ you said, tightly, trying to regain your composure enough to get the girl over you and out the door. ‘No, it really is just that you’re…a superstar.’

‘So why don’t you want to keep going, then?’ she asked. ‘It’s not like I know everything.’

You had thought of this question, and had prepared an answer, and even though it wasn’t even remotely true you knew it would appeal to Ellie’s better nature, that it would work on her, and you hated yourself for it even as your mouth started to form the words.

‘It wouldn’t be fair on the other kids,’ you said, and she nodded her head, immediately understanding, immediately agreeing, immediately nailing the last of your self-worth to the floor beneath your feet.

‘Right,’ she said, but she was quiet, and she was backing away, and you saw that her face was closed off, and that she was turning inwards again, just like she had been when she first got here. You stepped towards her, but she was already out the door.

‘Thank you for everything,’ you called after her, and you realised at the same moment that you said it how final it sounded, and how trite. You had dismissed her, thoroughly. Had slammed the door behind her as she left.

For a long while after you stood in your classroom and surveyed the tables in front of you, the pictures on the wall, the photos you’d pulled from old, half-rotten Encyclopaedias and taped to the walls. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn, to see the wooden figurines lined up along the edge of your desk. You stood, instead, facing where Ellie had been minutes ago, half an hour ago, an hour ago.

You wondered if you could unspool time around you, just wind it down to a stop so that you didn’t have to move into the next moments, into the ones without her, without you at their kitchen table, without Joel’s warm eyes on your face as he spooned mac and cheese into your bowl.

--

Joel didn’t like that Wren guy, and he wasn’t too sure about Steven, either. He didn’t like the way Steven eyed off the women in the town, like he was figuring out how best to herd them, seeing as how he was apparently a cattleman. Wren, well he just got on too well with the rest of them, had fit right in with Guillaume, and he fuckin’ hated Guillaume. That was too strong, maybe. He just didn’t trust any of ‘em, when it came down to it. Preferred to be defending himself and his loved ones if it ever came down to it, if he had somehow failed to get them all far, far away.

He found himself turning over what Shauna had said as he surveyed them now, coming to the end of his shift on the wall. He wondered if that was really something women out there were doing, having to do, to keep themselves alive and he knew that of course they were, knew that as much as he had seen it in the raider camps he’d had the unfortunate luck to come across, but now Joel was wondering what kind of man would let a woman do it. What kind of man would let her make the offer, let alone accept it. He knew the answer to that one, too.

As his shift ended, he decided he’d go talk to Tommy about it. Tommy had a good read for things like this. Would have the sense Joel didn’t to see it straight.

Except that it wasn’t just Tommy when Joel got back to his little office, the room crowded again with half of the town council, Maria and Shauna sitting perched on Tommy’s desk.

‘Seems risky,’ Tommy was saying, and at this Shauna rolled her eyes.

‘Course it’s risky, but show me something that isn’t,’ she huffed. Joel recognised that tone, had it imprinted somewhere along his spinal column.

‘Don’t see why its necessary, we have everything we need here,’ Robert was saying. Joel liked Robert. Robert was steady and had survived the fifteen-some years on his own by living off the same ranch he always had with his wife of thirty-years. He only came off it when she died, and he found himself unable to justify working land that size for one man. Joel could respect that.

‘If we don’t keep pushing out, we won’t have everything we need for much longer. We need to…keep up,’ Shauna was saying. Joel caught Tommy’s eye, who was looking at him as if this was somehow his fault.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Joel asked, stepping forward and trying to ignore the way Shauna brightened when she saw him.

‘Town council meetin’,’ Robert said, ‘though as far as I can see it’s only half of us here.’

‘Not everyone was available at short notice,’ Shauna said, and he grunted at her.

‘That so?’ he asked. Joel watched his face carefully, as the older man gave absolutely nothing away.

‘I’ve got plans to expand, just an idea, really,’ Shauna said, backtracking when she saw Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Thought I should bring it in for…consideration.’

‘You ain’t been here five minutes,’ Tommy started, but Joel waved his hand and the younger brother immediately stopped. He wasn’t happy, Joel saw the way he rolled his shoulders, the little tic in his jaw Joel was fairly sure his little brother had learnt from him, but he quietened down, just the same.

‘Not for me to say,’ Joel said, trying his hand at post-apocalyptic diplomacy, ‘but that feels like something…if the town council thinks it has merit, mind…seems like something the whole of Jackson should get a vote on.’

He watched as Shauna’s smile faltered, for just a second, and Joel was surprised to find none of her tells had eroded over time. It wasn’t the answer she had hoped for, he could see that. What he couldn’t see was why.

‘We’ll call a proper meeting, with all the council, to consider it first,’ Maria said, definitively. ‘Now it’s dinner time, and some of us got family we need to get to. G’night, all.’

Joel saw Shauna move towards him, darting off Tommy’s desk and over to his side, but he was quicker than her, pulling away through the side door and out onto the street before she could get to him. He didn’t know why he did it, just that his brain stem had told him to get out of there. He felt a little bit sorry about it, but not enough to change his mind.

At home, he slipped his feet from his boots and left them by the door, calling out for Ellie as he stepped inside. She wasn’t at the table doing her homework, wasn’t on the couch reading her comics. He felt a little shiver of hope in his belly as he walked out the back, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of the two of you before it got too dark to work.

‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked, only a little bit hoping that he was, as he rounded the corner to the back porch. He stopped when he saw her, folded up against herself with her head resting on her knee. It took her a moment to notice him, so she didn’t turn her gaze to him right away. When she finally did he stuttered, saw that her eyes were red-rimmed as she furiously tried to wipe the evidence away.

--

Later that evening you dozed on your couch, finding yourself deserving of the strain in your neck and the ache in your lower back. You would eventually take yourself off to bed but for right now you had your blanket and some pulpy murder mystery you were starting to realise you’d read two summers ago.

The pounding on your door startled you, jolting you up and off the couch. You could feel your pulse roaring up your neck as you looked down at your trembling hands. You allowed yourself a second to catch your breath, another second to wonder if there was ever a future for you where you didn’t startle at the slightest sound. This wasn’t slight, though, and it was still coming from your front porch.

‘Hello?’ you called out, willing the panic to evaporate from your voice such that whatever burglar or murderer was trying to get in would immediately reconsider his actions and retreat.

‘Teach!’ Joel bellowed, and you took a step back, his anger striking genuine fear in your belly. ‘Open the damn door,’ he followed up when you didn’t reply.

‘It’s late, Joel,’ you said, not moving, and you heard his grunt of frustration.

‘Open!’ he demanded again, and you wondered how far he’d go if you let him, if he’d splinter the wood. You tried to shake the tremor from your hands as you moved towards the door, bracing yourself against the frame as you pulled it open.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ Joel asked, his eyes crackling with barely restrained fury.

You knew. Of course you knew, although you hadn’t expected him to be so angry about it.  ‘She’s really doing so great…’ you started, but he wasn’t there to hear you out, wasn’t there to do anything other than chew your face off, it seemed.

‘Why…she’s barely talkin’. She’s over there all quiet at the kitchen table, won’t even swear or nothin’, tells me you said she don’t need you anymore?’

‘She doesn’t…’ you tried again, your voice feeble.

‘Ah, that’s bullshit,’ Joel said, and you faltered, casting your eyes down, unable to look at him. ‘You know it was more’n that.’

‘Joel, she’s a bright girl.’

‘You know what it’s like to lose someone?’ he asked you, and you reared back like he’d slapped you. ‘Because you actin’ an awful lot like you don’t.’

You could hear Rose in your ear, whispering at you to think for a second, reminding you that he was hurting, that he was worried for his girl.

‘You can’t fucking come here and ask me that,’ you said, instead, drowning Rose out. ‘On my fucking front porch? Fuck you.’

‘Fuck you,’ Joel shot back, shouldering his way further into the doorway while you planted your heels, squared your shoulders. You were furious now too, angry and hurt and wanting to tear his stupid gorgeous face off his stupid beautiful head. ‘She’s only ever had like…three people in her life she trusted, one she had to shoot, and the others is you and me.’

You didn’t hear him, not at first, priming an insult on the tip of your tongue, getting ready to spit venom and bile such that Rose had to scream over your shoulder to get your attention.

‘Wait…’ you said, faltering, ‘she had to what?’

But it was too late, now, Joel was too far gone, too angry, too hurt, too confused why he was telling you to fuck yourself when all he wanted was to carry you up to your bedroom and do it himself. Too surprised he was sitting at the table at the mess hall with fucking Shauna as if she hadn’t abandoned her daughter and him, as if Sarah didn’t matter, as if the loss could be erased just by her mother resurfacing. Too hurt for Ellie, too aware that it was hurt you had every right to inflict, that he had been the source of it, that you were just protecting yourself. Too sad and too old and too fucking tired for any of it. For parenting a teenager. For reparenting his daughter’s ghost.

‘You gonna stand there and tell me you don’t care about her?’ he was seething, barely hearing his own thoughts. ‘You gonna tell me you don’t care you’re ripping out her heart?’

For having you and not having you. For missing you and having to try so hard to look away from you in the mess hall.

‘Joel,’ you said, and suddenly your voice was so small, so far away. He looked down at you, saw that your eyes were wet. ‘What did she have to do?’

‘Let her tell you herself, if she’ll talk to you,’ he said, and he watched as your shoulders slumped.

Guilt, then. Already he could see he was snuffing out your light, your warmth. Not two minutes talking to him and you were drawn, pinched, folding in on yourself. He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep going to you just to push you away. ‘M’sorry,’ he said, all the adrenaline retreating to leave him woozy and sick. ‘That wasn’t fair.’

‘No, I get it,’ you said, sniffling.

‘She just…she’d been doing so well.’

‘She still will,’ you said. ‘She’s so tough, tougher than I ever…’

‘F’you could find your way to still work with her…’

‘…but I just can’t…it can’t be where…’

He was nodding, too, the two of you nodding at each other so neither would have to say the words, talking over each other so you didn’t have to hear your own thoughts let alone the other person’s.

‘It’s different, now,’ you said, and he knew it, agreed immediately, tasted bitter across his throat that told him just how much he didn’t want it to be true.

‘She has her eyes,’ Joel blurted, surprising you both. ‘Shauna. Has Sarah’s eyes.’

He looked at you from under his brows like he was asking you a question, and you supposed in a way he was. Asking you to understand that he had this piece of her, this fragment, that he couldn’t turn away. Asking you to hold it for him, the brightness and the heat of it, that part of himself still reverberating with the spark of her, with the love of her pierced through it, hold it for him lest it scorch him. Asking you to forgive him, to let him go.

‘Oh, Joel,’ you said, and you wanted to throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shirt, hold him as he shook with it, with the love and the loss and the grief of it, as it wrung him dry. 

You took a step forward, holding out your hands to him. Without a second thought, he stepped away.

‘OK,’ you said, retracting your arms and wrapping them instead around your middle. ‘I’ll work something out with Ellie.’

‘Want us to still be friends,’ he said, barely scratching the surface of the things he wanted and knew he could never have.

You paused for a second, considering this.

‘We’ve always been friends, Joel,’ you said, after a while. You smiled at him, that same fixed grin you’d deployed on Ellie not six hours before.

You supposed it worked about as well as it did, then. In the circumstances, it would have to do.

--

Joel was cold. It was late, and it was dark, but his room had no business being cold like it was the dead of winter. He rugged himself up, put his jacket on over his old woollen pyjamas, blew hot air into his fingertips. Ellie had gone to bed after he’d got back, even if she’d been a little happier knowing you’d still agreed to work with her. He could read it on her face, knew Ellie better’n she knew herself in a lot of ways. It didn’t feel great that her Dad’d needed to go over and beg you to stay with her. He knew that, just as he knew the alternative was worse.

After she’d gone to bed he’d found himself wondering the house, trying to tread as light as he could so as not to disturb her, but still unable to still his hands. He considered going down to work the wall for a while, see if he could be of use, but coupled with his inability to stand still was also a bone-weary fatigue that would have made him dangerous up there. A herd of elephants with dynamite strapped to their bellies could have sidled up to the gate and he probably wouldn’t have clocked ‘em.

Up in his room he checked the window seals, looked for any lifting of the wall from the floor, checked the cornices for any gaps that could explain the cold. It made it impossible for him to settle, his bones jangling with the sharpness of the chill, his knee pulling him up to standing to try and shake some of the tightness out of the joint.

He felt like he might be going crazy. More than a few times he went and stood on the porch to try and figure if it was colder inside the house than outside of it, but each time he forgot exactly how vicious the chill had been. He worried, then, about a gas leak, that the town wasn’t getting any heat, that people would freeze in their beds even though it being a late Spring night, and he was walking, then, down the familiar path only because he’d taken it so many times in his head, right back to your front door.

Your lights were still on. For the second time that night he wrapped on your door, and when you pulled it open, he knew you hadn’t been sleeping either.

‘I just got so cold,’ he confessed, and you blinked up at him. He could feel the heat on his face radiating out from behind you, knew that if he lifted his fingertips to your cheek he would find it warm, welcoming.

He pulled you to him, snug into his body, and put his icy lips on yours.

Warm honey, slow and calming, seeping over the tip of his tongue.  

It’s hands, then, up under your shirt and onto your warm skin, backing you into your hallway and up against the wall, your head knocking with a thud into the plaster and neither of you noticing. Joel’s mind, finally quiet, just seeking out your warmth, driven by the want to have all of your skin mapped by his fingers, driven by the want to have all of you, take you apart in his hands. You hitched your thigh over his hip, felt him lift you and carry you over to your worn-out couch, leather and patchy and somehow now always reminding you of Joel.

Just a quiet huff as you both landed, Joel’s mouth seeking out yours again to latch to you, keeping his arms tight around your back, pulling you down onto him, grinding you onto his cock, already straining under the flimsy twenty-year old material of his sleep pants. You gasped into his mouth, the ache in your core screaming for attention as you shivered against him.

‘So fuckin’ beautiful,’ he muttered, almost too himself, as he lifted you, one arm on the back of the sofa to steady you both as he deposited you down onto the cushion beneath him, shucking off your own pyjamas as he slid down onto the floor beneath you. You mewled, wanting him back on top of you, wanting his heat and his muscles rippling under his soft skin, his broad chest pushing hard into yours as he hovered over you, the press of him into the seat of the couch.

He sensed you needing him, lifting one hand and running it up over your belly, coming to rest, palm up just below your breast where you grabbed it, held it in yours, let him anchor you to him while you threw your head back and hooked your ankles over his shoulders.

‘Fuck, Joel, fuck…’ you whimpered, needy and breathy and already so wet you could feel it trickling down between your cheeks to the leather. Joel, rearing back on his heels, took a moment to admire the view, his eyes dark and wolfish as he surveyed his prey.

‘I need to taste it,’ he grunted, palming himself through his pants as you glistened in front of him, warm skin glowing in the lamplight as he spread you, reached down with his hand and slid his fingers up the inside of your thigh, inching towards your drooling cunt.

You couldn’t speak, the back of your throat so dry you could only swallow and gasp, nodding your head at him, the thundering of your centre so encompassing now, so deafening, you could barely hear his high, gentle whimper as he descended, sliding his lips over you, his tongue licking a fat and not at all tentative stripe at your slit before pulling up, opening you, descending on your clit like he had a homing beacon, every nerve ending screaming for him as he sucked the fraught bud between his teeth.

Joel felt it, your warm nectar, sweet and scorching, sliding down his throat and he swallowed it down, consumed it, drank from you, felt the heat pooling in his belly where it would sustain him for another day. Still gripping your hand in his right, he slid his left further up to tease at your slit, the slick of you collecting on his skin as he hooked his fingers, spreading you further open again, unfolding you, fastening you to him as he reached high and forward, found that spongey spot that made your breath hitch.

He wasn’t even sure he was doing it for you, just needing it for himself, greedy and desperate, hunting for your heat. You were enlivening him, emboldening him, giving him something to shield and something to shield with. He muttered against you, little whimpered praises neither of you could make out, as he felt your cunt tighten around him, left your hand go to steady your hips, pull you harder onto his face as you bucked against him.

He wanted you to come. Wanted to hear you scream, feel your hands in his hair, wring you out with his tongue and his fingers, wanted to be the one that made it happen. He wanted you for his own, to consume you, keep you tucked away inside himself for crisp afternoons and chilly midnights. Wanted you, always wanted you, here like this, split open and writhing for him, always wet and dripping on his skin and his floor, open and needy and crying for him, grasping him to you, calling his name.

And when you did, when you finally released around him, when he swallowed down your come and your cries, with your hips in his hand and your cunt in his teeth he knew, then, this was it for him, that he’d never feel a heat like it again, that the wanting would be all the worse for having finally held it, for just a moment here in your living room, while you gasped and writhed and trembled, your breath the only sound as you fought to catch it.

Taglist (as always lemme know if you wanna jump on):

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

[missjomarch]

Josephine - Luke Hughes

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written. Like actually. I heard the song Josephine by Pony Bradshaw and my brain was begging me to do something creative with it, so I wrote this. But I'm on my period so it turned very sad and angsty quickly. So now you all get to suffer along with me! With that said please please read the warnings and if at any point you feel uncomfortable click away.

Word Count: 3.7k 😳

Warnings: Grief and angst with no real happy ending or comfort. Cursing, crying, mentions of blood and pain. A half second on 18+ content but no explicit details.

(Portions in italics are flash backs. Enjoy, lovelies. 🫶)

Luke Hughes sat sprawled in one of the cushioned armchairs spaced across the rooftop bar the New Jersey Devils currently resided on. His view of the New York skyline was fuzzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the beer in his left hand or the smoke from the joint in his right. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to be here, and he damn sure didn’t want to be sober. Luke could feel the pitying looks from his brother and captain all the way across the bar, but at least they hadn’t made any comments tonight. 

The team had won the game earlier in the day by a large margin and Luke wasn’t beating himself up over minuscule mistakes like he used to. No, that wasn’t the issue. In fact, Luke was playing some of the best hockey he had in years. His on-ice performance was probably the only reason he was even still on the team, considering that he had been skipping most morning skates and all public appearances for the past few weeks. 

He had seen the therapist the team provided and taken the weeks off that the trainers had suggested, so he isn’t sure why they insist on continually doing mental checkups on him. It was irritating. Especially when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, so they sent Jack to pester him instead. All it did was remind him of you. 

“Luke.” 

His head snapped towards where you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes shining and a soft smile on your lips. 

“The light has been green for like 30 seconds, babe. What’s going on in that pretty head, hm?” 

Luke always swore that your sweet voice could melt 20 feet of snow in the dead of winter. It was like coming home from a long day to a warm house. It was one of his favorite things about you. So, because he knew you’d ask the question again, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He fully planned to keep his troubles to himself in an attempt not to worry you, but then your manicured hand was running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it, Lu. What’s wrong?” 

With your use of the nickname, he was gone. Suddenly all the world’s problems were spilling from his lips, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. You tended to have that effect on people. You were just so damn easy to talk to. And the best part? You almost always knew how to make it better. A quick kiss and a Band-Aid, and Luke was back on his way with a smile. 

“Luke,” you mumbled, “Luke…” 

“Luke.” 

Jack stood in front of his brother, shaking his shoulder to break him from his trance. 

“You okay?” Jack questioned, not missing the shine in Luke’s eyes as they were torn from the skyline view. He watched as Luke took a deep drag from the joint in his hand, exhaling the smoke as he attempted to clear the lump from his throat. 

“Fine, Jack.” 

“Bullshit,” Jack couldn’t help the scoff he let out, “Get up, we’re going home.” 

Luke didn’t have it in him to argue. Not that he would have, anyway. He never wanted to leave the house in the first place, especially after the situation Jack got him into the last time they had gone out. 2 months ago, his brother had dragged him to this same rooftop bar insisting that it’d be good for him to get out there again. It took all of 30 minutes before Jack was pushing Luke in the direction of a random girl. “A good fuck will fix you right up”, Jack had claimed. 

“Luuuuke,” the girl below him moaned as he kissed down her neck. He didn’t know her name, didn’t particularly care to either. He was a bit too busy resenting his brother for setting him up with this random girl in the first place. 

He tried to ignore the hot anger flowing through him, tried to focus on the heavy breathing of the blonde and the way her nails were raking down his back. Luke’s hands dipped under her shirt, quickly finding her bra and giving it a harsh tug downwards. His fingers fumbled deftly until they gripped her tits, drawing a sharp gasp from the girl. 

“Oh! Lu, please,” she whined. When he didn’t respond, she went to pull his face to hers. But Luke had froze, brain short circuiting at the nickname he hadn’t heard in over 8 months. 

His throat was burning. His breath turned ragged as he yanked his hands from beneath her shirt. He stared at her with wild eyes, chest heaving. 

“Get out,” he ground out. His heart was pounding. What was wrong with him? 

“Are you okay?” The blond started back at him with a horrified expression, and Luke had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out any malicious words. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Leave, please.” He begged, unable to look her in the face.

“Luke, I don’t understand,” she tried to reason, “Luke…” 

“Luke.” 

Jack was looking at him expectantly from the driver’s side of his sleek BMW as he navigated the late-night New Jersey traffic. Luke blinked slowly, trying to clear the bitter memory from his foggy mind. 

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Luke questioned, choosing to ignore the concern blaring in his brother’s eyes. Jack seemingly decided to let it be, instead jumping back into whatever he originally asked. 

“I was asking if you thought the stadium series would be a good time to introduce Sydney to mom and dad? I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t know when they’ll be in town again.” 

Luke nodded, “Are you just going to do it at dinner? Or the hotel?” 

Jack hesitated, clearly contemplating the options before lighting up, “What if I brought her to the family skate? She’s been wanting to learn anyways! It be just like when you brought jo-” Jack choked on his words, immediately recognizing his mistake. He turned towards his brother, attempting to get a read on his face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. But Luke had already shut down, face turned to stare blankly out the window. 

Jack reached over to give a comforting squeezing to Luke’s left shoulder, “Luke.” 

“LUKE!” you squealed as your hands white knuckled his sweatshirt. He giggled at your skating stance before pulling you to his chest. 

“You alright there, Bambi?” He smirked down at you as you sent him a glare. 

“I’m new to this, asshole. It’s not my fault my teacher is no good,” you threw back at him. It was your turn to smirk as Luke’s mouth hung open in mock offense. 

“I’ll have you know that I’ve taught hundreds of kids across the state of New Jersey how to properly skate.” 

“Those poor kids,” you quickly retorted, sticking your tongue out as he scowled at you. However, that scowl quickly faded into a look of mischief and your face dropped as his arms loosened around you.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Bambi.” Luke let you go, giving you the lightest of shoves backwards. Then you were stranded. Forced to watch as your boyfriend skated backwards away from you, leaving you wide eyed and terrified as you froze on the ice. Your fear quickly turned to anger, and Luke marked the shift in your demeanor with a laugh. 

“Luke Warren Hughes, you come back here and get me right now.” 

“Nope. Come and get me, baby.” Luke winked at you as he skated past, only serving to further frustrate you. You’d never admit that his plan was working, but the anger was motivating. You let out a strangled groan before starting to shuffle forward, sliding your skates like Luke taught you. You were doing well for a while, slowly making your way towards where Luke was taunting you from the boards behind the net. That was until two kids flew past you, knocking you off balance and sending you scrambling to regain it. 

“Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke,” you called, too focused on your slipping feet to notice if your boyfriend was coming to your aid. Then you lost balance completely, tumbling down towards the ice. You closed your eyes as you avoided flinging your arms out to catch yourself, still heeding Luke’s warnings even as he got you in this mess in the first place. You prepared yourself for the cold hard burn of your backside hitting the ice, but it never came. Instead you landed in a pair of unfamiliar arms, barely recognizing that you weren’t on the ground before being hauled to a standing position. You carefully turned around and were met with Jack’s smiling face. 

“Knight in shining armor, at your service,” Jack grinned, adding a small salute for effect. You rolled your eyes, scanning the ice for Luke. 

“How long have you been following behind me?” 

“Ever since Luke pretended to leave you stranded. He planned the whole thing, I was behind you the entire time to save you from your inevitable demise,” Jack poked you, smile growing impossibly wider at the annoyed look gracing your face. 

“Big words for someone who never went to college,” you shot at him, needing anything to level the playing field between you. It was then that Luke finally returned, skating to a smooth stop to your left. 

“What’d I miss?” 

“Your girlfriend was insulting my intelligence after I graciously saved her precious be-hind,” Jack spoke, adding a bit more than his usual sassiness into the bit. Luke turned to tsk at you. 

“Now, now baby. We can’t make fun of people just because they’re less fortunate than us. It’s not Jacky’s fault he’s stupid,” Luke joked, loving the way your eyes lit up when you realized that he was joining your side. Jack, however, stood slack jawed across from you. 

“Now what the hell, Luke? I went along with your little plan, and this is how you repay me?” You and Luke just blinked at him, silly little grins sitting on your face. “Go to hell, both of you,” Jack scoffed before skating off. Once he was gone, you turned towards your boyfriend. Your pout returned, but it was quickly kissed away. 

“I promised you I’d never let you fall, baby. I just never said it’d be me who caught you.” 

You scowled, “you’re such a smart ass.” 

“Love you too, Princess,” Luke grinned. You begrudgingly allowed him to pull you into his chest, the warmth he radiated melting the glare right off your face. 

You turned your head to press a kiss into his jacket-clad chest, right over his heart. A warm smile graced your lips, “I love you, Lukey.” 

“Lukey!”

John Marino stood before him on the ice, stick poised to do the defensive drill coach had instructed them on. 

“You’re out of it today, kid. Are we going to do this drill or not?” 

“Yeah, my bad. Let’s go,” Luke nodded his head, once again trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He had just barely cleared his vision before the puck was dropped, and John was racing towards him. Practice continued like that, Luke losing focus periodically until one of his teammates pulled him back into the moment. 

When he trudged into the locker room an hour later, he was more than ready to go home. These were usually the days he would most appreciate having you to come home to. Leaving a hard practice and coming home to fall asleep in your arms was the best feeling. He tried not to think too much about the gaping hole that memory left in his chest as he untied his skates. 

Once he was dressed in his sweats he rushed from the locker room, hoping to escape the arena before anyone could question his mental wellbeing. Luke made it to the car without any hounding from the guys or trainers, but he had to wait for what felt like an eternity before Jack finally made his way into the parking garage. 

“What the hell took you so long?” Luke questioned, hopping into the passenger seat as Jack unlocked the car doors. 

“Coach wanted to talk to me for a second. You could’ve gotten the keys from my bag, yknow.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve been tempted to leave you here,” Luke smirked at his brother. 

Jack only rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Luke’s teasing. His mind swirled with the reminders his coach had left him with after their brief post-practice discussion. Coach was getting extremely concerned about Luke and the lack of focus he displayed at practice and games. Jack was also concerned, and so was most of the team. He knew he should bring it up, but the joy in Luke’s eyes was so rare these days that Jack couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He just wanted to support his brother the best he could, but Luke wouldn’t open up to him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not his mom, not Quinn, not even his old teammates from Michigan. Luke wouldn’t talk to anyone about you.  So Jack took what Luke gave him. Watching late night hockey, Door Dashing dinner, or playing video games for hours on end. Anything to keep his brother occupied, and make him realize that he wasn’t alone. 

Luke finally made his way into his room at 11 pm later that night, feeling relatively okay after eating dinner and watching a Canucks game with Jack. He had felt so unlike himself lately that any small reprieve from reality was a welcomed gift. He also knew that it helped Jack worry about him just a little bit less. 

Luke had just turned out his bathroom light after brushing his teeth when his door creaked open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to check on him before bed, but it had recently become more frequent. 

“You good to leave for practice at 8 tomorrow?” Jack questioned. 

Luke nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be up.” 

“Better be. I’m not in the mood to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but the wary look on Jack’s face made him hold his tongue on the snarky response he was about to shoot back. 

“Promise, I’ll be good to go at 8.”       

Jack deemed that a good enough answer, and went to shut the door.

“Alright. Night, Luke.” 

“Luke…” you shakily whispered on the phone. Your voice was wobbly and high pitched, the tears streaming down your face evident in your tone. 

“Baby?” Luke spoke into the phone, “What’s wrong?” 

It was an hour and a half until puck drop, and you should’ve been on your way to the stadium by now. Luke’s furrowed brows caught the attention of Jack in the next stall over, stopping his movements from where he was lacing up his skates. 

“I was on my way to the arena, and I…” a broken sob escaped your mouth, startling Luke as he tried to fathom what could’ve possibly happened after he left the house. 

 “Someone hit me.” 

Luke jumped to his feet, “What do you mean hit you? What happened?” 

“I don’t know. Someone ran a red light or something and they hit my car. I think I spun into a pole,” your breath was growing ragged as you recited the wreck. 

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Luke rushed out as he began grabbing his clothes back out of his bag. Half the locker room was staring now, all with varying looks of concern. 

“I don’t know what to do. I’m bleeding,” you squeaked. “Lukey, there’s so much blood.”              

This sent Luke into a panic. He was stripping his gear as fast as humanly possible while simultaneously yelling at Jack to give him to car keys. Jack’s concerns fell on deaf ears as Luke undressed, and he finally decided that following Luke was the safest option. 

“No. You’re okay, baby. I just need you to tell me where you are, okay? I’ll be there so soon, just tell me where,” Luke begged. He knew logically that the cops would arrive before he could, but he needed to be there with you. 

“Don’t know. But my head hurts so bad,” you whimpered out. Luke tried to ignore the way he could hear your voice weakening as you spoke. 

“Just stay on the phone with me, love. I’m on my way to come get you, yeah?”

Luke tried to reassure you as he shoved his feet into his shoes and rushed from the locker room. Jack was hot on his tail, car keys in hand. 

“ ‘m sorry, Lu,” your whisper was barely heard by Luke as he sprinted down the hallways of Prudential Center. 

“For what, love?” 

“I wanted to be at your game tonight,” you mumbled. 

“It’s fine, baby. There’ll be a million more games for you to come to, yeah?” 

Luke attempted to comfort you as he searched for your location, plugging it into the GPS as Jack pulled out of the parking garage. Luke could only hope the pregame traffic wouldn’t get in the way. 

“Mhmm. Lukey?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I love you.” 

Luke swore he could feel his heart shatter at the crack in your voice. There were tears streaming from his face as he pushed Jack to drive faster. 

“I love you too, princess. So much. Jacky and I are going to be there so soon. I just need you to hang on for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?” 

Luke’s voice was frantic and only grew more so when he heard your phone tumbling out of your hand. 

“Baby? You’ve gotta stay awake, okay?” Luke pleaded, as tears streamed down his face. His hands shook where he held the phone to his ear. 

“Baby? Please tell me you’re okay. I just need you to say something.” 

Luke’s begging continued until the line went dead. 

“Fuck,” Luke muttered, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Jack looked at him frantically as he continued to navigate the streets of New Jersey. 

“Luke? What the hell happened?” Jack kept spitting questions, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “Snap out of it, Luke.” 

“Luke.” 

Luke awoke to Jack shaking him violently, and he tasted the salty tears streaming down his face before he felt them. ‘No. Not again,’  Luke thought. He shot up in bed, sending Jack scrambling backwards to avoid knocking heads. Luke’s head whipped back and forth wildly as his eyes searched the room. ‘Please, please, please,’ he begged the universe. He ignored the way his brain reminded him of the truth, ignored his brother’s pitying look, ignored the cold bed beside him where you should’ve been. It was if the whole world was pointing and laughing at his grieving heart. ‘Look at this idiot,’ they all seemed to say, ‘He still thinks he can save her.’ 

“Fuck,” Luke exhaled, finally giving up his futile attempts at disproving what he knew was his reality. 

Jack stared as his younger brother lost himself to grief once again. Watching as Luke’s hands disappeared into his curls, head bowed as sob after sob wracked his body. Jack felt helpless knowing he couldn’t take this pain from his little brother. All he could do was hold him and promise to be there through it all. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Luke whispered into Jack’s shoulder. “Every time I wake up, I lose her all over again, and I can’t do it anymore.” 

Jack hesitates, unsure exactly what to say in this situation. You were always the one with the best advice, the one who could handle anything. 

“We’re going to get you through this, okay? You’re not alone in fighting this,” Jack paused, contemplating how to suggest his next thought. “I know you think you’re fine, but I really think you need help Luke. She would want you to get help.” 

Luke nodded, knowing his brother was right. You would hate to see him like this. Ever the caretaker, you had always been the first person to chastise him for not taking proper care of his mental health during hockey season. If you saw him like this, you’d pull him into your arms and then absolutely rip him a new one until he promised to take care of himself. 

“I know,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll start seeing a therapist. I think I need to step away from hockey for a bit too. It’s not fair to the guys that my mental health is affecting the team performance.” 

“I think that’s smart,” Jack agreed. “The guys might not understand what you’re going through, but they know it’s not your fault Luke. They want you to get better too.” 

Luke could only nod, trying to accept Jack’s words as the truth and fight the part of his brain that was saying this was all his fault. Luke was so tired, but he wasn’t willing to go back to sleep when he knew memories of you was what awaited him. 

“I’ll call the trainers tomorrow. I don’t really want to go back to sleep, can we watch a movie or something?” 

“Of course,” Jack agreed, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I’ll even let you pick.” 

A slow, knowing grin spread across Luke’s features, “Even Secretariat?” 

Jack’s sigh could be heard all the way in New York, but he smiled nonetheless. Just happy to see that Luke was making small steps towards returning to himself. 

“Even Secretariat.” 

So that’s how Luke and Jack spent their evening, watching movies and eating obscene amounts of popcorn. Luke had smiled to himself for most of the night, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew the process would be slow and that he might never truly get back to ‘normal’. But admitting his pain and asking for help, that was enough for now. 

[theysaidhush]

hii its my first time req also i love love love ur writing 🫶🏻 i was wondering if u could do an ot8 skz x fem reader poly and if not either seungmin or lee know where the reader has a severe panic attack during isac? the rest would be up to you and of course if you dont feel comfortable doing this dont feel pressured to

There's always light at the end of the tunnel

➝ YouCan'tSeeItButIt'sThere!OT8 x 9thMember!Reader ➝ You don't have panic attacks. Jisung does but you don’t. Right..? ➝ angst, comfort? ➝ wc. 2k Hiii omg I'm your first !!! I'm so sorry that it took me such a long time to answer, hope you're still around !!

Are panic attacks something that you fear, or have? Not at all. You know what they are, you can try to understand how people feel when they are having one. But since you've never been the one to have it, you don't really understand, you don't...feel it.

Sometimes, you're a witness - it's not something that one would willingly witness for it can create some awkward thoughts and clumsy actions. A thing that people don't tell you, it's how you feel when you actually get to witness a panic attack. It's like you're having one too, especially when the person having it is close to you. You don't know what to do, what to say - should you hold his hands or let him breathe? would it be weird ask him if they're alright - spoiler alert, it is. But it's not something that is taught in school, something that people are aware of - like how you should or shouldn't behave in front of a wild animal. Yet it should.

But you were fine standing in the side lines. The only person who ever had a panic attack in front of you was Jisung. Don't get me wrong, he is your Sweet Cheeks - no one should ever tell him that this is his nickname in your phone, he would get cocky - you partner in crime and your bud. But by fearing how he saw you, you never quite acted during one of his moments. Maybe you were worried - you can be quite something at time. Maybe you were too much, as one of the kids was always here for him, even if you were there before - are you jealous ? A bit.

But it never crossed anyone's mind that this would happen to you. The never ever sleeping little chipmunk high on life. You can congratulate, you've been hiding quite some things under the bed. Things that made the monster sympathize with you. And you thought it was fine, you really thought that someone else needed the attention and the care. It never crossed your mind that there was enough love in the eight's heart for two little anxious chipmunks high on life. But for you're defense - not that anyone blames you - you hadn't seen it coming.

Everything was fine, and then it wasn't. People tend to say that you never get used to the feeling. The overwhelming need to breathe. The first time is always the worse. You don't know what's happening. You are scared, you feel alone, breathless, and you can't hear nor see what's going on around you. And then in a brief moment of clarity it crosses your mind.

Me?

Because you always thought that you were not sad enough for that. And it's the worse that happens. Discovering that you are in fact not alright. That you're dealing with shit bigger than yourself, heavier than what your body can handle. And you fall.

It has never happened before.

Why me?

Why can't I breathe?

Am I dying?

What's wrong with people?

Why are they looking at me?

What's wrong with me?

Someone..?

One moment you're playing with gravels on the ground, the other you're staring blankly at the same spot, eyes unmoving and hands slightly trembling.

Kim Seungmin knows you quite well. Stays know that Sungmin knows you quite well - when you joined the group, a few years later after Stray Kids' debut, it took just a month or two for your ship to be one of the most popular in Stray Kids. It would have been weird, knowing that people were expecting you of fantasizing about a non-existent relationship with one of the youngest. But like it was meant to be, just a month later he was the one to look you in the eyes and tell you what you needed to hear. He was your emotional support. The anchor to your sailing and swaying ship. So yeah, Kim Seungmin might be the one who knows you the best among Stray Kids. And he knows that your eyes usually do not look like one of a dead fish.

He does't move. He stares at the screen displaying the score of each groups competing in the ISAC. Stray Kids' not bad - they're serving, like they usually do. His arms sway awkwardly and he shift his weigh on his right leg. He then looks at you for a brief moment. You're not moving. That's weird, you don't usually stay on the same spot for more than a good twenty seconds.

"What's got your panties in a twist?"

Seungmin hopes that Stay aren't that good at playing detectives and lip reading, because Changbin proved once more that he doesn't give a single fuck about his idol image.

"I'm not mad? What makes you think that I'm mad?"

"Well..." Changbin stops in front of the taller boy, one eyebrow raising as he takes the famous 'pregnant woman pose'. "Why are you asking me? Shouldn't you know?"

For a second - one that dumb Jisung and dumber Hyunjin wouldn't have caught - the singer takes a look at his girl. A brief second. But Seo Changbin do not need more than a second - he is Seo Changbin after all. And what he sees, or understand, do not seem to please him.

"What's up with her?"

He says that with a frown in his face, abandoning his ridiculous posture for one which is more menacing, which could show everyone that something's changed. But Seungmin carefully catches the hem of his vest before the rapper goes toward their ninth member.

If you ask Changbin what he doesn't like about being a K-pop idol, he'd probably say "Nothing" with a smirk on his face. Because Seo Changbin does what he wants and eats what he craves. But if there's one thing that he hates, it's when he can't help people who needs it - especially their female member - because of the repercussion it could have on his group. And he knows it. Seungmin knows it. He is reckless, and they don't need that right. Especially not right now.

A few days later, what happened between them made Stayville go crazy with some cliché videos and compilation of the two men standing close to each other. The famous Seungbin compilations. Little did they know that nothing romantic was happening between them - not at that time anyway.

"Is she..." Changbin's eyes narrowed, looking thoroughly at the young woman as a raw terror and uneasiness flooded his body, "even breathing?"

It was a valid question. To those who were surrounding her and looking close and carefully enough, it was clear that her face was getting paler. Now, it really was worrying.

As if walking into a shop, Seungmin's feet led his straight toward his member, light heartedly and without any sense of urgency. But inside, he felt like bile was rising up his throat, the pure terror hidden behind curtains of hair a unusual and unfitting expression on his girl.

It only seemed normal to crouch next to her and to comfort her with his warm touch - she usually craves it.

If the way you tense up and get slightly away from him is a sign, you clearly don't need it right now, don't even want it. And you have never denied him affection. You always came to him whenever something bothered you - or he would tease the answer out of you, it depends. Why couldn't you bear the mere idea of him touching you right now, when you clearly needed him the most? Why were you refusing the only sense of normalcy in this raging sea of cold water and prickly wreck?

You vaguely discerned the hurt on his face, above the other millions of emotions swimming in his eyes.

"It's okay Seungmin, I got it."

It was a just whisper. Like a siren's voice coming from beneath the surface. What a great parallel, you would have praised yourself in other circumstances. Among all the chaos happenings in and outside your head, you vaguely understood that you were taking somewhere else. It was dark, silent. The light wasn't blinding you anymore, your eyes could rest, the storm was now only raging in your head.

"I can do it... Please."

There's a brief movement that you can't even register in your haze before you feel warm hands engulfing yours. The feeling isn't disturbing, like Seungmin's hand was. You welcome it with a tight grip.

"It's okay to cry, don't hold it."

You really wanted to voice your confusion. Why would you cry? You just felt like you were dying, why would cry help.

"You just have to let it all out. This happens when you bottle up your emotions for too long, then you feel like you can't cry in front of other, or scream, because this is not socially acceptable, so you just hold it in."

The accuracy of the fact was almost scaring. Your eyes, unfocused, tried to identify the silhouettes before you, a choked sob escaping your lips as your legs failed you and you tumbled, your back hitting the cold wall behind you as the silhouettes carefully helped you towards the ground. It was cold. It was nice.

"And when you hold it in, you feel like you can't breathe. Like the world is closing up on you. Everyone is staring, but no one is looking. They can hear you, your thoughts, they can see your deepest secrets, feel how you feel... It's disturbing, isn't it?"

You try to nod, the memory from just a moment ago burning behind your eyelids, the hurt on Seungmin's face. It's not that you don't trust him...

"You just don't want them to see you like this. Vulnerable, pitiful...weird."

Another choked sob escape you, a puff of air leaving your lips, and you feel slightly better as you inhale. Only once, but it's better than zero.

"You don't want them to know that you lied when they asked you if you were okay. You don't want to fail them."

While the words utter by this person seems terribly accurate, it helps soothing the raging storm, which now seems to have been replaced by a grey clouds pouring down on you.

"But you're not failing anyone. They want to help you."

A ray of sunshine.

"It's not wrong to feel those emotions, to experience those episodes."

Another one. It's warm on your skin.

"You're not dying, noting's wrong with you, we're just here and we'll stay as long as you need us. We're not leaving."

Your breathing is back to normal, if not a little shaky, and you feel the ground you're sat on. You never really thought about it. But "There's always light at the end of the tunnel", right?

Your light is warm and comforting, leaving a tingly sensation in your head after each words spoken with care.

"It'll happen again. From now on, you'll have those panic attacks again, at random moments, whenever you feel overwhelmed, whenever you feel." the other silhouette says, his hands hovering over your cheek, not daring touching you. "It's not unusual to refuse help and shy away from the person whose opinion about us is the most important. Seungmin will understand."

And your light has a form and a name, and right now, two rays are shining brightly on you.

You bury your head in Jisung's neck as he wraps an arm around you and let your cry fill the room, Minho's presence on the other side comforting even if not touching you in any way.

"It's gonna be alright, we'll get through it together. You and I."

Jisung's words are not just that: words. It's a promise. At the moment, it doesn't even cross your mind that he sees himself in you, that he feels like it is his duty to help you. The way you're curled up into his chest, tears washing down your face, sobs escaping your lips without interruption. You look like a child. Scared.

But it's alright, because even if you don't know how you'll live with this, you'll manage. Jisung did, and you ought to be just as strong as him. Even if it means hiding from everyone but Minsung. It'll get better overtime, right?

[lotsoflola]

never ever ever - l. haechan [introduction]

summary: you've had your heart broken for the fifth time in two months, and however much you just want to spend the night crying, someone keeps interfering... genre: enemies to lovers warnings: swearing, reader sleeps around, harsh language, implied smut but nothing in this chapter wc: 1.1k author's note: this series is going to take a hot minute but here's the introduction for the first fic to keep you guys fed

"hi kun," you slurred, the liquor streaming in your bloodstream evident through the way you collapsed against the bar. your mind was foggy, your fingertips were tingling, and the far-too-revealing dress you was falling clung to your curves more than ever.

the bartender giggled, knowing his favourite regular, and finishing polishing the glass in front of him. "jesus, it's only eight. how are you this fucked already?"

you pushed yourself up, leaning over the counter to grab a bottle of cheap beer, throwing a fiver down on the table. "you know that guy i was seeing? in your frat?"

kun hummed, all too used to your antics. you were known across campus for being a flirt, for drinking too much and having fun with as many men as you saw fit. it was no surprise, you were drop dead gorgeous, with a body sculpted by aphrodite herself, and the personality to match. you were dangerous, and didn't you know it.

"yeah, i broke it up."

kun chuckled lightly. "surprise, surprise. come on, how long was that? a week?"

"two weeks, actually," you sighed, taking a large swig from your beer, "i don't know, he just wasn't exciting like that. got bored of him. so i ended it."

"so why isn't he the one drinking alone on a thursday night with a class at 9am tomorrow?" the bartender teased, earning a middle finger from the girl across from him.

"i'm allowed to be sad, kun," you finished the beer with your words, the bitter aftertaste refreshing on your tongue. you leant over the bar to grab another one, but were met with a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you in her tracks.

he tutted under his breath. "i think you've had enough for tonight, honey."

honey. the nickname fell naturally from his lips. the one your parents used to call you when you was a child. the one you only let those close to you say because of the power it held. the one those special people only used in special scenarios due to the impact it had on you.

you knew it was stupid to care so much about a stupid nickname. god, you wished you didn't care so much about it. but the second those words left someones lips you were putty in their hands. that's why you only let those you cared about say it.

"pissed on a week night already? i expected better from you, honey. didn't you only date that guy for a week?"

those you cared about. and him.

lee haechan was the new hot thing on campus, throwing himself at girls as much as he could and becoming the hot topic on their tongue as he wowed them in bed. at least that what he claimed, you had never spoken to any of these girls with enough time to discuss his ability in bed, not that you would ever bring it up. words could not describe how much you hated him.

"shut up, haechan. no one fucking asked for your opinion," you spat, still attempting to grab another beer while you wrestled with kun.

the young boy laughed, sitting on the stool next to you. "such nasty words from such a pretty face, can't tell me that hendery fucked you up that badly."

his words always got to you, always nestled under your skin in a way that no one else did, no one else could. "don't know why you always feel the need to get involved."

"don't know why you always end up a shitty mess after dating a guy for three days-"

"okay, okay, come behind the bar, there you go," kun manouvered you around the bar, sensing the tension and not wanting to see where it would end up.

your and haechan's rivalry was well known across campus, since freshman year you had made your distate of the man known. you were in the same business class, and every single lesson he spent somehow teasing or testing you, and when he got your number it was somehow worse.

"honestly, you would think you had matured by now, been about three years of passing through men for about three weeks each before slagging them off and dating their best friends, or maybe some people are just sluts and can't help-"

"fuck off, hyuck," kun snapped, physically holding you back at this point, one hand wrapped around your waist as he forced you down onto the stool behind him, giving you a glass of water in a poor attempt to sober you up. "fight her another day."

"not looking for a fight," haechan's voice was aggrevatingly smooth, as if he wasn't lying through his teeth, "just speaking the truth. if she can't handle that, then that's on her."

"lee donghyuck, i swear to-"

kun finally snapped, covering your mouth with his hand before turning to the smirking man in front of you. "get out, haechan."

"kun," he whined, face suddenly dropping, "cmon i was joking."

but the bartender didn't back down, pointing towards the door with his spare time. "she's not doing good right now, get out."

"you're losing a paying customers business," he sighed, but complied with the older gentleman, sending you a flying kiss before getting up to leave the bar. "night, doll."

you held your middle finger up at him, but you could feel yourself getting sleepier in kun's hold, and before you knew it you were struggling to keep your eyes open, body slumped against the wall as your eyeslashes fluttered.

"gonna kill him," you mumbled to yourself, drunk and delirious.

kun laughed, wandered over to you and patting you gently on the head. "who, hyuck?"

"yeah. fucking hate him."

"i don't think you do," kun knelt on the floor in front of you, meeting your eyeline. it was a quiet night, and all he could do was look after his friend. "i think you guys secretly like each other. maybe even love."

you scoffed, letting an assortment of drunk laughs and hiccups emerge from your mouth. "love him?! you're crazy, kun."

"trust me. i just know these things."

"i will never love him," you stated, words sounding very defintiive, even as you were dozing off, "never ever ever."

[red-writes]

crushing on taiju shiba is so hard because you can never truly get a read on his mood. he’s grown up now and learned how to dial back his personality so not everything he feels is shown on his face but it’s hard to tell wether he likes you back or not, his poker face for romance is incredible. you guys have gone out together a few times you and he has yet to kiss you, even though you’ve dropped multiple hints that you were ready, but when other men try and approach you on the street he makes it clear that “she’s with me.” and they can’t help but back off after being face to face with a man looming at 6′5 and is nothing but thick muscle. crushing on taiju is very difficult because you've watched the sunset together and he’s always whispered “beautiful” and you were never sure if he meant you or the view. he doesn’t compliment you directly and every night before you see you him you doll yourself up hoping that tonight he’d comment on it but every night he looks you up and down, devouring your appearance with his eyes and proceeds to ask you if you’re ready to go. furthermore he only calls you ‘kid’ and sure there was an age difference but the nickname made you seem almost like a little sister and not a love interest. but with taiju there were those sweet times where you'd hear him call you by your name and the sound would have you floating on air.

 crushing on taiju is dangerous because he’s such a gentleman to you. he pulls out your chair, tucks loose hairs for you, covers you with his figure while you adjust your dress and yet he has yet to let you know if his heart is beating just as fast as yours or if he's just being kind to you. and you're getting to the end of your rope- you couldn’t keep sitting in limbo like this, what were you supposed to do it was like torture waiting for him to confess to you and you decided that waiting was no longer an option but you soon discovered that crushing on taiju was actually impossible because as you entered his apartment using the key he gifted you a while back you discovered a girl in his bed while he rested half dressed on the love seat across the room in front of the bed and you froze before mumbling an apology and quickly leaving and shutting the door behind you. you could hear his shuffling behind you, calling your name and the sound of your own sniffles and cries drowned out that sound. once you make it home your phone is blowing up with calls that you know are from him. it just all made sense now, the reason he never actually made a move on you...was she prettier than you? did she have something you didn’t? what made her special to taiju and not you? your own insecurities bubbling to the surface as a result of his actions. you jumped as you heard several rough knocks at your front door. you opened it only to be met with the very man you were trying to avoid. he was out of breath, looking as though he came here on foot. he was breathless as he explained the situation to you. a childhood friend of his just needed a place to stay for the night and that she was moving to another city the next day. there wasn't anything happening between them he explained and the weight of doubt is lifted off your shoulders but his explanation didn't quite answer every single question you had.

“if this is true then why haven't you told me you liked me? or...or that I'm pretty and you enjoy having me around? and you always call me kid- I just..” you felt tears brim your eyes and you didn't want to cry, you didn’t plan on this you just wanted him to like you as much as you liked him. he pulled you into a hug and you began to softly sob into his chest as you hugged him back. he squeezed you tight, his heart hurting- he really didn’t mean to make you cry, hated seeing you sad.

“i do like you..” he sort of whispers out and you freeze for a moment as you hear him out.

“i like you so much and i think that you’re stunning and i love having you around more than anything i..want you around all the time, you’re so special to me” he confesses and you lift your head from his chest and he moves his hands to cup your cheeks. you smiled up at him, cheeks smothered in tears and nose full of snot. taiju didn't care, he thought you looked gorgeous. he leaned down and pressed a kiss on your forehead which made you pout. he noticed your reaction and used his thumbs to wipe your eyes dry.

“don’t want our first kiss to be after i made my girl cry” he says and you giggle at the nickname. 

maybe dating taiju shiba would be even better than you hoped. 

[elysiaheaven]

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄-(𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭), part 2!

Words:21003: Contains Sunday leaks of joining.

Genre: Smut

Summary: After that incident, you and sunday were in love, You became more caring about yourself and decided to make him something to heal his wings  but he accidently dropped it. and you locked yourself to make one again. being sad that he was the reason he decided to ask the Astral express to gift you something in the end, the aphrodisiac spills again, and then you share your past with him. He wants to make you celebrate this day again so, with the help of march 7th! he and you were now husband and bride!

( Reader is a female) Reader's clothing is inspired from Mobius. Reader is a scientist!

In middle of the chapter, Smut is there. So please don't read if you don't like stuff like smut!

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Aphrodisiac usage (Accident), Use of nickname (Sunday calls y/n as Angel), Switch Sunday, Vanilla.

Part 2 of the cupid found in stars!

Over the next few weeks, the bond between you and Sunday deepened. The initial shyness and uncertainty gave way to a comfortable routine, where affection became a natural part of your daily life. You found yourself often reaching out to him, whether it was a quick hug in passing or a gentle touch as you both sat together. Sunday, in turn, seemed to grow more confident, his wings frequently brushing against you in a tender caress that made your heart flutter.

Your research continued, and you found yourself more focused and energized than ever. The hours spent with Sunday seemed to infuse you with a new sense of purpose. Whenever you were engrossed in your work, Sunday would quietly join you, his presence a comforting reminder that you weren't alone. He would sometimes rest his head on your shoulder, his wings lightly trailing across your skin, making you feel cherished and supported.

As the two of you sat on the couch, Sunday leaned closer, his wings wrapping around your face like a protective cocoon. "I've noticed you're looking healthier these days," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."

You smiled, leaning into him. "I think it's because of you. You've made everything better."

Sunday blushed, but his eyes shone with happiness. "I'm just glad I can be here for you," he said softly. "You make me feel like I have a purpose."

You turned to face him, your hand gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "You do, Sunday. You mean so much to me." Your voice was tender, full of the affection that had grown between you over these weeks.

His wings fluttered slightly, and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "I want to make you happy, always," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You felt a surge of emotion and tightened your embrace, feeling safe and content in his arms. "You already do," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity.

Tho, you sleep a lot. Sunday always wakes you up. It's like a daily task now for him.

It was lunchtime, You had told Sunday, You would skip breakfast as Lunch.

"Where are you going, Sunday?" the black-haired man asked the blue-haired guy.

"Oh, Mr. Dan Heng! I'm going to wake up Y/n..."

"I see. She's being a sleepyhead, as usual. Good luck waking her up," he said, flashing a smile that was as innocent and bright as ever before walking away. He knew all too well the struggle of getting her out of bed.

Sunday made his way to her room, which was always messy, but he didn't mind tidying up for you.

"Y/n...?"

He saw a distinctive lump beneath the sheets in the chic four-poster bed.

You're still sleeping..

It had been a while since you last woke up late. This time, though, he decided it was his turn to rouse you from your slumber.

The sheets were pulled tightly over your head, concealing your face. He could only hear the rhythmic sound of your deep, even breaths.

"Y/n, it's lunchtime. Time to wake up."

"Zzz..."

He knew just calling out wouldn't suffice. He had learned from experience. With a determined tug, he yanked the pristine white sheets away in one smooth motion.

"Good day, Y/n!"

"Wha?"

"You're sleeping half-naked again!?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Hm...?" Your sleepy eyes blinked open as you reached for his arm.

"Careful..." He toppled beside you, finding himself instantly pinned under you.

"I'll leave you to your rest then," he started to say, but you clung to him.

"You don't have to—*yawns*—"

"Y/n..." His hand gently touched your cheek, and before you could fully wake, he leaned in and kissed you deeply. The kiss was warm, filled with the lingering sweetness of sleep. Your heart raced with every press of his lips, until he finally pulled back with a soft, lingering smooch.

"Are you still half-asleep, Y/n?" he teased, a hint of smugness in his voice.

"No, I was awakened by such a romantic kiss, wasn't I?"

"Y/n..." His fingers cupped the back of your neck, drawing you closer. His soft hair brushed against your collarbone. You took a deep breath, savoring his scent.

"You smell sweet. What is it Sunday?" you asked, puzzled.

"Sweet? Oh, probably from the raspberry syrup I made this morning for pancakes. Miss March almost asked for ten. Luckily, I made a separate batch just for you."

"Pancakes, huh? That's nice... but..." Your eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief.

"Huh? You usually get ready quickly when there's dessert involved. What's going on?" He was caught off guard as you positioned yourself on top of him.

You wrapped your arms around him like a snake, your embrace firm and unyielding.

"I feel like... I want to eat you." Your voice was a low, seductive murmur, just as your lips began to place teasing kisses along his neck.

He reacted swiftly, pushing you back down. His hand roamed up to the hem of your nightie, teasing your bare skin.

"Nghh...!" A soft moan escaped your lips, and a flush of warmth spread across your body.

"I like that voice..." His hand continued its journey upward, lightly cupping your breast.

"Hm, S-Sunday... not now," you stammered, realizing that if you didn't stop, neither of you would be leaving the bed.

Sensing your hesitation, he eased his touch and ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Sorry, got carried away. How impolite of me," he said with a playful yawn. You slowly moved away, letting out a huge yawn yourself.

"What a way to wake up..." You chuckled throatily, quickly throwing on some clothes and stretching.

"Ahh, I'm starved. Did you already eat lunch, Sunday?"

"No, not yet."

"All right then, let's go and eat together." He watched as you slipped out of bed and headed for the door..

Yes, You did love to tease and you never did anything you knew he wouldn't like.

That's his problem, You're nice you only want to do what he wants. But every now and then, your tendency to let that niceness win out was a bit frustrating.

In Sunday's heart he wishes you would just tell him what you really want. Because he has confidence that he would love you no matter what.

"Sunday? Why are you spacing out? I'll leave you behind."

"Ah, wait.." The pang of sadness in him inside vanished as he rushed after you.

Sunday followed you to the dining area, where the table was already cleared, save for a few stray crumbs from everyone's finished meals. A slight pout formed on your lips as you noticed the empty plates, your mood dipping at the realization that you had missed lunch.

Sunday hummed softly as he tied the apron around his waist, the fabric of the apron crisp and clean against his shirt. The kitchen was warm and filled with the sweet, comforting scent of pancakes being made. As he poured the batter onto the hot griddle, the sizzle was music to his ears.

You sat at the table, yawning and stretching your arms above your head. Everyone else had already finished eating, and you felt a pang of guilt at the realization. You were used to being the last one up, your erratic sleep schedule as a scientist often leaving you out of sync with the rest of the household. But since Sunday had come into your life, things had started to change. He always made sure you had something warm to eat, no matter how late you got up.

As you watched him expertly flip the pancakes, a wave of gloom washed over you. You stood up quietly and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You pressed your face into his back, feeling the warmth of his body through the apron.

"I'm not clingy," you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

Sunday chuckled softly, his hands never pausing in their work. "I never said you were."

You tightened your hold on him, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away. His presence was so soothing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for him. He was always there, looking out for you, making sure you were cared for, even when you were too caught up in your work to take care of yourself.

He flipped the last pancake onto the plate and turned off the stove. Then, he turned around in your embrace, gently holding you by the shoulders.

"These pancakes are just for you," he said, his voice warm and full of affection. "I made them with extra syrup, just the way you like them."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "Thank you, Sunday"

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don't need to thank me, Y/n. Taking care of you makes me happy."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the pancakes. Sunday's love was a gentle, constant presence in your life, and you couldn't imagine a day without it.

As you sat down to eat, Sunday joined you at the table, watching with satisfaction as you took the first bite. The sweetness of the syrup mixed with the softness of the pancakes, and you couldn't help but let out a small, contented sigh.

"Perfect, as always," you said, smiling up at him.

Sunday grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I aim to please."

You finished the last bite of your pancakes, you felt Sunday's gaze lingering on you. You looked up, meeting his warm, brown eyes, and before you could say anything, he leaned in and kissed you softly. His lips were gentle against yours, and you could feel the love and care in his every movement.

You smiled into the kiss, your heart fluttering at the unexpected affection. When he pulled back, you kept your gaze locked on his, a playful gleam in your eyes. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him again, this time more deeply, savoring the warmth of his lips against yours.

When you finally pulled away, you could see the way his eyes softened as he looked at you. It was a moment of pure, unspoken connection, where words weren't necessary to convey what you both felt.

But then, a thought crossed your mind, and your smile grew even brighter. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid, holding it out to him.

"I've been working on something," you said, your voice filled with excitement. "A new method to try and heal your clipped wings. It's experimental, but I think it could work. We can test it when we reach the next planet."

Sunday stared at the vial in your hand, his eyes widening in surprise. He slowly reached out and took it, his fingers brushing against yours. There was a moment of silence as he looked at the vial, his expression a mixture of amazement and something else—something softer, more tender.

"You're always thinking of others," he said quietly, his voice tinged with sadness. "You're so kind, Y/n. I wish people could see that."

His words made your heart ache a little, but before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate passion. His lips moved against yours with a gentleness that made your heart melt, and you could feel the depth of his emotions in that kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he looked into your eyes, his expression serious but full of love.

"I don't mind being a flightless bird," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "As long as you're here with me, I have everything I need."

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Sunday's words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the worries and fears that sometimes crept into your mind.

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing against his cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere, Sunday," you whispered back, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. "I'm here, and I always will be."

He smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in again, kissing you softly, and you could feel the promise in that kiss—the promise of a future together, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Sunday..." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I'll always be here, no matter what."

He held you tightly, his embrace firm and reassuring. 

The vial slipped from Sunday's hand, hitting the floor with a delicate clink. Both of you froze, your hearts skipping a beat as the shimmering liquid inside spilled out onto the tiles, slowly pooling at your feet.

Sunday's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh no... Y/n, I—" he stammered, his voice full of panic as he pulled away from you.

"Oh no..." you whispered, your eyes widening in panic. "No, no, no...!"

"I-I'm so sorry," you blurted out, your voice trembling as you knelt down, desperately trying to salvage what little remained. But it was too late—the precious liquid was already seeping into the cracks between the tiles, disappearing before your eyes.

Sunday dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over the mess. "I didn't mean to... I was just... I'm so sorry, Y/n," he repeated, his voice thick with regret. He reached out to you, but you were already standing, your hands shaking as you clutched the now-empty vial.

"No, no, it's okay," you said quickly, though your voice wavered. You forced a smile, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I can... I can make more. I'll just... I'll work on something new. Don't worry about it."

You could see the anguish in Sunday's eyes, his guilt weighing heavily on him, but you couldn't bear to let him see how much this really hurt. You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips barely brushing his skin before you pulled away.

"I'll figure it out, I promise," you said, your voice trembling as you took a step back. "I just... I need to get started right away."

Before he could say anything, you turned and hurried out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. As you ran down the hallway, the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, blurring your vision. You knew Sunday didn't mean to drop the vial, but the disappointment and frustration were overwhelming.

You could  still feel the warmth of Sunday's cheek against your lips, the lingering taste of his kiss. But all you could focus on was the overwhelming need to fix what had gone wrong.

Sunday watched you go, a mix of concern and sadness in his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to reassure you that it wasn't your fault, that he didn't care about the vial. But you were already gone, leaving him alone in the quiet kitchen.

He sighed softly, glancing down at the broken glass on the floor. "Y/n... you're too hard on yourself," he murmured to the empty room.

Sunday sat on the floor, his heart still racing from the sudden mishap. The shimmering liquid from the broken vial seemed to mock him, a stark reminder of the hope that had just slipped through his fingers. He reached out, almost mechanically, to clean up the mess, his hands moving on their own as he tried to erase any trace of the accident.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed a towel from the counter and began carefully cleaning up the shimmering liquid. Each swipe of the towel felt like a reminder of his mistake, the regret gnawing at him. Once he had cleaned up the last of the spill, he sat back on his heels, staring at the empty spot on the floor.

His thoughts kept drifting to you—how you'd run off so quickly, locking yourself away in your lab. He knew you were upset, but you'd tried so hard to hide it from him. The idea that you were shouldering the burden alone didn't sit right with him.

He stood up, his heart heavy as he glanced toward the hallway leading to your lab. You had rushed off so quickly, clearly upset despite your brave face. Sunday's chest tightened with worry. You were always so strong, always pushing yourself for others, and he knew how much this setback would weigh on you.

Without another thought, he made his way to your lab, his steps quiet as he approached the closed door. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He knew how you were when you were focused—locked away in your own world, shutting everything else out. But he couldn't just leave you alone, not when he knew you were hurting.

Gently, he knocked on the door, his voice soft as he called out, "Y/n? Are you okay in there?"

There was no response. He pressed his ear against the door, listening intently. He could hear the faint sounds of you moving around inside, the clinking of glass and the rustling of papers. But you didn't answer him.

"Y/n," he called again, more firmly this time, "please... let me in."

Still nothing. Sunday's heart clenched, and he could feel the worry gnawing at him. He knew how much you valued your space, but he also knew that you tended to bottle things up, shutting everyone out when you were upset.

Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, he gently pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him broke his heart.

You were at your workstation, frantically scribbling notes and mixing chemicals, your hands moving with a desperate urgency. Your hair was a mess, your eyes red-rimmed from the tears you had clearly tried to wipe away. The normally organized lab was in disarray, with papers strewn across the desk and various vials and beakers cluttering the space.

"Y/n..." Sunday's voice was soft, almost pleading as he stepped into the room.

You didn't look up, too focused on your work, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled as you worked. He knew you were pushing yourself too hard, trying to make up for the lost time, but he couldn't just stand by and watch you suffer.

Gently, he approached you, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n, please... stop for a moment," he urged, his voice filled with concern.

You finally paused, your hand stilling as you slowly turned to look at him. There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with unspoken words.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I should've been more careful... I just... I wanted to help you so much."

Sunday shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and love. "You don't have to apologize, Y/n. I know how hard you're trying. But please... don't do this to yourself."

You looked away, your hands clenching into fists as you tried to hold back more tears. "But I need to fix this, Sunday. I can't just—"

He cut you off, gently cupping your face in his hands and turning you to face him. "You don't have to fix everything alone." His thumb gently brushed away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek.

"Sunday, I'm fine," you reassured him, though there was a tiredness in your eyes. "I just... I need to work on this. It's really important to me."

His gaze softened, and he reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "I know it is. I just... I don't want you to push yourself too hard. This was an accident. You don't have to fix it right away."

You placed your hand over his, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I want to do this for you. It's a gift... because I care about you so much." Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to his nose, a gesture so sweet and soft that it made his heart ache.

Sunday's hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before you gently pulled away. "I promise, I'm okay. I just need some time to focus."

You stepped back, locking the door once again, leaving Sunday standing alone in the hallway. He stared at the closed door, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He knew how much this project meant to you, how much you wanted to help him. But it was hard to see you pushing yourself so hard, especially when he felt responsible for the setback.

Sunday finally turned and walked back to the main living area, his thoughts swirling with concern. He wanted nothing more than to help you, to ease the pressure you were putting on yourself. But he also knew how stubborn you could be when you set your mind to something.

Sunday sat alone at the table, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him, an idea began to form in his mind. You were always so focused on helping others, especially him, that you rarely took time for yourself. You deserved something special—a gift that would show just how much you meant to him.

But what could he give you that would be meaningful? He knew you were a scientist, always curious, always seeking knowledge, but he wanted something that would touch your heart, something that would make you feel as loved and appreciated as you made him feel.

Sunday decided he needed some help with this. The members of the Astral Express were like family, and he knew they cared about you too. Maybe they could offer some ideas. March 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt... they all knew you well in different ways, and each of them might have a unique perspective on what you would appreciate.

Sunday was in deep trouble. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

He wasn't used to feeling this overwhelmed.

It was just a birthday gift—nothing to get worked up over. Yet, he couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. He needed to find the perfect gift for her, something that would surprise her and convey everything he felt. Being romantic wasn't exactly his strong suit, but for her, he was willing to step out of his comfort zone.

And just his luck, Mr. Welt Yang was in the central room of the Astral Express. He could help.

"Mr. Welt Yang, I'm here to ask you something. Don't worry, it's nothing too serious. But I do have a favor to ask. I'll help with anything you need after that."

"No need to be so formal, Sunday. You're part of the Express now. Ask what you wish, and I'll do my best to help," Welt replied with a warm smile.

Sunday was a little surprised but nodded gratefully. "I'm not even sure it's something I want... Let's just say I need someone's opinion."

"And I'm that someone?" Welt's smile widened like he already knew where this was headed.

"Well, you were in the right place at the right time, so I thought I'd ask you." Sunday attempted a smile, but it came off more goofy than anything, before crossing his arms over his chest. "I need to find a gift for Y/n, and I'm all out of ideas. I mean, I know I have the body of a god, but I'm not sure that'll be enough." He sighed, running his long fingers across his lips.

Maybe that last part wasn't necessary.

"I-I'm sorry for the last part. I just thought the atmosphere was awkward, so I—"

Welt chuckled softly. "That's how kids these days joke, right? I understand you're trying to fit in with modern humor, but you don't need to force it. Just be yourself."

"Mr. Yang, I appreciate it. You're very kind and mature, just like your age."

"I'm not that old," Welt replied, a touch defensively.

"May I ask your age then?"

"Why?"

"I thought it was inappropriate to ask a lady's age, not a man's, Mr. Welt..." Sunday asked

Welt gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You're right, it's usually a lady's age that's considered off-limits. But I suppose there's no harm in a little curiosity."

Sunday leaned in, genuinely interested now. "So, how old are you, Mr. Yang?"

Welt sighed, looking at Sunday with a mixture of amusement and something else—something more thoughtful. "I've seen many years come and go, Sunday. But it's not the number of years that matters; it's what you do with them. And speaking of that, age isn't something you should focus on too much. People—men or women—carry their experiences with them, not just their years."

Sunday nodded, absorbing Welt's words, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—an understanding, perhaps. Welt noticed it and hesitated for a moment. The young man had a past that was still somewhat of a mystery, even to him. He knew enough to recognize that Sunday's playful demeanor often masked deeper thoughts and feelings.

"You know, Sunday," Welt began, choosing his words carefully, "there's a reason why people tend to focus on the present rather than dwelling on the past or worrying too much about the future. It's because what we have right now is what's most important. And that includes the people around us, the ones we care about."

Sunday's expression softened, and he started listening more intently. Welt's words seemed to resonate with something deeper within him.

"Your concern for finding the perfect gift for Y/n, for instance," Welt continued, "isn't really about the gift itself. It's about what you're trying to say through that gift. You want to show her that you care, that you're thinking about her, and that she's important to you. It's the thought and the sincerity that will mean the most, not the price tag or the extravagance."

Sunday felt a warmth spread through him at Welt's words. He hadn't thought of it like that before, but it made sense. He wasn't just trying to impress Y/n; he wanted to make her feel special.

Welt noticed the change in Sunday's demeanor and continued, "As for asking a man's age... it's not about the number but the wisdom that comes with it. And I think you're already wiser than you realize, Sunday."

There was a moment of silence as Sunday absorbed Welt's words. He could tell that the older man was trying to guide him without prying too much into his past. Welt had always been perceptive like that, knowing when to push and when to hold back.

"Thank you, Mr. Welt," Sunday finally said, his voice sincere. "I think I know what I need to do now. It's not about finding the most extravagant gift. It's about finding something that'll really mean something to her."

Welt smiled warmly, relieved to see Sunday's confidence returning. "That's right. And whatever you choose, I'm sure she'll appreciate it because it'll come from you."

Sunday gave a determined nod. "You're right."

"How about a first edition of a novel she is particularly fond of?"

"Or of a literally classic that she might enjoy?"

"Like a novel..?" He turns the idea around in his head. "I'll enjoy them but- I don't want her up reading all night-" Sunday frowned.

"Just a suggestion, You can ask others too."

"Yes, Thanks Mr. Yang.." Sunday decided to look for Dan Heng.

Sunday found Dan Heng in the archives, quietly reading. He approached him, feeling a little more confident after his previous conversations. Dan Heng looked up from his book, his expression calm and attentive.

"Dan Heng, I need your advice," Sunday began. "I want to give Y/n a gift, something that shows her how much she means to me. Any thoughts?"

Dan Heng closed his book, thinking for a moment. "Y/n is dedicated, not just to her work, but to those she cares about. Perhaps a gift that reflects her interests, but also something that offers her a moment of peace or joy. It could be a rare book she's been searching for, or something that encourages her to relax, like a personalized playlist or a handcrafted piece of art."

Sunday felt a sense of relief wash over him as he listened to Dan Heng's calm, insightful words. "Thank you, Dan Heng."

He spotted March 7th in the lounge, fiddling with her camera as she tried to capture the perfect shot of something. She looked up as Sunday approached, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Hey, Sunday! What's up?" she asked, setting the camera down.

Sunday hesitated for a moment, then decided to dive right in. "I'm trying to think of a gift for Y/n... something special. She's been working so hard, and I want to show her how much I appreciate everything she does. Do you have any ideas?"

March 7th's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh, that's so sweet! Hmm... Y/n's always been into tech stuff, right? Maybe something to help her with her experiments? Or maybe something more personal, like... a photo album of memories? I could help put it together!"

Sunday smiled, appreciating her eagerness. "That's a great idea, March. I'll definitely think about it. Thank you."

Sunday spotted Stelle, who was glaring at him with an intensity that could burn through steel. He knew exactly why she was upset—all because he hadn't made her food earlier. In his defense, March had eaten most of it, and he had to save the rest for you. He had simply told Stelle to prepare her own dish, but she clearly wasn't pleased with that solution.

She didn't seem at all happy to see him now. But there's always a way to fix things, right? Maybe she could help him with his current dilemma.

As he approached, he noticed her eyebrows furrowing, her features hardening into a grimace. The look in her eyes could only be described as pure hatred.

"What do you want from me, Stupiday?" she spat out, using that lovely nickname she had for him.

"Stelle, you're always so kind to me," Sunday began with a hopeful smile, trying to soften her mood. "I know what I did was wrong. Please, just hear me out..."

"Hah! Hell will freeze over the day you deserve even an ounce of kindness. Now, what do you want from me?" she retorted, clearly not in the mood for any pleasantries.

He sighed, realizing that sugar-coating things wasn't going to get him anywhere. "It's about Y/n. Are you just going to stand there pulling that face, or are you actually going to let me talk?"

A flicker of concern crossed Stelle's eyes, and she sighed, some of the hostility in her expression fading. "Alright, tell me what's going on..."

Sunday felt a wave of relief but also frustration with himself. If he kept messing up like this, he wouldn't have anything to give you, and the day would end in disaster.

"I just want to find a gift for Y/n," he admitted, his voice a mix of desperation and determination. "Can you suggest any ideas?"

Stelle looked a bit surprised by his tone. She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it. "I'll make up for the food once this is done... I could show her a few magic tricks or something, but I don't think that'll be enough."

She stared at him for a moment before finally speaking. "...I have a collection of treasures. I could give you some."

Sunday blinked, not expecting that offer. "Huh? What kind of treasures?"

"Things I got from dumpster diving back in Belobog. I've got some shiny stuff. Come with me, I'll show you—Wait! What are you doing!?" she yelped as he suddenly grabbed her hand.

Sunday-he couldn't help but cringe inwardly. Dumpster diving? He hadn't thought about where she might've found these "treasures," but now that it was out in the open, the thought of germs crawling all over those shiny objects made his skin crawl.

"Wait, you got these from the trash?" Sunday asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

Stelle stopped, turning to him with an annoyed look. "Yeah, so what? A lot of good stuff gets thrown out. It's not like it's all dirty."

"Are you kidding me? Trash is literally the definition of dirty! Who knows what kind of germs are on those things?" Sunday shuddered, pulling back from the collection of objects she was proudly displaying.

Stelle rolled her eyes. "You're such a wuss. They're fine."

But Sunday wasn't convinced. In fact, he was horrified. "Stelle, you have no idea what could be on that stuff! We're talking bacteria, mold, maybe even something worse! You need to wash your hands—immediately!"

"What? They're not that bad!" she protested, but Sunday was already ushering her toward the nearest sink.

"Not that bad? Stelle, this isn't up for debate. You're washing your hands right now, and you're going to do it at least a hundred times."

"A hundred—are you out of your mind?" Stelle tried to pull away, but Sunday was relentless.

"I'm serious, Stelle! I'm not letting you touch anything or anyone until those hands are scrubbed clean. We're talking full-on scrubbing—soap, water, the whole deal!"

Stelle groaned but relented, grumbling under her breath as she turned on the water and started washing. She shot him a glare between scrubs. "This is ridiculous. It's just a bit of trash."

"A bit of trash? You're probably washing off entire ecosystems right now!" Sunday shot back, crossing his arms as he watched her like a hawk.

Stelle continued washing, muttering curses under her breath, but Sunday wasn't satisfied until she had lathered and rinsed her hands multiple times. By the time she had washed them for what felt like the hundredth time, she was visibly exhausted.

"Are we done now?" Stelle asked, her voice strained as she leaned against the sink, looking like she was about to pass out.

Sunday nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, I think you're good. Sorry for being so intense, but... you never know what's on those things."

Stelle gave him a withering look, too tired to argue further. "You're impossible. If you're that worried about germs, maybe you should ask Himeko for help instead."

Sunday blinked, feeling a pang of guilt as he realized how hard he had pushed her. "I... yeah, maybe that's a good idea. I didn't mean to make you go through all that. Thanks, Stelle."

"Whatever," she muttered, slumping down onto a nearby chair, completely worn out. "Just... don't drag me into any more of your crazy ideas."

Sunday smiled sheepishly. "I promise I won't. I'll go find Himeko. You rest up, okay?"

As Stelle nodded weakly, Sunday turned and made his way to find Himeko, silently cursing himself for being so paranoid. Maybe Himeko would have a better idea, one that didn't involve germs or exhausting his friends.

He found Himeko in the control room, sipping on a cup of coffee as she monitored the Express's systems. She looked up when Sunday entered, offering him a warm smile.

"Sunday, it's good to see you. What can I do for you?" she asked.

Sunday explained his plan, and Himeko leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. "Why do you want to gift her?"

"Why would I-?"

"I can't help if I didn't know the context behind this, I saw you snooping around everyone for gifting her something she would like, I need to know you felt the urge to gift her."

"Y/n has been working on something to help me out lately and it got- destroyed by me yet she blamed it on herself and locked herself in her lab. I want to tell her. It didn't matter, I'm fine the way I'm- I want to tell her, She was too good to me with a gift."

Care to join me for some coffee?"

Sunday hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He carefully took a seat across from her and accepted the cup she offered. He brought it to his lips, taking a delicate sip. He had never been much of a coffee drinker, but he was determined to do everything with care, especially when he was around others.

Himeko watched him with a small smile, amused by how perfectly he handled the cup, almost as if he were performing a delicate ritual. "You're quite the gentleman," she remarked, a teasing note in her voice.

Sunday smiled softly, placing the cup down with a gentle touch. "Thank you, Himeko."

Himeko's expression softened "I see. You care about her."

Sunday's wings fluttered slightly, a sign of his affection. "Yes, I do. More than anything."

Himeko smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. "Well, when it comes to showing someone you care, it often helps to create something personal—something that shows you've put thought and effort into it. Many women appreciate things like perfume. It's something that can be very personal and intimate. Why not try creating one for them?"

Sunday tilted his head, considering her suggestion. "Perfume? I've never made anything like that before."

Himeko chuckled. "It doesn't have to be perfect. It's the thought and effort that count. You could experiment with different scents, find something that reminds you of them, or something you think they'd like."

Sunday nodded slowly, the idea starting to take shape in his mind. "I think I can do that," he said, a small smile forming on his lips. "I want to create something that will make them smile whenever they use it."

Himeko reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Sunday. And if you need any help or advice along the way, you know where to find me."

Sunday's smile grew, and he felt a sense of determination welling up inside him. "Thank you, Himeko. I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime," she replied with a wink, taking another sip of her coffee. "I'm sure whatever you create will be perfect."

 Sunday left the common area, his mind was buzzing with ideas about creating the perfect perfume for you. But as he wandered through the halls of the Astral Express, he realized he had no idea where to find the ingredients he needed. Just as he was contemplating where to start, Himeko appeared around the corner, as if sensing his uncertainty.

"Still thinking about the perfume, Sunday?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Sunday nodded, his wings fluttering slightly in anticipation. "Yes, but I'm not sure where to find the right ingredients. I want it to be perfect."

Himeko's smile widened, and she glanced around, making sure no one else was nearby before leaning in slightly. "You know, I happened to notice that they have a collection of raw ingredients in their lab. Scents, oils, things like that. I think you might find exactly what you need there."

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise. "In their lab? But... wouldn't that be..."

Himeko chuckled softly. "A little sneaky? Perhaps. But it's for a good cause, don't you think? Besides, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if they knew what you were up to."

Sunday hesitated, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "But what if they catch me?"

Himeko shook her head, her tone reassuring. "They won't. In fact, I saw them earlier—fast asleep at their desk. They've been working so hard lately. I don't think they'll wake up anytime soon."

Sunday's heart softened at the thought of you asleep, exhausted from your work. The image made him even more determined to do something special for you. "If it's for them... I'll do it," he decided, his voice filled with resolve.

Himeko nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit. Just be quiet and careful, and you'll be fine. If you need any guidance, I'll be around."

With a grateful nod, Sunday made his way to your lab, his steps light and cautious. When he reached the door, he paused, taking a deep breath before quietly pushing it open. The room was dimly lit, and the soft sound of your breathing filled the space, confirming that you were indeed fast asleep.

He found you slumped over your desk, surrounded by scattered notes and books. The sight tugged at his heart—he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and carry you to bed, but he knew he needed to stay focused on his mission.

As quietly as he could, Sunday scanned the room, his eyes landing on a small shelf lined with bottles and jars of various oils and essences. Carefully, he approached the shelf, inspecting the labels in the dim light. He selected a few that he thought would work well together—something floral and sweet, with a hint of warmth that reminded him of you.

With the ingredients in hand, Sunday took one last look at you. A tender smile crossed his lips as he watched you sleep, your face peaceful in repose. He whispered softly, "I hope this makes you happy."

Then, as quietly as he had entered, he slipped out of the lab, closing the door gently behind him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he made his way back to his own space, eager to start experimenting with the ingredients he'd gathered. The thought of presenting you with a custom-made perfume, crafted with love and care, filled him with a sense of joy and anticipation.

Back in his room, Sunday set to work, carefully blending the oils and essences, testing different combinations until he found the perfect balance. The process was meticulous, and he poured his heart into every step, imagining how you might react when you received the finished product.

With the initial blend of oils and essences complete, Sunday carefully observed the perfume he had created. The scent was lovely, but something was missing—something that would make it uniquely yours. As he pondered, his gaze fell upon a small vial of a pink, glowing liquid he had picked up from your lab. He had been hesitant to use it, unsure of its effects, but now it seemed like the perfect finishing touch.

He uncorked the vial, the liquid inside shimmering with an almost ethereal light. As he brought it closer to his nose, he inhaled deeply, and the scent that wafted from it was intoxicating—sweet, floral, with a hint of something almost magical. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered before. With a mix of curiosity and excitement, he carefully added a few drops of the glowing liquid to the perfume.

As the pink liquid blended with the other ingredients, the mixture seemed to come alive. The perfume took on a soft, luminous glow, and the scent transformed into something utterly captivating. It was rich and complex, with layers of sweetness and warmth that reminded him of everything he loved about you. The fragrance was powerful, yet delicate, carrying an almost hypnotic allure that made his heart race.

Sunday smiled, pleased with the result. This was the perfect scent, something that felt as special as the person it was meant for. He wanted to present it to you in a way that reflected its beauty, so he turned his attention to finding the right bottle.

After searching through the small collection of items he had gathered over time, Sunday found a delicate glass spray bottle, adorned with intricate designs that shimmered when they caught the light. It was elegant and refined, just like the fragrance inside. He carefully poured the glowing perfume into the bottle, taking care not to spill a single drop.

Once the bottle was filled, Sunday stepped back to admire his work. The soft pink glow of the liquid inside contrasted beautifully with the ornate designs on the bottle, creating a mesmerizing effect. It was almost as if the perfume itself was alive, a manifestation of his feelings for you.

With the perfume complete, Sunday held the bottle in his hands, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. He couldn't wait to give it to you, to see the look on your face when you realized how much thought and care he had put into creating something just for you.

Now, all that was left was to find the perfect moment to present it. He knew it had to be special—just like the perfume and the feelings he had poured into it.

"I'll give it to her in the morning."

Sunday reached out to set the bottle on his nightstand, but it slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor.

"Oh no... I really did it this time..." His frown deepened as he gathered the shattered bottle.

"What's this?" He stared at the pink liquid now staining the floor, his eyes widening in sudden realization. "It can't be!"

The next morning, something felt off aboard the Express.

It was strange—Sunday hadn't come to wake you up. In fact, you were the one who woke up first. He didn't join in your usual morning routine, and when you knocked on his door, there was no answer. You tried opening it, only to find it locked from the outside.

Sunday never slept past lunchtime. And he never locked you out of his room.

Apprehension swirled inside you. Just as you were debating what to do, Stelle dashed toward you.

"Y/n! You finally came back from that devil's workshop!" she exclaimed, breathless.

"Pardon, Stelle! It's just... Sunday locked himself in his room, and I'm not sure what to do." You couldn't hide the worry in your voice as you noticed Stelle's eyes narrow.

"Locked himself in? That doesn't sound like him." You bit your lip, concerned.

"I'm worried. Some of my things are missing... I think he took them to try something. I even gave him access to my lab."

"I see..." Stelle nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly gripped her baseball bat. "If it won't open, then I'll break it down. Stand back!"

"STELLE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Pom-Pom's voice rang out as they ran towards you, tiny legs moving as fast as they could. "Stop bullying my newest recruit!"

You sighed. "Sunday locked himself in. He's become 'sad-day.'"

"Let me call Himeko."

Before long, Himeko arrived, a slight smile on her face as she assessed the situation. "So, Sunday has locked his door, and you can't get in?"

"Yes..." You looked at her with hopeful eyes, knowing she'd have a solution. She reached into her coat pocket, producing a key with a soft clink.

"Luckily, his room has a lock that can be opened with a key. Here you go. I have a spare." She held it out to you with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you so much!" You cheered, though your tired eyes betrayed your exhaustion.

Himeko gently pulled Stelle away. "Come with me, Stelle. There's work to be done. Y/n, don't be too hard on him. He must have his reasons."

Himeko was right. Sunday must have his reasons. You unlocked the door with trembling hands.

"Sunday? I'm coming in."

The moment you stepped inside, a sweet fragrance overwhelmed your senses. Your eyes fell on Sunday, sprawled limply across his bed, his shirt half-buttoned, his breathing uneven.

"...Sunday!?"

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice. "What... are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry I came in without asking, but I was worried about you!"

"Please leave."

"What?"

"...I have a cold. I don't want you or the others to catch it. Leave me... alone."

Something was clearly wrong.

"I can't do that! Your face is all red!" You moved closer, pressing your hand against his forehead. His eyes shot open, and he gasped at your touch.

"See? You're burning up! You definitely have a fever!"

"You silly girl... I told you to leave me... alone." His voice was hoarse, and before you could react, he pulled you close, kissing you roughly.

"Hm!" You gasped, caught off guard as he kissed you again and again, desperation in every touch. You pushed him away, your heart racing.

As you did, your gaze fell on the room's mess—the missing vials, the scattered pink liquid... Realization dawned on you. "Aphrodisiac!? Why on earth...?" You stared at him in shock, still pinned beneath him on the bed. He let out a shuddering sigh, as if surrendering.

"I'm sorry... I lied to you."

"What?"

"I don't have a cold. I'm like this because of the aphrodisiac." He confessed, telling you how he had stolen things from your lab, how he accidentally added the pink liquid without checking the label. When the bottle shattered last night, he realized what it was.

"It's my fault... I wanted to make something for you, but I messed up."

"Shh, it's okay... But why did you want to make me something all of a sudden?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I dropped the vial you were working on. You panicked and spent the entire day trying to recreate it. When I saw you asleep at your desk, I felt so guilty... I wanted to make it up to you." His voice wavered as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself.

"...I'm sorry." You whispered, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, his frustration giving way to something gentler. "It's fine... really. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You blinked, your breath hitching as his hand slid down, trailing along your arm before his fingers found their way under your hips. He gently lifted you, his touch warm against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he murmured again, his eyes never leaving yours. "I never wanted to hurt you or make you worry like this."

His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, grazing the curve of your waist as he pulled you closer. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath warm against your ear.

"Sunday..." you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, "Let me make it up to you... Please, just let me take care of you."

Before you could respond, his hands moved with more confidence, sliding under your hips and pulling you onto his lap. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric.

"You're always so kind, always thinking about everyone else... Let me be the one to take care of you this time," he breathed, his voice filled with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

His hands continued their exploration, fingers tracing the curve of your hips as he held you close, his touch both tender and possessive. Every movement was deliberate, slow, as if he wanted to savor every second, every reaction he coaxed out of you.

"Sunday..." you tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat as his lips found yours again, this time softer, more controlled, yet still filled with that same urgency.

You could feel him shifting beneath you, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips.

I want to be gentle and kind to you but at the same time I want to be rough and ravage you.." You felt your ears burn when you heard the pure need in his voice.

"But, I don't want you to hate me. I know it's pointless to say so now that I'm like this, Same as before, The first time we-" He let out a wry chuckle and stared deep into your eyes.

You could see the passionate desire for you in them.

"I'm not as in control as you think...So, Honestly...I want to make love more roughly to you than before. So you need to leave." Even now, he's trying to put your feelings before his..

But you couldn't leave him now, Instead you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

"I won't leave. I'm staying with you, Sunday.."

"Do you know what will happen if you stay? What I'll do to you?"

"I'm telling you, I'm not leaving! ...Hey.."

"What?" You cradled his face in your hands. "I know you always try to be gentle and kind to me, But, I wouldn't mind to see the another side of you." You pushed aside any shyness you felt and decided to go for it. "I want you to do whatever you want to me, I mean the effect will wore off faster this way. Medical approved."

"You're foolish woman, saying that to me at a time like this.." He let out a surprised chuckle and pulled you close. He kissed you deeply as his fingertips played with your earlobe.

"Ah!" You opened your mouth, immediately greeted by his hot tongue twining with yours. 'Is it okay, If I'm not gentle today?" He whispered in your ear and kissed your temples, your cheek and your neck before pinning you down to the bed.

But he did it rougher, more aggressive than usual.

"Ah! U-um!"

"What? Do you want me to stop?" He lifted his head to look at you putting his tongue's assault on your collarbones on a temporary hold. The forceful tone of his voice was slightly bewildering. But not one bit of you wanted him to stop.

"No.."

"Heh, Stubborn woman.." His smirk was wild and wicked as he began to unbuttoning your blouse. "But....I love that you.."

He pulled your shirt all the way up over your head, lifting both your arms with it. and then he wrapped the shirt tightly around your wrists.

"Wait, Sunday. I won't be able to move.."

"That's the point."

"You did it on pur-!" While you were protesting he'd loosened the lace of your bra strap and now yanked it off freeing your breasts to his hot gaze.

"Since it's bright in here I can see every bit of you so well...Darling.." He said with shush voice.

"Shh..Don't say that!" You arched your back when you felt his hand cupping your breasts, His thumb circling your nipples.

And then you felt his other hand touch your thigh. "I can't wait.."

He pushed your skirt up and you felt his breath on your thigh. He was just touching you and nothing else, your body was feverishly hot and you were panting.

All you want is for him to touch you more.. What's going on?

"Why are you making that face?"

"Because. My body feels strange.."

"The aphrodisiac started working on you too.." Sunday looked over at the door realizing that it wasn't locked. He let out a sigh if it were all for naught.

Meanwhile, your body got hotter..."Sunday. I'm so embarrassed.."

"Then I'll keep you busy you won't have time to be." After he tossed the shirt to the floor, he lifted up one of your legs, nuzzling you with his mouth.

You felt a sharp prick like teeth touch the soft flesh on your inner thigh. was he going to make you? You were surprised, but your body knew.

It knew that the pain only lasted a split-second to be followed by unimaginable ecstasy.

"You don't care what kind of dirty things we do as long we do it together right? Let yourself go..."

You automatically looked away, but he reached up and nudged your head back to look straight.

"Don't look away. I want you to watch what I'm doing to you." he whispered into your ear as he flicked your sensitive nipple with his fingertips.

Over and Over again.

His fingers danced across your sensitive bud, teasing and coaxing it to peak. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and husky. As you met his intense gaze, he applied firmer pressure, rubbing circles around your clit until you writhed beneath him.

The room seemed to spin, your senses heightened by the potent drug coursing through your veins. Every touch, every whisper sent electric shocks of pleasure racing along your nerves. "Sunday, please..." you moaned, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the overwhelming need building inside you.

With a wicked grin, he slid two fingers inside you, stretching and filling you completely. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, slick with arousal. He pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep within you.

As he continued to tease your clit, you felt an odd sense of unease creeping over you. Something about the situation didn't sit right, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was. Despite your growing discomfort, your body responded eagerly to his touch, your hips grinding against his hand as he worked your sensitive nub.

"Wait, the door...it's unlocked," you managed to gasp out between moans, suddenly realizing the potential danger of being vulnerable like this. But before you could even contemplate moving to lock it, he shifted his attention back to your entrance, sliding his fingers deeper inside you.

His thumb pressed firmly against your clit once more, rubbing in tight circles that had you seeing stars. "Shh, don't worry about that now," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

Just as you were about to protest further, his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, silencing your words. The intensity of the embrace stole your breath away, leaving you helpless and pliant beneath him. When he finally broke the kiss, you were left panting, your mind reeling from the sudden onslaught of sensation.

I can't let you go, he whispered urgently, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. Not when I've got you just like this...so open and willing. His fingers continued their relentless pace, stroking and curling inside you as if trying to claim you utterly.

The sensation of being restrained only served to heighten your arousal, making your pussy clench around his probing fingers.

He leaned down then, his mouth hovering just inches from your throbbing clit. With a tantalizing slowness, he licked along your slit, savoring the taste of your arousal. Each lap of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

His tongue delved deeper, swirling around your clit and flicking against your sensitive bud. The dual assault of his fingers and tongue had you teetering on the edge of release, your entire body quivering with pent-up need.

His tongue continued its relentless exploration of your wet folds, lapping at your juices and circling your clit with precision. Each stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, driving you closer and closer to the brink.

As he lavished attention onto your swollen clit, he slid another finger inside you, stretching your tight walls even further. The combined sensations of his probing digits and teasing tongue had you writhing helplessly on the bed, desperate for some sort of relief.

Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you panting and whimpering in frustration. But before you could voice your displeasure, he moved lower, positioning himself between your spread thighs.

He grasped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he buried his face against your dripping sex. His tongue plunged deep inside you, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts that had you arching off the bed. The wet heat of his mouth engulfed your aching flesh, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive inner walls.

One hand snaked up to pinch and roll your nipple while the other found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the engorged bundle of nerves. The triple stimulation was almost too much to bear, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning, your whole body tensing as wave after wave of pure bliss washed through you. You cried out his name, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth as he drank down your essence.

After bringing you to a shattering climax, he slowly kissed his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, taking turns to suckle and nip at your nipples. His fingers trailed down your stomach, tracing the curves of your belly before slipping back between your thighs.

Positioning himself at your entrance, he teased the tip of his cock against your still throbbing clit, coating it in your slick arousal. He watched your reactions intently, drinking in every twitch and moan as he toyed with your body.

Finally, he pushed forward, sinking into you inch by slow inch. The stretch was exquisite, your inner walls gripping him tightly as he filled you completely. He paused, allowing both of you time to adjust to his size, before starting to move.

Each thrust was deliberate and deep, designed to hit all the right spots inside you.

He began to move, setting a rhythm that was both torturous and perfect. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming warmth, his cock sliding effortlessly against your sensitive inner walls. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as he continued to pound into you. The dual assault of his cock and his demanding mouth had you spiraling towards another climax. Your hands clawed at the sheets, seeking purchase as he fucked you relentlessly.

"Look at me," he growled against your lips, pulling back just enough to demand your full attention. His eyes burned with raw lust as he watched your face contort with pleasure, each expression etched into his memory.

With a guttural groan, he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless tempo. Every thrust hit just right, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, a sure sign that he was close to his own release.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see you fall apart underneath me." His hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding you to meet his thrusts, ensuring that every inch of his length rubbed against your most sensitive spot.

The pressure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped. A scream tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, your inner muscles clamping down on his cock in powerful spasms.

As your orgasm rocked through you, he felt your walls flutter and clench around his pulsating cock. It was all the encouragement he needed, pushing him over the edge. With a roar of satisfaction, he buried himself deep inside you, his hot seed spilling forth as he came undone.

Collapsing atop you, he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His body trembled with aftershocks, his cock throbbing inside you as he rode out the last waves of his climax.

As you lay there basking in the afterglow, a sudden realization dawned upon you - the door remained unlocked, leaving you vulnerable should anyone decide to barge in. Before you could voice your concern, he began trailing kisses along your neck, his lips soft and insistent against your skin.

"Do not worry about the door," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Nothing will tear me away from you now. Ignore everything else; focus solely on this moment."

His words were like a soothing balm, easing your worries and melting away any lingering tension. As he continued his sensual assault on your neck, you felt yourself relaxing fully into his embrace, content to let the world fade away. There would be plenty of time to deal with the practicalities later; for now, you surrendered to the passion igniting between you once more.

Despite your best efforts to remind him about the unlocked door, he simply ignored your pleas, instead focusing his attentions on your sensitive neck. His lips traced lazy patterns across your skin, sending delicious tingles shooting down your spine. Each gentle kiss drew a soft moan from your lips, distracting you from your initial concerns.

"You're so beautiful when you moan," he whispered huskily, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Let's not waste this precious moment worrying about anything else." His hands roamed over your body, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts and tweaking your hardened nipples.

With every touch, every kiss, you found yourself forgetting about the outside world. All that mattered was the warm, solid weight of him pressed against you, the tantalizing brush of his lips against your neck, and the overwhelming sensation of sheer bliss enveloping you.

As he continued to lavish attention on your neck, he couldn't help but notice the profound sense of happiness that washed over him whenever he held you close. It was as if the very presence of your warm, supple body against his own ignited a spark within his soul, filling him with an unexplainable joy.

He pulled back slightly, gazing down at you with adoration shining in his eyes. "You have no idea how wonderful it feels to hold you like this," he confessed, his voice tinged with emotion. "Every curve, every breath, every beat of your heart... it all makes me incredibly happy."

His thumbs brushed tenderly over your cheeks, wiping away any remaining traces of worry or stress. In their place, he left behind a soft, loving smile, one that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you.

The muffled giggles grew louder, you could hear the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. Fear gripped your heart, but before you could even consider bolting for cover, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

"Don't worry," he reassured you, his voice low and steady. "Just relax and enjoy this." With deft movements, he guided you onto his lap, positioning you so that his throbbing member slid easily inside you. The sensation was incredible, a welcome distraction from the approaching sounds.

His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as you began to rock against him. The rhythmic motion, combined with the sound of laughter growing closer, had you surrendering completely to the moment. It wasn't long before you found yourself lost in the pleasure, oblivious to anything but the intense sensations coursing through your body.

You felt him moving beneath you, the rhythm of his thrusts matching perfectly with the rising excitement within you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Seeing him so content, so fulfilled, filled you with a warmth that spread throughout your entire being.

"Sunday."

"Hm?"

"Please," you pleaded softly, looking into his eyes. "Kiss me again."

Without hesitation, he complied, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss. It was tender and gentle, yet packed with a depth of emotion that left you breathless. The taste of him, the feeling of his lips moving against yours – it was intoxicating.

In that moment, you realized that you didn't care about the laughter getting closer, the potential intrusion of others. All that mattered was this man, this moment, and the indescribable pleasure that he was coaxing from your very core.

The sounds of laughter faded away, both of you succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a peaceful slumber entwined in each other's arms. Even in sleep, his protective instincts remained strong, his large frame shielding you from any potential disturbance.

Hours passed, and as you stirred awake, you noticed his hand gently stroking your skin, cleaning away any remnants of sweat or fluids from your body. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he were worshipping every inch of you.

Occasionally, he would lean in to press soft kisses against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. These gentle caresses served as a reminder of the intimate bond you shared, a physical manifestation of the love and desire that burned brightly between you.

Wrapped in his embrace, surrounded by his comforting presence, you felt safe, cherished, and deeply satisfied.

You opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the disarray of the room, the clothes strewn haphazardly, the sheets twisted and tangled around your legs. Then there was the feeling of emptiness, a void where his body once occupied.

Slowly, you sat up, stretching out your limbs and wincing at the slight ache that radiated from your thighs. Sunday morning sunlight streamed in through the window, casting long shadows across the room and illuminating the state of undress you found yourself in.

A rush of embarrassment flooded your senses as reality set in. What had you done? Who had you done it with?

The door! You scrambled off the bed, reaching for the robe discarded on the floor. Your fingers brushed against something warm and hard, causing you to freeze. There, nestled between your legs, lay his thick, pulsing cock.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise coming from the bed behind you. You turned to see him emerge from under the covers, hastily pulling the sheets up to his chin to conceal his nudity. His face was flushed, and his eyes darted nervously between you and the door, as if he feared an intruder might burst in at any moment.

"I...I can explain," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "It just...happened. We got carried away..."

Despite the initial shock and embarrassment, a sudden wave of mirth washed over you. The absurdity of the situation, the ridiculousness of trying to hide his naked form under a thin sheet, struck you as hilarious. Before you knew it, peals of laughter spilled from your lips, echoing through the room.

"It's okay!" you managed to gasp out between giggles. "You don't have to hide. In fact, you did more than great - you were amazing!"

Your laughter seemed to break the tension, and soon enough, he joined in, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he let the sheet fall away. The sight of his bare torso, glistening with sweat from their activities, only made you laugh harder.

"You're one to talk," he retorted playfully, gesturing to your own nude form.

The laughter subsided, you found yourselves grinning at each other, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared amusement. The air was charged with a new energy, a palpable tension that hinted at the possibilities that lay ahead.

He reached out, his fingers tracing lightly along your collarbone before drifting down to cup your breast. His touch sent sparks racing through your veins, reigniting the flames of desire that had been simmering all along.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "we should probably get dressed before we attract any unwanted attention..."

But even as he spoke, his hand continued its exploration, kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh until you were arching into his touch, craving more. The promise of what was to come hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing prospect that left you breathless and wanting.

His hands roamed over your curves, he pulled you close, pressing his lips against your forehead in a tender, lingering kiss. "We have all day," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "No need to rush things."

With that, he guided you towards the bed, pushing you gently onto the mattress. The soft pillows cradled your head as he loomed above you, his muscular physique casting a shadow over your prone form.

His eyes bore into yours, searching, questioning. "Tell me about your past," he said, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern. "What brought you here?"

When Sunday asks about your past, you hesitate for a moment before deciding to share the story that shaped you.

"Even from my childhood, I was always... different," you begin, the memories flooding back. "My mother, with her delicate features and vibrant green hair, carried me for ten long months. She barely had time to name me and give me this golden earring before she died right after I was born."

You pause, touching the earring that still hangs from your ear, a constant reminder of the mother you never knew. "I spoke my first words moments after birth. It shocked everyone in the room. My father, once a renowned apothecary, raised me alone. He was a good parent... at first."

Your voice lowers as the memories darken. "But then he fell ill, struck by some unknown disease that made him miserable. The medicine I prepared for him had side effects, ones that twisted his mind. He started hitting me. I got used to it. I even pitied him because I knew it wasn't really him—just the illness and the medicine."

You look away, eyes distant. "But on my 9th birthday, after another round of abuse, I made a decision. I told myself that humans are ridiculous and ugly. I decided then that I would make humanity evolve so they wouldn't have to become... what my father became."

You pause, your tone growing colder. "That was the last birthday I ever spent at home."

You continue, the weight of your past heavy on your mind, but you push through, knowing that Sunday needs to understand.

"I couldn't stay there any longer, not after that day," you say, your voice steady despite the painful memories. "So, I ran away. I didn't know where I was going, just that I needed to escape. That's when I found the Astral Express."

Your expression softens slightly at the thought. "Himeko was the first person I met. She's been taking care of me ever since I arrived. It felt different—everything did. Like a new beginning, a chance to start over. But even with that, I always felt... different. Not just from the others on the Express, but from everything."

You look down at your hands, recalling the small creatures you've tried to befriend. "I've always liked small animals, but they're scared of me. I don't blame them. There's something about me that even I can't quite understand. No one on the Express really likes or dislikes me. I'm just... there, and they don't know what to make of me. I've always been weird, and I knew that. But things started to change."

You smile, though it's tinged with a hint of sadness. "Himeko, Welt, Stelle, Dan Heng, March... They found me weird, too. But they didn't push me away. Instead, they tried to understand me. And through them, especially Himeko, I began to realize something. Maybe humans aren't as ugly as I once thought."

Your eyes meet Sunday's, a faint glimmer of hope in them. "It's still hard for me to fully believe, but they've shown me a different side of humanity. One that's worth understanding, worth... evolving for."

You chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood after sharing so much of yourself. "You know," you say with a playful glint in your eye, "my birthday is right after Monday."

Sunday's eyes light up with excitement, his enthusiasm almost contagious. But you quickly shake your head, the smile on your lips fading. "But honestly, I don't care about it. I've always hated my birthday. What's the point in celebrating something when there's no one to wish you well? No birthday wishes, no reason to celebrate... it's just another day."

Before he can respond, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the moment tender despite the heavy words. When you pull back, you give him a teasing smile. "So, what do you say? Are you joining me for a bath?"

He hesitates, his expression a mix of emotions, but he eventually nods, though there's a trace of sadness in his eyes. "Yeah... I'll join you," he says, his voice soft.

As the two of you head towards the bath, Sunday can't help but think to himself, determination building in his heart. He wanted to give you the perfect gift, something that would make you see your birthday differently, something that would make you feel truly celebrated for the first time in your life.

As the two of you make your way to the bath, you notice that Sunday seems unusually quiet, deep in thought. You both settle into the warm water, the steam rising around you, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Sunday finally breaks the silence, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression.

"So... do you ever talk about your birthday with anyone else on the Astral Express?" he asks, trying to sound casual but clearly curious.

You lean back, the warmth of the water soothing your tense muscles. "Not really," you admit, your tone light. "I mean, what's there to talk about? It's just another day. Besides, I doubt they even know when my birthday is."

Sunday frowns slightly, as if the idea of you being forgotten like that bothers him. "You never told Himeko or anyone?"

You shake your head. "Nope. It's not something I like to think about, so I don't see the point in bringing it up. They've got enough to deal with anyway."

Sunday looks down, his brow furrowed in thought. "But... don't you want to change that? Maybe this year could be different."

You give him a small smile, though there's a hint of sadness in your eyes. "Maybe. But honestly, Sunday, I've never really had a reason to celebrate it. The idea of just letting it pass by feels... easier. Besides, I've never really known what it feels like to have a birthday that matters."

After the bath, Sunday finds himself lying awake in bed, thoughts swirling in his mind. The idea of making your upcoming birthday special sticks with him, and he can't shake it. He picks up his phone, hesitating for a moment before deciding to act.

He opens the Astral Express group chat and creates a new group, adding everyone from the crew. As the notifications start popping up on their devices, 

Sunday's fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he typed out a message.

March texts you!

March texts sunday!

After that, Things were down-hill. Suddenly, Out of nowhere The Astral Express stopped at the location you thought you'll never see again.

Your home. The Planet of ????????

You didn't feel disturbed tho, You just spend time with Sunday in you room, locked up. While the others were working hard on something.

Sunday would leave and come back, usually late at nights and March and Himeko suddenly took your measurement for custom clothes they said.

He looked bothered, You didn't understand why.

Today, You understood.

Wake up, Y/n! You're getting married that's your birthday!

Wedding gowns of various styles are displayed before you, each one more stunning than the last. But there's no sense of excitement or blooming flowers in your mind, just a quiet unease.

The assistant beside you is practically bubbling over with enthusiasm as she holds up gown after gown, her voice chirping with excitement.

"Look at this one with a boat neck and diamonds! It's the latest fashion this year! Or how about this one-shoulder gown? It's dreamy without being too flamboyant. And this fishtail dress? It's perfect for your figure! Your lover will fall head over heels all over again when they see you in it!"

"What's wrong with my current figure?" you ask, staring at her with a look that's meant to convey confusion, but it must come off as something more intimidating.

The assistant's eyes widen as she stammers, "N-Nothing! You look amazing as you are! I just meant... well, do you want your husband to help you decide? Or would you rather keep it a surprise?"

"Husband? Who said he's my husband already?" You can't help the choke in your voice, the words catching in your throat.

"I'm sorry! I just assumed... I mean, it is your wedding day, after all! But I suppose it's a bit sudden... planning everything in just a day—"

"The Astral Express can handle anything. But now I see—this is my birthday gift. I thought March was joking... but I didn't expect him to agree so easily. It's only been a few weeks, and here we are..." You trail off, realizing you're venting to a complete stranger.

The assistant blinks, then smiles warmly. "Oh my! Don't worry about it. I married my husband on our first date, knew within a day he was the one. We're still together, though I wouldn't recommend it to just anyone. The world's a strange place."

"Indeed... maybe not everyone." You sigh, trying to shake off the anxiety. "Alright, I'll keep it a secret." You decide you're not ready to let Sunday see you like this just yet, and you pull the curtain of the fitting room closed to change.

In just a few moments, you'll go from Miss Y/n to Mrs. L/n. Dan Heng mentioned that Sunday was going to take your last name.

Life's a strange thing. Life's funny! Life's fun! Life's stressful, overrated, and pretty damn good all at once. It's enough to make you nervous.

A slice of romance wasn't something you expected, let alone marriage. But here it is, staring you in the face.

You feel like a puppet in a play orchestrated by the whims of the Astral Express.

And Sunday... he's your gift, your surprise. Maybe by this, you'd... never mind.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you could hardly believe the girl in the wedding gown and veil was you. It felt surreal, like a dream you might wake up from at any moment. The delicate lace of the gown hugged your figure perfectly, and the veil draped over your shoulders with an ethereal softness.

Himeko, satisfied with her work, set down the comb she had been using to adjust your hair. She leaned in close, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't be nervous, Sunday will definitely be satisfied with how you look now."

"I-I'm not nervous..." you stammered, trying to laugh it off, but the tremble in your voice betrayed you. Thank the stars that Sunday wasn't here to see you like this—so vulnerable, so uncertain.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a knock echoed through the room. His voice followed, calm and composed.

"Miss Himeko, I have the item with me."

Himeko straightened up, giving you a reassuring smile before heading toward the door. "Just a moment, I'm coming..."

You turned around nervously, but Himeko gently but firmly guided you back to face the mirror. "Be good and don't move. The bride and groom cannot see each other in advance."

"We're not—" you started to protest, but Himeko was already at the door.

Left alone with your reflection, a sudden wave of anger and frustration washed over you. You glared at the mirror, willing the anxiety to disappear. But as you stared, your eyes widened in shock. The girl in front of you—dressed in a wedding gown, veil perfectly arranged—was you. But it didn't feel like you. It was like looking at a stranger, a version of yourself you hardly recognized.

Just then, the door burst open, and March 7th, Dan Heng, and Stelle rushed in, all talking at once.

"Y/n, you look amazing!"

"You'll be fine, really—"

"Wow, I can't believe—"

Their voices blended together, and before you could even register what was happening, your body acted on instinct. Startled by the sudden intrusion, you flinched—and your fist shot out, connecting squarely with March's face.

Time seemed to freeze as March stumbled back, holding her nose with a look of pure shock. The room went dead silent, everyone staring at you in a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Oh my lord, March! I'm so sorry!" you blurted out, horrified at what you'd done. But the confusion, the nerves, the overwhelming rush of emotions—it was all too much.

March, ever the trooper, waved it off, though she was still rubbing her nose. "No worries, Y/n! I get it, big day jitters and all... but wow, you pack a punch!"

Dan Heng and Stelle exchanged glances, trying to suppress their smile. 

You manage to compose yourself, though the embarrassment is still evident on your face. Trying to lighten the mood, you mumble, "You know, March... maybe you deserved that punch."

March 7th's eyes widen in mock horror, but then she sticks her tongue out at you playfully. Before you can react, she suddenly lunges forward, pinching both of your cheeks between her fingers. "You're just too cute, Y/n!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

"March, stop—ow!" you protest, your voice muffled by her hands, but she's too busy cooing over you to pay any attention.

"Oh, you're so adorable when you're flustered! I just have to capture this moment!" March chirps, pulling out her phone with one hand while still holding your cheeks with the other.

"March, no—" you start, but she's already snapped a selfie, your squished cheeks and wide eyes making you look more like a startled chipmunk than a bride-to-be.

March giggles at the photo, clearly pleased with herself, while you groan in exasperation. Dan Heng and Stelle, however, are less amused, giving her identical deadpan looks.

"Alright, that's enough," Stelle says, her tone firm but lighthearted. She and Dan Heng exchange a knowing glance, and before March can protest, Stelle and Dan Heng each take an arm, gently dragging her out of the room.

"Wait, I'm not done—Y/n still looks so cute!" March protests, laughing as she's pulled away, but she doesn't put up much of a fight.

As the door closes behind them, the room falls quiet again. You let out a sigh of relief, rubbing your sore cheeks. But then you notice Dan Heng is still standing there, his expression unusually soft, with a small, strange smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he says slowly, almost as if he's choosing his words carefully, "you really do look pretty, Y/n."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a warmth spread across your face that has nothing to do with March's earlier pinching. It's rare to see Dan Heng show this side of himself, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

You manage a small smile in return, feeling a mix of emotions you can't quite name. "Thanks, Dan Heng."

He nods, the strange smile lingering a moment longer before he turns to leave, giving you a moment of privacy to collect yourself before the ceremony.

The door closed.

Because of this door was opened just a little. You couldn't see Sunday and could only hear a bit from time to time. Probably, because he couldn't hold back his curiosity or simply because he wanted to inspect, He opened for a moment, but Himeko closed it immediately.

"You, Young people why are you so impatient?"

"I'm..not- I'm just worried about Y/n and want to make sure nothing's going wrong."

"I'm here and nothing will be wrong, just wait outside." You weren't sure whether Sunday saw you or not. You only knew the nervousness in your heart had transformed into a feeling complicated.

For a while, you couldn't tell whether you wanted him to see you or not.

You felt the only person who could calm the restless and disturbed you down was him. As if feeling your nervousness, he came back before going far. This time he didn't push the door open. He just knocked.

"Relax, When you get nervous, you make weird faces." You couldn't hear his voice clearly through this door, but it really calmed you down.

"Only he can calm you down. You're finally smiling." Himeko teased you as she opened a small jewelry box she just received. There was a simple ring in it.

"This is..?"

"Why do people exchange rings?"

"Oh."

"Sunday said that this ring was something precious to him. I think it's sentiment, maybe it's his mother's ring who knows. I am keeping it for safe guard."

"I see.."

The church bells rang twelve times, marking the moment you'd been both dreading and anticipating. You could hear the soft hum of voices and the rustle of fabric as the guests settled into their seats. Sunday, just beyond the carved wooden gates, gave a slight cough as he straightened his bow tie one last time, ensuring everything was in place. His cheeks were slightly flushed with nervous anticipation.

He hesitated before speaking, his voice almost shy. "Mr. Yang, can I ask for a request?"

Welt turned toward him, his expression curious but kind. "Yes, Sunday? Is something the matter?"

Sunday shifted his weight, glancing down the hallway as if gathering his thoughts. "Could you... would you be willing to walk Y/n down the aisle? I don't want her to feel alone, and after hearing some things about her past... I think it would make her feel better."

Welt's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he nodded. "Like a father figure?" He looked down, lost in thought for a moment, as if reminiscing about something. Then, with a warmth in his voice, he agreed, "Of course, Sunday. I'd be honored."

Meanwhile, in the room where you were getting ready, your hands trembled as you held the crown, your mind a whirl of emotions. The crown slipped from your fingers, rolling down the length of your gown, and your heart skipped a beat as you instinctively bent down to retrieve it. But Himeko was quicker, her hand darting out to catch it before it hit the floor.

"The crown," you murmured, but Himeko just smiled, lifting it back into place.

"You look beautiful, Y/n," she said softly, her voice full of pride. "Stop worrying. You're perfect."

"I'm not nervous!" you protested weakly, though the blush on your cheeks told a different story. Your reflection in the mirror betrayed you—a girl in a pure white wedding gown, hair elegantly tied up, with a veil dotted with delicate flowers draped over your bare shoulders. Just like you had imagined as a little girl. That girl was you.

Himeko stood behind you, carefully fixing the diamond-studded crown on your head. She met your eyes in the mirror, her smile warm and encouraging. "There, all done. Now, it's time for our perfect bride to meet her groom. I'm proud of you."

Your mind was too full of thoughts to respond immediately, so you simply stared at your reflection, the reality of the moment finally settling in.

Himeko didn't give you time to overthink. She gently pulled you up from your seat, guiding you toward the door where the noise from the ceremony just beyond it filtered through. She hummed the Wedding March under her breath as she opened the door, and in that instant, a flurry of ribbons and petals rained down in celebration, filling the air with color and joy.

You blinked in surprise as Welt Yang appeared at the threshold, standing tall with a gentle expression. He extended his arm to you with a smile, his eyes kind and reassuring.

"Y/n," he began, his voice steady and comforting, "I'd be honored to walk you down the aisle, if you'll allow me. As a father figure... if that's alright with you."

For a moment, you could only stare at him in stunned silence, your mind reeling. The offer was unexpected, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart swell with gratitude. You'd never imagined having this kind of support today, and the thought of walking down the aisle alone had filled you with dread.

But now, with Welt offering to stand beside you, the anxiety in your chest seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and reassurance. Slowly, you nodded, your expression softening as you accepted his arm.

Welt's smile widened, and he gave a small, approving nod in return. "Then let's not keep everyone waiting, shall we?" he said, his tone light yet full of affection.

 you linked your arm with his, the doors to the ceremony opened fully, and the room beyond was revealed in all its splendor. The guests turned to look at you, their eyes bright with anticipation. The sight of Sunday waiting for you at the end of the aisle made your heart flutter, but with Welt beside you, each step felt steadier, more certain.

As you walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Welt, the reality of the moment began to sink in. The grandeur of the ceremony was almost overwhelming, 

As you neared the end of the aisle, your eyes were drawn to Sunday. He stood tall and handsome, his posture confident but his eyes betraying the nervous anticipation that mirrored your own. He was dressed impeccably, his suit perfectly tailored, the subtle gleam of his cufflinks catching the light. But it was his expression that held your attention—a look of pure admiration mixed with a hint of disbelief, as if he couldn't quite fathom that this moment was real.

You stared at him, unable to look away, your heart pounding in your chest. Sunday met your gaze, his eyebrows raised slightly as if surprised by your reaction, but then he smiled softly. It was a smile that spoke volumes—comfort, affection, and a silent promise that everything was going to be okay. His eyes never left yours, grounding you in the here and now, making the world around you fade away.

But even as you basked in the warmth of his smile, your thoughts drifted to someone who wasn't there. Your eyes searched the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister, Robin. You had hoped she would come, to stand by her brother's side on such an important day. But she was nowhere to be seen.

A pang of sadness tugged at your heart, not just for yourself, but for Sunday. You knew how much he had wanted Robin to be there, how much it would have meant to him. The absence of his sister was a heavy weight, a shadow on what should have been a perfect day.

As you reached the altar, Sunday extended his hand to you, and you took it, feeling the warmth of his touch. For a moment, you hesitated, the sadness in your chest still lingering. But Sunday, ever perceptive, gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His smile remained, unwavering, as if to say that despite everything, this was still your moment—your day, together.

Welt gently released your arm, stepping back with a nod of approval. You and Sunday stood face to face, the world falling away until it was just the two of you. His eyes searched yours.

Your eyes met Sunday's, You saw a flash of amazement. His lips moved a little but only called your name after a while.

"Y/n.."

You met his golden eyes that reflected you. He held your hand more tightly, then leaned in and whispered in your ears.

"I'm with you, Everything will be okay."

The wedding March was playing...You tried to ignore the heat on your face which was caused by Sunday's leaning close to you, and you even wanted to rub your itchy ears. You held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other tightly gripped by him. You could see the irrepressible smile at the corner of his lips, just like you at the moment.

The priest smiled kindly at you and Sunday, then started according to the lines.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here, today in the presence of these witnesses to join Sunday and Y/n in matrimony..." The priest spoke seriously and slowly. As you were listening nervously, you felt your palms being scratched.

You glanced at Sunday standing next to you, but he looked composed.

"....I would be asking who gives this woman to be married to this man"

After the priest finished asking, Sunday immediately turned to look at you, his eyes full of expectation, as if they were glowing. Like the sun.... You forgot you existed for a moment.

He was pretty, He was really pretty, It was a smile you saw back when he was trying to befriend you.

You remembered the embarrassing line. Facing Sunday's scorching gaze, your voice became softer and softer.

"..I am marrying him at my own free will, with the blessings of all people."

"Now the groom can take the oath." Hearing this, you tried to withdraw your right hand clenched by Sunday but failed, so you could only lower your eyes to avoid his gaze.

"I take you to be my wedded wife.." The sounds from above your head was more serious than ever. Your heart was racing.

Before the oath was finished, Sunday stopped, and remained silent for the next two seconds.

You raised your eyes, astonished, but was caught off guard and got immersed in the gentle golden eyes of his.

He looked at you gently, and the sincerity and tenderness in his eyes were enough to seize anyone who was gazed by him.

"Y/n, from now on, I'll forever love and cherish you, and you will always be my everything." He was solemnly giving you the promise of a lifetime.

A light kiss fell on the back, and the touch like a thin feather penetrated the thin fabric and directly reached the bottom of your heart.

The moment hung in the air, charged with emotion as Sunday's soft kiss on the back of your hand sent a shiver down your spine. The sincerity in his voice echoed in your mind, each word he spoke wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. You felt as if time itself had slowed, the world narrowing to just the two of you standing before the altar.

The priest, sensing the significance of the moment, gave a gentle nod before continuing, his voice steady and filled with reverence. "And now, Y/n," he began, his gaze meeting yours, "do you take Sunday to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

The question was the one you had been anticipating, yet now that it was here, it felt monumental, as if the weight of those words carried all the hopes and dreams you and Sunday had ever shared.

You felt your pulse quicken, your hand still tightly held by Sunday's warm grasp. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mixture of love, hope, and something deeper—an unspoken bond that had been forged through all the trials and joys you had faced together.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a deep breath, allowing the significance of the moment to settle into your bones. You looked up at Sunday, meeting his golden eyes that reflected nothing but pure affection.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady and clear despite the emotions swirling inside you. "I do."

The words left your lips with a sense of finality, yet also with the promise of new beginnings. As they echoed through the space, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and certainty wash over you. This was where you were meant to be, by Sunday's side, forever.

The priest smiled warmly at your response and then turned his attention to Sunday. "And do you, Sunday, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

Sunday's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you saw his expression soften even more. He didn't hesitate, didn't waver.

"I do," he answered, his voice filled with a quiet, yet unshakable resolve. The conviction in his words was as solid as the ground beneath your feet, anchoring you both in this pivotal moment.

The priest nodded, satisfied with the exchange of vows. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Sunday's eyes lit up with a joy that was almost childlike, a smile spreading across his face that you couldn't help but mirror. He stepped closer, gently lifting your veil as the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his feelings, he cupped your face in his hands, leaning in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away if you weren't ready.

But you were ready. More than anything, you wanted to seal this moment, this promise, with him.

When his lips finally met yours, it was like everything else faded away. The kiss was soft, full of love and warmth, a perfect culmination of everything you both had felt up to this point. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a vow, a declaration that you were each other's, now and forever.

As you pulled away, the applause of the guests filled the air, but all you could focus on was Sunday's face, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

Your gaze drifted downward, your hands still resting in Sunday's. The day had been a whirlwind, everything happening so quickly that it felt almost surreal. And yet, amidst all the chaos, there was a quiet moment of clarity. Today was your birthday, a day that had always been marked by personal reflection, by considering the passage of time and the paths taken. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that it would also become your wedding day.

The thought brought a soft smile to your lips. This was the greatest gift you could have received, something far beyond material value. It was a gift of love, of commitment, of a future that you and Sunday would build together. Maybe you would start to see this day differently from now on, not just as a celebration of another year gone by, but as a celebration of the life you were creating with him.

You glanced back up at Sunday, who was watching you with a gentle, curious expression, as if he could sense the shift in your thoughts. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you in the present moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence chase away any lingering doubts. "I'm more than okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... happy."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "Good. That's all I ever wanted for you."

You clenched the gauze on the gown unconsciously, forgetting what you should say. Everything around seemed to disappear, leaving only you both!

Sunday wore a silver-gray suit and a bow tie which he seldom wore. He had a corset at the left side of his shirt.

"Actually.." He whispered in your ear. "Although I really want to control myself and act more mature and reliable. I have to say You look beautiful today. I don't have to control these feelings anymore. I feel free so....Is this the real meaning of freedom?" His straightforward compliment and warm breath in your ears was like soft leather. slowly and gently tickling your heart.

"This wedding gown is a signature design, It was given free for the Astral Express for this day and I guess I can keep it."

"I'm not talking about the wedding gown." Sunday shook his head, and squeezed your palm, as if venting his anger.

"The point is you look so beautiful in a wedding gown than I imagined."

"Stop exaggerating!"

"I'm not!" He denied seriously, his tone affirmative, which sounded like a little lost child denying he stole sugar.

"Y/n, you should compliment me too...Even Stelle said I'm handsome, Is there any problem? Is the tie too much? Is my face good? Do I look clean? Um-"

"You, You look more than perfect today, You're always perfect but today you're....more than perfect.." You patted his head.

That's it, Your Blushing Sunday has returned! his wings covered his face and he showed a thumbs up.

"Time to photoshoot!" March chimed in, pulling you aside.

Sunday muttered discontent, looking for comfort from you. Outside the church, the lucid water of the fountain pool reflected the white and the clear sky and the verdant lawn stretched to the edge of the woods.

"Y/n!, Stay where you're, Sunday, stand behind her and lift her veil.." With the previous emotions still lingering in your mind, you followed the camerawoman's instructions and posed for intimate wedding photo with Sunday awkwardly.

March was the 'camerawoman' you knew you won't last long.

"Come closer! Closer!" March kept gesturing and kept repeating the word 'closer' which made you a bit alarmed.

"Like this?" Sunday held you in his arms from behind, resting his shin on your shoulder, and the moment his face touched yours through the veil, you trembled.

All your senses were occupied by his warmth and breath. Your heartbeat was so fast that you nearly had a heart attack.

"Y/n, don't be so stiff! Act naturally, just like before." You nodded, trying to force a smile, you knew how stiff your expression was even without looking.

"Are you nervous?" You heard Sunday's soft voice and didn't deny it after slight hesitation.

"A, a little bit. Not much." But actually even your voice was trembling. "

Actually, I'm also a bit nervous." He sighed with relief, and the rising tone dispelled and the unnatural atmosphere between you. "But, knowing you're feeling the same, I'm not so nervous now." He pointed at himself and smiled his usual bright smile.

"You can think of me as a little bear hugging you. You never have to nervous in front of me." You were stunned. the camera in front of you seemed not to exist, and the arms around you were still warm as always.

The awkwardness and uneasiness seemed to be swept away. and you couldn't help laughing out loud.

"Yeah, just keeping being happy like this! I believe you can do it, Y/n!"

Amazingly, the tension and anxiety disappeared.

"That's it!  Change a pose!" You glanced behind you. The blue fountain pool reflected the pure white church, and the golden decoration on the steeple stone in the sunlight. You looked back to find Sunday was sitting cross-legged on the grass, smiling at you.

The bouquet of roses was on him and light spots seemed to be dancing on his fluffy blue hair. Suddenly you naughtily decided to scatter a handful of lily petals on him.

"Hey y/n!  What are you doing!" He widened his eyes, yelled and before you could dodge, he had gently caught your naughty fingers.

The spring sunlight sprinkled softly, and your laughter seemed to blend into beauty of spring. When you didn't notice, March had captured the scene under the sunlight.

The bell in the church suddenly rang, and the fountain spurted water into his air, which started the pigeons resting by the pool. The water drops on the grass reflected the brilliant sunlight, and the whole scene was captured in the last photo.

March nodded and was finally satisfied.

"My lady, shall we go somewhere together?"

Sunday reached out a hand and made an inviting gesture, his jewel-like staring straight at you. you couldn't refuse.

You raised your hands and tossed the bouquet that symbolized happiness randomly.

It landed on Mr. Yang's head and he caught it. March howled. Himeko giggled Stelle took a photo Dan Heng was trying to hold his smile.

Welt tossed it to another young lady, saying he's already married in a secret code. It attracted a bunch of shouts and laughter,

"Let's go!" You smiled and put your hand in Sunday's palm, only to see him wink at you.

"Y/n, hold onto me."

"What? Ahhh!" Before you could ask, you felt your feet suddenly lifted off the ground. you screamed and had to hold onto the 'culprit' tightly.

As if he had already guessed your reacting , Sunday smiled and set off towards the destination, his soft wings brushing your cheeks naughtily from time to time.

"Wait, I do have legs."

Hearing the burst of laughter behind you, you blushed, waving your arms to protest. But Sunday, who always left room for negotiation was very determined this time.

"It's hard to walk in high heels on this road, So please be patient!" He had no intention on putting down and walked up the gravel path all the way through the flower gates with you. The soft light spots and the shadows of the flowers fell on both from time to time. and the warm breeze gently brought the music from afar.

Sunday who had you in his arms also hummed the tune and his version of the romantic self. So, that was the book he was reading..?

You both finally arrived at the destination. Sunday stopped and put you under the flower rack. Following where he pointed, you could see green mountains surrounding a tranquil blue lake in the distance.

The white birds swept past the sparkling water surface, and then flew high in the wind into the sky.

"It's so beautiful.." It reminded of something else, Sorry y/n! This is not that game!

Involuntarily exclaiming, you turned around to look at Sunday who was sitting side by side with you on the grass.

"Did you bring me here to show me this?"

"Not just this." He mysteriously dragged his tone.

"It's also because...this is the best place for the 'bride' and 'groom'."

"I'm not Dr Mei tho."

"What?"

"Nothing." He spread his arms and leaned back, lying on your lap before you could react, The weight and warmth on your legs were so real that you couldn't help looking down at him, the veil that slipped from your shoulders dropped on his face.

"Oh." Seeing his serious look turning into a frown, you burst into laughter and reached out to lift the veil.

Before you even touched his face, he grasped your hand and your fingers tightly intertwined. Sunday lifted the veil gently and gazed at you intently with his golden eyes, you could see your reflection in his eyes, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Y/n, did you enjoy the day?" You were stunned by his serious expression and couldn't control your heartbeat from accelerating upon hearing his question. You were at loss and tried to avert his gaze.

The flower fragrance lazily lingered in the air. In the warm sunshine, in the small space under the veil, only Sunday was in your sight.

You had nowhere to hide, and no longer wanted to, so you nodded slowly.

"I did." After hesitating for a few seconds, you asked him quietly. "Why didn't you want to invite Robin? I heard Himeko and March talking about it while they were dressing me up.."

"It's because...she has a concert and it's important for her career, I simply did not wish to bother her. I asked Miss March to send the images tho. That's why we had a photo session that long in the first place."

"Is there a reason why you avoid her?"

"...It's just- I don't want to be sad on my wedding day, you know. I'll explain later."

"Of course, I understand." He couldn't talk, As she not only gave up penacony for his freedom it was their relationship. Eternal separation, is doomed on them. It involves her public image too. He would push himself away as he wouldn't want to hurt her. ,Being seen with the person who tried to put penacony into a sweet dream would be seen as an outrageous act by the media. He may be a morally grey villain but the public will always see him as a pure black villain for what he did, never knowing his true intentions.

Being so close yet being so different, One follows harmony, One followed Order. The one failed in everything it was given to. Sunday could never let Robin see him again. No matter how he changes, he can't change what he did in the past.

As you sat there, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers around you, Sunday's hand found its way to your cheek. His touch was soft, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly. You looked down at him, confusion and curiosity swirling in your eyes, trying to understand the emotions behind his gaze.

Before you could even form a question, Sunday's other hand slid behind your head, his fingers threading through your hair. With a firm but gentle pull, he brought you down to him, closing the distance between your lips.

The world seemed to fall away as his lips met yours, the kiss deepening almost immediately. It was slow at first, a tender exploration, but then his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing you into a more passionate rhythm. He was insistent, his lips moving with a deliberate intensity that made your heart race.

There were no words exchanged, none were needed. The kiss spoke volumes, a silent conversation of desire and affection that neither of you could articulate otherwise. His hands held you in place, one tangled in your hair, the other still caressing your cheek as if to keep you anchored to him, to this moment.

You felt your own hands responding instinctively, one resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the other gripping his arm as if you needed something to hold onto, something to ground you in the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through you.

Sunday's kiss was hungry, his lips demanding, as if he were trying to memorize the taste of you, the feel of you. He didn't break the kiss, didn't pause, just continued to deepen it, his tongue dancing with yours in a way that left you breathless. The world outside the veil of flowers and sunlight ceased to exist, and all that mattered was this moment, this connection between you two.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to let you catch your breath, but he didn't let you go far. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily, your lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. His golden eyes searched yours, filled with an emotion so deep, so profound, that it made your chest tighten.

"Y/n..." he murmured your name, his voice husky, filled with something raw and unspoken. He didn't say anything else, just held you there, his gaze locked with yours as if trying to convey everything he felt without words. And in that moment, you understood. He didn't need to say anything; his actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

Sunday's fingers continued to trace the contours of your face, his touch gentle but firm, as if grounding himself in the moment. His eyes softened, but a shadow of something more complex—something darker—passed through them. He let out a deep sigh, his gaze turning distant as he began to speak.

"You know," he began, his voice low and reflective, "I was always a bit of a control freak. Back when I was the leader of the Oak family, everything had to be done my way, according to my vision. I thought I knew what was best for everyone, and I couldn't tolerate anything that deviated from my idea of perfection."

His hand slipped from your cheek to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing back and forth absently. "I believed that a society where only the strong survive, where the fittest rule and the weak are left behind, would never reach true happiness. The world is so full of pain, of suffering, and I couldn't stand it. I wanted to protect people from that—at any cost."

He paused, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "That's why I became so obsessed with the Order. I genuinely believed that by creating a dream world—a place where people could escape the harshness of reality and live in peace, even if it meant never waking up—I could save them from all that suffering. I wasn't driven by malice, Y/n. I truly wanted to protect people from the pain I saw around me."

His expression hardened slightly as he continued, "But I know now that my perspective on humanity was... pessimistic, to say the least. I believed that people had an innate desire to escape their pain, to avoid the harsh truths of life. And in some ways, I still do. But I also know that escaping reality isn't the answer. In that dream world, people wouldn't grow, wouldn't learn from their struggles. They'd be trapped in a painless illusion, and while that might seem like a kindness, it's really just another form of control."

Sunday's voice softened as he squeezed your hand. "I see now that my beliefs were shaped by the Order, by the Dreammaster who indoctrinated me from such a young age. The scriptures I followed, the ideals I held onto so tightly—they weren't mine. They were something drilled into me, and I didn't even realize it. Robin noticed it too; she saw things in my diary that she had never been taught."

He sighed again, a mix of regret and resignation in his eyes. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but in trying to shield people from pain, I was just trying to control them, to impose my will on their lives. I was wrong, Y/n. And I'm trying to be better now, to let go of that need for control, to trust in the strength of others to find their own way, even if it means they'll get hurt along the way."

"......Sunday?"

"Hey y/n..? What did you think about me when we were all against each other? You looked so pissed off at me, If I remember? Not complaining, I wasn't the best person. I was cunning and betrayed your trust, You were the first one who stood during that time and I made you feel sad didn't I?" 

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you remembered  "You pissed me off so much, Sunday," you admitted, your voice light with teasing, though there was an edge of truth to it. You leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, the simple gesture bringing a smile to his face.

He laughed softly, but there was still a trace of unease in his eyes as he looked at you. "I figured as much," he murmured, his gaze dropping for a moment before he met your eyes again. "I remember how I was back then, always trying to control everything... even the way you drank your tea."

You couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Oh, I remember. You must've corrected me over ten times about the 'proper' way to hold the cup and sip. It was so infuriating," you said with a smirk, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

Sunday grinned sheepishly. "I was a bit obsessed with doing things the 'right' way, wasn't I?"

"A bit?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow playfully. But as the laughter subsided, a more serious thought crossed your mind. You remembered the look on his face back then, the rare moments when the mask of control slipped, and he seemed almost... vulnerable.

For a moment, you just looked at him, dead in the eyes, letting the weight of his question settle between you. Finally, you spoke, your voice steady and clear. "I thought you were lost. Lost in your need for control, in your fear of letting things go. But despite everything, I also saw the good in you, Sunday. I saw someone who wanted to protect others, even if your methods were... misguided."

He swallowed, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "And now?" he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled gently, leaning in closer. "Now, I see someone who's trying. Someone who's learning to let go, to trust, to love. And that's enough for me."

Sunday's eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing.

You took a deep breath, letting the weight of your thoughts settle between you both. As you looked at Sunday, his golden eyes searching yours, you began to speak, your voice soft yet unwavering.

"Sunday, you're the most selfless selfish man I've ever known," you began, watching as a flicker of surprise crossed his face. "You have this unwavering determination to save everyone, even if it means sacrificing yourself. But in doing so, you take away another's choice, all in the name of liberation."

His expression tightened, as if the truth of your words cut deep. But you continued, knowing that this was something he needed to hear.

"You're a cynical man, trapped in a birdcage with open doors, yet unable to take that leap of faith because of fear—fear of what could be, fear of the unknown," you said, your voice growing more tender. "No one ever stood by you, offered you solace, comfort, or a different point of view. That's why you wanted to become a god yourself, the one who could offer solace to others. You wanted to give people what you never had."

He looked down, his hand tightening around yours, his features etched with a sorrowful understanding. "I just wanted to protect people," he whispered, almost to himself. "To create a world where no one would have to suffer like I did."

"And you're not wrong," you replied, your voice filled with a mix of empathy and conviction. "Everything you've said about the world is true. In a perfect world, you could create systemic changes, elevate people and systems so no one would have to suffer. But the world is cruel, Sunday. We don't have to look far to see how terrible life can be for some, while others go on their merry way."

His eyes met yours again, filled with a deep, conflicted sadness. "But since it can't be achieved in reality," you continued, "you tried to create a dream reality, a place where people could live better, where they wouldn't have to face the harshness of life. You wanted to give them an escape."

You paused, letting the words sink in, seeing the turmoil in his gaze. "But this is a hero's story," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "The Trailblazer and the others had to fight back because people need stories that confirm it's worth fighting for, that it's worth hoping for a better life in reality. It's a message we need to cope with life, to keep going. Because if you stare too long into the cruelty of this world, your kindness will destroy you."

Sunday's hand trembled slightly in yours, and you squeezed it gently, grounding him in the moment. "In our world, we can't do anything about that cruelty," you said softly. "But in this world, you tried to make a dreamscape where people could live in dignity. You wanted to give them a chance to escape, to find solace in a place where they wouldn't have to suffer."

His voice was a whisper when he finally spoke. "But is that right? To take away their reality for a dream?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with understanding. "If what you're doing was possible in our world, you'd have to ask yourself, is this cruel world worth protecting? Do we have the right to tear away a good dream life from people who are starving, who are living in perpetual war, or who are just trapped in unlivable circumstances?"

He looked at you, his gaze intense, searching for an answer.

"We can't say that living in a dream is terrible when some people would choose that over their reality," you continued. "Reality is just perception. It's something we label as 'real' because we all agree on it. But why is our perception of reality better than a dream? In the end, we all die the same. Everything is just in our heads."

Sunday's eyes softened, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as he listened to you.

"And you," you said, your voice dropping to a tender whisper, "you couldn't escape from the cage you were trapped in because you were so scared of what would happen. That cage was your understanding of the world. To step out of it, to embrace something different, is terrifying. A bird with clipped wings will always be scared to fly, even if the cage door is open."

You reached out, gently cupping his cheek. "But if that bird is given the time and space to heal, its feathers will grow back. And that's what you've done, Sunday. By coming with the Astral Express, you've started to heal, little by little. You're taking that step towards something new, something unknown, and that's incredibly brave."

Sunday closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. Neither of you spoke for a while. You could hear the piano music in the distance. Sunday let go of your hand, leaned forward, and caged you between him and the flower rack.

"I used to think that a lifetime is a very long time, I realized that in a dream it is a long time too. You're just living the same happy, peaceful day again. but after I met you, it had become very short."

"Why?"

"Of course it's because of you, Because I want to spend every moment of my life with you." His breath was closer, and the flower fragrance seemed stronger, and you almost ran out of breath.

He stopped, gently pressing his forehead against you, and looked at you intently, saying gentle and solemnly.

"Y/n L/n, I thank the Aeons that made them reserve this ring finger for me, for the wedding ring." He lowered his head and kissed the root of your ring finger which had the ring he gave to himeko.

"I solemnly vow that you will forever be my happiness and joy...As long we both shall live."

It's said the vein on the ring finger, called 'vena amoris'. reaches the heart directly. At this moment, this might be true.

The force of the kiss and the deep love of this vow seemed to fill your blood. and they flowed straight into your heart through the vein, surging and wandering in your chest restlessly.

"Now the groom may kiss the bride."

Sunday imitated the wedding officiant's solemn tone, then raised his hand and placed the veil behind your ears, and leaned in close to you.

The light and soft touch lingered on your lips with his scorching breath. You closed your eyes and felt Sunday's existence more clearly than ever before.