#because i clearly remember watching it back then.

[luveline]

hihihihi! 🥹💕 i want to let you know that i adore your hotch fics! and i wanted to ask if you’d be ok—but no pressure!!!— to write one with bombshell!reader waking up from anesthesia and forgetting hotch and her are already together and starts flirting with him the way bombshell!reader absolutely would lol? thank you!

thanks for requesting lovely! fem, 1k

You don’t remember waking up, but you’re sitting against a pillow with a yoghurt in your hand. You must’ve been on some sort of auto-pilot… Are you in a hospital gown?

You put your yoghurt down on the table that’s been wheeled over your lap and stare at the white-blue chequered gown creased between your thighs. Your head feels heavy. 

“You okay?” 

You drag your gaze to the source of the voice. 

Agent Hotchner sits in the chair next to your bed. He has one leg crossed over the other, but he notices your confusion and his nonchalance turns to concern. “You need help?” 

“With the yoghurt?” you ask. 

“Yeah, honey. I can help.” 

You roll that over in your mind. Stern Agent Hotchner just called you honey. 

You’ve been trying to convince him for a while that you’re someone worth being sweet to. Trying to sway him, because there are parts of him you can’t get out of your head when he’s not around. He has not yet been swayed. Honey is a hand held out you’re going to snatch. 

Hotch stands. He goes to pick up your yoghurt. 

“What, are you gonna spoon feed me?” you ask, a clumsy drawl to your voice.

“I was going to… but I don’t like your tone.” 

Is he flirting back? You must’ve hit your head. “Coward,” you murmur. Speaking of hitting your head, there’s a throbbing behind your eyes, and a dryness to your throat bordering on uncomfortable. The yoghurt was there for a reason, clearly, but you don’t have the energy in you to eat seductively. 

“My head hurts,” you say quietly. 

You close your eyes. 

“I know.” A hand touches your face. You stay very still, though your heart doesn’t. “You don’t feel too hot. Do you want a drink? I can get you anything.” 

“Your hand is so big…” 

“Not so much bigger than your own,” he says. 

“Prove it.” 

He says your name like he knows you well, which sets your racing heart off all over again. But, used to hiding from him, you open your eyes to watch him and wipe all surprise from your face. You raise your hand, and he raises his, and you press your fingers together. Your fingertips don’t reach his, his palm wider, warmer. You thread your fingers carefully into the gaps between his, your lips curling into a satisfied smile. 

Less satisfied when he closes his hand around yours. 

“You’re teasing me,” you say. 

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t you lay back properly?” 

“Super, super forward.” You lay back under the pressure of his hand, stricken by the feeling that he’s done something like that before. You rest your head against your elevated pillows and have to give up —you can’t hide how surprised you are at his open touching, his face so close to yours you can see every warm fleck in his dark eyes. 

“You look startled,” he murmurs. 

“I think you’ve been bodysnatched.” 

“I have?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “I can’t keep up. And I’m usually pretty great at that.” 

“At what?” 

“Flirting.” 

“Oh,” he says, taking your hand again, pulling it toward his mouth, “you think I’m flirting?” 

“Is there something wrong with me?” 

“Not beyond the usual. You’re more lucid than they suspected you’d be, actually.” He kisses your knuckles. 

“I’ve hit my head.” 

“No, honey, you were under anaesthesia. Everything’s fine.” 

“You’ve hit your head.” 

He breathes out a laugh. “I don’t remember any injuries, but I’d love to know why you think so.” 

“You’re kissing me.” 

He pauses, lowering your hand. “Yes?” he says cautiously. 

“Would you want to do it again?” 

Hotch puts your hand on your chest. He cups your cheek in one hand, takes your shoulder into the other, and leans down to see you eye to eye. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks. You can feel the love he has for you in each word. 

Weirdly, you can feel it in yourself, too. Like, more than a crush. More than wanting him to spin you around or play with your thigh under a desk. You really love him. 

“I think I forgot you,” you say softly. 

“Amnesia is a very common symptom of anaesthesia, don’t worry.” He pulls your face up to peck you, quick but not without a gentleness that has your hands thrumming with pins and needle. “I thought you were acting strange, but I put it down to discomfort. Sorry, I imagine it’s very disconcerting to feel you don’t know me.” 

He just kissed you. “No, I know you, I just… I think I love you, but you don’t usually want me back.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “I’ve always wanted you,” he says, his dulcet tenor another comfort entirely. “And I love you, whether you remember it or not. Should we try to finish your yoghurt?” 

“You really love me?” 

He turns your face to press a kiss into your eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” 

“I do–” You begin before thinking about it, and realise that you’re telling the truth. You remember that he loves you. Agent Hotchner loves you. He’s in your hospital room handling you like thin glass.  

“Well, is there much else to remember?” 

You practically smirk at him. “I can think of some things.” 

“Wow!” He leans down for another kiss. “You’re awful,” he murmurs, his smile soft on your lips. 

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ SUPER RICH KIDS kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is back home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, weight mentions

finally.

you’d think after everything that someone has gone through in this house, stepping back through those doors would be the last thing she’d want. but she wasn’t going to lie.

yn felt at peace.

because in the moon mansion, she could be who she truly was and not feel bad about it.

a rich girl.

“lunch will be ready soon,” jia’s voice broke through the peaceful quiet as yn lay sprawled on her pink towel by the pool.

yn let out a contented sigh, lifting her sunglasses and pushing her hair back. “thanks, jia. what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

“you already attended the press conference with your father, so that’s off your list. your brothers will be going to the one tomorrow, so all you’ve got left is golfing with your members.”

the happy, serene soundtrack in yn’s head came to a screeching halt as she shot up from her towel.

“what?!”

“your mother didn’t tell you? she thought it’d be a good idea for you to invite them, so she reached out while you were out with your father,” jia said, her expression full of concern. she didn’t understand. shouldn’t yn be excited?

“when does she ever tell me anything?” yn grumbled, flopping back down on her towel childishly “jia, during dinner, add a splash of vodka to my mango juice. maybe the alcohol will keep me from flipping the table.”

jia chuckled softly, fondness in her eyes for the girl she’d watched grow up. “when has that ever helped anything? i’ll check on lunch.”

yn groaned as jia walked away. this was supposed to be her escape. chaewon is going to have a field day with this.

it seems like nothing can ever go yn’s way.

dinner was quiet. but that was hardly unusual. as far back as yn could remember, dinner had never been family bonding time

bonding didn’t even exist in this family.

the unspoken rule was simple: eat in silence, speak only when necessary.

honestly, yn found the quiet pretty peaceful. just eating, no forced conversation.

but it seemed like her mother couldn’t stand seeing her at peace—ever.

maybe that was an exaggeration, but yn firmly believed it.

“you seem tense, yn,” jae said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took a slow sip from his drink. “something bothering you? got a problem with someone?”

yn gripped her fork tightly, slowly lifting her gaze from her plate. “i do, actually. and for once, it’s not with you, dickhead.”

“language,” their father muttered, eyes never leaving the documents he’d brought to the table.

“oh really, who’s ahead of me?” jae asked clearly liking the banter him and yn are having at the moment.

“I won’t disclose any details just as yet.”

daeun rolled his eyes at his siblings, then, deciding to break the silence since everyone seemed eager to chat, he asked, “so, mom, how was your day?”

their mother beamed at the question, her smile bright and warm. oh, how she adored her son. yn couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“it was amazing, honey. i was just reading an article about your sister’s group.”

“oh, really?” jae responded with mild interest.

“yes! that yunjin member mentioned how she always makes sure the other girls eat and stay healthy. isn’t that wonderful? yn, you have such lovely members.”

as far as yn was concerned, yunjin had never once asked if she was eating properly. but that wasn’t what set her off, she had kazuha who always checked in on her.

it was the nerve her mother had to praise yunjin for something like that—the same person who was the root cause of yn’s so-called “problem.”

“is that why you invited them over tomorrow—without asking me?”

yn hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but her mother’s comment set her off.

her mother furrowed her eyebrows at yn’s tone. “yes, actually. they seem like lovely girls. i was going to suggest you invite those ai girls you’re so fond of, but your judgment isn’t always the best, so i made the decision for you.”

the screech of yn’s chair echoed through the dining room. “i’m not hungry anymore, because clearly no one in this family respects me. may i be excused?”

“sure,” her father said casually, taking a sip of his wine.

“oh, come on, yn! let’s not fall back into those habits,” jae teased.

”fuck you jae!”

“language.”

“you don’t like them, do you?”

yn lifted her head from her pillow, turning slowly to see daeun standing at her door.

“what?”

“the girls in your group. you don’t like them.”

she watched as he stepped forward and sat at the edge of her fluffy bed. “you wouldn’t have reacted that way if it were the girls from sm.”

yn hated how daeun could always read her. they barely talked nowadays, but he still knew his little sister like the back of his hand.

“it’s not that I don’t like them. they don’t like me. no matter how much I lower myself or how nice i act, it’s like they can’t get over the fact that i’m a moon.”

“you lowered yourself for them?”

yn’s eyes flicked up from her lap to see jae standing at the door, disappointment written across his face.

she nodded, feeling a wave of shame. they were raised to believe they were better than everyone else, and here she was, bending over backward for girls who didn’t even like her.

“well, that was your first mistake,” jae said, shaking his head as daeun nodded in agreement.

“you’re dimming who you are to make them feel comfortable, and they’re taking advantage of that,” daeun added, hitting the nail on the head. yn hated how right he was.

“i know you, yn. you’re a bitch—a real one,” jae said with a smirk, earning an eye roll from her. “just be who you are. that’s how you’ll show them. it seems like they can’t stand the fact that you were always going to be successful, idol or not, and they hate that.”

“woah.” yn blinked in disbelief, looking between her brothers. “for once, you two actually make sense.”

“see? a bitch.”

yn adjusted the dior sunglasses perched atop her head, then straightened her pink ralph lauren golf dress before turning to jia.

“why are they taking so long? it’s a gated community,” she complained, tapping her foot as she stood in front of her expansive front lawn.

“patience is key, miss moon. the van is pulling up,” jia replied calmly.

yn felt anxiety creep in but quickly reminded herself of her brother's words. this wasn’t the dorms; this was her turf, the place where yn excelled.

the first person to step out of the van was kazuha, who immediately sprinted toward her.

“zuha!”

“you look so cute! i love your dress,” kazuha gushed, her eyes scanning yn’s outfit she couldn’t help but smile at how relaxed yn looked, she was completely in her element.

“thanks! my dad got it. it’s vintage!” yn beamed.

“of course he did.” yn already knew who that could be.

as she looked past kazuha, she noticed the rest of the girls gazing at her house in awe, it was kinda awkward seeing them, especially after the last time, but yn was just gonna pretend like that day never happened.

yunjin nudged chaewon, nodding toward jia, who narrowed her eyes at chaewon, causing the latter's eyes to widen.

chaewon hadn’t realized someone else was there.

yn couldn’t help but smile at that. “this is jia, the help.”

the girls nodded politely, while kazuha waved, causing yn to furrow her brows. “bow?”

the girls’ eyes widened at the unexpected demand but quickly bowed their heads.

“we treat the help with great respect around here,” yn said sternly . “so take note of that for next time.”

kazuha smiled at yn while the others nodded, a mix of confusion and compliance on their faces.

“so, who’s ready to golf?” yn asked, flashing a sweet smile.

“you guys suck,” yn laughed, watching the girls struggle with their golf swings.

“well, not everyone has been doing this since birth,” chaewon shot back, rolling her eyes.

“you’re so right! it would take a lot to be like me, wouldn’t it?” yn teased, nudging chaewon’s side causing the girl to stumble “your form is horrendous.”

she strolled over to eunchae, adjusting the younger girl’s stance, then moved on to yunjin.

chaewon’s gaze drifted down yn’s body, taking in her outfit of course, she didn’t even know people actually wore dresses like that these days.

she was about to make a snarky comment when a loud shout interrupted her.

“ignore them it’s just the golf boys,” yn said as she corrected sakura’s form.

chaewon rolled her eyes when she heard the boys calling out yn’s name in a flirty tone.

“passed around?”

yn groaned at chaewon’s words. “I’ve only talked to them a handful of times. I barely know them.”

“i talk to the caddy girls a lot, though,” yn added, causing kazuha to laugh while chaewon scrunched her face in distaste.

“do you want my help with your form?” yn asked chaewon, raising an eyebrow.

“definitely not.”

“okay, then continue embarrassing yourself.”

chaewon opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by a woman’s voice.

“yn!”

the girls turned to see yn’s mother approaching, and yn groaned, rolling her eyes. “why is she here?” she mumbled to herself.

the girls recognized the woman—it was yn’s mother.

“hey, ladies! I hope you’re having fun and that yn is being a good host,” she said with a bright smile.

the girls greeted yn’s mom with polite smiles, and she continued, “I just wanted to drop off some cute gifts i got for you all. I completely forgot about them! I had to stop the driver we just left from going to lunch.”

“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”

“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”

yn couldn’t remember them ever holding something for her achievements, and she had plenty. “right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”

the girls exchanged awkward glances; they had never seen yn like this before.

“don’t act like that. god, you’re just like your father,” her mother said, brushing off yn's feelings.

yn clenched her jaw. “is that all? you just came by to drop off gifts?”

“yes, and i wanted to check on you. stop being so moody! just like your dad. my boys are more like me,” her mom said with a smile, prompting awkward laughter from the girls.

“you see how she argues with me, such a daddy’s girl, she looks like a girl version of him as well doesn’t she?.” her mother laughs causing yn to look at chaewon who looks at back at her with a blank face.

“how about you go back to your boys? they’re probably waiting for ‘mommy’,” yn snapped, glaring at her mother.

she had never spoken to her mother this way before, but as she got older, her respect for the woman had diminished. she barely considered her mother a mom anymore.

“yes, i have to go. we’re going shopping to pick out suits for your father and brothers.”

yn felt as if she had been punched in the gut. family shopping—without her? everyone knows yn loves shopping.

“did you plan that too?” she shot back.

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

the girls’ eyes widened at her mother’s words, but yn remained unfazed on the outside.

inside, however, yn felt the sting. she tried to pretend she didn’t care about her mom’s opinion, but deep down, she knew she’d spend extra time on her diet after that.

“anyway, I have to go. it was nice seeing you girls! i hope you like the gifts,” her mother said before walking away.

the girls turned to yn, who stared at her mother’s retreating figure before turning back to them.

“I just love my perfect life, don’t ’ I chaewon? now let’s work on your imperfect form.”

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 2

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, nipple/clit stimulation, double penetration, anal play, edging, yandere monster

[Part 1] [Part 2]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s late at night and you’re sitting in bed, reading a book before you go to sleep. Or at least, you’re trying to, but you keep peeking over the side of the bed, hoping your tentacle monster will come visit you again tonight. After a while, with no sign of your guest from last night, your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep. The light is still on and your book is sitting open on your stomach as you lay sprawled across your mattress, dreaming about tentacles wrapping you up.

You’re snoring softly when, suddenly, you jolt awake to the feeling of something cool and silky caressing your cheek. Quickly sitting up in bed, you blink open your eyes to find an inky black tentacle stroking your face. With a wide smile, you reach out a hand and stroke your fingers along its length, marveling at how nice the texture feels. When the tentacle begins tickling your ear, you squirm out of reach, giggling and gently batting it away. Wiggling in place, almost as if it’s laughing, the tentacle retreats back under the bed.

A moment later, it reappears again with its tip wrapped around an object. This time, you reach out your hand, eager to see what it has for you. When it uncurls itself, a small stone drops into your hand. Grinning at the new gift, you hold it up to the light and marvel at the gorgeous gray surface that’s veined with bright streaks of white. After you’ve finished inspecting the stone, you place it on your nightstand along with the pearl and necklace pendant. Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on the tip of the tentacle and then laugh when it wiggles again.

Remembering what you found up earlier today, you hop off the bed and hurry over to your backpack, calling over your shoulder, “I have something for you too!”

After rummaging around for a minute, you find what you’re looking for and walk back over to your bed where the tentacle is still patiently waiting. Extending your hand, you watch as it carefully picks up the piece of dark green sea glass, its edges worn smooth. Another tentacle appears as it gently rolls the piece of glass between the two tips, caressing the surface, as if inspecting it.

You’re chewing your bottom lip, hoping it likes your gift, when suddenly the tentacles wiggle again as several more shoot up from under the bed and wrap you up in a giant hug. Laughing, you squeeze back, happy that it seems to like your gift. 

As the tentacles slither along your skin, you’re reminded of the night before when it had you pinned to the bed. Your cheeks grow flushed with the memory and you wonder how you can make that happen. As if it can sense where your thoughts are headed, the tentacles begin to deliberately rub along your nipples, which are already hardening under your shirt. Letting out a soft moan, you relax into the monster’s hold, hoping it will get the hint.

It clearly understands what you want because a few tentacles grip your shirt and begin pulling it over your head as others work your shorts down your hips. Once you’re completely naked, the tentacles take a moment to slither along your bare skin, as if enjoying the feel of you just as much as you do. 

Then, one of the tentacles wraps around both your wrists, tugging you forward so you’re on your knees. Another one wraps around your waist, pulling backwards as the first one continues to pull your arms down to the bed. Soon you’re fully bent over with your ass up in the air and your wrists bound and stretched out over your head on the mattress. Next, two more tentacles wrap around each of your thighs, pulling them apart so that your pussy is completely exposed.

A shiver runs through you, not from the cold, but from anticipation for what the monster will do to you. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you wait long. One tentacle reaches up to play with your clit, alternating between flicking the bud and pulling at it with one of its suction cups. You moan at the sensations, trying to wiggle your hips for more but you’re completely bound, unable to move anywhere.

Two tentacles reach up and suction themselves to each of your nipples, pulling down so there’s a delicious tug on your breasts. The weight of the tentacles and your heavy breathing causes them to sway beneath you and you mewl in pleasure. As the other tentacle continues to play with your clit, wetness drips from your soaking pussy. Another one slides up along your leg gathering up your juices and plunges inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

As the tentacle pushes deeper inside you, stretching your walls as far as they’ll go, the small bite of pain adds a delicious zing of pleasure to the already overwhelming sensations. When it’s completely filled you up, it pauses, letting you adjust for a moment. Once it senses you beginning to relax, it slowly pulls back out, almost to the tip, and then plunges all the way in again. Pulling out and shoving back in, it sets a rapid pace, the wet squelching sounds mixing with the cries of pleasure pouring from your lips.

As the monster continues to fuck you senselessly, you begin to feel an orgasm building. But just as your walls start to clamp down on the tentacle, it abruptly pulls out, simultaneously pausing its ministrations on your clit, and you cry out in despair. After a moment, it resumes teasing and fucking you, only to pause once again when your orgasm is almost at its peak. It does this over and over again, bringing you right to the brink and then pulling back until you’re a whining, needy mess.

Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes and you think you’ve almost had enough when, instead of pushing back into your pussy, the soaking wet tentacle moves higher, up to your ass. You suck in a breath as it tickles the outer rim, teasing and flicking the puckered skin. You’ve never had anything there and you’re a little afraid it will hurt, but at the same time you trust this monster with your body and want to see what it will do.

Pressing the tip gently in, the tentacle pushes past the first ring of muscles and you groan at the new sensation. Slowly, it works its way further and further in, pausing every few inches to let you adjust to the new girth. When it reaches as far as it seems to be able to go, it pulls back out and then pushes in again. This time, it fucks you more slowly than before and you melt into the mattress, getting lost in the sensation. 

You’ve forgotten your earlier frustrations, too distracted by the tentacle filling your ass, until you feel a different tentacle begin to push its way into your pussy. Gasping, you try to wiggle away – there’s no way it can fit two at the same time, right? But of course, there’s nowhere for you to go and it continues to ease the second tentacle into your cunt while the first one keeps slowly fucking in and out of your ass.

Before long, both tentacles are completely filling you up, stuffing you to the brim, and you’re almost delirious with the overwhelming fullness. They begin to move in tandem, plunging in and out of both your holes as you whimper and cry out with each thrust. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt anything more amazing and you never want it to end. 

This time, when your thighs begin to tremble and your walls start to clamp down with your impending orgasm, the monster doesn’t stop. Instead, it resumes playing with your clit and you immediately explode. Stars burst behind your eyes as your entire body seizes up, white hot pleasure coursing through you. It feels like the orgasm goes on forever as you get lost in a hazy bliss and time ceases to exist.

Eventually, though, awareness begins to return as you start to come down from the high and you sag into the mattress, boneless and spent. Carefully, the monster eases out of you and releases its hold on your body. You’re almost sad at the loss of contact. But then it gently maneuvers you so that your head is resting on the pillow and pulls the blanket over you, tucking you in around the edges. As the tentacles start to retreat back under the bed, you reach out and snag one of them, holding onto it. 

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” You ask in a drowsy voice.

You feel it hesitate for a moment but then the tentacle winds up your wrist, grasping onto you. Smiling, you settle back into the pillow and begin to drift off. Before you’re fully asleep, you manage to mumble, “Will you come back again tomorrow night?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, right as your awareness slips away, you hear an inhumanly deep, multilayered voice echo in your mind, “Yes, little creature.”

──────────────────

The monster is immensely pleased with this female it has chosen to mate.

At first, it wasn’t sure if the gifts left on various surfaces of her den were meant for it. But it took them anyways, wanting to indulge in the fantasy. Most creatures run screaming when they see the monster for the first time. Some even attack without warning. 

But not this one. To the monster’s delight, this delectable female was only startled at first. And when it tried to offer her gifts to soothe her fear, she eagerly accepted them! 

She even accepted its attempts to couple and let it touch her. 

Feel her. 

Taste her. 

She is utterly delicious.

And when she presented it with a mating gift of her own tonight, it knew for sure that she had accepted its offer.

As the monster settles into the darkness beneath where she sleeps, grasping her tiny delicate hand, it hopes that it can make her happy enough that she’ll never want to leave. Because even if she does, it will never let her go.

[itneverendshere]

you and your sister going out to the store, and milo’s so wiggly in the cart and you over hear your sister tell him “go hang with uncle rafe” and he zooms to rafe and it’s so cute to see

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 it's so cute watching them all grow up/old together it kills me

i'd give up everything - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

It’s almost golden hour, and the parking lot of the grocery store is lit in that perfect, warm light that makes everything look prettier than it is. You’re pushing the cart while Monica’s next to you, holding onto Milo’s hand as he bounces with energy he clearly stole from the depths of kid’s chaos. It’s like he never stops.

You can’t remember the last time this kid sat still.

“Why did we even bring him?” You laugh, watching as Milo keeps trying to wriggle out of her grasp. "It's like he's allergic to being still."

Monica sighs, throwing you a half-hearted grin. “I know, right? Kid’s got more energy than I did in college.”

Milo makes a break for it, slipping out of her hold and darting towards the cart. He’s got this wild grin on his face like it’s the most fun game in the world. And to be fair, it kinda is. His growing legs are sprinting towards the cart before Monica can even react.

“Come on, Milo!” she calls after him, rolling her eyes but not too mad about it. She’s used to this routine by now.

You scoop him up, plopping him back into the shopping cart with a laugh, wheezing in the process because wow he’s grown now. “I got him,” You say, but he’s already jumping, trying to climb out like some mini escape artist. His hands grip the edge, feet kicking out as he tries to launch himself toward freedom.

“You know who’s better at wrangling this kid?” Monica says with a smirk, like she’s got the perfect plan up her sleeve.

“Don’t say it,” You warn, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Go hang with Uncle Rafe,” she sing-songs, like it’s the solution to every kid problem in the world.

And, of course, the second the words leave her mouth, Milo’s entire face lights up. He lets out this high-pitched squeal, the kind that only a soon to be six-year-old can make without bursting their vocal cords, and he’s off. He shimmies out of the cart like a squirrel, landing on the pavement with all the grace of a tiny athlete.

“Milo, wait!” You laugh, but honestly, you don’t even try to stop him. The kid’s determined, and you all know where he’s headed.

Rafe’s leaning against the hood of his truck, looking way too cool for a grocery store run. He’s on his phone, completely oblivious to the tornado zooming his way.

Milo barrels into his legs with full toddler force, grabbing onto his jeans like his life depends on it. “Unca Rafe!” he shouts, voice so full of excitement it makes your heart flip. 

Rafe looks down, caught off guard, but then his face softens into this smile that’s...it’s so unfair how cute he is. How does he manage to go from looking like the most intimidating guy in the world to this softie in two seconds flat? It’s criminal, really.

“Well, hey, little man,” He says, tucking his phone into his pocket and crouching down to Milo’s level. “What’s up? You causin' trouble already?”

Milo giggles, throwing his arms around Rafe’s neck in the clumsiest, cutest hug. Rafe lifts him up with ease, like he weights nothing, holding him against his chest like he’s done it a thousand times before — which, honestly, he kinda has. 

You lean against the cart, watching the whole scene unfold, and you can’t help but smile. It’s such a simple thing, but the way Rafe is with Milo always gets you. Like, he’s got this side to him that not a lot of people see, this soft, caring, protective side that only comes out when he’s with the people he loves. And watching him with your nephew? Yeah, it makes you feel things. Big, mushy, embarrassing things.

“He’s obsessed with you, you know,” You say as you walk up to them, folding your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow.

Your boyfriend gives you this cocky grin, holding Milo with one arm like it’s nothing. “Can you blame him?” he teases, winking. “He’s just like his auntie.”

Even though you roll your eyes at his teasing, there’s no denying that he’s right. Milo is kind of like you—especially in the way he seems totally infatuated with Rafe.

You can’t blame him.

“I don’t know who you think you’re flattering right now,” you reply, smirking as you grab a few of the grocery bags from the cart. “But fine, I’ll give you that. Kid’s got good taste.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, while Milo tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, trying to get his attention again. “Unca Rafe, can I go in the truck?” Milo asks, bouncing with the same boundless energy that’s been following him all day. You really miss the days he called him Rafey.

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at you for approval like the responsible uncle he pretends to be sometimes. “What do you think? You wanna let him play around inside?”

You shrug, already giving in because, let’s be real, there’s no stopping Milo when he’s this excited. “As long as he doesn’t drive off, I’m good.”

“No promises, baby."

Before you can say anything, Rafe’s already tossing Milo into the air, earning a high-pitched squeal that echoes through the parking lot. You can’t help but watch, feeling that familiar tug of affection as he catches him effortlessly, setting him down in the open passenger door of his truck.

Milo immediately starts pressing all the buttons, making the truck beep and flash like he’s setting off a mini-light show, but Rafe doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He’s leaning back against the side of the truck, crossing his arms as he watches Milo with the prettiest smile on his face. 

Monica finishes loading the last of the bags into her car, and she glances over at the scene unfolding in front of you with a smirk. “He’s a natural, huh?” she says quietly, nudging you with her elbow. 

You try to play it cool, even though your heart’s swelling in your chest. “Yeah, he’s alright,” you joke, but the truth is written all over your face. You’re totally, hopelessly in love with the guy standing there, pretending not to care that Milo’s probably activating every feature his truck has to offer.

Your sister gives you a knowing look, like she can see straight through your attempt to be nonchalant. “Milo’s lucky. He’s got you both wrapped around his little finger.”

You laugh because, yeah, that’s probably true. Milo’s got this charm that no one in your family can resist, and Rafe’s just as guilty of it as you are.

As if on cue, Milo pops his head out of the truck window, eyes wide with excitement. “Unca Rafe, can I honk the horn?”

Rafe shoots you a glance, “Should I let him?”

You sigh dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Go ahead. Just don’t blame me if he thinks he can do this every time.”

Rafe laughs, reaching over to ruffle Milo’s hair. “Alright, little man. One honk. Make it count.”

Milo slams his tiny hand down on the horn, the loud sound blaring across the parking lot, and you wince even though you knew it was coming. Rafe’s laughing, Milo’s giggling like he’s just pulled off the prank of the century, and you—well, you’re just standing there, taking it all in, wondering how you got so lucky.

It’s moments like this that make you realize how different things are now. Two and a half years ago, if someone had told you that Rafe Cameron—golden boy, Kook prince, with a reputation for being that guy—would be standing here, playing the perfect role of doting uncle to your nephew, you probably would’ve laughed in their face.

But here he is. 

And here you are, watching the two most important boys in your life bond over something as simple as honking a horn. Rafe catches your eye again, his grin softening as Milo scrambles back into the truck, happily babbling to himself about how loud it was.

“Think he’s ready to drive it for real?” Rafe jokes, stepping closer to you.

“Absolutely not,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But thanks for getting him all wound up right before we’re supposed to head home.”

Rafe shrugs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “What can I say? He’s fun to mess with.”

You roll your eyes but lean into him, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who’s gonna have to deal with him next time he demands a honk.”

Rafe chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both watch Milo crawl back over to the driver’s seat, completely mesmerized by the truck’s dashboard, “You know I love it.”

You glance up at him, and for a second, you feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude—like you’ve somehow stumbled into the best version of your life without even realizing it. This is the guy who has seen you at your worst, dealt with your stubborn streak, and still chooses to stick around. And not just stick around—he’s fully here, present, loving your nephew like he’s been part of your family all along.

You can’t believe he only left rehab a month ago. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Monica says, glancing between you and Rafe, “How am I ever going to survive without seeing you being in love every day? It’s sickening.”

You can’t help but snort, nudging Rafe with your shoulder. “Sickening, huh?”

“Pleases,” she rolls her eyes but is smiling. “I can’t believe you’re moving together.”

“Moving in?” Milo suddenly chimes in, his head popping out of the truck window like a jack-in-the-box. “Are you gonna live with Uncle Rafe forever?”

You share a look with Rafe, and he raises his brows in mock surprise. “What? You don’t wanna share her?”

Milo’s eyes widen, contemplating this monumental decision as if it were the biggest thing he’s ever had to think about. “Will I get to come visit?”

“Every day if you want,” Rafe assures him, still grinning as he crouches to Milo’s level again. “You can help us cook and make all the noise you want. We’ll even have a trampoline in the backyard. Sound good?”

Milo claps his hands, clearly sold on the idea. “Yes! And can we have pizza every Friday?”

You chuckle, glancing at Rafe. “I think we can manage that.”

[masonmontz]

heeey, hope you like it:)

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff 🥹 word count: 2,7k

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Jaz asked while the two of you were having afternoon coffee in a bakery in Manchester. “You've been quiet since we got here.”

“I'm all worked up, don't worry, it's nothing” your smile didn't reach your eyes and Jaz noticed, and even though you've only known each other for a short time, anyone would realize that there was something bothering you.

You and Mason had been officially dating for a little over two months, but you had met his family before that and you loved them all, it was really great spending the holidays with them in Greece.

“You can tell me, you know, don't you?” she held out her hand and you lightly squeezed her hand across the table, smiling once more and nodding. “Is it something with Mason?”

“Jaz, don’t worry, I’m fine” she rolled her eyes and you smiled, trying to push the thought that had been haunting you for a few weeks to the back of your mind, but it was inevitable.

“Okay, so let's go, I'm already missing my girls” she murmured and you smiled, remembering the photo Mason sent you minutes ago where Summer was putting makeup on him and Mila was trying to put bows in his hair. “Should we take a pie?”

“Please, lemon pie is the best ever” you almost groaned when you saw a lemon pie on the counter, so Jaz went over and asked to wrap it up. “Debbie wants us to stop by the grocery store to pick up something for dinner?”

“She texted me to say she was making lasagna. I've come to Manchester and I need to spend the day at the gym because all I do is eat.”

“She likes to spoil Mason.”

“This is ridiculous, she never makes food like this for me, only for her big baby” you couldn't help but laugh, because they were clearly jealous of the way Debbie treats Mason, and Mason loves being spoiled by them, even though the family is now full of children and he is a grown man.

“He takes advantage because he knows she does everything for him.”

“That little devil, was the same thing when he was a child.”

You and Jaz got along really well, the girls adored you too, and you were in love with Mason's nieces and nephew, but it was sad because Stacey lived far away.

You love Mason and his family so much that it hurts, especially because your family lives far away and you miss being welcomed by them, and you found comfort in your boyfriend. However, Mason never said he loved you.

Of course, everyone has their own time and maybe he isn't ready to take that step in such a new relationship, but you listen and notice how easily he says “I love you” to his family. You just wish he would tell you he loves you too.

“Hey, had fun with Jaz?” Mason asked when you arrived at his house, he hugged you and left a kiss on your lips. “I missed you, babe. My family is stealing you from me.”

“They just think I’m cooler than you” you murmured and Mason laughed. Summer ran to you and you walked away from Mason, walking behind her to the coffee table where she was coloring pictures.

“Do you want to color with me? Uncle Masey didn't want to, he said he was tired.”

“Tired, uh?” you asked and looked at Mason who just shrugged and laid down on the couch, because he hadn't done anything all day. “Summer, I'm going to take a shower and then I'll color with you, okay?”

You walked upstairs to take a shower in Mason's bedroom bathroom, and luckily you had some clothes at his place or you would have had to go to your apartment to get them. Mason walked into the room just as you entered the bathroom, you smiled as he followed you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, the same way you two do when you're talking in the bathroom.

“I just need some silence, I'll watch you take a shower” you rolled your eyes as you took off your clothes, ignoring Mason's gaze all over your body.

“Hey, the doctor texted me, I think I'm going to need to go to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow” you said, remembering the message the doctor sent you this morning. You were hospitalized for days a month ago because of severe headaches, and now you are being monitored by two doctors to see if everything is okay.

“But are you feeling any pain?” Mason asked worriedly and you quickly shook your head, watching him sigh in relief.

“They want to do new exams, I'm fine. You have training tomorrow, don't you?”

“Yes, but I'll go with you to do the exams and then I'll go to Carrington.”

“No need, Mason, I can go alone.”

“Okay, but call me and text me” you smiled at him, and Mason actually looked worried about you.

Again you thought he hadn't said “I love you” to you yet, and you looked down as you washed your hair and Mason hummed a song under his breath.

“Hey, I bought you something” Mason spoke and left the bathroom. He left the bathroom door open and you could see him walking past the bedroom with a gift box which he placed on the bed before heading back to the bathroom. “I think you'll like it.”

“What is it?”

“You will open it and see, be patient.”

Mason continued talking to you for ten minutes until you finished your shower, and he stayed there until you put on another set of clothes and organized the bathroom.

“Do you want me to dry your hair?” he asked and you looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, Mason was behind you and you smiled feeling love all over your chest. Mason stood up when you nodded, and he looked for the hairdryer he uses when he is really late.

You wanted to cry as you watched Mason drying your hair calmly, focused and sometimes smiling at you. Maybe he doesn't love you, but he definitely likes you, because no man would ever do that, right?

You looked at the floor, feeling your eyes fill with tears and blinked a few times to keep from crying. Mason noticed and turned off the dryer, turning you to face him.

“What’s wrong, babe? You've been quiet for a few days” you didn't want to tell him the real reason you were crying because you were ashamed of doubting his feelings.

“I’m a little bit worried” you said referring to the exam you will take tomorrow, and Mason hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Nothing will happen, you’re fine and healthy and we will spend our lives together.”

“Really? Do you want to spend your life by my side?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to?” you shrugged and smiled, but it still wasn't the answer you needed. “C’mere, let's open your present and put a smile on that face.”

You wiped away some tears and smiled at Mason as he pulled you over to the bed where he had placed the gift. It was a pink package with hearts drawn on it and you felt bad about tearing it, but you still pulled the package open to see what was inside.

“It's heavy, it must have been expensive” you muttered and Mason rolled his eyes.

“You can't guess the price because of the weight” he said and laughed. “Open, open.”

You swear you had stopped crying, but you started crying again as soon as you saw the gift Mason bought for you. Big tears fell as you held the box and cried. Mason stood up worriedly, hugging you.

“What’s wrong? You didn't like it?” You hugged him tightly, crying into his chest and letting your emotions take over.

“It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received.”

You held the box to look at the book nook of a village in Greece, the same one you visited when you were there on vacation. Every detail caught your attention and you couldn't speak as you sobbed, hugging Mason once more.

“Did you like it? I thought of you when I saw it, and you can put it on your bookshelf.”

“I loved it. Thank you, Mase.”

“Stop crying, okay? I just want to see you happy.”

“They are tears of happiness.”

“I'd rather see a smile on your lips.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Y/n, we're going to keep you under observation tonight, okay? Your exams are altered and we need to do new exams to check if everything is okay” Doctor Reid said as he entered the room, and you sighed sitting in the hospital hallway, because it would be another long night alone in that scary place.

“But am I okay?” your heart was racing and deep down you were scared. Since you were hospitalized for the first time this has been consuming you.

“No need to worry, we just need to be sure of the result to know which medicine you can take.”

“Okay” you murmured a little in relief, and a nurse arrived and took you to the room where you would spend the night. You hated the hospital, especially being alone there for a whole night with a needle in your arm.

You sent Mason a message saying that everything was fine but he didn't reply to you, so you just talked to the nurses who were giving you medicine and making the bed where you would stay.

Half an hour later Mason appeared in the hospital room with your pink bag that he probably filled with things and a black one.

“Hey, no need for all this, it's just one night” you said seeing how many things he brought, so Mason left everything on the armchair and walked towards you.

“I'm worried, are you sure you're okay, love?” he asked and left a kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips. “One bag is mine.”

“Why? You don't have to stay here, you can stay with your family.”

“Only in your dreams will I leave you alone in the hospital, Y/N.”

“No, seriously, Doctor Reid said it's just for some tests, you can't leave your family alone there, they came to see you.”

“Hey, I'm going to stay here and I already told the coach that I'll be late tomorrow.”

You huffed, because there was nothing you could say to make Mason change his mind.

He just lay down next to you on the hospital bed, and kept you company for hours until he went to the hospital cafeteria to get something for you both to eat. He came back and stayed by your side the whole time, and when you fell asleep, Mason held you close to him and kissed your hair, snuggling into you and sleeping too, because where you are is where he feels good.

“Thank you for spending the night with me at the hospital” you said as soon as Mason dropped you off at your apartment, and he was already late for practice but didn't seem to care.

Luckily, the doctor said everything was fine and there was no reason to worry anymore, he just prescribed you some medicine to take when you have other headaches.

“You know I would stay by your side in the hospital for a month if necessary” he mumbled and you smiled, hugging him one last time before he ran off because he was late.

“I love you” you yelled, and Mason just blew you a kiss before closing the door.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

Mason has been traveling with the team and you are increasingly drowning in the thoughts that he doesn't love you. You cried a few times alone at home, watching a romantic movie or seeing someone post love quotes on the internet.

You're at rock bottom.

You were so lost in your own thoughts crying while watching The Longest Ride that you didn't notice Mason entering your apartment.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asked and you got scared, trying to wipe away your tears so he wouldn't see, but it was too late.

“I'm just crying because of the movie” you pointed at the screen right at the moment Luke is picking up Sophia for a date, and there was no reason to cry.

“Hey, I know you, there's been something bothering you for days and you still haven't told me what it is. I'm getting worried and so is my mum, she said you've been quiet.”

Mason pulled you from the couch and you let more tears fall, you stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes.

“I don't want to look like a fool.”

“You know I’d never think that of you, love” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“It's just that…” you stopped, unable to speak, but Mason encouraged you. “Do you love me?”

“What?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing, but you cried when he didn't answer.

“You never said you loved me, and it's okay if you don't feel anything-” Mason put his hand over your mouth when you sobbed, and he stopped you from continuing to speak.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're crying over this, baby” Mason held back his laughter. “Do you think I don't love you?”

You shrugged and looked at him with sad eyes.

“I said I love you several times” he murmured.

“No, you never said, actually.”

“I said yeah. I showed it. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my whole family. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my friends. I showed you I love you when I took you on a trip with my family because I know they would love you as much as I do.”

His heart was racing, and Mason continued speaking.

“I show you that I love you every day. I show you that I love you when I buy you books, when I take you out to dinner. I love you so much that I bought you a book nook from Greece for you to put among your books because it was our first trip together.”

“I showed you that I love you when I stayed by your side in the hospital for an entire night, and don't get me wrong, it wasn't to get something in return, I did it because I love you and I wouldn't leave you alone.”

“I- I” you sobbed as Mason hugged you. Now you look like a fool, because you were so focused on the words that you didn't pay attention to everything Mason does for you every day. “I’m sorry.”

“If you need to hear it, I'll say it. I love you. I love you so much Y/n that it hurts. I love you so much that I would spend a week eating your failed recipes just to make you happy. I would listen to Taylor Swift for the rest of my life just to show you that I love you. I love you.”

You were laughing and crying, and Mason was smiling too as he pulled you to sit next to him on the couch.

“I can tell you that I love you every day if you want, but I prefer to show you.”

“I'm such an idiot, my God. It's just that you say that you love your family all the time and you've never said it to me even the times I've said it.”

“Because they have the habit of saying I love you and that's why I do it, but I say I love you when I'm stuck to you all the time and don't want to let go.”

“I feel like a fool.”

“No, love, you know you don't.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Sorry I didn't realize you wanted to hear it.”

“No, I want you to show me.”

“Ah, you don't even know what you want” he said and kissed you.

“I know exactly what I want. You. For the rest of my life.”

[hatsukeii]

think fast / childhood bsf!tsukshima kei x reader

genre(s): childhood best friends x soulmates???? past lives and normal people by sally rooney coded im a sally rooney MEATRIDER!! angsty, gut-wrenching longing, bittersweet / hopeful ending so it's not all bad!! nostalgia is going to carry this fic so hard it's going to be a fun, fun time...

warning(s): eventual smut!! all characters are aged up to 21!!MDNI (at least up until the observatory)!! wrap it before you tap it!! (sorry kids), female leaning anatomy because smut but pronouns are gn all throughout and honestly you could read it as gn anyways:)) dead dad warning (my dad is NOT dead this was just convenient to kick off the thing), i fw the timeline of the world??? pretend flip phones were still in use in like 2012 or something idk

wc: ~6.3k

tldr; time has a way of reminding Kei of its presence, and its escape. you are the reminder it has been sending to him for six years.

Fate: A power believed to cause and control all events, so that one cannot change or determine the way things will happen. 

It is a sunny afternoon when you step foot into Sendai, Miyagi. A beautiful day of golden warmth beaming onto petals of pink, red, and white, wrapped in coffee-stained newspapers and tied together with a spool of twine. The bouquet lies on browning grass, a contemptible reminder of the time that has passed since your last appearance here, six years ago, and you crouch down to the ground. Now face to face with the engraving of a full name on a slab of polished granite, you hesitate. Your father lived in a language that you can no longer speak, died in a country you no longer call your home. When you whisper blessings and apologies at the gravestone in broken Japanese and slurred syllables, you sound like a stranger. A stranger who sits in a graveyard at noon, with nothing but a bouquet from the nearby florist in hand, and a promise, stuttered out in half-decent Japanese, to return again the next year. 

When a second bouquet falls to the ground behind you, and you turn around, Tsukishima Kei thinks this is what English speakers like you would call fate. He’s a little taller now, and bulkier too, and you have to crane your head higher than you remember just to meet his eyes. You don’t recognise the glasses he dons anymore, the black rectangles from his teenage years swapped out for rounded squares and silver frames. But he has a towel in his hand, a towel that has his initials poorly stitched into the corner with red string. You wonder if the matching one he made you, eleven years ago, is collecting dust somewhere in your dormitory, halfway across the world. 

“You’re back.”

“It’s been a while, Kei.”

You can no longer differentiate Japanese syllables clearly, and your statement jumbles into nonsense in your head. Kei hears the English woven into your accent in the way you roll your tongue like foreigners do, and in the odd intonations that don’t exist in your mother tongue. You don’t even remember your father’s dislike for white flowers. London has truly done a number on you. 

“Why? Why now?”

You bite your nail, a persistent habit that Kei frowns at. He picks up his flowers, and steps towards the gravestone, just close enough for your knee to brush against him for a moment. The bouquet in his hand is wrapped in plastic and filled with red and pink, the white from your own sticking out like a sore thumb when he places his flowers gently on the grass beside yours. He tosses the towel in his hand, opening it up against his palm, and you take it from him. If you cannot get the language right, or the flowers, this is the least you can do. Cobwebs stick to the fabric as you sweep at the granite slab, watching soot and dust fall to the grass. The curves and dips of the gravestone are familiar once again, and you dig the towel into every nook and cranny. You feel Kei’s body shift, before his knee is touching yours and his face is finally level with your peripheral vision. He glances at you, waiting. His knees bounce in anticipation. 

“Never had the chance, college has been a lot.”

Your phone rings as you finish cleaning. The ringtone is familiar, unchanged from when you used to have a flip phone, in fact. Kei hums along to the jingle for the four seconds that the call is left unanswered, before it cuts off into a flurry of English. He catches something about research, and a thesis, his shabby English unable to fill in any more than that. He’s never known you were interested in research, let alone what it is that you’re researching. All he’s known is your aspiration of becoming a librarian when you were six, and his promise to borrow books from you for the museum that he swore he would one day work at. Now, he works at the museum, sorts antique scripts and yellowed books into cabinets and display shelves. He does not borrow books from you. Now, you talk, but nothing makes sense to him.

You end the call, mumbling foreign curses as you shove your phone back into your pocket. Clicking your tongue, you turn to Kei, who stares at the flowers on the ground. He pushes his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and you resist the familiar urge to nag him about buying the right frames for his face. 

“Yeah, college has been mostly phone calls like that.”

He nods, a half-hearted chuckle huffing from his nose. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sit at a graveyard with somebody else, the annual reminder of a lonely death replaced by another this year as you dust off his towel, and drop it onto his thigh. He swipes it from his leg, folding it into quarters and sliding it into his pocket. 

“So you choose to come now, without a word? Not even a heads up? Six years after leaving?” Kei’s voice rises at each question, the same way it did six years ago when you broke the news of leaving Japan to him. This hurts him to ask, that much you can still recognise.

“I would have come sooner if I had the chance. I’ve missed everyone so much.”

You pluck a petal from a white flower in your bouquet, then another, until all that remains is the naked bulb, and scatter them onto the ground beside you. Perhaps the next person that’s been buried under six feet of dirt used to have a liking for them. Kei remains unmoving, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His knee stops bouncing. 

“How long will you stay for?”

“Today, then Friday and Saturday too. Flight back is Sunday night.”

Six years of waiting, and this is what it amounts to. A weekend and a bit. Despite that, Kei still thinks this must be fate, in all the languages that it exists in. Six years of life, and love, and hurt, all to be condensed into four measly days. Yet as Kei pushes himself off the ground, dusting his trousers off, he still thinks that this unlikely, yet conveniently timed visit must be the answer to his pleas for your return. That this must be some heavenly reward, good karma for visiting your father’s grave annually on your behalf. You watch him turn to leave, and he calls out to you as he walks away from your father’s grave. 

“Everyone’s at Hinata’s old place tomorrow. You should come by if you can.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Change: to replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).

All it takes is one coincidental exchange of panicked glances at the first throw up of the night for you and Kei to leave together. Hinata slurs a drunken farewell, tries to embrace you as you slip your sneakers on at the door, and you make a note to yourself that you really do not miss most of the people here, spare for the volleyball team. Kei waits at the door, holding it open for when you finally shake Hinata off of your back, and step through. The night is chilly, the warmth in your skin from the indoor heating system emanating into the midnight air. You kick rocks along the pavement as you walk, scattering pigeons that remain awake and active at this time, and Kei smiles at your antics. You still hate birds, and you still remember the trick he taught you when you were nine for chasing away pigeons that flocked around you for food. 

“Who are you staying with?”

“My mom’s.”

The road leads the two of you to a high school. Kei has not come back to Karasuno since graduation. You squint in the dark, scanning the school, and you don’t recognise the new building that stands in place of the old auditorium. He watches you crouch at the plaque next to the front gate, tracing the letters engraved on it with the pad of your thumb. Some part of him blames Karasuno for being a bad place to you, the other parts blame himself for not being good enough to outweigh it.

“It’s changed.”

“Everything has.”

You rattle the locked entrance, the chain and padlock hitting against cold metal. It won’t open, so you look up through the gap of the gate. Six years ago, on that rooftop, was where you stood over a cold lunch box and emptied convenience store drinks, back against the wire fence, saying to Kei, I’m leaving tomorrow. On that day, you had packed yakisoba for his lunch, and nothing for yourself. He could barely respond to your announcement, only dropping his chopsticks and asking you, why? You told him something along the lines of being an expat, and a better school for what you wanted, all in the fluent Japanese you once spoke. Nothing made sense to him anyways. 

When you turn back to him, his hands are in the pockets of his jacket, and his nose is red from the cold air. You stand beside him, staring aimlessly at Karasuno from outside its barriers. 

“Do you still play volleyball?” 

“Yeah, Sendai Frogs.”

You hum, and then wonder why you only asked tonight, and why you’re surprised. He shrugs, clouds of white puffing from his mouth when he breathes out. He tries to blow a wisp of hair away from his face, and you suddenly realise that his hair has grown too, along with his height. It fails, and he tries again. You reach up to swipe at his bangs, before running your fingers backwards through his hair. It parts itself as you lift your hands from his head, and falls into place neatly. A cold breeze whizzes by, and undoes your work, sending strands of gold into his face once again. You snicker a little.

“You know, you could ask my mom to trim it for you like she used to.”

“Nah, I prefer this.”

It isn’t until you turn to look at him properly that you see how much time has passed. He likes his hair longer these days, the choppy hairdo of his teenage years now nothing but an old preference, and you wonder if he is still a loyal customer of your mother’s salon. When he pulls his hands from his pockets and blows hot air into them, calluses line the bases of his fingers, the blisters of his high school years hardened by trials of time and effort. There are bags under his eyes, eyes that are now a little rounder, and softer too. When he speaks, monotone and tired, you realise his snarkiness has dissipated into general frustration. You stare until his eyes dart to you, and turn away quickly, ashamed. Leaving Karasuno has taken your hand and led you to a purpose that you never knew you were capable of. You wonder what the hell it has done to Tsukishima Kei. 

“It looks good.”

He breathes in sharply, then exhales with a huff, shoulders relaxing as he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. You suddenly realise that your fingers have gone numb from the cold of the night, fingertips tingling like a million frost-bitten needles poking into your skin. You also stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing your fingers against each other to generate some heat. Then, Kei’s looping his arm around yours, and pulling you away from Karasuno High School. He keeps on his straight path, and you stumble along behind his leaping steps. When you round a corner, the night breeze grows into something less imperturbable, and more vicious, pushing the two of you forward from behind in slashes of cold. The sea is near. 

“Is this the beach we used to go to?”

“You still remember it.”

He drags you down a flight of stairs to Fukanuma Beach, and the misty sea air rushes to your head. When he leads you to the shoreline, you hesitate. The sea has been off limits since the two of you were five, a regulation put in place in remembrance of the Great Sendai Earthquake. An earthquake that saw Kei and yourself hunched beneath the same table in the middle of class, huddled next to each other as you cried for your parents. Now, in your final years of college, as the water slips beneath the soles of his shoes, pushing and receding in layers of aqua and bubbles of white, it seems that time has slipped by just as easily too. Time, that saw the fading of the earthquake’s devastation, despite the loss of thousands, including your father. Time, that frayed the string connecting yourself to Kei as you moved through life halfway across the world from Japan. Time, that passes through you like sand spilling between your fingers on a beach you once thought you knew, but has changed like the unprohibited water that seems to push further up into the shore at each tidal wave. 

“They lifted the ban?”

“A few months ago, yeah.”

You step into the next wave that fizzles into foam, and the water crashes into the toe of your shoes. Crouching, you push mounds of wet sand into a cylinder, flattening the top and pushing divots in equal intervals. Kei joins, moulding shorter ones beside your own and drawing windows into the side. You finish, and he stands, smiling at the creation. You cover the top, afraid he will stomp on it, a trademark of Kei’s whenever you built sandcastles with him in childhood. Instead, he laughs, and walks further into the water. When you get up to join him, the hems of his trousers are soaked, shoes also covered in a sheen of wetness. You hop over the castle, and the next wave that comes sends its foundations crumbling back into the sea. 

“We used to do that. You’d destroy it every time.”

Kei chuckles, and looks back to see the half destroyed castle. Clicking his tongue, he returns to the rubble, and you watch his hands push mounds of sand towards what is left standing. 

“I’d always build a better one for you afterwards though.”

He dusts his hands off when he finishes, and the waves fizzle out just before they hit the two-tiered sandcastle. You sniff, holding your arms close to your chest. When Kei looks up, he feels like the summer of being seven years old again, smiling at you with his missing front tooth when you sniffle and laugh at the improved castle he’s put together for you. Now, it is winter. He only grins with the corners of his lips. You only sniff because it’s cold. 

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really been a while. How have you been?”

He steps over the castle towards you, careful not to break it. Your hair blows in your face from the beach breeze and your eyes squint from the sand that flies into the air, and Kei takes it all in when you’re face to face with him. When he opens his mouth, some selfish part of him thinks about casting his words into shackles of regret, so heavy that they weigh you down and keep you in Japan, in Sendai, on this beach, somewhere close to him.

“Do you want to stay the night? Like you used to?”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Nostalgia: A sentimental longing, or wistful yearning for a return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

Kei does not take you to his family house. He leads you up stairs that make no sense, and hallways that stretch on forever, until you finally reach his flat. He wipes his shoes on the doormat, throws his keys into a glass bowl upon entry, and hangs his jacket on a hook mounted to his front door instead of the coathanger that used to stand beside it. You look around, searching for the shells you once collected in a jar for his tenth birthday. When your eyes land on a jar filled with conches and cowries, you let go of a breath you were unaware of holding. They sit on the top of his bookshelf, above textbooks and file organisers. A knot forms in your throat at the realisation that the jar sits alone in its compartment, with nothing beside it. You’ve done the same to the jazz vinyl Kei gifted you at the airport before your departure. You don’t realise that he’s disappeared somewhere as you stare at the shells, until a shirt and a pair of shorts are thrown into your chest. He stands at the entrance to a hallway, donning sweatpants and an old hoodie, one that’s clearly a size too small. The pocket is lousily sewn on, a result of a mishap that occurred when you had borrowed it once. He doesn’t know that you spent the night learning to sew fabric just to fix it.

“Change. It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scurry through the hallway to his bathroom, pulling the shirt and shorts on hastily, before balling up your clothes and returning to the living room. Kei sits at his couch, now bound in leather instead of fabric, and clicks at the television. You join beside him, legs splaying across his own subconsciously. He doesn’t move. He stops at a movie, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before at his old house. It drones on in the background as he watches in silence, his arms now draped over your knees. The first time he watched this movie, it was in his old home, cross-legged on the carpeted ground with you on the couch behind him. Your hands used to press into his shoulders from above, shake them whenever your favourite scenes came on, squeeze them when you laughed until tears rolled from your eyes. Now that his new flat lacks a rug, he’s willing to settle with your legs on his own. Flashing lights illuminate the dark room in sequences that you can still recall perfectly from memory. He watches the movie. You watch him. 

“Have you been doing good, Kei?”

Turning to you, he pushes his glasses up into his hair, leaning further back. You shuffle closer, legs bending as your shoulder digs into the leather couch. A strand of blond falls into his face, and you lift his glasses to tuck it back, before smoothing your hands over his mess of hair, combing and pushing with your fingertips.The words from the television melt into gibberish when he hums in satisfaction, what is unspoken between you two is more glaring than ever.

“I’ve been okay.” He cuts off, then finds himself thinking of what to tell you first, amongst the recollections of life that rush through his head. “Started working at the museum a couple years ago.” He wishes that you still remember the building, where the marble floors squeaked beneath your slippers, and glass panels lined the walls, hiding away treasures and artefacts that have withstood centuries, maybe even eons of erosion and weathering.

You nod, mind filling with the many museum visits you had with him there. He’s always liked the dinosaurs more than the shells. When you breathe out a chuckle, he knows you’re recalling the time he almost pissed himself at a life-sized, moving tyrannosaurus rex model. 

“What about you?”

“Research. I’ve been doing research about…” you sign in the air, searching for the Japanese words that have slipped from your mind. Surrendering, you whip your phone out, searching for a translation. 

“Archaeology?”

“Yeah, that. No more librarian dreams for me. More dinosaurs, though.”

A smile finds its way onto Kei’s face, one that softens his cheeks and flattens his eyes into crescents. He wonders if amongst the silver plaques and digital displays, your work is engraved in there somewhere. If each time he explains something to some bright-eyed child, who scuttles around the museum as you and him once did, he is unknowingly speaking in your language, translated until he can decipher the thoughts that run through your mind in your research, your memories, your dreams too. 

“Maybe it’s in the museum somewhere. I’m willing to bet.”

“I hope it is.”

Your conversation fizzles back into silence, and the characters on the television do too. The two on the screen sit in a field, mere inches apart. The two of you look at each other, your knees now leaned into Kei’s chest and one of his arms draped along the back of the couch. When he pulls his glasses back to his eyes, and studies you all over again, it hits him that you really haven’t changed all that much, even after your six year separation. Six years older, with the exhaustion of a functioning adult, but you still gnaw on your cheeks, and tilt your head as you ask questions. Six years apart, and you are still you, who taught him to build sandcastles, and introduced him to his favourite movie, and fixed his hair whenever it stuck up in stubborn peaks of gold. When you let your eyes close, and drop your head onto his shoulder, you wait for lost time to tick backwards, until you’re on the rooftop with him once again. In this version of time, you blush when you tell him that you’ve chosen to stay in Japan instead. Pushing your head further into the crook of his neck, Kei’s chin reaches over to rest on the top of your crown. The credits of the movie roll in the background, and you mumble into the skin of his pulse. 

“Can you take me there? I’ve missed it.” Your words send vibrations down his spine, sending his head into a frenzy as he pushes his hands against the couch harder. 

“The museum?” It will be closed for the weekend, but Kei nods anyway. He’s sure he can find his way in through the back. Maybe he’ll take you to the fossils again, let you run your fingers along smooth amber and stone engravings. Perhaps he could show you the new exhibitions, ones that you won’t miss this time, as you have for the past six years. For now, he thinks he will let you sleep on his shoulder, listen to your soft snores, tremble at every hot breath that fans onto his neck. 

The credits roll to the end, and come to a stop. Kei removes his arm from the couch to grab the remote from his coffee table. He rewinds the movie to the start.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

思慕 [しぼ, shibo]: yearning; deep longing, especially when accompanied by tenderness or sadness.

On the final night of your stay, you learn that Kei still giggles when he breaks rules, as he drags you through the back entrance of the closed museum. He maneuvers through hallways of antique paintings and repurposed junk, slips into dark stairwells illuminated by the flashlight of his phone, traps your wrist between his fingers and chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he takes you higher, and higher, and higher. You’ve lost count of how many flights of stairs have gone by when he taps his keycard against a sensor by a backdoor, and pushes it open. The museum observatory, once a mess of bamboo scaffolding and green covers, now allows silver moonlight through its glass dome, boasting billions of iridescent stars nestled in a blanket of hazy midnight. A decade of your anticipation has resulted in a circular space, hundreds of plush recliners lining the circumference of the room, and you wonder how many eyes have watched the stars from those seats before you ever had the chance to. When Kei leads you further into the observatory, you step foot onto the north star plastered on the ground in the centre of the room, where nothing but a telescope remains in a ten-foot radius. He takes a spot on the ground, back pressed against the cushioned edge of a seat.

“I figured this is the best spot. Better than any of the seats, actually.” He plants his feet on the ground, bending his knees and spreading them just wide enough for you to sit in between. You cross your legs, wagging them up and down as your hands hold your shins, and he lowers his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Leaning back, your spine hits a spot between his ribs, the same way it did when you were thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen, staring at stars from the grass of his backyard. You pity the visitors that have yet to discover the simplicity of stargazing from the ground, hands pushed into the ground for stability, dirt and moisture seeping into the fabric of clothing. Pushing further into him, his breathing is heavy against your back, chest rising in rhythmic ups and downs. For what feels like hours, you sit in silence, eyes trained on your fingers that pick and fiddle. At the realisation that you haven’t looked at the stars in years, something bubbles in your stomach, pervasive, relentless. When you finally loll your head backwards to fall on his shoulder, and the tip of Kei’s nose grazes your cheekbone, you wonder how long he has not looked at the stars for as well. 

“Why’d you stop calling?” His sudden question sends a haze rushing into your head.

You swallow thickly. If the passage of time were a sin, you’d burden it with all your explanations. Telling him that now would seem like some lousy excuse.

“It stopped going to your line a year after I left.” You pause, searching for the right words to use amidst the sea of Japanese and English that you must now sort out. “I only stopped trying after another month, the voicemail just said your number was no longer in use.” 

Kei wishes he could dig his fingers into his chest and rip his heart out. If only he hadn’t stupidly broken his phone that night, five years ago during volleyball practice. If only he had checked his pockets before entering the court, just as he has done hundreds of times before. If only he had this, if only he had that, he might just torment himself for the rest of his life. His breath hitches, shoulder freezing rigid. Time does not differentiate between the knowing and oblivious. It slips and leaks beneath the noses of all that it encompasses, and it is but the cautious few that know to grab it, and join in on its journey. He knows now that he is not one of them, not after he’s cursed at the passage of time over and over and over for his own blunder.

“I broke my phone in a game. Got a new one so the number changed as well, fuck me.”

You laugh dryly into the empty observatory. The occasional twinkling of the stars above do nothing to make his explanation any easier. You think you’ll blame it all on doomed fate that you’ve spent five years trying to find somebody that felt the same as Kei did, to no avail. Blame it on cursed luck that you’ve clawed and grabbed at anything familiar enough, archaeology, jazz vinyls, old DVDs of the movie shared between two, all to remind yourself that he too, was once within grasp. You say nothing, because you don’t see a reason to. Instead, you push your head into his neck, drown in the scent of his cologne, ease yourself into his now grown body. You don’t see him wipe a hand across his mouth, then rub his eyes with pinched fingers. 

When Kei decides to speak again, it is what feels like another hour later. He’s readjusted his posture about fifty times by now, arms removed from the ground and draped over your shoulders. The sensation of your hair against his skin is suddenly more prominent than ever when your hands find his own, holding them closer to yourself.

“If I didn’t find you at the grave, would you have looked for me?” His question is heavy, weighing his chest down as the words leave his throat in a hesitant cluster. You turn to look at him, and your eyes linger on his own when you squeeze his hands once, twice, then a third time. 

“I’ve been looking for five years. Nobody else could take me home.” Your heart rushes to your mouth at your confession, and the bob of Kei’s throat does not go unnoticed. One of his hands comes up to hold your shoulder, pushing it towards himself until your body twists, rubbing against his. You let go of him, pressing your fingers into the ground between his legs instead, and he breathes out shakily, his windpipe suddenly cleared of its uncertainty.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

His fingers slide down to grab your wrist, before going numb completely. His unoccupied hand peels itself from the floor and settles on the side of your waist. Your mouth goes dry when Kei breathes, hot and heavy, his eyes travelling to every inch of you. A bout of heat rushes from his chest to his head, and his legs, and his arms too. The air between the two of you is thick, and it sends your head into a feverish blur. The ground collapses beneath your knees as they shift to press into the floor, and you come face to face with Tsukishima Kei, who prefers his hair parted in bangs on the sides of his face, and wears silver frames instead of black ones. Tsukishima Kei, who has been visiting your father’s grave on your behalf for six years, and still plays volleyball even in his adulthood. Tsukishima Kei, whose eyes are finally finished with their ventures across your figure, that is pushed up against him on the ground of an observatory, and is learning whatever he can about you when his fingers tighten around your wrists and he kisses you without a warning. 

Once, at the young, innocent age of seven, Tsukishima Kei kissed you in this museum. You had run a little too fast, stepped on your loose laces and fallen onto the ground face first. You sulked at a bench facing some random painting of melting clocks, red dots scattered across a purple patch right beneath your eye. When he kneeled in front of you to grab your face, and pressed his lips onto the bruise for a fraction of a second, he must have kissed the pain away, mending the leaking capillaries beneath your skin as he separated from your cheeks with a pop. Now, he pulls against your wrists to push himself closer, traps you in the embrace of his legs around the back of your thighs, wheezes and stutters against your lips at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. His head is running in circles instead of straight paths, and everything is spinning. When your hands reach to grab at his shirt, and palm at his chest, he pulls away only to rip his glasses off and toss them to the ground. Beneath the glow of the moon from above, everything but your flushed cheeks and swollen lips is a blur. You take half a breath in, before it is interrupted by Kei’s palms pulling you in by the sides of your neck, and his mouth on yours again. At seven years old, he ripped bruising pain away from your face with a kiss. At twenty-one, he forces his pain, and grief, and regret rushing into your heart by pushing himself against you, fingers tangling themselves into your hair as he kisses you, desperate, almost distressed. Every tug at your lips is a confession left unspoken, every time Kei opens his mouth apologies spill out into you in choked groans and sighs. At the sensation of his hand leaving your neck, your arm searches for him aimlessly, before he’s palming at you through your pants. He swallows your sudden gasp, and your fingers grip his wrist until your knuckles go white. 

“Did you ever like me?” You can do nothing but choke out a question against his lips, one you’ve pondered about, day in and day out, since your departure from Japan.

By the way that Kei nods frantically, you’re certain that this is what six years of separation has amounted to. 

Sparing no time, your fingers tug at the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to release himself from the fabric constraints. He does the same, hands roaming until they find the waistband of your pants to push them down, fingers tugging your underwear to the side with a flick. He grabs you by the waist beneath your shirt, yanks your body towards him until something feels right and he can’t help but let out a trembling sigh into your shoulder. And when you finally begin to sink yourself onto him, agonisingly slow, you wish that you had never left Japan in the first place. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you wish that you could spend the rest of your life in this observatory with Kei, your hands wrapped around the back of his sweat-slicked neck. 

When he pulls you down to push further, more pervasively, you fall into him, head hanging over his shoulder and arms squeezing around his neck. His inexperienced hands rock you back and forth against his hips, pulling a flurry of gasps and moans from your throat. He lets himself learn how you taste when his teeth tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to expose your bare shoulder. His lips latch onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a trail of red marks up to the side of your neck. You shudder at his advances, and he studies the way your walls flutter around him, the erratic pulses that draw stars around his head, how your nails dig into his shoulders, and send his mind into a senseless orbit. 

When he pushes and pulls at you a little harder, you whimper his name into his ear, reduced to nothing but a babbling mess that nibbles at his neck and kisses up his jaw feverishly. First friend, first kiss, first love. The notion that this is another first that Tsukishima Kei has brought upon you sends your mind spiralling. He should have been your first prom date, first roommate, first dance too. If only you hadn’t left him first. You push your head off his shoulder, hands moving to hold his face instead. A wave of pleasure washes over you when his palm presses against your stomach, and you hang your head low again, a shaky sigh released from your chest. 

When you look up, there are tears in Kei’s eyes. He rolls his head back onto the plush seat behind him, hands lifting you off himself fully, just to push you back onto him again. You collapse into his body, palms pressing against his heaving chest. 

“I- fuck! I fucking loved you! I still do!” He speaks it into the glass ceiling as one hand reaches for his face. He wipes his palm across his eyes, only for more tears to form. They are uncontrollable, relentless as he turns his head away from you. He isn’t sure how he will live again tomorrow, not when he’s finally come to a reckoning with the pang in his chest at every thought of you. He thinks he could die the second you step onto that flight back to London, ripped away from him once again. The reality that he cannot stay buried inside you for any longer than the next couple of minutes haunts him to no end, the idea of being separated from you a second time unbearable to even imagine. When he turns back to see you, head on his chest and fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he decides that reality can wait until he’s finished with you. 

“I love you too- shit, Kei! I never stopped!”

You rut against his hips senselessly now, chasing some unfamiliar high as your vision fades to black and you scream his name until your throat goes hoarse. Kei barely gives you time to breathe, before he’s coming undone from right beneath you, shuddering and groaning as you relax against his body and go limp. He holds you against him, one hand pushing your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your back. He tucks your damp hair behind your ears, places kisses along your temple so he can hear the hums of satisfaction that sound from your curled lips. 

“Can you stay forever?” He mumbles into your hair, and you turn to press your ear against his chest. His heart pounds as he pushes his cheek into the crown of your head, and your hands crawl up his chest to wrap around his neck. When he looks up through the glass ceiling, the stars have not moved one bit.

“I’ll find you again, wherever you are.”

Time may slip away from Tsukishima Kei like petals that fall off the buds of flowers, water that seeps beneath the soles of his sneakers, stardust that hovers above the atmosphere. Yet he has learned that it has a way of always coming back to remind him of its presence, and its escape. You are the reminder that it has been sending to him for six years.

author's note:

ERM! never writing nsfw again that's for sure but this piece defs had some stuff that i was very, VERY proud of coming up with!! sorry to my minor moots who probably won't read this in its entirety bc of the big MDNI warning... but I honestly don't know how to feel about this piece as a whole... i was super excited to write it but i think i got a little impatient towards the end esp since im always writing at like 3am LOL but i hope you guys liked it anyways!!! i tried really hard to make the dynamic work and i hope it did!!!!!

also ps they exchange numbers again js a little extra bonus that i didn’t get to put into the actual thing

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @laughingfcx @writingsofanomnivore @t0rchknight @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @hiraethwa @fiannee @catsoupki @anonymity-222 @wishi-selfships @kuroppiii

ok love u guys thank u for being patient

[flutterbyoz]

It's 2024 and still the Rick/Jessie discourse is still making an appearance 🙄

It's something that seems to pop up every now and again and just becomes another excuse for people to voice their dislike for Michonne and Richonne. I get everyone has their own opinion, though many of these opinions have little to no evidence to back them up, but let's just make one thing clear, Rick loves Michonne. He loved her when he met Jessie, he loved her when Jessie cut his hair, he loved her when he and Jessie shared that awkward garage kiss and when he chopped off Jessie's hand. He loved Michonne then and he loves her now, more than life itself. Had Jessie lived he still would have fallen in love and married Michonne.

Some people like to invalidate Richonne anyway they can, even grasping onto crumbs like Jessie, but in the end none of it matters because Jessie was never supposed to be anything more than a plot device, all she did was delay the inevitable. The believability of Rick having feelings for her was dashed pretty quickly given the heart eyes he gave Michonne every time he saw her and I'm sorry but no one can compete against Andy and Danai in the chemistry department.

If you can't see the electric chemistry between Rick and Michonne/Andy and Danai then I do feel a little for you because you're missing out on experiencing what I believe is the best love story to have ever graced the screen.

I do sometimes wonder if I'm watching the same show because the way some people interpret storylines and character interactions can be so polar opposite that it makes me think that they must just be purposefully ignoring the facts just to make it fit their opinion. I'm all for differing opinions but when the facts go completely against those opinions and clearly prove them wrong then it's not so much someone giving an opinion as them just saying whatever just to arouse a response. And yes I know I'm feeding into that with this post but I just needed to say it and sadly I think we all know the reason for most of this dislike and hate towards Michonne and Richonne.

Michonne is not Rick's second choice, she's not his third choice, she's not someone he got with just for the physical side of a relationship or because Jessie and Lori died. Michonne is his first, last and forever choice, the love of his life, the mother of his children, the woman he'd kill and die for, she is his entire world. This has been confirmed multiple times throughout TWD and TOWL, there are no ifs or buts about it, all of this is canon and fact and ignoring it doesn't make it any less true. I always have this thought that if you mentioned Jessie to Rick now it would take him a moment to remember who she was.

This ended up being longer than I thought but when I began writing I just kept going! People will always find a way to disrespect and invalidate Rick and Michonne's relationship, no matter what canon tells them but their negativity changes nothing. They can have as many opinions as they wish but Rick and Michonne will still be married, living happily with their children and being more in love than ever and if we are lucky enough to see them again then that will be shown over and over again.

Forever and always it will be Rick and Michonne

[asteraddicted]

Small interaction idea I got for the Supersons (pre-Jon age up; I HATE THAT PART) soooo sorry if this is bad its my first official drabble post (did i use that term correctly???)

Based on this (one part blacked out bc idk how tumblr would take it)

[—-—-—-—-—-—-—-🫧🪼-—-—-—-—-—-—-—]

"Hey, Damian?" Jon spoke up, he and Damian lounging in Damian's room because— no offense to Clark, but Wayne Manor was cooler for sleepovers.

"Yes, Kent?" Damian huffed, focused on sharpening one of his many daggers. Despite the dynamic, the two were undeniable best friends. It was surprising at first, with Damian's blunt, down-to-earth personality with snap backs and insults that would make a grown man cry. Damian Wayne, best friends with a sunny, optimistic, 'blinding everyone with his smile' Jon Kent. But of course, the two didn't start out that way.

"Remember when you practically- no, you DID kidnap me after I accidentally.. killed a cat and a hawk?" Jon mumbled the last part, clearly still ashamed of it. He hadn't told Damian the whole story yet, despite how long it had been. Damian's eyebrows furrowed, and he got a little closer. He remembered those times, back before they were friends.

"Yes, I remember," he replied, his voice still firm as he inquired. "Why are you bringing that up again, Kent?" Damian — despite his almost inhuman abilities, talents, and feats — was still human, and still had the ability to forget things.

"..Nothing! It's just.. the cat. Goldie was her name. It's her deathday today." Jon frowned, having always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Jon couldn't help but mistake the sting building up in his eyes as the burning feeling of letting his heat vision go off and MURDER cremate the two innocent creatures on accident. It was only for a second, but Damian could see how Jon panicked in that little moment.

"And? Your point?" He said, his tone a surprisingly a tad bit softer than usual. He didn't really know what Jon was talking about. Really, he did remember kidnapping Jon because he didn't trust him. But to Damian? That was like another regular Tuesday for him.

"..I didn't mean to kill Goldie, or the hawk. I know you know that. But Goldie had escaped her house, and I was chasing her to get her back." Jon began to explain, and he wasn't as cheerful as he usually was. Not as he finally told Damian the full story. Jon couldn't help it. It had been at the very least a few years ago, but the horror Jon had felt that day was something Jon himself never forgot.

"..their bodies were charred and burning. Couldn't tell hawk from cat.. only Goldie's collar remained! I.." Jon had to go quiet to compose himself. His hands were actually shaking. Damian listened to the story. He knew something was wrong with Jon. He was not his usual cheerful, confident self.

Damian looked at Jon, his expression hard to read. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to comfort him. Damian was never good at comfort. He just sat back in silence for a while, processing what Jon had told him. Being from the League of Assassins, death was nothing new to him. Hell, he's killed animals on purpose for mission and training before he was taken to Wayne Manor. Whales and tigers and lions and eagles, on and on. It was a little hard to see from Jon's perspective, but Damian tried.

"..Y'know.. I don't think you remember what you said to me when I woke up after you kidnapped me. Hehe.." Jon let out a chuckle, smiling with his teeth to try and lighten his sadness with humor. "You told me.. 'You are a threat to every living thing on and off this planet.' And Damian, I know this is stupid, but.." Jon curled his knees to his chest, eyes on the blank screen as a movie they were watching played it's end credits.

"..I believed you. In a way.. I still do. I'm scared of myself, Dami." Jon admitted quietly before grinning and wiping his tears.

"But I guess that's pretty dumb, right?" Jon grinned widely. He was half-Kryptonian and his dad was Superman! He shouldn't cry, and he didn't have any reason to! He was growing up, and he should be more in control of his emotions.

Yet Jon had let his mind wander multiple times, whenever he passed by where it happened. It was ironic, but Jon couldn't help but be scared of himself. Yes, himself. He had the powers of Superman — the Man of Steel himself. And he was also a young boy who could be easily tricked and manipulated. Jon was strong and carefree, but he wasn't stupid. At least not all the time. Jon has witnessed some extremely traumatic events in his life. The possibility that he had the power to massacre entire cities — maybe states, countries, or eventually the world? That was something that made Jon want to lock himself up in a kryptonite cage and hide away.

Jon was afraid of his powers and the destruction they could bring. He was immune to fire, but still couldn't stop himself from imagining the burning, mangled, charred bodies of a hawk and a cat each time there was a fire that was large enough.

Damian clenched his jaw. He remembered that day. He remembered telling Jon that he was a threat. Listening to Jon talk about his fear of himself and his own powers made something inside of Damian ache. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

"It's not dumb," he said, his voice softer than usual. Damian didn't know why he was being so soft (he knew exactly why, but he didn't want to admit it. Not yet.). "And you're not a threat, Kent. You're not. You never were. You're the last person who's a threat to anything."

"That's EXACTLY why I'm a threat, Dames! I'm part Kryptonian!.. I'm invincible to most on Earth." Jon exclaimed, sighing. "I can still go rogue! Dad has gone rogue before. I don't.." Jon trailed off.

"Kent. If you think for a second I'd let you go rogue, just know my Father has plenty of Kryptonite stocked away that I would not hesitate to use." Damian narrowed his eyes, but not in an angry way. It was affectionate, though it would be hard to tell from an outsider's perspective. Jon, oddly enough, felt reassured. Reassured that if something goes wrong, that Damian would be there to stop him. He'd always be there to stop him.

"You promise, Dames?" Jon couldn't help but whisper.

"Yes, I promise. Now come on. Didn't you want to show me this movie called 'Legally Blonde' or something?" Damian rolled his eyes, but they still held that tinge of care. That hint of affection that was only reserved for Jon, and wasn't the type that Damian held for his family. No, Damian had a part of his heart specifically reserved for Jon Kent.

"Okay, good. Now come on, let's watch a pretty girl kick legal butt!" Jon grinned, ultimately feeling much better. He was so lucky to have Damian.

[—-—-—-—-—-—-—-🫧🪼-—-—-—-—-—-—-—]

AN: First post, not beta read and written in the dead of night lol. I do not write much. Romantic or platonic? Idk you choose :P

[1425fivefive]

I'm kind of cooking with this Interview with the Vampire-inspired Lestappen fic. The premise is that Charles is a 500-year-old vampire and Max is human and they first meet in Amsterdam in 1662. Charles turns Max into a vampire and the fic is a series of vignettes of their tumultuous relationship in various years/locales from the 1600s to the present. I'm tentatively titling it After Me, the Flood.

Posting a (lightly NSFW) snippet of their first meeting below to keep myself accountable to finishing this for Halloween:

“What’s your name?” Max asked.

“Charles.” Charles thought, briefly, about giving Max one of his many pseudonyms. But he had so little of himself to offer to Max. He wanted to give him at least one real thing, however small.

“Charles,” Max repeated. He said it the way all Dutch people said Charles’s name, with a tch sound at the beginning and the s at the end. Normally it irritated Charles but he found he liked the sound of his name in Max’s throaty voice.

“And yours?” Charles asked.

“Max.”

“Ah, a strong name,” Charles said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “The name of an emperor.”

“Yes, that’s why my father picked it.” Max winced as he said father and Charles knew there was something dark there. It wasn’t particularly surprising to have a poor relationship with one’s father, in a pub like this.

“What’s your business in Holland?” Max asked, clearly wanting to move on from the subject of his family.

“No business”—Charles flicked his eyes down to Max’s plush lips—“only pleasure.”

Charles watched as Max’s throat bobbed at Charles’s words, watched as the flush rose in his cheeks and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath the high collar of his jacket. Charles wanted to tear the jacket from Max’s broad shoulders, lick a stripe up Max’s neck, savor the pulse of Max’s carotid artery under his tongue.

Charles felt an aching pressure in his gums, his canines fighting to lengthen. He forced them to retreat, reminding himself of the merchant he’d drained only hours earlier.

“Would that interest you?” Charles asked, trying to tear his gaze away from Max’s neck.

Max stepped closer to Charles, Charles’s thigh sliding between Max’s legs. Charles wanted to tug Max down to his lips, but he knew even a pub like this had to ensure plausible deniability.

“Of course, Charles,” Max murmured. “Of course, I’m interested. You’re”—Max broke off, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips—“you’re beautiful.”

Charles reached out, grazing the back of his fingers down Max’s stomach, startling a gasp out of Max. “You are quite beautiful, as well.”

Max scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

Charles frowned, confused. Max was beautiful, so beautiful Charles couldn’t understand how people hadn’t told him so constantly. Charles had lived for centuries and he’d never seen someone who looked like Max—the broad, strong features that, together, transformed into an almost searing vulnerability.

“I am not lying,” Charles said firmly. “You are gorgeous, Max.”

Max flushed, his whole face turning pink. “Stop.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Charles asked, running his fingers up and down the fabric stretched across Max’s stomach. “Because I think you would enjoy hearing how beautiful you are.” Charles paused, wondering whether to push further. But Max was staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted, and Charles added, “Perhaps you would like hearing how gorgeous your perfect lips look, wrapped around my cock.”

Max sucked in a gasp, before nodding, eager and honest. “Yes, Charles, yes, I’d—yes.”

“Good,” Charles said, smirking. “Now finish your drink.”

Max obeyed, tipping his head back and draining the last of his beer. It was a heady feeling, watching Max follow Charles’s orders. People followed Charles’s instructions all the time, but Charles couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it of their own free will, without Charles needing to compel them.

When Max slammed the empty glass back on the bar, Charles feared that he would never be able to let Max go.

Also fun fact, this scene is set in a bar that serves primarily gay clientele in 17th-century Amsterdam, and these did in fact exist in parts of Europe in the 17th century! I'm not sure whether they existed in Amsterdam specifically, but ... we ride.

[latin5mamii]

competition

warnings: cuteness (my heart literally melt)

genre:fluff; kylianxfem!reader

summary: Kylian can't stand kitten videos anymore, so what's better than actually gifting you one?

author's note: I’m really going to miss seeing our little croissant play for the next three weeks! It’s just so sad and i want to cry. Every time I watch him on the pitch, I find myself literally ADMIRING him , and honestly, it’s starting to worry me about my mental health...

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

You’ve been dreaming about adopting a kitten for what feels like forever—weeks of obsessively sending Kylian video after video of fluffy kittens, each with the same unspoken message: “I need one.”

He’s honestly not sure how this kitten craze of yours even started. Maybe it was that time you found a kitty on the street and immediately dropped to your knees, practically begging him to take it home with you. He still remembers the way your face fell when you found out the kitten already had an owner. Ever since then, you’ve been on a mission.

It’s gotten kind of relentless. At first, Kylian thought it was cute, how every few hours you’d send him another kitten clip with heart eyes and a not-so-subtle, “Look at this one! Isn’t it adorable?” But now, it’s reached a point where every time his phone dings, he knows it’s another video of a kitten doing something cute, followed by your predictable "I want one so bad."

The man can only take so much.

And for Kylian, saying no to you is basically impossible. He could ignore the hints for a while, but the way you light up whenever the topic of kittens comes up? Yeah, there’s no way he’s letting this one slide much longer.

“Amour,” Kylian’s deep, playful voice echoes through your temporary apartment as he closes the door behind him. You barely glance up from your phone, lost in yet another kitten video that you’ll definitely be sending him in a few minutes.

But his tone catches your attention. There’s something different in it—something secretive.

“Amour,” he repeats, this time a bit more mischievous. “I have a surprise for you.”

That’s all it takes. Your heart skips a beat, and you scramble to your feet, tossing your phone onto the couch without a second thought. You rush down the hallway toward him, excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Kylian, what is it? What’s going on?” you ask breathlessly, practically bouncing on your toes. You’re not great with surprises, mainly because your curiosity knows no bounds, and Kylian knows that all too well.

He grins, clearly enjoying your impatience. “Patience, chérie,” he teases, holding his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes first.”

You let out an exaggerated groan but obey, squeezing your eyes shut. “You know I hate this, right?”

He chuckles, and you can hear him moving closer. “I know. But you’ll love this.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re going to explode from anticipation. Then, just as you’re about to cheat and peek, you hear it—a tiny, delicate meow.

Your eyes snap open before Kylian can even tell you to, and your breath catches in your throat. In his arms, nestled against his chest, is the most adorable, tiny kitten you’ve ever seen. Its fur is a mix of cream and gray, and its big, round blue eyes blink up at you with curiosity.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth as you stare in disbelief.

Kylian laughs softly, clearly proud of himself as he watches your reaction. “I couldn’t handle the constant kitten videos anymore,” he teases, shifting the tiny bundle of fur in his arms so you can get a better look. “So I figured I’d just… bring you one.”

You’re speechless, your hands trembling as you reach out to take the kitten from him. It’s so small, so delicate, and it lets out the tiniest purr as soon as it’s nestled in your arms, pressing its little head against your chest. 

“I love you,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure whether you’re saying it to Kylian or the kitten. Maybe both.

“I know,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But do you love me more than the kitten?”

You giggle, shaking your head as you hold the kitten closer. “Well, the kitten is pretty cute. You’ve got some competition now.”

He feigns offense, raising an eyebrow as if wounded, but the act doesn’t last long. Watching you tenderly cradle the tiny kitten in your lap, gently stroking its soft fur, his heart can’t help but melt.“So… have you thought of a name yet? Or are you just going to call it ‘kitten’ forever?”

You look down at the tiny fluff ball in your lap. A name? You hadn’t even gotten that far in your daydreams.

“Hm, I don’t know… I kind of like ‘kitten,’” you joke, earning a groan from Kylian. “No, seriously! Look at this face. It’s like pure kitten energy.”

“Amour, we are not calling it ‘kitten,’” Kylian says, though he can’t help but smile.

You tap your chin playfully, as if deep in thought, then look up at Kylian with a soft smile. “I think I need to really take my time with this,” you say, your tone serious but with a hint of teasing. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re telling me we need to schedule a whole naming ceremony for this kitten?”

“Obviously,” you reply with a grin, gently stroking the kitten’s fur. “It’s an important choice. I’ll need some time… and maybe a little inspiration.”

Kylian leans in, his voice playful. “Oh? And how do you plan on finding this inspiration, chérie?”

You tilt your head and flash him a warm smile. “By cuddling with my two favorite babies,” you say softly, looking between him and the kitten. “That should give me all the inspiration I need.”

Kylian’s expression softens instantly, his eyes sparkling as he leans in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Your two babies, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning into him as you settle against his chest. “My big baby and my little baby. Both equally important.”As you lean into Kylian’s embrace, you watch the tiny kitten stir slightly before making its way to his stomach. With a delicate hop, it settles right on top of him, curling into a tiny ball, its soft purring almost harmonizing with the rise and fall of Kylian’s breathing.

You can’t help but smile, feeling your heart practically melt at the sight. There’s something about seeing Kylian, this towering, athletic man, with such a delicate creature nestled on his chest that makes the moment even sweeter.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “Look at her.”

Kylian glances down at the little fluff ball, a small chuckle escaping him. “She’s already making herself at home,” he says softly, his fingers lightly grazing the kitten’s fur. “Can’t say I blame her, though. I’m pretty comfortable, right?”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Back home p.6

Hii guyss, here's part 6 of the story if you've missed part 5 here it is and if you want to read more stories here's my masterlist.

The next evening arrives, and you find yourself waiting at your apartment for Charles to pick you up. Your nerves are fluttering slightly—not because you’re worried, but because it’s exciting. Dinner with Charles’s best friend, Pierre, and his girlfriend, Kika, sounds like a great time, and you’re looking forward to it.

You hear the familiar purr of an engine outside and peek through the window just in time to see Charles pulling up in his Ferrari. The sleek car glimmers under the streetlights, and a smile spreads across your face. You grab your things and head outside, the warm Monaco air wrapping around you as you approach the car.

Charles steps out, leaning casually against the side of the Ferrari, looking effortlessly charming as always. His grin widens when he sees you.

“You ready?” he asks, opening the passenger door for you with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I hope you don't mind the Ferrari."

You chuckle, shaking your head as you slide into the plush leather seat. “I guess I can make an exception for tonight.”

As you pull away from your apartment and speed through the streets of Monaco, you relax into the comfort of the ride. Charles makes small talk, asking about your day and telling you a little about Pierre and Kika. His voice is light, easygoing, but there’s an underlying warmth to it, like he’s genuinely happy to be spending time with you tonight.

You arrive at the restaurant, a cozy and upscale spot by the water, where Pierre and Kika are already waiting at a table outside. The view is stunning, the lights from the yachts reflecting off the calm waters of the harbor. Charles leads you over to them, and you’re immediately met with friendly smiles.

“Y/N, this is Pierre and his girlfriend, Kika,” Charles introduces you, his hand gently resting on your lower back as he speaks. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

Pierre stands up and gives you a playful grin, shaking your hand warmly. “Ah, the famous Y/N,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I feel like I already know you—Charles couldn’t stop talking about you when we were younger.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Charles, who’s now blushing faintly, clearly caught off guard. You laugh softly, trying to brush off the embarrassment, but you can’t help but notice the hint of pink coloring Charles’s cheeks.

“Really?” you ask with a teasing tone. “I had no idea I was such a topic of conversation.”

Charles clears his throat, looking sheepish but amused. “Pierre likes to exaggerate.”

Pierre chuckles, sitting back down as Kika offers you a friendly smile. “It’s true, though,” Pierre continues, ignoring Charles’s half-hearted protest. “You were the girl next door, right? I remember hearing stories.”

You laugh again, feeling your own cheeks flush as you settle into your seat. Charles tries to steer the conversation away, but the teasing lingers, a warm undercurrent that makes you feel even closer to him.

As the night goes on, you find yourself genuinely enjoying Pierre and Kika’s company. Kika is sweet, easy to talk to, and you hit it off with her right away. The conversation flows smoothly, filled with laughter, jokes, and lighthearted teasing, mostly directed at Charles.

At one point, Kika leans over to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We should definitely meet up again,” she says enthusiastically. “Maybe just us girls next time? It’d be fun!”

You smile, genuinely touched by her offer. “I’d love that. Let’s plan something soon.”

Charles, meanwhile, watches the interaction with a soft smile, clearly pleased that you and Kika are getting along so well. He catches your eye across the table and gives you a small, knowing grin that makes your heart flutter for a moment, though you quickly brush it off.

The dinner winds down after a couple of hours, and by the time you’re all saying your goodbyes, you feel like you’ve known Pierre and Kika for much longer than just one evening. Charles walks you back to the car, and as you settle into the seat, you realize just how much you enjoyed yourself tonight.

As Charles drives you home, the night air rushes gently through the open windows of the Ferrari. The quiet hum of the engine fills the comfortable silence between you, and you find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on how great the evening had been. Pierre and Kika were fun, and the whole dinner felt so natural, almost as if you were already part of their world.

Charles pulls up in front of your building and turns off the engine, glancing over at you with a soft smile. The dim glow of the streetlights casts shadows across his face, and for a moment, the air feels heavy with something unspoken.

“That was really fun,” you say, glancing at Charles as he starts the engine. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you came,” Charles replies, his voice warm and sincere. “They really liked you. Especially Kika.”

There’s a brief pause, and before you can say anything else, Charles leans over and places a soft kiss on your cheek. His lips are warm against your skin, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. You blink in surprise, feeling a slight flush creep up your neck, but before you can react, Charles pulls back, his usual charming smile in place.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says smoothly, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer than usual.

You smile shyly, your heart fluttering just a little. “Goodnight, Charles. See you soon.”

You step out of the car, still feeling the ghost of his kiss on your cheek as you make your way up to your apartment. As you close the door behind you, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Glancing at the screen, you see Arthur’s name flashing across it.

Arthur: Hey, how was dinner?

You smile, thinking how sweet it is that he always checks in on you. To you, this is just Arthur being your best friend, always looking out for you. He’s always cared about you, and moments like this remind you of how lucky you are to have him in your life.

You quickly type out a response, unaware of the deeper reasons behind Arthur’s text.

You: It was great! Pierre and Kika were super fun, and I think Kika and I are going to hang out again soon. How was your night?

On the other side of town, Arthur stares at his phone, his jaw tight as he reads your message. She had a great time, Arthur thinks, his grip tightening around his phone. Of course she did. Charles always knows how to charm people. The thought makes his chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and frustration.

He types a response quickly, trying to keep his tone casual even as his mind races with thoughts of you spending the evening with Charles instead of him.

Arthur: Glad to hear it! Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. We should hang out soon, yeah?

You smile at his message, once again oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing behind Arthur’s words. To you, it’s just Arthur being Arthur—your caring, thoughtful best friend.

You: Of course! Let’s plan something this weekend?

You set your phone down, feeling content after a lovely night, completely unaware of the tangled feelings you’re caught between. Arthur leans back on his bed, staring at your messages, the possessive urge gnawing at him. He won’t let Charles take you away from him—no matter what.

Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12, @boherahpsody

[charlieg1rl]

𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐎𝐖!

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄!𝐀𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀!𝐀𝐔

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝟏𝐊

𝐒𝐒: 𝟏

Karina and Cherry were seated right across from you, both leaning in, clearly itching for more details. Felix, Hyunjin’s close friend, sat beside you with an amused grin playing on his lips. Seungmin, your childhood friend and forever the sensible one, had his arms crossed, while Jisung and Minho exchanged looks, probably plotting the next sarcastic comment they’d make.

“So…” Cherry started, tapping her perfectly manicured nails against the table. “Are we seriously going to ignore the bombshell you just dropped? Spill everything. Why the hell did Hyunjin ask you to be his fake girlfriend?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples as you tried to figure out where to even begin. “Okay, listen. It’s not that big of a deal—”

Karina shot you a look. “Not a big deal? Y/N, you posted about this on your private Twitter, and now we're all here. This screams BIG DEAL.”

“She’s right,” Minho chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not every day someone like you ends up pretending to date Hwang Hyunjin. So, what’s going on?”

Felix chuckled, leaning back in his chair, obviously enjoying the situation more than he should. “Yeah, I need to hear this. How did Hyunjin convince you?”

Taking a deep breath, you launched into the story. “He came up to me out of nowhere and said he needed a fake girlfriend. Something about avoiding the drama of dating someone who might actually want a real relationship. He figured I wouldn’t get caught up in all the attention since I’m, apparently, ‘safe.’” You made air quotes, rolling your eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Safe?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

You shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. But he offered to pay me, and... well, you all know I’m broke.” You paused, looking around at their expectant faces. “So, I said yes.”

Jisung gasped dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Sis! You’re getting paid to be Hyunjin’s fake girlfriend?! That’s the ultimate scam! I love this for you!”

Cherry rolled her eyes. “Not the point, Jisung. Y/N, do you really think you can pull this off? You’re not worried?”

You sighed. “Of course, I’m worried! This is Hyunjin we’re talking about. The guy has people watching his every move. But I figured... how hard could it be? It’s just an act, right?”

“Right,” Karina said, her expression softening slightly. “But still, why you? Hyunjin could’ve asked anyone.”

Felix smirked. “Because Y/N isn’t like the other girls on campus. He probably thought she wouldn’t fall for him, and let’s face it—most girls would.”

“Oh, so now I’m immune to his charms?” you scoffed, though you could see why Hyunjin might think that. “Anyway, I’m not gonna fall for him. We’re keeping it strictly professional. He’s paying me, and I’ll play the role.”

“Right,” Minho said dryly. “Because nothing ever gets complicated in situations like this. It’s all gonna stay perfectly fake.” His sarcasm was almost palpable.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” Felix said, giving you a reassuring nudge. “Hyunjin’s a good guy. Just... keep your cool, and everything will go smoothly.”

Before you could even respond, Jisung shot up from his seat, as if remembering something. “Wait! Are you going to meet any of his friends? I mean, besides Lix, obviously.” He gave Felix a teasing glance.

You paused, biting your lip nervously. This was the moment to drop the real bombshell. “Actually... It might be a bad time to tell you that he asked me to meet his parents.”

The entire table fell into a stunned silence.

“WHAT?!” Karina was the first to break the silence, her voice so loud that a few customers turned to look at your table. She ignored them completely, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Y/N, you’re already meeting his parents? You’ve only been fake dating for like... what? A few hours?!”

Seungmin blinked slowly, clearly trying to process the information. “Okay, so this is worse than I thought.”

Felix, who had been mostly amused up to this point, suddenly sat up straighter. “Wait, he asked you to meet his parents? Like, for real?”

You nodded, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “Yeah. Apparently, they’re hosting some fancy family dinner this weekend, and Hyunjin’s bringing me as his ‘girlfriend.’ He said it’ll make his parents back off from pressuring him to date someone for real.”

Minho pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “Girl, you’re in deep now.”

Cherry’s jaw dropped as she stared at you. “Meeting the parents already? This isn’t just some casual fake dating thing. This is serious. What if they like you?”

You blinked, suddenly realizing how real this was becoming. “I mean... that’s the point, right? To sell the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing.”

Jisung grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Oh man, this is gonna be so good. You’re meeting Hwang Hyunjin’s parents as his fake girlfriend. This is practically a K-drama in the making.”

Karina shook her head, clearly concerned. “Y/N, you need to be careful. Meeting his parents? That’s huge. What if they think this is real?”

“I know,” you muttered, feeling the weight of it all sink in. “I didn’t expect this to get so intense so quickly.”

Felix, who had remained quiet for a moment, leaned in and gave you a reassuring smile. “Hey, you’ve got this. You’re one of the most level-headed people I know. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. But... just be prepared. Hyunjin’s parents are pretty serious about things like this.”

Seungmin nodded in agreement. “We’ll help you figure it out. But remember, if it starts feeling too real or too overwhelming, you can always walk away.”

You smiled, feeling comforted by your friends’ support. “Thanks, guys. I just... I didn’t think it’d get to the ‘meet the parents’ stage so fast.”

Minho laughed softly. “Fake dating turning into a meet-the-parents situation. Classic.”

Cherry raised her iced coffee in a mock toast. “Here’s to Y/N and her fake boyfriend. May she survive the parents’ dinner and come out unscathed.”

The others laughed, lifting their drinks in unison.

You joined in, but deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder: what if things started to feel more real than you’d anticipated?

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[cowlovely]

scared baby shawn in this flashback…foaming at the mouth

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - First Birthday

I am back at it again! :D The no chill train continues and I want to enjoy the thing that I like so here we go! @spotaus get in here friend :D

First Drabble/Prompt Prev Drabble Next Drabble

We are here to win and winning is having fun! :D

*--------------------*

Cross nods his thanks to Ellie as he takes the box with a very nice looking cake over "You two really didn't need to."

Dani snorts "Are you crazy? Of course we do! Also don't forget his presents." and she rises three boxes.

Cross takes them with care and puts them under in the bag before putting the cake carefully on top.

Cross still feels bad "You really didn't need to. I am sorry we didn't invite you two and stuff but we are just worried it gets too much for him and-"

Eliie giggles and waves it off "We get it! First birthdays are a big deal especially with you guys getting him back not even a year ago!"

Cross nods before frowning and shooting the two a look "What... do you mean?"

Ellie looks shocked before smiling guilty and looking away. Dani smiles "We don't know know... mostly because you guys don't relaly tell anyone details and we aren't going to search for answers that could mean trouble... but well... how you guys act and how Nightmare acts tell a lot about the story you guys are not sharing... you know?"

Cross looks away and tries to push down the annoyance. This is good. Their backstory is being believed and people are coming to the conclusions they want. Yet Cross is still was immediantly afraid they figured out more for some reason even if that isn't possible...

Cross is getting lost in his own skull again.

Ellie looks sad as she rubs her hands together "Sorry... we didn't mean to make you feel bad or unsure or anything... We just wanted to reassure you that we get it and understand why you guys are private about stuff! And that we aren't hurt about not getting invited!"

Cross gives aslow nod and mutters "It is fine just... worried... about what people know and talk about and stuff... in case the wrong people hear the right things you know?" that is the best way he can explain.

Dani nods and looks determined "We know. and know that if you ever need a place to hide, either you guys or just a place to hide Nightmare, you can always come to us. We have a large place and can easily find somewhere to tug you guys away untill stuff blows over."

Ellie nods and grins widely "You can count on us!" then she nudges him, whihc really does nothing to make him move but it doesn't seem to bother ellie "Now do to your boyfriends and kid and have fun with your party!"

Cross sputters as he knows he is blushing "We aren't! No wait we are but it is new and-" both girls giggle and cross glares at them "Stop it!"

Dani grins "Sorry sorry. and relax cross. You guys will be fine."

Ellie nods and gives him the thumbs up "Exactly! Relax and enjoy your time together!"

Cross mutters and mumbles his goodbye and quickly makes his escape. He rushes back to their car and gets in before lying his skull on the wheel. trying to will the blush away.

After his moment he puts the car into reverse and gets back to the road. It is easy enough to ride to town and pick up the last few groceries.

Cross takes a moment to mentally check his list before checking it on his phone as well. Then he starts their truck again and goes home.

They only one they hadn't told that today was Ngihtmare's birthday and party was Error. But that is on Error. If that guy wants to learn stuff he can ask them instead of creeping on them like the antisocial outcode he is.

He returns home to see Killer and Horror moving around the living room as Cross carries the last few things in. He checks around before speaking "Dust and Nightmare?"

Killer grins "Garden! They are checking the grapes as we speak. Nightmare knows we are setting up so he doesn't have to be nervous or stressed."

Cross nods and relaxes "That is good." he places the cake the Danielle's made on their table and smiles. It is little skull decorations in bright pink and cherries all along the top.

Killer whistles as he leans on his shoudlers "cake looks good." then Killer grins widely at him "Not as good as you though" and he winks.

Cross blushes and rubs his cheek. fighting the need to hide at the compliment and obvious flirt. Ever since they admitted their feelings for each other and they started dating Killer had cranked up his flirting and compliments to eleven. Cross didn't even think Killer could flirt more yet he was proven wrong.

Horror leaves the kitchen and snorts at Killer "Back to decorating." then he places more snacks on the table.

Cross smiles and waits "What can I help with?"

Horror thinks for a while as he looks around "Can you get the presents?"

Cross nods as he leaves the food wiht nightmare and rushes up to their attic. quickly finding the presents and he carries them down carefully.

By the time he returns Killer had finished with the decorations and putting books and things away. Horror has food in the oven and put six candles on the birthday cake.

Right with Ngihtmare not ageing they just decided to keep calling him six until he recovered enough to truly start growing. Just to make sure that Nightmare didn't feel worse about the fact he hadn't grown yet. Their baby had had enough stress abotu not being good enough or being wrong. They will not add more to it!

That is another thing that changed since the kidnaping. Cross just gets to call Ngihtmare their baby now! Obviously before they also did it but it also felt dishonest in some way. Not anymore luckily as Nightmare also called them dads!

Cross snorts to himself. if his past self could only see him now. Cross remembers how unsure he was about even taking care of NIghtmare. Look at him now!

Killer rushes off to change as Horror quickly cleans himself up for the party. Cross looks around the living room and smiles. All ready! Cross goes to the door and shouts for Dust that everything is ready.

They wait with excitement as Dust brings Nightmare inside. nightmare glances around at all the decorations and the small pile of presents and the snack table. sockets wide and eye lights so so bright.

Killer grins as he opens his arms wide "Happy Birthday!"

Cross quickly joins in "Happy birthday nighty."

horror nuzzles their babybones and mutters "Happy birthday."

Nightmare looks between them all and looks down with a tiny blush. Shyly he mutters "didn't need to be big and stuff."

Killer grins and waves it off "pppfffft of course we make it a party! How could we not for our little baby~" Killer taps his teeth against the tiny skull in a kiss before skipping over to the cake "come! lets start with the cake before it becomes a fire hazard! Dani and Ellie made it for you and they both wished you a great day as well!"

Cross watches as Dsut brings nightmare over to the cake and nuzzles his skull. Cross listens clsoely as Dust mutters "make a wish Nightmare." and he helps him stay stable to enable him to blow out the candles.

Nightmare glances around befor elooking at the cake. He leans closer, trusting Dust to keep him steady, and blows out the six candles.

they go out together and Killer cheers loudly which Cross joins. Dust just nuzzles Nightmare as horror gives a few claps. It is great and amazing and-

he is crying.

Cross feels terrible and is by Dust and Ngihtmare right away as he gently cleans the small face "It is oaky nighty. deep rbeaths. what is wrong?" did they go too far? trauma response?Bad flashback? Cross tries to think of more reasons but Nightmare sniffles again and shakes his tiny skull.

Dust frowns but it is Killer who knows what to say as he leans close "Hey it is okay. what is wrong? Too much noise? Too many scents? Too bright or something?" They are doing this in the middle of the day but maybe the combination of the bright fire of the candles and the natural sunlight was too much for his sensitive sockets.

Another shakes of the skull.

Cross and Killer share a look as they both clearly try to think of more posible problems.

Dust however watches Nightmare and pulls him closer "big feelings?"

a moment of silence before a tiny nod.

Dust nods himself as if that makes sense and he mutters again "Sad feelings?"

Nightmare clearly thinks for a moment before shaking his skull.

Dust hums and nuzzles him "very big happy feelins then?"

another nod.

Cross isn't sure how any of that makes sense and looks helplessly at Dust for an explanation.

Dust see sthe obvious confusion as he speaks "It is... hard to explain..." he looks at Ngihtmare and Ngihtmare clearly has the same issue.

horror however steps closer and gentle rubs the tiny skull. Horror is always so careful with Nightmare and even when is is so big and strong clearly always knows how to move to never harm Ngihtmare. Cross respects him so much for that.

Horror speaks softly "It is new. and the happy feelings you are feeling are very strong aren't they?"

Ngihtamre glances at him and nods.

Horror smiles as he continues rubbing the tiny skull "and before... before it was easy. You had powers to help you filter emotions and feel it all. Now it is you and all yours."

Ngihtmare relaxes a bit and sniffles before speaking "no... no one really..." he rubs his socket with a sniff "No one was ever... happy i was there... Well dream was but dream was happy anyway... i doubt it would have mattered if i was there... but now.. instead of it being for him... it is for me and i never... no one ever..." another sniff as he looks helpless at them.

horror smiles and rubs his skull "You are happy and relieved but it is a lot and you aren't used to it. it is okay. a birthday can be overwhelming."

Ngihtmare nods again adn relaxes. Cross smiles at him and rubs the tiny cheek "Hey it is okay. the first time these guys threw a party for me I also dind't know what to do or say or how to act. Just relax okay? This is to show we are happy you are with us." and that he exists and is with them and that they love their tiny grumpy child.

Ngihtmare relaxes more into the hold and nods.

Killer grins and cheers "There we go! Ready to try the cake Dani and Ellie made?"

Nightmare gives another nod adn they give him a tiny piece. just to make sure his magic handles it alright but from the looks of it they had nothing to worry about. Cross tastes it and gets why immediantly. the cake is light and fluffy and while sweet it isn't overpowering so. Clearly the ladies tried their best to make something that wouldn't be too heavy or powerful for the babybones.

After the cake they sit in the nest and let Ngihtmare open his presents. The first on he opens is the sets of Dani and Ellie and it are lego sets.

The next present is from Crop and Straw and after opening it they find some art supplies. the present also holds a note that says that while they know Ink is a sensitive spot they both believe that this should not stop Nightmare from the ability to get to draw and play with these type of things.

Cross needed a moment to think about it but he found himself agreeing. Yes Ink is a very sensitive matter but they are right. There are so many things that you can do with art and drawing and just ahving fun and to not have nightmare explore these things as a child just because one asshole they knew was an artist seemed stupid. No pressure of course but the options is there now.

Then it is time for their presents and Cross is a bit more nervous. Nightmare looks curiously at the presents and Dust mutters that these are from all of them combined. Ngihtmare opens the first one and it is a new book set of a very popular book series for thise universe. Nightmare looks excited at the nice cover and Cross relaxes. it took them ages to hunt down the limited edition art cover boxset but it was clearly worth it.

Next present is opened and it is an empty journal and a pack full of colourful pens, with bats on them obviously. Dust nuzzles Nightmare and explains that it would maybe be nice for Nightmare to be able to keep a journal. Just to help himself wiht his thoughts and feelings and what he learns. To be able to write down the thoughts or memories haunting him. To get i tout of his system and mind.

Killer reassures him that while they are all nosy they all already agreed they would not read his journal. that is his for his private thoughts and secrets. That they will obviously listen to whatever worries him but Nightmare gets to decide what to share.

Cross had found Dust's idea perfect. With how close they all where it gave Nightmare very little privacy. This was a way to give Nightmare some privacy and to give him his own personal space to do with whatever he wanted. To reteach him that it is okay to have private thoughts and things that were only for him.

The nest present is another book. a large history book of the country they live in now. As expected Nightmare immediantly opens it and scans a few of the pages before smiling brightly. Clearly it was a hit!

Their last present is a movie. a documentary on bats and Nightmare looks shocked at it. Killer grins and winks "I figured that after the presents we can get comfy and watch this movie together?" Nightmare nods and looks excited at the movie.

And as they said it they got comfortable in their nest and put on the movie. Nightmare hugs his bat plushie close as he watches the movie.

They watch for quite a while until Horror tells them it is time to have a breka and eat a bit before they continue. They stretch out and roll their shoulders. only to turn around and find another present and a card on top.

Ngihtmare blinks and takes the card before grinning widely. Cross looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. Error writes how he is annoyed they didn't leave him a message about the party but that he wishes Nightmare a happy and healthy first birthday and that the present is for him.

Nightmare opens the present and grins at the giant knitted blanket with a cave motive and bats in there. He nuzzles the blanket and purrs up a storm.

Cross grins and wraps their baby up in the blanket before carrying him towards the table to eat a brithday dinner.

*--------------------*

First Drabble/Prompt Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[fisheito]

@trainto1925 coincidentally i have just arrived

The soft ones ARE choosing violence 🥰

[itsindiana]

gang im not mentally or emotionally prepared to lose bad batch . i lived through the war of '14 ( clone wars season 6 ending ) and the battle of '20 ( clone wars season 7 ending ) . i don't know if i'm brave enough to face another loss .