#full of inspiration and laughter and adoration for each other

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

the tried and tested cure for bad days is re-reading @gasdancer’s joie de vivre for the hundredth time and drinking hot chocolate ☕️

[obsidian-pages777]

PAC: Your Future Date Scenario and type of relationship you will manifest.[Pick a Date Outfit]

Intro:

This reading is for what kind of relationship you are manifesting. The details included are your partners attributes, the vibe of your relationship, what your partner would love the most about you and a specific date scenario that would be ideal for the relationship to prosper further. So go ahead Pick your Date Outfit!

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✨ Pile 1

Partner Attributes:

Earth sign energy (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn)

Practical, emotionally stable, protective, slightly traditional

Dark hair, warm eyes, well-dressed but understated style

Relationship Vibe:

A very safe, nurturing relationship where both of you grow slowly but deeply.

You'll have a shared focus on building a future (home, finances, family) together.

Strong emotional security; little drama.

What They Love Most About You:

Your loyalty and the way you calm their anxieties without even trying.

They adore your gentle strength — you feel like "home" to them.

Date Vibe: Cozy, simple, meaningful.

Scenario: You and your partner spend a quiet Saturday together. You start by visiting a farmer’s market in the morning, strolling between the stands while sipping fresh coffee. They hold your hand the entire time, occasionally squeezing it when they see something they know you’ll love — like a little handmade piece of pottery or a specialty food you always talk about. Afterward, you head home and cook a meal together — laughter over chopping vegetables, sneaking bites, and dancing around the kitchen in socks. The night ends with cuddles on the couch, a favorite movie playing, and a warm fire (or candles if you’re city-based).

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✨ Pile 2

Partner Attributes:

Fire sign energy (Leo, Aries, Sagittarius)

Charismatic, ambitious, passionate about their creative work or business

Athletic or striking in appearance; likes to make a statement

Relationship Vibe:

A passionate, fast-moving connection full of adventure and growth.

You both inspire each other to pursue your dreams.

Travel, spontaneous dates, and intense, meaningful conversations will be common.

What They Love Most About You:

Your authenticity and the way your soul lights up when you're passionate about something.

They feel endlessly energized by your presence and respect your individuality.

Date Vibe: Spontaneous, thrilling, memorable.

Scenario: Your partner texts you in the afternoon: "Pack an overnight bag — casual clothes + something fancy. Trust me." You meet them and they drive you to a nearby city you've never explored before. First, you two check out a pop-up art gallery where local artists display wild, colorful pieces. Then they surprise you with front-row tickets to a live music event or a play they know you've been dying to see. You both dress up — you look stunning, they can’t take their eyes off you — and after the event, you wander through downtown, grabbing late-night street food and laughing under city lights. The date ends in a luxurious (but quirky) boutique hotel room, full of kisses and storytelling.

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✨ Pile 3

Partner Attributes:

Water sign energy (Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio)

Emotionally deep, spiritual, artistic, intuitive

Dreamy, soft features; could be slightly androgynous in beauty

Relationship Vibe:

Deep emotional and spiritual connection.

You'll share many unspoken understandings, dreams, and possibly even telepathic moments.

Healing, compassion, and shared creative projects will define this relationship.

What They Love Most About You:

Your sensitivity and your ability to understand and accept them fully.

They see you as their safe haven, someone who makes the world less harsh.

Date Vibe: Magical, dreamy, emotional.

Scenario: You meet in the evening for a moonlit beach walk (or a lakeside if a beach isn't nearby). They bring a blanket, some element of one of your shared interests [books, guitars, journals or painting tools etc.] and a thermos of hot tea or cocoa. You sit close together by the water, being in your creative and emotional flow with each other, speaking softly about dreams, fears, and wishes. At some point, they pull out a small, handmade gift for you — something symbolic, like a charm, a ring or small artwork. The night is full of soft touches, long, meaningful silences, and the sense that you both have known each other far longer than just this life.

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✨ Pile 4

Partner Attributes:

Air sign energy (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius)

Intellectual, witty, strategic thinker; may work in law, tech, academia, or media

Sharp eyes, Tall, Strong, quick smile, always seems to be thinking three steps ahead

Relationship Vibe:

A mental and emotional partnership.

You'll constantly exchange ideas, challenge each other, and create a dynamic, lively bond.

Respect, admiration, and personal freedom will be the pillars of your connection.

What They Love Most About You:

Your sharp mind and unique perspectives.

They are completely enchanted by how you see the world differently, and they love that you can match their intellect without ego.

Date Vibe: Dynamic, smart, stimulating.

Scenario: You and your partner spend a whole day exploring a huge museum or science center — art, history, space, innovation — bouncing ideas back and forth like you're two professors in love. They challenge you to a mini competition: who can find the weirdest exhibit or ask the strangest tour guide question. Later, you both sit down in the museum cafe, still debating philosophy, pop culture, or a random niche topic you’re both weirdly obsessed with. The date finishes with a rooftop dinner where you both dress a little more formally, laughing about how competitive you got earlier — all while they gaze at you like you’re the most fascinating, beautiful mystery they’ll spend a lifetime solving.

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[hyunebunx]

💝 with jisung 🤭

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.

You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.

His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.

“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.

You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.

“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.

Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.

The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.

You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.

The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”

His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.

Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.

He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.

Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.

“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”

“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.

You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.

For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…

[hrrtshape]

things to script with beauty. . marilyn monroe edition.

⋆ your beauty is timeless—a symphony of softness and allure that lingers like the last note of a jazz ballad.

⋆ your aura carries the enchantment of roses—velvety, delicate, yet impossible to ignore.

⋆ your skin glows like moonlight on still water—soft, luminous, and ethereal.

⋆ your features feel as if they were handcrafted by tender angels—each line and curve a divine masterpiece.

⋆ your smile can light up even the darkest corners—an intoxicating blend of joy and mystery.

⋆ your eyes hold the magic of old hollywood's golden age—captivating, with a glimmer of untold secrets.

⋆ your laughter echoes like champagne bubbles—effervescent, alluring, and unforgettable.

⋆ you embody sensuality without effort—a siren's call, understated yet undeniable.

⋆ your presence is magnetic, turning heads and holding hearts—an unspoken promise of glamour.

⋆ you carry a divine femininity—the perfect balance of softness and strength, making others revere your essence.

⋆ your every movement is poetry in motion—graceful, intentional, as if choreographed by the stars themselves.

⋆ your lips are a painter's fantasy—full, inviting, and kissed with a natural tint of seduction.

⋆ your voice has the warmth of honey and the allure of a smoky jazz lounge—melodic and hypnotic.

⋆ your beauty isn't just seen; it's felt—a sensory experience that leaves a lasting impression.

⋆ you exude an untouchable glamour—like a diamond, admired yet seemingly out of reach.

⋆ you embody the essence of a muse—inspiring creativity, passion, and longing in everyone who beholds you.

⋆ your hair is like a cascading dream—soft, voluminous, and effortlessly chic.

⋆ you leave a trail of elegance wherever you go—as if the air itself whispers your name in adoration.

⋆ your beauty transcends the physical—it’s an energy, a light that transforms the space around you.

⋆ your beauty stops people in their tracks—conversations falter, heads turn, and time seems to pause when you enter a room.

⋆ you aura is unforgettable—like the scent of blooming jasmine on a warm summer night, lingering in the minds of everyone you meet.

⋆ strangers go quiet when they see you, their gazes lingering, caught between admiration and disbelief.

⋆ your beauty is a magnet—people can’t help but gravitate towards you, their curiosity and awe uncontainable.

⋆ you make cameras fall in love with you—every angle is your good angle, every frame a masterpiece.

⋆ people describe your presence as cinematic—an unmissable star in a world of extras.

⋆ your laughter is contagious and spellbinding—drawing people closer, leaving them utterly enchanted.

⋆ your eyes hold an inexplicable pull—conversations become deeper, as if people are desperate to unravel the stories they think lie within them.

⋆ your walk is pure poetry—each step carries elegance, confidence, and a touch of allure that turns the mundane into a showstopper.

⋆ crowds part as you move through them—not out of intimidation, but sheer reverence for the energy you radiate.

⋆ you leave a lasting impression everywhere you go—your name is whispered like a secret, as if meeting you is a story to be shared.

⋆ you have an inexplicable charm that makes people blush—as if your smile holds a secret meant only for them.

⋆ your beauty stirs something deep in people’s souls—a mix of wonder, yearning, and inspiration that lingers long after you’re gone.

⋆ even in a crowded room, all eyes instinctively find you, as if drawn to a flame they can’t resist.

⋆ your presence feels like a blessing—people feel lucky just to have shared a moment with you.

⋆ compliments about your beauty are not rare, but the sincerity in people’s voices makes each one feel like the first.

⋆ you spark envy and admiration in equal measure—a goddess walking amongst mere mortals.

⋆ people try to mimic your style, your mannerisms, your essence—yet somehow, you remain untouchably original.

⋆ your energy transforms spaces—rooms feel lighter, more vibrant, simply because you’re there.

⋆ your beauty becomes a legend of its own—shared in stories, immortalised in memories, and treasured like the most exquisite work of art.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Darlin', can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: In a world full of death and tortue, wouldn't it be the easiest to seduce a man who is able to protect you at any cost? Ryomen Sukuna definetely is exactly that. Now, the seduction part...

Warnings: no really deep plot, just some teasing and a little bit of spice here and there, language, reader trying to seduce Sukuna with literally everything lol

Inspired by the song "favorite" by Isabel LaRosa

Your mission was clear since the first time you saw him in action, felt how strong he is: Get Sukuna to fucking adore you.

It might sound ridiculous to the untrained ear. Sukuna, the king of curses, the most frightful creature walking on this planet? To even consider you’d be able to warm his heart is worth a laughter. You know exactly how all the others would react when they hear your wild plan to seduce him, to get him to catch feelings for only you.

But what better defense than having the king of curses by your side? This fucking world is nothing but a battlefield and as a jujutsu sorcerer, you’re in the middle of it. Day in day out you risk your life in order to safe others. And even though it might sound tempting to simply haunt after Gojo Satoru, it’s not the same.

No, you want Ryomen Sukuna and no one else.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way through Shibuya’s train station, Sukuna’s fingers lying in your purse comfortably. What better way to catch a glimpse into his heart than giving him back those? Well, to be exact you don’t have a set plan apart from getting him to like you. After all, love can’t be forced, right?

Well, that skin tight dress paired with those high heels you chose for today might do that, though.

“Now, where are you Yuji?”, you mumble to yourself, eyes darting around the worn-down area.

There is no doubt in the fact that a fight occurred here not long ago. The air still smells like blood and sweat, the wall is still hot from an enormous impact. But who? Was it Yuji? You follow a trail of blood with your hips swinging from side to side. You just need to find him, need to seduce the king of curses. This is your best chance to not croak in this shitty job.

Your heels stop in their tracks.

A tuft of pink hair rests against the entrance of the rest room, so minor that you almost missed it.

Almost.

You walk towards the beat-up boy while casually inspecting him. He’s definitely alive, but barely. Yuji’s whole face is covered in multiple cuts and bruises. Who on earth did he fight against? And where is that other person? No, it’s not your responsibility to think about that right now. With a swift motion you open your purse and reveal those oh so deadly fingers.

“Now be a good boy and swallow”, you purr.

Your hand grabs his neck and yanks his head upwards while you carefully feed Yuji Sukuna’s fingers. Please, let this work. You are tired to the brim of running away, of fighting curse after curse each and every day. How about a peaceful life with Sukuna by your side? Fuck Jujutsu High, fuck Satoru Gojo. You don’t want to die before you were even able to live properly.

“Get your hands off me, human.”

For a moment, your heart skips a beat. Just one look into his red gleaming eyes and suddenly so matured face is enough for you to realize that this isn’t Yuji anymore. No, the person you are sitting on with your hand wrapped around his neck is none other than Ryomen Sukuna.

Finally.

“Oh, you’re awake. That went smoother than I thought”, you reply with a cheeky grin, not moving an inch away from him like he told you to.

“Who the hell are you, brat?”

He has definitely seen you before, you are a jujutsu sorcerer without any doubt. But why are so damn close, why does your hand wrap so delicately around his neck? Your dark eyes rest on his face unpromising, lashes hanging into your orbs seductively. What’s that supposed to be?

“My name’s whatever you make it. But how about wife?”

Sukuna isn’t able to move, let alone speak. Did you really introduce yourself to the king of curses like that? He shouldn’t waste any time, wring your neck the way you deserve it, dissolve you into tiny pieces. Who the hell do you think you are to speak to him like that? You, a puny woman? Not even the fact that you reunited him with a few of his missing fingers is enough to spare your life.

But why…Why does he still sit there like he did before, allowing your hand to rest against his neck? Why is he unable to give you a sharp answer like he always does?

“I am the king of curses”, is the only thing he’s able to press out.

“And I’ll be your girl. Deal?”

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes scanning your features up and down. You do have a pretty decent face for a human, your delicate eyes keeping him trapped. That confidence dripping from each and every pore of yours, the way your body is so near that he’s able to hear your blood circulate…

“What the hell are you talking about, stupid girl? If I wanted to, I could kill you without even flinching. Now get off me and run for your life.”

When Sukuna finally regained his threatening voice again, he expected your heart to shiver, your body to stumble backwards until you run away. But instead, you move even closer and dare to sit on top of him, gleaming eyes now staring him into the ground while your naked thighs rub against his pants.

“But you didn’t. Think I must be your favorite.”

The fact that he didn’t kill you right on the spot when you disobeyed his order is enough proof that your plan is actually working. Yes, you managed to confuse the king of curses, to arouse his interest. Now the only thing that’s left is seducing him.

“You are annoying as hell. Now get off me, I have some work to do”, he barks back at you.

His hand grabs your wrist roughly and removes your grip around his neck. But instead of simply throwing you off him, he holds your arm in place while keeping only inches of distance.

Oh, his lips are so close that you are literally able to taste them. Just one movement, one innocent flinching of your hips above his and the gap between you both is closed.

“Are you trying to seduce me, dumb girl?”, he breathes out.

He does it so well, keeping himself cool and composed while his mind races back and forth with your intoxicating smell penetrating his nose. In his long life, there was never a woman who actually tried to seduce him. After all, he’s the king of curses, so strong because of the fact that he never felt love or affection for anyone in all those years. He’s heartless, cold, a menace. Why would a woman ever get the idea of showing him affection? He came here to kill, to destroy this fucking city and make that brat suffer.

But now there’s you.

And apparently you couldn’t care less about the fact that he’s the king of curses.

“Actually, I am”, you purr, your free hand beginning to draw small circles onto his chest.

“Why would you do something so fucking stupid?”

“I mean, you’re the strongest, right?”

He has to blink a few times, the way you look at him as if he’s the dumb one catching him completely off guard.

“I’m the king of curses”, he reminds you all over again.

“And with being your favorite, you take me places-“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”, he interrupts you roughly.

You roll your eyes in sheer annoyance, nails now digging into his chest.

“Make me your wife so I don’t die”, you finally blurt out.

Is this the reason behind your questionable action? He could have killed you right on the spot and just one look into your gleaming orbs tells him that you know that all too well. And still, you risked your life for him to protect yours. Were you really so sure you’d be able to seduce the king of curses with a lousy dress and some high heels?

“Why would I do that?”

Enough playing. He should behead you right on the spot before torturing you for the time you wasted. You aren’t even worthy to breathe the same air as him, let alone being this close to his body.

But…Why isn’t he able to simply throw you off, then? Why is he even questioning what you’re up to, replaying your words over and over in his mind?

“Because I’ll let you taste-“

Your mouth is so close to his ear that your hot breath caresses his skin while the filthiest thoughts leave you with ease. His eyes grow wider and wider with each passing second, disgusted but at the same time…

“Enough”, he hisses through gritted teeth while grabbing your shoulders roughly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Aren’t you at least a little invested? I have a lot to offer”, you reply, ignoring his last question elegantly.

The war inside his head makes him forget that he’s actually out on a mission for a moment. You…you are so different from all those other jujutsu sorcerers, risked your puny life so that he eventually watches over you. How ridiculously brave, how fucking stupid. But still, when your gleaming eyes rest on his face like that, that oh so cheeky grin plastered on your face you make him wonder. A wife, his favorite?

Before he’s able to think straight again, a wave of freezing mist darts towards you at neck-breaking speed. His heart skips a beat, eyes darting towards Uraume who fixates you with hate dripping from every poor of her warped face.

You won’t be fast enough. No jujutsu sorcerer except for Gojo Satoru himself is able to escape Uraume’s powers when surprised. If he doesn’t react, you’ll die. But isn’t that what he wants, that you finally vanish into thin air and leave him alone? You, the girl who just claimed him as her husband only because she doesn’t want to die.

“No.”

His body moves on its own. All of the sudden he finds himself standing in front of you, his hand deflecting Uraume’s Frost Calm with ease.

“Don’t you dare to hurt her, Uraume.”

You can’t believe it, breath getting stuck in your throat. He really did save you. Even though all you did was purring at him, trying to convince him with sugary words, Ryomen Sukuna stood up for you and defended you against one of his. Out of instinct, you push your wobbly legs off the ground, excitement filling you to the brim. With that oh so cheeky smile, you wrap your arm around his and eye the person in front of you up and down innocently.

“But she…she is a human being, Master. She’s a weakling, one of your enemies”, Uraume breathes out.

“Who allowed you to speak to your Master like that? Get out of my sight and do what you were taught to.”

You watch in awe as the person standing in front of you crumbles, their hateful gaze almost piercing through you like a knife until their gone as fast as they came.

“So, I really am your favorite, huh?”, you hum.

“Shut up brat, I’m the only one who can kill you. Now get going, I have a lot of work to do.”

Tags:

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@okay-it-is-ivy

[heartsiebyul]

Twisted Wonderland characters when their boyfriend runs toward them with a joyful shout, calling their name or pet name, and jumps into their arms.

Pomefiore Dorm

Vil Schoenheit

The moment Vil steps into the courtyard, he’s greeted by a familiar, energetic voice cutting through the air.

“Vil!”

He looks up, already recognizing the sound, and his eyes narrow just slightly, because there’s (m/n), sprinting full speed toward him, arms wide and smiling like the happiest man in the world.

“Oh, Sevens,” Vil mutters under his breath—but there’s no real irritation in his tone.

(m/n) doesn’t slow down. If anything, he runs faster, his joy bubbling over as he calls out again, louder this time, “Vil, my star!” and then, he jumps.

Vil catches him effortlessly, one arm secures around (m/n)’s waist, the other supports his back. There’s a soft grunt of effort, but Vil handles it with the grace of a seasoned performer.

He arches a brow as he glances at his darling with an amused look. “Darling, must you always make such an entrance?”

(m/n) just grins, resting his chin on Vil’s shoulder.

Vil sighs through his nose and brushes imaginary dust off (m/n)’s collar. “I do hope you didn’t scuff your shoes. Or wrinkle my coat.”

But even as he says it, a soft smile curves his lips. He leans in and presses a kiss to (m/n)’s cheek—gentle, yet lingering with meaning.

Rook Hunt

"Mon amour!"

Rook’s eyes light up the moment he hears (m/n)’s voice echo across the courtyard. Without hesitation, he dashes forward with the same energy, meeting (m/n) halfway in a blur of motion and excitement.

The moment they collide, Rook catches him in a dramatic, sweeping embrace—spinning him once with flair. His laughter is light, musical.

“Such a gallant entrance! Such passion! Ah, mon cœur en tremble!”

He peppers (m/n)’s face with playful kisses—forehead, cheeks, the tip of his nose—murmuring poetry in rapid French between each one, his voice rich with adoration.

“Encore, mon trésor! Again! Leap into my arms a thousand times, and I shall catch you every one. Your love—ah, it fills me with endless inspiration!”

Cradling (m/n) close with a sigh of contentment, one hand sliding over his back like he’s committing every second to memory.

“I shall write a ballad of this moment. No—a symphony!”

Epel Felmier

“Epel! My apple!”

Epel barely has time to process the shout of his name before he sees (m/n) sprinting toward him like a comet

“(m/n)—wait, what are ya—?!”

Too late. M/N leaps into his arms, and Epel catches him with a startled grunt, his feet sliding slightly across the stone path. Somehow, he manages to keep them both upright, arms instinctively wrapping around (m/n)’s waist.

His face flushes a vivid red.

“Y-Ya can’t just do that outta nowhere!” he stammers, trying to sound annoyed—but the warmth creeping into his voice betrays him. (m/n) just laughs, snuggling in closer.

Epel glances away, trying to hide the shy smile tugging at his lips. “...Idiot. You’re lucky I love you.”

And even as he says it, his grip doesn’t loosen—holding (m/n) close, heart pounding hard, not from shock... but from happiness.

I fell asleep writing this yesterday lol.

[strawberrychampagneglass]

Love Me Not

WC : 1.5k (short, ik, but there will be a significantly longer second part. This is j to set the stage and keep you guys fed) A/N: woah it's been a busy couple of weeks. haven't really decided what to do with roses but we'll see, but here's a little mini-series inspired by the song "Love Me Not" by Ravyn Lenae. Stay safe, take care of yourselves, and i hope yall enjoy this little lead up

Pairing: Paige + Azzi Themes: angst, angst, angst, pining, hurt/little bit of comfort ig

Paige is sprawled across her bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. She tries to convince herself that she’s desperate for a dopamine hit after a grueling day of physically and mentally exhausting conditioning, but in reality, she’s desperate for a distraction. She’s desperate for something to fill the Azzi-sized void in her heart, a void that has continuously fractured her heart for the past month. 

No, I don’t need you.

She knew the words she hurled at the brunette were deliberate, perfectly selected to leave a lingering wound. And God, it hurts. It hurts Paige to know how effortlessly she can break Azzi. The type of hurt compresses the blonde’s chest so much that it hurts to breathe. Hell, it hurts to think. 

Yet amidst her self-pity party, a small flame inside Paige that had subconsciously fostered into a flame, igniting every vein of her body, only fuels her frustration with the younger woman. 

She knew they had no title, no exclusivity, but when she saw her Azzi smiling at, talking to, touching, and kissing another woman at the bar, she lost it. She had exploded at her best friend. The second her words, laced with jealousy and pain, rolled off her tongue, she wished she had caught them and shoved them back in her mouth. The second she saw Azzi’s beautiful face crumble, her dark eyes, usually full of adoration for the blonde, suddenly filled with deep, gut-wrenching hurt. Paige wanted nothing more than to comfort the younger woman. 

But I miss you, come here. 

Her mind is full of her teammate’s urging to text the younger woman, to apologize. And Paige wants to apologize, explain, and hell, even beg for another chance. But at the end of the day, it made sense to Paige. It made sense that every time they watched a movie, Azzi was absent from the warm covers of Paige’s bed in the morning. It made sense that Azzi’s body was stiff every time they hugged as if reciprocating Paige’s hug was painful. It made sense that every time they fucked, albeit drunk and impulsive, Paige would always wake up to an empty bed. Her fingers hover over her keyboard before she sighs and drops it, opting to curl up under the comfort of her covers instead. 

Oh, it's hard to see you

Her memories replayed in her mind like the highlight reel she had made to recruit the brunette to UConn, the highlight reel that had meant so much more to both of them. It was the string that would tie the two together for the next four years. Every moment spent with Azzi, every touch, every stolen glance, and every whispered word begins to paint an intricate mural of PaigeandAzzi. But it’s gone now. She can still hear the laughter that fell from her lips so easily, replaying in her mind as an endless loop 

But I wish you were right here.

The delicacy of Azzi’s touch to ease her to sleep is gone, replaced by an unbearable silence. She knows better, though; there were no commitments, no strings, and no promises. But Paige had simply assumed that they would be exclusive with each other. Maybe that was the problem, why Azzi never stayed, why she always left before Paige could reach for her, before she could beg her to stay. 

Next to her, Paige’s phone vibrates, snapping her out of her trance. Before she can look, her heart leaps out of her chest, sparking the remnants of hope in her chest to life before she can check the screen. But when she does, her heart sinks into the chasm of her chest in disappointment. It’s a simple text from KK, asking where she is. In hindsight, Paige knows she was out of character today. Usually, she’s one of the last people to leave the locker room, opting to take a shower and joke around with her teammates before heading back to her dorm for the night. Tonight, however, she was the first person out of the locker room, barely acknowledging the presence of her teammates. Instead of answering the text, she lets her body get engulfed in a deep sleep.

***

When the door to Azzi’s room creaks open ever so quietly, she instantly sits up, her eyes wide and her body rigid. As soon as her eyes land on a tall, blonde woman in the doorway, her body softens instinctively. 

But this woman isn’t Paige. 

She misses the stillness of her favorite pair of blue lights that glisten with mirth whenever they find Azzi’s warm brown eyes. She misses the chorus of favorite giggles echoing off the walls in the middle of the night. Most of all, she misses the smooth texture of Paige’s soft skin that melded perfectly with the tips of Azzi’s finger. 

And Azzi knows she’s being unfair, but the idea of Chloe felt wrong. The green eyes were foreign, although they were sultry and sexy, they didn’t instill the same sense of innocent affection. The platinum blonde hair feels unfamiliar, it was straightened out and detangled to perfection, but it lacks the silkiness that Paige’s golden hair possessed. Chloe was undeniably beautiful, but she wasn’t Paige. She doesn’t have the irresistible charisma, the selflessness, nor the same, unmatched affection for her teammates. Azzi missed Paige, and as lovely as Chloe is, she can’t bring herself to love the girl. 

“Hey baby,” Chloe sing-songs as soon as her eyes land on the brunette. Azzi tenses at the use of the name, her mouth contorting into a frown. Digging her fingernails into her palm, she knows she needs to be honest with Chloe, tell her the truth and tell her that the last 5 weeks were a waste of both of their time. 

Oh, it's hard to leave you when I get you everywhere

When Chloe walks over to the bed, ready to embrace the brunette, there’s obvious discord between her body and her brain as she reciprocates the hug, melting into Chloe’s warm body. “Hey Chlo,” Azzi hums. 

But it feels wrong, and Azzi knows. It feels wrong in places she can’t pinpoint. What she does know though, is that she can’t give her heart to Chloe. 

***

When Paige’s shot bounces off the rim for the umpteenth time, she curses to herself, throwing her hands onto her face. It was a poorly chosen shot--a three heaved up a second too late, her view obstructed by an outstretched hand. But Paige’s body has been out of sync from her calculated instincts programmed into her mind. Every pass from Paige to Azzi was just a fraction off and led to a turnover or a missed shot. Their coordination was off, the once effortless and rhythmic on-court chemistry had become a stifling presence, a lingering tension that neither of them know how to ease.

As soon as she slumps on the bench, she buries her head into her arms, sighing for a prolonged moment. CD spares her a sympathetic glance before returning to Geno’s side, his voice gruff as he yells out plays over the chaos of practice. Jana pats her back in reassurance, muttering incoherent words that were drowned out by the sharp barks of instruction and clatter of sneakers against the hardwood floor.

Azzi, on the other hand, feels her throat dry up as she watches a carefully constructed Paige unravel in front of her eyes. The sight of her--head bowed, shoulders tense, completely shut off--sends an uncomfortable chill down her spine. Paige had been uncharacteristically nervous, lacking the confidence and fierceness that once twinkled in her now dull eyes. This wasn’t the Paige that could shake off a missed shot with a shrug and a smirk before running back on defense. This was a Paige that was breaking, every piece that made Paige Paige were beginning to fracture right in front of Azzi’s eyes. She forces herself to look away, running down the floor to the 3-point-line where she drains a 3 with ease.

After every mistake, a heavy silence follows, thickening the storm brewing between the two women. Neither of them acknowledge it, they don’t have a need to. It’s in the way Paige’s jaw clenches, the muscle flexing, or in the way Azzi’s hands hesitate, fingers gripping the ball a little too tightly. Their discomfort is palpable, infecting the rest of their teammates who glance at each other in horror. 

Paige doesn’t look at her. And maybe that hurts the most. 

Soon as you leave me, we always lose connection

By the time Geno dismisses them to the locker room, Paige is already turning toward the locker room, her head down, her strides quick and detached. Azzi wants nothing more than to reach out to the blonde and embrace her. Instead, she stays rooted to her spot, paralyzed under the tangible weight of their broken relationship. She watches Paige disappear down the tunnel, the space between them stretching farther than before.

[raven-dor]

obi-wan is worried about you - drabble #1

i was watching masters of the air and i felt inspired to write something about someone in a recovery room... and obi wan felt obvious to me, slight self depricating thoughts, fluff, mentions of injury, blah blah blah more fluff but like slight angst bc they can't love each other bc of the jedi code or whatever word count: 824

Your head was pounding, the last moments before you passed out playing on shuffle in your mind. You groaned, squeezing your eyes tighter as if that would help rid yourself of the memories.

Anakin barking out orders, the sound of dozens of blasters firing, aiming for the man who'd shot you. Ashoka racing over, wishing you could reach up and wipe away her tears. Obi-Wan's fearful cries from across the battlefield when you crumbled to the ground.

You couldn't find the energy to wake up, to pull yourself out of this 'coma'. You couldn't help but think that no one would miss you, no one would mourn you. It was hard, having no family, no lover. The Jedi code, with all its benefits, made one feel terribly alone at times.

You'd made your own little makeshift family during your time in the Jedi order. Anakin, Ashoka, and Obi-Wan were your friends, your people, the ones you knew you could rely on.

For now, you were just another body in the constantly full hospital wing. Thanks to the Clone War, more and more Jedi were getting put out of commission. You were just another statistic for the monthly report.

"I know you're awake." Obi-Wan's familiar timbre cut through your thoughts, startling you enough that you jumped. He laughed, most likely shaking his head like he always did.

You felt heat rising to your cheeks, his laughter enough to make you melt. He had this horrible habit of making you a blathering mess, tripping over your words, and giggling at nothing. Forcing yourself to wake up, you squinted as the bright daylight attacked your tired eyes. "Obi-Wan."

"You've been out for days." He was forcing himself to sound calm, you could tell by the way his knee was bouncing at the speed of light. He was anxious about it, your injury. Of course, he was. Obi-Wan was an anxious man. "The others were starting to worry."

You scoffed, sitting up in your bed, ignoring the way Obi-Wan jumped up to fix the pillows so they would support you. "Yes, I'm sure Anakin is beside himself."

"Ashoka has visited every day." He skirted around answering your comment. "She brought you flowers."

You looked over at your side table, smiling at the pathetic bouquet, now wilting from the lack of water in it's vase. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is."

You looked curiously at the older Jedi, a mischievous smile etched on your face. "How did you know she visited me every day?"

He could have lied, he could have said she told him, but he didn't want to. He never could lie to you; you were his greatest weakness. His greatest- He sighed, leaning forward in his chair. "I was worried sick about you."

"I knew it!" You laughed, pain shooting through your ribs from the action. "You shouldn't have done that, Obi."

"You just crumbled to the ground." His eyes were wide, wide with fear, worry, and concern for your safety. "I tried to help, I brought you here myself. But you still-they said you might not wake up."

You reached out, holding his hand in yours. "You're terribly kind for worrying about me."

"Of course, I was worried about you." He looked down at your joined hands, smiling to himself. "You know that I- that I love-"

"You can't-" You frowned, squeezing his hand as if that could offer any comfort. "You know we can't-"

"I know." He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back gently. You sighed, wishing he would just kiss you, that he would break the code. "Have I mentioned I was worried about you?"

You smiled, leaning your head back on the pillow, eyes full of adoration for the man sitting beside you. "You might have."

"Master-" You sat up straight, hands ripping apart as the young apprentice raced toward you. "You're awake!"

You nodded, smiling at the young girl, your arms wide open. "Ashoka."

She jumped on the bed, falling into your hold. Obi-Wan winced, itching to reach out and separate you. He was sure Ashoka was poking into something. "Be careful, please."

"I brought you flowers."

"I saw." You smiled, placing a comforting hand on her cheek. "You're very sweet for doing that."

"Did it help?" She crossed her legs, eyes wide as she waited for a response. "I hope it helped."

"It did." You nodded. "I think the smell from the bouquet lifted me out of my sleep."

"Good!" She was fully grinning. "I'm glad."

Obi-Wan simply watched, heart twisting at the sight. You had a comforting presence, one that instantly melted anyone's defensive nature. Seeing you with Ashoka was especially painful, as his mind drifted to forbidden thoughts of a family with you. With children.

For now, as he laughed at the young girl bothering you, this would do. Your smile was enough, the secret promise you had made with each other was enough.

[22ayla21]

Can I request Amphoreus male with their spouse relative visit them? The children will be delighted when having a cool auntie/ uncle to play and training together.

Their spouse will have a hard time on prevent their children come to their auntie/ uncle, more like stop them from being spoiled too much. (candy, gifts,…)

(I used to spoiled my nephew and niece with candy, and end up getting grounded because my sister found out, she told me to not give them any more sweet treats.)

Mom's Sister

When mom's sister comes to visit, the house becomes a place of chaos

When the door swung open, the children didn't even hear the footsteps until the end, as they were already rushing towards their aunt with joyful cries. She burst into their house like a whirlwind - with a dazzling smile, sparkling decorations and an armful of gifts.

Their mother's sister had always been the adult who knew how to entertain. In her presence, rules became flexible, and prohibitions - only vague reminders of the boring adult world.

The gifts turned out to be more than impressive. The middle daughter immediately grabbed a dagger - not a combat one, of course, but sharp enough for training. The eldest son was mesmerized by the new set of tools for creating traps, and the youngest was delightedly clutching a rare book with ancient legends to herself.

Mydei watched all this with a hidden grin. He understood that the guest was bringing chaos with her, but he was in no hurry to interfere. He even liked the way his children's eyes sparkled when their aunt suggested something new.

Meanwhile, the mother of the family narrowed her eyes, clearly sensing trouble. She knew her sister too well.

As it turned out, her premonition was right. Soon the children were already fighting each other, practicing new techniques. The middle one, with a sparkling smile, was trying to repeat the stance that her aunt had shown. The eldest son was building an ingenious trap, clearly inspired by something from the stories of his beloved relative.

The youngest seemed to be acting calmer, but no - she had already managed to figure out how to use the knowledge she had acquired in practice.

The mother closed her eyes tiredly and exhaled before heading towards her sister. Of course, her children adored their aunt. But who would clean up the mess when she left? Who would explain why it was forbidden to have gladiatorial fights in the house or test new inventions right at dinner?

Auntie just smiled her signature grin, watching the fun without a shadow of remorse. Meanwhile, Mydei, hiding his laughter, decided not to interfere. While his wife scolded his sister for being too generous and playing dangerous games, he just silently enjoyed what was happening. After all, children should be a little naughty. Especially when they have the perfect ally for it.

A warm wind walked through the house, filling the rooms with lightness and laughter. That day, a storm came to their house - the sister of the hostess, a woman bright, charismatic and... absolutely without measure when it came to her nephews.

The children rejoiced as soon as they saw her on the threshold. She never came empty-handed: exotic toys, rare books, and sometimes - something that caused silent horror in their mother. Today it was training equipment, clearly intended for activities that were strictly prohibited in the house.

As soon as the gifts were in the hands of the children, chaos began. The wife's sister excitedly showed how to hold a sword correctly, how to sharply dodge a blow. The daughters listened attentively, absorbing every word, and the youngest son, although he did not like fighting, watched with interest what was happening.

Anaxa's wife, who had remained calm until this moment, finally intervened. She didn't raise her voice, but her gaze was full of reproach. She knew that her sister meant no harm, but still spoiled the children too much.

The sister only chuckled and shrugged, while the children, with a greedy glint in their eyes, continued to try out new movements. Their mother sighed, realizing that now she would have to have a long conversation and strict control to ensure that these "gifts" did not lead to injuries.

Anaxa, who was watching all this from afar, only grinned reservedly. He did not interfere, knowing that his wife could handle it herself. After all, who was he to stand between his children and their most beloved aunt?

When their aunt shows up at their house, the children drop everything and run to her with excited cries. As always, she hasn't arrived empty-handed - a bag of presents, rare toys and even some weapons for training. A fire lights up in the boys' eyes, and their younger sister, though still too young for serious training, also reaches out to the shiny curiosities.

Phainon's wife greets her sister with a tired smile. She already knows that this visit means chaos. Her blood is restless, charismatic, eternally free, and she sees nothing wrong with giving children more freedom. Especially in what parents usually forbid.

Soon the yard is filled with the sounds of fussing. The older boys, their eyes shining, grab their training swords, their aunt teaches them to parry blows, laughing at their attempts to look serious. Even the little girl proudly raises a wooden dagger, clearly wanting to keep up with her brothers.

The mother of the family, arms folded across her chest, watches all this with an expression of quiet despair. Every time it's the same. She tries to reason with her sister, but she just waves her hand, saying, let the children have fun. In the end, she has to personally take the toy weapon away from the youngest and sternly tell her sons that some exercises are not for them yet.

Phainon, watching this from the terrace, only smirks. He does not interfere, understanding that this is a struggle between two elements - the mother, striving for order, and the aunt, bringing chaos. In the end, no matter how hard the wife tries to control the situation, the children still adore their aunt. And her influence on them is inevitable.

[lovezbrownies]

I wanna make a request for Nia, the yandere queen.

Have you ever seen the anime, Dororo? It's pretty dark.

Anyway, for my request scenario: Queen Nia is pregnant with her darling's child. But, when she gives birth, they're met with a startling sight; the child is born without any arms, legs, eyes, nose, ears, and ears. They still have a mouth though.

Astonishingly, the baby is alive and breathing. (In the anime, Dororo, the protagonist's adoptive father fitted him with a bunch of prosthetics.)

How would they react? And what happens afterwards.

Hello! I felt like this would be a pretty sensitive topic to write about regarding disbality so I hope i did well! If I ever said something horrible or ableist please please tell me so i can change it! ofc other than Nia being ableist

Loser. (Yandere!Queen x GN!Reader x Queen.)

Nia's Masterlist - General Masterlist

Synopsis: A greedy self-absorbed Queen loses the love of her life by being an ablesit shitbag.

Warnings: Ableism, a lot of it, be warned. Nia goes crazy, Darling is a rizzler bagged two baddies. Happy ending, sad honeslty

The palace had always been a monument to opulence—a fortress of splendor rising against the backdrop of an unyielding kingdom. With its grand marble columns reaching toward the heavens and tapestries woven with tales of glory draping its walls, it was a place meant to inspire awe. Yet, for you, it had become a gilded cage, a space filled with echoes of laughter and revelry that only served to highlight the absence of warmth and love. As you sat in the nursery, the air thick with a melancholic silence, you cradled your son in your arms, feeling the weight of a thousand burdens settle upon your shoulders.

Born into a world that had never asked for him, your son was an embodiment of hope and despair. He was born without arms, legs, eyes, or ears—his only defining feature a small mouth that could barely form a sound. The first time you laid eyes on him, your heart had shattered and mended all at once. In a moment that should have been filled with joy and celebration, you found yourself wrestling with a storm of emotions. And yet, through that storm, one truth remained clear: he was your child, a beautiful miracle in a world that had no place for him.

Every day, you fought against the oppressive atmosphere of the palace. Nia, your queen and wife, used to be so nice, so sweet, but since the moment she had seen their child, everything had changed. You had watched her features twist into horror and disbelief, her disdain wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. “This is not my child,” she had whispered in that cold, clinical tone that stung your heart. Those words echoed in your mind like a ghost, haunting every moment you spent with your son. Her eyes, once filled with adoration for you, had turned into a mirror of contempt whenever they landed on him.

You spent your days nurturing your fragile son, filling the nursery with soft whispers and gentle touches. He was a tiny being full of potential, and you had made it your life’s mission to give him every ounce of love you could muster. You’d sing lullabies that filled the air with a warmth he could feel, even if he couldn’t hear them. You’d tell him stories of brave knights and far-off lands, weaving tales of adventure that would inspire dreams in the darkest corners of his mind. Each interaction, no matter how small, strengthened the bond between you, forging a connection that defied the cruel world outside those nursery walls.

But Nia’s disdain for their son only grew. Her laughter, once filled with lightness and joy, turned hollow whenever she passed the nursery door. The whispers of her courtiers followed her, echoing her sentiments. “Why would they waste their time with that monstrosity?” they’d ask, their voices laced with condescension. “He’ll never be anything.”

With each derisive comment, your heart ached for your child. You wished more than anything that Nia could see what you saw. The beauty of his spirit, the strength in his fragile existence—it was all there, waiting to be embraced. But Nia was blind to it. She only saw a burden, a shadow that loomed over her once-glorious life.

In her mind, your love for your son had turned you into a stranger. You were no longer the partner she adored; you had become a parent, a protector, a barrier between her and the life she craved—a life of frivolity, laughter, and the adoration of her subjects. The palace was filled with parties, celebrations, and grand events, but you had begun to drift away from it all, entangled in the delicate needs of your child. And Nia resented you for it.

You tried to explain it to her, to make her understand. “He needs me, Nia,” you would say, your voice trembling with urgency. “He needs us. He’s our son.” But each time, Nia would turn her back on you, her shoulders rigid with anger, her lips set in a tight line.

“Don’t bring him into this,” she would snap, her tone icy. “He’s not a part of our world.”

And yet, to you, he was everything. He was the light in your life, the reason you got out of bed every morning. You often caught yourself dreaming of a world where he could run and play, where the laughter of children rang through the air without the weight of judgment looming above them. You wanted to shield him from the cruel realities of the kingdom, to create a haven where he could simply be.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between you and Nia grew. Her obsession with you morphed into something darker, something possessive that gnawed at the edges of her sanity. She began to visit the nursery less and less, preferring the company of her courtiers over the child she had borne. Whenever she did grace you with her presence, her remarks were sharp and cutting.

“Why do you spoil him so?” she would demand, her voice filled with contempt. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Every child deserves love, Nia,” you would reply, your heart heavy with frustration. “He deserves a chance to be loved, even if you can’t see it.”

She would scoff, her eyes narrowing with disdain. “He’s a monstrosity. He’ll never amount to anything. You’re wasting your time.”

You found yourself growing weary of the fight. How could you convince someone so resolute in their beliefs? Nia had crafted a fantasy world in her mind, one where she reigned supreme and was adored by all. And in that world, there was no place for your son. He was a living reminder of everything she detested, everything that disrupted the perfect image she had built around herself.

You often turned to the stars for solace. On sleepless nights, you would sit by the nursery window, cradling your son as you gazed up at the vastness above. Each twinkling light was a promise of hope, a reminder that beauty existed even in darkness. You would whisper your dreams to him, telling him that one day, you would escape this place together. You envisioned a life beyond the palace walls, far away from Nia’s possessiveness and the cold judgments of the world.

But as much as you dreamed of freedom, the reality of Nia’s fury loomed like a storm cloud over your head. She could be volatile, and every time you saw her slip deeper into darkness, fear gripped your heart. What if she decided to take matters into her own hands? What if she tried to erase him from existence altogether?

The night it all came to a head, Nia’s anger erupted like a volcano, spewing forth a torrent of words that cut through the air like knives. She stormed into the nursery, her face a mask of fury, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “Enough!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. “I will not have you ruin everything for a creature that doesn’t deserve your love!”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, and instinctively, you tightened your hold on your son, feeling his fragile form against your chest. “He’s our son, Nia! You can’t just dismiss him like this!” The desperation in your voice was palpable, but Nia’s eyes blazed with fury, her lips curling into a sneer.

“My son?” she spat, her tone venomous. “He is a burden, a mark of your weakness! You think I want to be reminded of him every day? You think I want to watch you waste away caring for him?”

“Caring for him is not a waste!” You could feel the fire of your emotions surging within you. “He deserves love and compassion, even if you can’t understand that!”

Her expression shifted, something dark and dangerous flickering in her eyes. “If you won’t let him go, then I will. I’ll send him away—far away—somewhere you’ll never find him. I won’t have him here, ruining everything.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a physical blow. “You wouldn’t dare.” Your voice was barely a whisper, fear coiling around your heart. The thought of her taking your son from you, of him being lost to the world, was too much to bear.

Nia stepped closer, her presence oppressive and overwhelming. “I will do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine. You think I won’t?” Her voice dripped with malice, and you could see the glint of madness in her eyes.

“No!” You couldn’t breathe. Panic surged through you as you turned and bolted from the nursery, clutching your son close to your chest. The weight of her threat pressed down on you, suffocating you as you raced through the palace corridors, your heart pounding in your ears.

You could hear Nia’s voice echoing behind you, her angry shouts growing fainter as you reached the stables. You didn’t think; you just acted. You mounted a horse, your hands shaking as you settled your son securely in your arms. He whimpered softly, sensing your fear, and you whispered promises of safety to him as you urged the horse into a gallop.

The night air whipped around you, cold and biting, but you didn’t care. The palace receded behind you, its towering spires fading into the darkness as you rode deeper into the unknown. Each beat of the horse’s hooves against the ground matched the frantic rhythm of your heart. You were escaping—escaping from Nia’s madness, from the gilded cage that had constrained your life. But the freedom you craved was laced with uncertainty, and your thoughts spiraled into a whirlpool of emotions.

The moon hung high in the sky, a silver sentinel watching over your flight as you rode into the night. With every stride, the sound of your heart echoed in your ears, thrumming with a mix of fear and determination. You could still hear Nia’s voice ringing in your ears—her threats wrapping around your heart like a vise, squeezing tighter with each passing second. You had to get away, to put distance between your son and the chaos of the palace, where Nia’s obsession could twist into something darker.

As you rode, you glanced down at your child, whose tiny form felt so fragile in your arms. His skin glowed softly in the moonlight, and for a moment, you let the world around you blur. His breathing was steady, a reminder that he was here with you, alive and full of potential despite the harsh realities of his existence. In that moment, he was your everything—the reason you had fought so hard to carve out a life for him within the confines of the palace.

You reached the edge of the forest, the trees standing tall like ancient guardians. You dismounted and found a secluded spot beneath the canopy, where the branches intertwined overhead, creating a natural shelter. You spread your cloak on the ground, carefully laying your son down on it, and knelt beside him, your heart swelling with a mix of love and fear.

“I promise,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his soft skin, “I won’t let anyone take you away from me. You are my light, and I will protect you with everything I have.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked down at him, every moment of nurturing and love flooding back to you in a rush. Memories of soothing him when he cried, of the laughter shared during those quiet moments, filled your heart with warmth. He was your child—innocent, beautiful, and deserving of all the love you could give.

But the darkness of the world loomed larger now, and the thought of Nia hunting for you sent shivers down your spine. She had always been fiercely protective of her image and her reign, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she would stop at nothing to regain control over the life she believed was slipping away from her grasp. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the woman you loved had become a stranger, consumed by her fears and obsessions.

As the night deepened, you held your son close, whispering stories of adventure and bravery to fill the silence. The stars above twinkled brightly, casting a soft glow that illuminated his fragile features. You thought of the life you had envisioned for him—a life where he could thrive without fear, where he could feel the love of a parent unburdened by the weight of judgment.

Hours passed, and the cool night air wrapped itself around you like a blanket, the chill biting at your skin as you held your son close, feeling his soft breaths against your chest. Exhaustion crept in, your eyes growing heavier with each passing moment, but the adrenaline still coursed through your veins, fueled by the single, burning thought of keeping your son safe. You knew you couldn’t stay in the woods forever; the shadows of the trees offered momentary refuge, but Nia’s reach was long, and her wrath was unrelenting. You needed to find a new home, a place where her power would never touch you or your child again.

As dawn began to break, the soft light filtering through the canopy of trees, you made a decision. You mounted your horse once more, your son securely nestled against you, his tiny body providing a fragile sense of purpose and hope. With a deep breath, you urged the horse forward, its hooves pounding against the earth as you moved deeper into the forest, farther from the only home you had ever known—and from the woman who had once filled your heart with joy, but now filled it with dread.

Days blurred into each other as you journeyed further into the wilderness. Each night, you found a secluded place to rest, your arms wrapped protectively around your son, and each morning, you pushed onward, driven by the fierce love you felt for the small life that depended on you. The bond between you and your son grew stronger with every mile, his innocence a source of strength as you navigated the harsh realities of survival. You foraged for food, hunted when you could, and discovered a resilience you hadn’t known existed within yourself.

The first time you found fresh berries, the joy of providing for your son filled you with a deep, unexpected warmth. You watched him eat, his tiny face lighting up with delight, and for that brief moment, your worries seemed to ease. You would do anything for him, anything to protect him from the world that had turned so cruel.

But Nia’s shadow loomed ever closer, her obsession with finding you growing with each passing day. Word had spread throughout the kingdom of your disappearance, and Nia’s anger had turned into a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. She searched for you with a madness that had begun to unravel her once formidable reputation. You could almost feel her presence in the distance, a suffocating weight that hung over you, but you refused to let it pull you back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wandering, you stumbled upon a stone wall—tall, thick, and ancient. It was a fortress, a symbol of strength and safety. Your heart raced as you searched for the entrance, and when you finally found it, you realized where you were: the kingdom of Dacos, Xelera’s sworn enemy. This was the land Nia despised, the kingdom that had risen from poverty and oppression to become a powerful force under the rule of its new queen. And now, it seemed, fate had led you to its gates.

You approached the guards, desperation evident in your voice as you begged them to let you in, your son cradled in your arms. The guards exchanged glances, recognizing your story—whispers of the mad queen of Xelera and her “kidnapped” spouse had spread far and wide. By a stroke of fortune, they allowed you entry, offering you a chance at safety in a land Nia could never touch.

You were brought before Queen Estoria, a woman of undeniable strength and grace, slightly older than Nia but with a warmth that instantly put you at ease. When she heard your tale, her eyes softened, and without hesitation, she welcomed you into her palace, offering you and your son sanctuary. There was an immediate connection between you, a shared understanding of the pain Nia had caused. Estoria promised you protection, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Life in Dacos was a world apart from the one you’d left behind. Estoria’s palace became your sanctuary, a place where your son was adored and cherished. Estoria, in particular, took a special interest in him, requesting the finest prosthetics to be made every six months to accommodate his growing body. She showered him with love and care, becoming a mother to him in ways you had never imagined. Over time, her role in your life deepened, and she became not just a protector but a partner—a stepmother to your son and a source of comfort and joy for you.

Years passed, and the bond between the three of you only grew stronger. Estoria’s love for your son was as fierce as your own, and together, you created a life full of warmth and happiness. Your son, who had once been abandoned by his birth mother, now thrived in a home filled with love, his laughter echoing through the halls of the palace.

But Nia… Nia had not forgotten you. Her obsession had driven her to the brink of madness. She waged a war against Dacos, a desperate attempt to reclaim what she had lost, but her forces were no match for Estoria’s army. The war ended swiftly, and with it came a final, crushing defeat for the Queen of Xelera. Estoria, ever strategic, offered Nia a peace treaty—one that would seal Nia’s fate forever.

“Give up your rights to your son and legally divorce your runaway spouse,” Estoria had declared. “Swear never to wage war against Dacos again, or face total annihilation.”

Nia, her power shattered and her kingdom in ruins, had no choice. With a heart full of bitterness and regret, she signed away her last claim to you and your son, her hand trembling as she forfeited everything she had once held dear.

As Nia faded into the past, your life in Dacos flourished. You had found love, safety, and a future for your son—something Nia could never offer. And as you stood by Estoria’s side, watching your child grow, you knew that you had finally escaped the shadows of the past, finding peace in a kingdom where love reigned supreme.

Meanwhile Nia’s downfall was inevitable. Her obsession with finding you had twisted her mind, her once-sharp intellect dulled by the madness that had consumed her. The queen who once ruled with calculated precision now spent her days locked away in her chambers, pacing frantically as she ranted about betrayals and conspiracies. The kingdom that had once flourished under her assistant's iron rule crumbled around her, her subjects whispering of her insanity. Rumors spread like wildfire—Nia had lost her mind, and with it, her grip on the throne.

It wasn’t long before the council stepped in. Her cousin, a distant relative with no interest in power but a keen sense of duty, was called upon to take the throne in her stead. The decision was made quietly, behind closed doors, as the council agreed to strip Nia of her title until her son—your son—came of age to rule. The transition of power was swift, and Nia, once the fierce and unstoppable Queen of Xelera, was quietly removed from the palace, confined to a distant estate where her madness could no longer harm the kingdom she had once ruled.

As for the throne of Xelera, it waited—an empty seat of power, destined for the day your son would come of age.

News of Nia’s final fall reached Dacos weeks later. You and Estoria sat together when the messenger arrived, the weight of his words settling over the room like a heavy cloud. Estoria’s brow furrowed in thought, her hand resting on your shoulder as the two of you exchanged a glance. The message was clear: Nia’s reign was over, and your son was now the rightful heir to the Xeleran throne.

Later that evening, you found yourselves sitting with your son, the weight of this revelation resting heavily between you. He was older now, his mind sharp and curious, the prosthetics Estoria had commissioned for him growing more advanced with every passing year. You could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes as you told him the news—the kingdom of Xelera, the throne that was now his by birthright, and the choice he would one day have to make.

Estoria knelt beside him, her voice gentle but firm as she explained, “One day, you will have a decision to make, my love. Whether you will take your place as King of Dacos, alongside me and your parent, or… whether you will return to Xelera, to rule the kingdom that once belonged to your birth mother.”

Your son looked between the two of you, his face thoughtful, yet unreadable. The question hung in the air, a heavy silence filling the room as he considered the weight of the choice laid before him. His young eyes, once filled with innocence, now held a glimmer of something else—something deeper.

He finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “I’ll need to think about it.”

And with that, the future hung in the balance, teetering between two kingdoms, two worlds—one that had embraced him with love and security, and another that had been shaped by the shadow of his birth mother’s madness.

[kykyonthemoon]

Bittersweet

A girl. Two moons. Revolving.

── .✦ Xavier x MC (Reader) x Rafayel

── .✦ Tags: high school AU, love triangle, open ending with a bit sadness, light angst, female reader, no y/n, inspired by music

── .✦ Word count: 1k4

── .✦ Ky Ky's notes: This fic was inspired by the song Bittersweet (WONWOO X MINGYU ft. Lee Hi).

Requested anonymously.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

"I'm leaving."

The girl's voice echoed in the wind on the vacant hill. The sky above was filled with innumerable stars. Raising her hands high, she was trying to hold them back for herself. This sky. This place. This friendship.

The two boys stood close to her yet a step apart, exchanged short glances before returning their focus to her.

"I've decided to study abroad."

That was all. She called them both to their regular meeting place, and the three of them raced up the hill. That place held the memories of all three.

Back in high school, they used to sprint up the hill after school to watch the sunset. She alone, and two moons. Ones who chased and one who ran. It had been more than three years since.

"Xavier. Here you go.

The girl handed out a bottle of filtered water to Xavier. He accepted it, his other hand carrying a clean towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

"Thank you."

She grinned. At that time, a group of other female students walked by, covertly looking at Xavier and then giggling at each other.

"Look how famous our class president is." She said with a bit of teasing. "You excel at studies and know how to play sports. How many love letters have you received since the start of the year?"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Xavier responded. He stared at the girl in front of him, who was smiling and teasing him. She was as bright as if all the warm sunshine in the world was gathered in her smile.

They were classmates. She sat at the desk in front of Xavier. He had always been watching her from behind, in secret.

"Xavier, help me with this homework!"

"Can Xavier help me with my class duty today?"

"Wait for me to come home with you!"

She was usually loud, bouncing around in front of his eyes. When did Xavier realize he liked her that much? Perhaps it was late that afternoon, after the school day had ended, yet she was still sitting in her seat.

Xavier just took a long nap. He had dreams about a certain world, when he could practice swordsmanship with her in the blue flower fields, and even travel among the stars. When he awoke, the whole class had departed, leaving her the sole one reading a book. Her little physique obscured the sunset light from the window for him.

"Is it already that late?"

Xavier rubbed his eyes. She turned and grinned. "Yes. Seeing you sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Sorry… "Why didn't you go home first?"

She tilted her head. The aroma of flowers and grass filled the classroom as the breeze swept in.

"If I go back first, you would most likely wake up feeling lonely, as if the entire world has abandoned you. Isn't that true?"

Her cheeks faintly blushed the color of sunset. Xavier could only gaze at her in silence for a long time. If possible, was he allowed to touch her?

"I don't want Xavier to feel abandoned." She rose up and put the book in her bag. "Come home with me."

Their houses were in the same direction. After becoming friends, the two frequently headed home together. There was also a snack shop on the road that she adored. She always lingered there for a bit before going home, arms full of sweets like a toddler.

"For you." She poured chocolate wrapped in yellow paper into Xavier's palms. They resembled moons, stars, and even spherical planets.

"If you like, I'll try making chocolate for you." He replied, but the girl erupted into laughter.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you should stay away from all the kitchens. Last time I came to your house, we almost burned it down.”

Xavier rubbed his head. She grasped his arm and enthusiastically remarked: 

"It's okay! Next time,  I will make cakes and bring them to you!” 

A small amount of warmth remained on Xavier's arm, making him feel fluttery inside. The road stretched straight and long. He prayed it would never stop so he could always be with her.

Rafayel transferred from another school in the second semester of that year and became a classmate seated next to her. Because he was a newcomer, he greatly appreciated her friendliness and enthusiasm. She toured him around the school and the surrounding area, where she frequently socialized with friends. With her companionship, he no longer felt scared or lonely in his fresh surroundings.

Rafayel and she joined the art club together. Her artwork was not exceptional, so she frequently sought him for help. Weekend painting sessions made Rafayel the happiest since he could witness her confusion, her attentiveness, and sometimes, her wrath while drawing. He simply smirked at moments like that. When she found out, she became enraged and "accidentally" used her brush to create a line on his cheek.

"Hey, my face is not your canvas!"

"Rafayel, please concentrate on sketching. Don't speak and disturb the entire group!" She leaned over and whispered to him. Rafayel grimaced and wiped the paint from his cheek, but it simply smeared further. She laughed.

"Let me clean it for you."

She took out a tissue and dabbed it on his face. His deep pink and blue-ish eyes seemed to be drawn to her.

Despite the fact that he only recently moved here, Rafayel immediately became well-known at school for his drawing and singing abilities. But in his eyes, there was only one girl he wished to be with.

After the art group activities, it began to rain. Rafayel spotted her standing alone on the porch, gazing up at the overcast sky. Her palm extended out to collect the new drops of water that fell from above. He approached her and asked:

“Didn't you bring an umbrella?” 

She shook her head. 

“Me neither.” Rafayel replied, his hand reaching into his bag, pushing the umbrella deep to the bottom. 

“Then we have to stand here a little longer.” She shrugged. And he smiled. Standing next to her, no matter how long it took, he would not mind.

A moment later, the rain ceased. The sun began to rise again. She turned to Rafayel and said:

"We can go home now."

"It's still raining lightly." Rafayel extended one hand out over the porch.

"Nah, it's okay." She responded. Then she dashed out, grabbed Rafayel's hand, and pulled him away. "This light rain won't make you sick!"

Her laughs were crisp, mixed with the sound of the raindrops. Warm sunshine pierced the transparent curtain of water. Rafayel called out: 

"Wait for me!"

At that moment, when the two linked hands and played together in the rain before rushing towards the rainbow, perhaps Rafayel had captured the most beautiful thing this world had to offer.

Two moons revolved around her world.

Because of her, Xavier and Rafayel became friends. They regularly strolled together after school to the nearby hill. The place witnessed many moments of happiness between the three, watched their friendship bloom, and nourished the two boys' quiet affection for her. There were times when either Xavier or Rafayel wanted to confess their feelings to her but could not dare. The relationship between them was so beautiful that it could not be exchanged for anything else.

Both Xavier and Rafayel understood how much the other adored her. This made their situation much more complicated. Aside from being each other's rivals, they both treasured their friendship. As a result, each of them was waiting for someone to speak first, so that the story between the three would have a clear ending. Nobody expected that the person who put an end to it would be her.

After she left the hill, the two guys remained standing next to each other. For a very long time. The girl they loved was leaving, and when she returned, nothing would be the same again. 

Rafayel turned to face Xavier and gently nudged his arm. 

“Let's go home.”

"Yeah. Let's." Xavier responded. They had long ago resolved in their hearts that their affections for her should remain concealed forever. That was the best for all three of them.

Xavier and Rafayel strolled merrily down the hill, grasping one other's shoulders. The wind blew. Sunset slipped away. Each of them had their own concerns, which they could only be able to convey in the future.

-The end- 

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

H and his little boy, him just wanting to copy everything Harry has and does. When Harry does a home workout, he wants to join in. When he shaves, he wants to sit on the counter and shave too. Just literally being a mini Harry 🥺

Like Father Like Son.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

word count - 2.6k

in which, in 2018, you and your fiancé harry welcomed a little baby boy into the world, and his name was sammy. him and his father were exact replicas of each other, same brown tousled curls, forest green orbs, matching dimples and bunny teeth, harry jr. loves everything to do with his father, wherever he went, he wasn’t far behind.

On August 7th, 2018, you and your fiancé welcomed a little boy into the world. He came screaming and fighting, his little lungs constricting with each cry that left his mouth.

And his name, his name was Sammy Robin Styles.

A mini replica of the man you loved, when he was cleaned off and passed back to you in the hospital bed, you noticed that his hair had little wisps on the end which would ultimately turn into full blown curls almost three years later.

It was as if he had been intricately crafted as a miniature replica of Harry himself. Every detail, from the shape of his eyes to the curve of his smile, mirrored that of his dad. It was an awe-inspiring moment, realising that nature had effortlessly bestowed upon this child the essence of Harry Styles.

Now, as the years have passed, it is clear that the similarities between father and son extend far beyond their physical appearance. It's as if the essence of Harry has seamlessly woven its way into every fibre of his son's being. Watching the young boy grow, it feels as though time has fast-forwarded, bypassing the nine months of pregnancy and directly manifesting Harry's persona in this young child.

Just like his father, the little boy exudes an air of charm and charisma that is utterly captivating. With every mischievous grin and twinkle in his eyes, he echoes the magnetism that has captivated audiences worldwide. His infectious laughter fills the room, reminiscent of Harry's own contagious joy that never fails to bring a smile to people's faces.

Even their mannerisms align harmoniously. The way the young boy tilts his head, the gestures he makes with his hands, and the way he carries himself all mirror the idiosyncrasies that make Harry so uniquely himself. It's almost as if the essence of his father has been imprinted on his very soul.

The first time you realised Sammy was like his father, was when he was a year and a half old.

You had fallen asleep on the sofa accidentally encasing yourself in an afternoon nap after being up during the night with Sammy who was teething, and it had knocked all energy out of you.

When you woke up, the house was silent which made you tilt your head to the side and wonder where your lover and angel boy had gotten to.

When you walked down the hallway to the house, that was when you heard the giggles that resembled your sons and the familiar sound of your fiancés voice had you realise that they were in the at home gym.

February 7, 2020.

The door to the at home gym creaks open, revealing a heartwarming sight that melts your heart.

There, on the treadmill, is your fiancé Harry, his toned figure in motion as he runs, sweat glistening on his forehead. But what catches your attention even more is the sight of your one-and-a-half-year-old son, Sammy, running alongside him on the floor, his little legs in a blur as he tries his best to keep up.

You can't help but smile at the adorable scene unfolding before you. Sammy, with his chubby cheeks and tufts of messy hair, is determined to emulate his dad in every way possible. It's a sight that fills you with warmth and joy, knowing that your little one looks up to Harry with such admiration.

"What's going on here?" you ask, unable to hide your amusement. Your voice startles both Harry and Sammy, and they turn to face you, their faces lighting up with love and happiness.

"Mama!" Sammy squeals, his baby voice barely forming words, but the excitement in his voice is unmistakable. He holds up his tiny hands, fingers splayed wide, as if mimicking his dad's intense workout. “wike, dada!”

Harry, a grin stretching across his face, glances your way but doesn't stop running. "Hey, m”love. Sammy wanted to join m’on the treadmill, so we're having a little running session together."

You chuckle, admiring the dedication Harry has to his workout routine. "Looks like our angel is eager to keep up with you."

Harry nods, his eyes gleaming with pride. "He's got the spirit of an athlete, that's f’sure. And besides, it's good f’both of us to stay active, right, Sammy?"

Sammy babbles in agreement, clapping his hands as if understanding every word. He tries to match Harry's pace from where he’s running on the floor, his tiny legs working double time as the speed of the treadmill Harry’s on increases in speed slightly.. But the treadmill's speed proves too fast for him, and he stumbles, landing on his diaper-padded bottom with a soft thud.

Harry immediately stops the treadmill, not liking the fact his son fell over and steps off of the machine and reaches out to scoop him up.

“Careful, buddy," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to Sammy's forehead. "You’ve got to slow down, we don’t want you getting an ouchie do we?."

Sammy giggles, hugging his dad tightly, his eyes sparkling with joy. You join them, enveloping both Harry and Sammy in a warm embrace, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for your little family.

Another time that you realised that Sammy was like his father in both appearance and personality, was when he was when the three of you were on a family holiday to Italy.

After a chilled day of just sitting around the pool, catching some rays, the three of you retired to the bedroom at around half four, seeing as you had dinner reservations in the old town for half six. For a nice family meal.

Over the course of the holiday, which you were only four days into, you noticed that your fiancé was starting to complain about the stubble resting on his face.

Harry’s stubble was starting to get to him in the heat, making him always have an itchy face, and when the three of you were chilling in the main bedroom of the villa, he told you that he was going to go ahead and shave.

July 19th, 2020.

You sit on the plush bed in the stunning villa you and your fiancé Harry are staying in, overlooking the picturesque landscape of Italy. Sammy, your one-and-a-half-year-old son, is nestled against your chest, his eyes drooping with exhaustion after a day of splashing around in the pool with his doting father.

As the gentle breeze rustles the curtains, you gaze down at Sammy, his tiny hand gripping onto your shirt. His cheeks are flushed from the sun, and his little body radiates warmth against you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest indicates that he's slowly succumbing to sleep.

Just as Sammy is about to succumb to dream land, you notice Harry absentmindedly scratching his face. You raise an eyebrow, concern etching your features.

"What's the matter, baby?" you inquire, your voice soft and soothing.

Harry pauses, his eyes meeting yours. "I think it's time for a shave," he responds, his fingertips still grazing his stubbled chin.

Sammy, who seemed to be on the verge of slumber, stirs against you at the mention of shaving. His eyes flutter open, now wide with curiosity. "Shave?" he mumbles, his voice sleepy yet filled with intrigue.

Harry chuckles, turning his attention to his little boy. "Yes, buddy. Daddy needs to shave. It's like a special grown-up thing."

Sammy's eyes light up, his drowsiness momentarily forgotten. "Shave!" he exclaims, sitting up against your chest, his tiny hands reaching for Harry.

"Y’were falling asleep, mister. What're y’doing awake?" Harry says with a playful grin, kneeling down to be at Sammy's eye level.

Sammy giggles, his small voice carrying a sense of determination. "Be like you, daddy."

"All right, champ," Harry speaks, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll do it together. You can watch and maybe we'll pretend to shave your baby fuzz too."

Sammy's face lights up with sheer delight, a wide grin stretching across his tired features. He nuzzles into the safety of Harry's embrace, knowing that he is loved and cherished.

And so, with Sammy in his arms and love in his eyes, Harry leads the way to the bathroom, flicking in the light and you silently follow behind, wanting to see the memory as it was being made.

You stand against the door frame, observing the scene unfolding before you with an adoring smile. Harry carefully lifts Sammy onto the bathroom counter, ensuring he stands securely in front of him to prevent any mishaps. The soft lighting casts a warm glow, highlighting the bond between father and son.

Harry takes a shaving brush and begins to lather his face with thick shaving foam. Sammy's eyes widen with fascination as he watches the process, his little hands fidgeting with excitement.

"Dada, me shave too!" Sammy exclaims, his voice filled with an adorable mix of eagerness and innocence.

Harry's eyes crinkle with amusement, his love for his son shining through.

"Alright, buddy. We can make y’look like a little gentleman," he says, his voice infused with playful encouragement.

Harry reaches for a dollop of shaving foam and gently applies it to Sammy's tiny face. Sammy bursts into giggles as the cool foam tickles his skin, the sensation new and delightful.

You capture the precious moment with your camera, eager to immortalize the memory of father and son sharing this special experience. The sound of their laughter fills the room, a harmonious melody that warms your heart.

As Sammy giggles, his face adorned with the foam, Harry reaches into the drawer and retrieves a cotton bud. He holds it up for Sammy to see.

"Now, this is what y’need to use, little man," Harry explains, his voice gentle and reassuring. "You're t’young for a razor, but y’can pretend with this."

Sammy's eyes widen with wonder as he takes the cotton bud in his small hand, mimicking his father's movements. He touches the foam on his face, his laughter bubbling up once more.

You lean against the door frame, overcome with love and admiration for the beautiful connection unfolding before you. The trust and joy shared between Harry and Sammy create a bond that transcends words.

Harry then retrieves his razor and begins to carefully shave his own face. The rhythmic sound of the blade gliding across his skin fills the air, intermingling with their shared laughter. You capture every precious moment, preserving this extraordinary bond for eternity.

As you watch from the doorway, snapping pictures, you realize the depth of Sammy's admiration for his father. In his innocent eyes, Harry is a superhero, a role model worth emulating. And Harry, with his patient guidance and boundless love, shows Sammy the way.

Another time that you noticed the resemblance and fatherly bond between the two Styles boys was when Sammy was one years old and Harry was twenty five.

With much persuasion you had gone out for the evening with the girls, Harry insisting that you go out and have fun seeing as you hadn’t had a proper night out since Sammy was born.

Harry had been on a few nights out, and insisted that he have the night in with his mini me so you could have the night off and have so well deserved fun.

So, you dolled yourself up to the nines and hit the town with a few of your friends, you didn’t drink much seeding as you were still exclusively breastfeeding, towards the end of the night you ended up drinking a few mock tails.

When you walked into the bedroom that night, that was when you saw Sammy and Harry fast asleep in the super king bed, and like the twins that they were, were both lying in the exact same position.

Laying on their stomachs, one hand above their head, Harry had one hand holding onto his son's waist so he didn’t roll off of the bed, and Sammy had his free hand grasped onto his stuffed bunny teddy named ‘Eddie’ that was gifted to him by his Nana Anne.

September 14th, 2019.

After a long-awaited night out, you quietly enter your bedroom, the tiredness seeping through every inch of your being. Your heels are in your hand, and you clutch your chest, feeling the familiar ache as your breasts need to be pumped. The evening was a well-deserved break from the responsibilities of parenthood, but now you're ready to be back in your sanctuary.

As you step into the room, you're greeted by the heartwarming sight of Harry and your one-year-old son, both lying on their stomachs on the bed. Their arms are stretched above their heads, mirroring each other in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. Harry's hand rests protectively on Sammy's waist, ensuring he doesn't roll off the bed, while Sammy clings tightly to his beloved stuffed bunny teddy, "Eddie."

In that tender moment, you can't help but feel a surge of love and contentment. The exhaustion of the night fades away as you witness the undeniable bond between father and son. It's a sight that fills you with a profound sense of gratitude for the beautiful family you have created.

Reaching for your phone, you quietly snap a picture of the two of them, their peaceful expressions and shared embrace forever preserved in the frame. With a smirk on your face, you send the picture to the family group chat, knowing it will bring a smile to their faces.

But then, as you glance at the photo once more, you can't help but notice that Harry is wearing only his boxers, and Sammy is content in his diaper. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you realize that their fashion choices are similar even when they snoozing.

In that moment, it hits you: the similarities between Harry and Sammy go far beyond physical appearances. Their quirks and habits, their shared moments of vulnerability and tenderness, all paint a picture of an unbreakable connection.

You tiptoe closer to Sammy's side of the bed, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Leaning down, you whisper softly, "I love you, my sweet boy," pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Sammy stirs slightly, but his peaceful sleep remains undisturbed.

Next, you turn your attention to Harry, his cheek invitingly close.

With a smile, you press your lips to his cheek, whispering, "I love you," the words laden with the depth of your emotions.

July 17th, 2023.

You snapped out of your daze, thinking about how similar the two loves of your lives were to see the two of them sitting on the sofa next to you.

You were sitting in the corner, blanket around your waist as you watched Sammy and Harry sit next to each other on the sofa, your fiancé had his arm wrapped around his son's shoulders, as the four year old munched on some crisps.

You grew Sammy for just over nine months, and it didn’t look like you had anything to do with it, since the way that Sammy came out looking appearance wise.

It seemed like Harry had a baby with himself.

Sammy adored his father, there was no doubt about it.

You could only hope that your next baby came out looking more like you, but the Styles had strong genes.

Anywho, you’d find out in seven months anyway.

[livingdeadmlm]

You Bring Me Closer to God p12.5

Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man. 

Physical Sex: not mentioned 

How far are things going?: no sex but each man fantasies for a second! 

Warnings: not much other than my own ship propaganda (Sean/Kieran Dutch/Hosea Charles/Javier.)

Outline: While Father is off in Strawberry, the men in Valentine are left in charge of setting up for the impending storm. They each get a bit nosy in Fathers room. 

What inspired me to write this: the awful priest romance book I picked up. 

Other: Wanted to have a chapter of the men to show their relationships with each other! I am sadly very late to posting this to tumblr so I am very sorry about that! plus this is short so I'm working to make the next chapter longer and more meaty if I can lol! (I also am setting up an excuse to talk about Ethical theories. I adore ethics and philosophy)

Tag list @unr0tt3n @pedifero @moarar: Comment or send an ask to be added to the tag list when new updates come out!! 

Previous Chapter or Next Chapter!

Javier and Charles were in your room. Your list mentioned that extra candles were kept on your top shelf.

Charles could reach them just fine, and Javier began to look around after struggling for a few seconds. Your shelf was full of books and small wooden boxes, and the bed was messy and unmade.

Walking over to your closet, Javier found a box under the folded blanket pile. Pushing the blankets, Javier opened the box to see it was full of books. Javier picked out a book; its soft green cover had caught his attention. There was nothing else on the cover besides the title he couldn’t understand.

“Hey Charles, what does this say?” Arms full of candles, Charles looked at the title in cursive across the front. “The hunter. Where did you find that?” Charles squinted as Javier flicked through the pages. Print English was easier for him to read, and he was still struggling with cursive writing.

Glancing across the pages, it seemed like a plain story: “ ‘Lilliana stood at the edge of the woods, her heart racing as she locked eyes with the enigmatic hunter. His eyes held stories yet to be told, laughter tucked in the corners, and secrets wrapped in shadows.’ oh my!” Javier put on a slight voice as he read the book, mimicking your speech patterns where he could.

“A box of romance books tucked away in the closet?” Charles gets his hands on a few more candles. Charles laughed, a soft sound as he shook his head. Javier stared as Charles laughed, a grin across his face at the noise.

“Cute, huh?” Javier kicked the box back into your closet, putting the soft leather book into his inner coat pocket. “Do you think he really reads them?” Charles watched as Javier leaned down to get the blankets. “Maybe he’s read all these other ones.”

Javier waved his hand around to your stuffed shelf. “Being alone for 20, I imagine a man gets a little needy.” Charles nodded and sat with the words for a bit. You probably were needy.

Lifting the large stack of blankets, the men made their way out to Hosea to set up the cots.

–

“Ah, you know what, Kieran Sean, can you find matchboxes? We should try to have one per room.” Hosea scratched his chin as he helped Javier and Charles set up. The fluttering of blankets filled the air as both men stepped out of the room and wandered the halls, only having about three matchbooks. “I uh, I know where some more are,” Kieran stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“(Name) keeps a few books in his nightstand.” As he spoke, Kieran absentmindedly flicked the paper of the matchbooks with his fingers, the faint sound echoing in the stillness as he made his way toward your room, the door slightly ajar. Each footstep thudded against the wooden floor.

“An’ how would ya know that?” Sean asked incredulously, narrowing his eyes as he observed Kieran kneeling beside the nightstand, the dim light casting shadows on his nervous expression.

“Well, um, I always come by to help out!” Kieran hurriedly defended himself, his gaze flickering nervously around the room, avoiding Sean's penetrating stare. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he reached into the small drawer and began plucking a few matchbooks from their arrangement.

“Are yew sure it’s just that and not yew bein’ some sort of pervert?” Sean challenged, his voice laced with playful suspicion. He leaned down, forcing Kieran to meet his eyes, which gleamed with mischief. “Looking through Father (Name)’s stuff just to get yer rocks off?”

“Of course not! Why on earth would I be nosy here?!” Kieran exclaimed, backing away slightly as the gravity of Sean's accusation hung in the air. “It’s not like (Name) has any secrets! Never met a more open book in my life!”

Sean paused, his intense gaze softening before bursting into laughter, filling the room. “I’m only pullin’ yer leg! But are yew sure, though? Not even a…” he teased, rummaging through the other drawers, tossing their contents with abandon. “Fancy little notebook where he writes all his fantasies?”

As Kieran watched Sean's antics, he felt like this was violating a lot of your privacy, even if Kieran had, in the past, taken a small peek into some of the other cabinets and drawers when he had the chance.

“(Name) doesn't have anything like that!” Sean huffed at Kieran’s words before going to the bedside table opposite Kieran. “Why cause ya checked?” Kieran groaned and denied it again.

“Wouldn’t that be somethin’? Desperate Father (Name) scribblin’ in a notebook about, I dunno, intense eye contact.” Both men knew they had done more with you but refrained from mentioning it. “I suppose…” both men left the room, minds wandering off thinking of you in such a state of need, and all you’d have to turn to was writing that raw emotion.

As if they could read it anyway.

—

Hosea placed a matchbook on each window next to a few candles. Last on your list was to gather some canned goods. And writing to avoid fresh fruit until the day before the storm.

‘I want them to last! So don’t worry about buying any!” The sun was setting as Lenny whispered, describing where you hid a little money to buy food cans.

Dutch saunters into your room, pushing the door open once again. Your room is peaceful; he can feel the calm wash over him. Dutch pulls a book from your shelf.

‘Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant’

Opening the book to the middle, Dutch slid the money into his hand before the pages caught his attention. A plethora of underlines and annotations from you. And the book itself kept him in.

You had philosophy books? And noted things about them? Looking more at the books on your shelf, over half were different philosophers and their ideas. Consequentialism, social contract theory, utilitarianism, divine command theory. Many things he had a vague idea of.

Hosea entered your room and eyed Dutch carefully. “Did you find the money okay?” Ditched nodded and slid the book back into your shelf. He’d absolutely had to speak to you about such things. He didn't see you as the philosophical type.

Hosea looked at the mess in your bed and sighed. You left in a rush, so he assumed you didn’t have time to fix it. Hosea tidied your bed by stepping over to the tangled mess of blankets and pillows. It was getting dark outside as each man left, Dutch and Hosea heading to the general store and the rest off to camp for the day.

[mystsee]

MY LOVE ✦ SIMON GHOST RILEY

¡FLUFFTOBER!

✦ about: simon was back from his mission with one purpose on his mind, you :D

✦ content: soft!simon, fluff, slight nsfw themes, make outs, established relationship, little anxiety, cuddles

✦ a.n: somehow seeing that ghost cosplay irl today gave a sudden burst of inspiration, INEEDTHATMAN

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

today was a very tiring work day, having to write a full written document of what was spoken in yesterday’s meeting was not tiring, but boring.

re listening the conversations at least 5x trying to understand what they where saying, sometimes the british folks in here tended to speak a bit fast, making it hard for you to understand whatever the heck they were discussing!

you could say, ever since simon left for that mission, you’ve been like a lost puppy around base. you’ve been used to just do everything with him next to you.

every time you sat down to work, there he was, by your side—sometimes even on his lap, your favorite place. his fingers would playfully trace patterns on your stomach, occasionally grabbing at the adorable rolls or gently pulling you closer, resting his face on your shoulder just watching whatever you were doing, sometimes even helping you when you were stressed or tired

it was like a sweet distraction, and his touch was nothing short of heavenly. his hands seemed to know the perfect spots, making every moment a delightful pause in your routine.

but now, you found yourself buried under the weight of the workload, yearning for the comforting touch that once turned mundane hours into blissful interludes.

the room echoed with the ticking of the clock, each passing second amplifying the anxiety that clung to your shoulders. the playful distractions had faded, replaced by a pressing realization that this night would be a lonely one.

you wanted to sleep, to escape the mounting pressure, but the looming uncertainty about simon’s return kept you on edge. the ache of not knowing when simon would be back or if he was okay gnawed at your nerves, pushing you to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

you craved his return more than ever. and simon was no different than you.

the separation, now stretching into a month, had carved an ache in his heart. each passing day fueled his anticipation, and the nights without you felt longer than ever. the need to have you back in his arms, to feel the warmth of your presence, became an insatiable craving.

now, on the plane back, he could almost taste the reunion. the hum of the engines seemed to sync with the rhythm of his heartbeat, both propelling him towards the destination that held the promise of your embrace.

his mind was a whirlwind of images – the way you'd smile when he surprised you, the laughter that echoed in shared spaces, and the softness of your presence as you slept in his arms.

as the plane carried him closer to you, his eagerness reached a crescendo. he was ready to step off that plane and into the warmth of your world, to wrap you in his arms and just keep you there forever.

and it almost seemed like that was about to become true. simon was out of the plane in an instant, the cold hitting his face but he didn’t care one bit, he just cared about finding you.

he just got rid of the big cold jacket and his vest, not wanting any barriers when he finally felt you again, went straight to your room. it was late already, close to midnight, you’d probably be sleeping he thought!

but it was quite the contrary, you were about to cry, it was the 10th time you heard this small 5 second fragment, and you couldn’t understand a shit, it was like he was speaking a whole other language, enough to make you frustrated.

you were on your desk, knees close your chest, head on top of your knees, and your index finger just clicking and clicking again everytime the audio stopped. it was making you mad.

two minutes later you just couldn’t anymore, your mind was overthinking about simon, simon and simon. gasping for breath, you needed fresh air, your feet carrying you to the backyards, a retreat from the suffocating walls. the chill in the air bit through, but the warmth of your fluffy sweatshirt provided a comforting shield.

meanwhile, Simon, nearing your hallway, was jarred by the abrupt slam of a door. curiosity knitted into his features as he wondered about the disturbance at such an hour. time seemed to pause when he turned the corner, catching sight of you. your world hanging on the precipice of a breakdown, weariness etched on your face as your gaze lingered on the ground.

unbeknownst to you, simon punctuated his steps more, you, lost in the swirl of your own emotions, remained oblivious until the familiar cadence of footsteps broke through your solitude. at the speed of light, your eyes flickered up, and there he was – your simon, making his way toward you.

"simon" you breathed out, a soft whisper escaping your lips. the astonishment painted across your face mirrored the surge of emotions within.

the uncertainty of when he would return made the sight of him standing before you, muscles defined beneath a black sweatshirt, feel like a dream. as you sprang running toward him, the anticipation built, and the tears you hadn't realized were brimming spilled over.

without a second thought, you dashed towards him, his arms already open wide for you. as your arms wound around he whispered “my love” in a voice so relieved that it melted away the distance and uncertainty.

as your faces drew near, his breath whispered against your hair, a whisper of promises and unwavering devotion.

“i missed you so so much lovie” said simon while hugging your head even closer to him. his voice sounded so soft it was even unreal to him.

his hands traced soothing circles on your back, a gesture so familiar and comforting. it was as if he was trying to convey all the love that words couldn’t capture.

but simon wanted more. he effortlessly lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. the world blurred as he spun you around, a gesture that felt like a dance in the moonlit night. his arms, a fortress of warmth, held you securely.

simon pressed you against him, his heart beating in tandem with yours. the fabric of your hoodie pressed against his sweatshirt, and the chill in the air was forgotten in the warmth of shared laughter.

as if memory muscle, your hands instinctively went to his balaclava, pulling it to the middle of his face, the familiarity of his lips, so soft and kissable, now revealed, made your heart swell.

without hesitation, you kissed him, pouring all the longing and joy of the past month into that single moment. it was a kiss filled with the weight of separation and the relief of reunion. his lips met yours in perfect harmony, and the world seemed to pause, allowing this shared ecstasy to unfold.

simon, in that moment, became not just a figure of your imagination during the lonely nights but a tangible reality, warm and alive.

in response to your passionate embrace, simon deepened the kiss, pulling you even closer as if trying to defy the very forces that separated you. his lips melded with yours, making all kind of noises of appreciation, of being back with you, making you even more needy to be near him.

he missed you as much as you missed him.

“i missed you so much simon” simon could hear the agitation from your voice. he knew you’d be having very heavy work this week, you had a very important meeting, a very important step in your career. yet simon couldn’t help but feel disappointed for not being there.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t there love” “don’t you worry about that simon” you said looking him straight to his eyes “all i care is that you’re here now” he saw you smile, the smile that made him all warm inside, the smile he absolutely loved seeing every morning.

“how about we take a shower big guy” simon just laughed, he came straight to see you he forgot he did just came in fact from the dessert, probably stinking.

the shower was filled with love, your hands expertly massaging tender spots on his back making simon groan from satisfaction. washing his hair, his face, his arms, all of him, every now and then just you clinging onto him to hug him for a few minutes. he was here again with you.

you two were basically one in that shower, not a small space in between you.

simon kept turning you over to help you “clean” yourself, but that just meant him just massaging your breasts, waist, bum, basically all the things he absolutely loved holding on to when you were distracted. and you laughing at him “you’re getting distracted again” “i’m sorry i just can’t deny them attention” you just rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny how much you loved the attention you were receiving hehe.

after cleaning up, simon changed into the hoodie you absolutely adored, and laid in bed waiting for you. he saw all your work piled up on your desk, clearly seeing the stress you were going through moments before he found you.

as you went outside the bathroom, you saw simon, literally waiting for you, patting his chest. your second favorite place. smiling you reached to his side, cuddling next to him, clinging like a koala, your leg on top of his hip, hands on his neck, the other under his back hair, just playing with it, making simon shiver once again from satisfaction.

"how was the dessert?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued about simon’s experience in a place you've never been, let alone lived in for a month. his voice, deep and resonant, rumbled like an earthquake, making you giggle.

"ugly as hell" came his reply, and you couldn't help but laugh at the honesty. "what do you mean? didn’t you see any camels?" you added playfully.

simon chuckled, his laughter carrying a hint of amusement. "oh, plenty of camels. i even tried to have a conversation with one, but they're not great at small talk."

you couldn't help but snicker at the mental image of simon engaged in a one-sided chat with a camel in the vast desert. the quirky exchange became a moment of shared laughter, turning the conversation about a "dessert" into a sweet and funny memory.

along the conversation, you shifted positions, now lying on your side, and simon followed suit. the moonlight painted the room in a gentle glow as simon’s fingers delicately played with strands of your hair. you were pressed against his chest, your leg draped over his hip, creating a cozy tableau that felt like a warm hug.

with a softness in his voice, simon began lulling you to sleep with tales of the mission. each word was a whispered melody, painting vivid pictures of his adventures that unfolded in the vast desert.

"imagine this," he began, his voice a blend of playfulness and warmth, "a camel giving me side-eye because I accidentally interrupted its afternoon siesta. i swear, I've never seen such a judgmental camel."

you couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image, feeling the vibrations of your laughter against simon’s chest. his tales continued, each one sprinkled with his unique sense of humor.

as his hands gently massaged your hips and traveled up to your chest, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of cuteness wash over you. the tenderness in his touch was a language of its own, expressing care and affection without uttering a word.

you found yourself in a dreamlike state, murmuring sweet nothings and declarations of love. "i love your hands" you blabbered, a smile playing on your lips as simon’s warmth enveloped you.

his heart swelled with affection, seeing your drowsy contentment. he absolutely loved how affectionate you became when you were sleepy.

simon, feeling the warmth of your love, whispered, "and you don't know how much I love you." the words lingered in the air, a sweet promise exchanged in the quiet of the night.

as sleep claimed you, simon held you close, savoring the precious moment of having you in his arms again. he slept like a baby, content in the embrace of love that had transcended the distance of a month, finding solace in the shared dreams and whispered affirmations that filled the night.

he felt complete again ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i live for soft simon 🥲 wishing i was reader rn, anyway!

hope i made this fluffy enough jiji!!!

[lettucing]

look of love, rush of blood

chapter three

words: ~8.8k | pairing: jschlatt x she/her afab reader

summary: With Schlatt and Ted's party now in full swing, you're drawn into a lively crowd of new faces- and taught more about one you're already familiar with.

notes: STRAP IN SCHLANNIES, IT'S A LONG ONE!!

1) the song mentioned during the balcony scene is meant to be no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys aka the song this fic was inspired by (go give it a listen if you're not familiar)!! there isn't really a 100% confirmed meaning behind the song, so i based it on my own interpretation & ones i've seen online in the past . 2) i went ham with some ramblings of adoration for new york bc i'd literally KILL to have a convo with schlatt about growing up here... so i hope u enjoy the lil peak into my new yawk mind... overall i find it super sweet and i'm pretty proud of how this chapter came out, i hope you enjoy :) !!!! <3

“So, what’s next?” Ted asks, glancing between you, Schlatt, and Joelle. A cheer erupts from down the hall, likely from the latest beer pong game. Schlatt shrugs, nodding toward the noise.

“Wanna play the next round?”

⭑

As the four of you make your way down the hallway into Schlatt’s living room, the air thrums with energy. Laughter, cheers, and the clink of plastic cups meld into a lively, chaotic symphony. At the center of it all stands the familiar grey folding table, where the current game of cup pong is clearly nearing its conclusion—just a few cups remain on each side. Schlatt steps forward, casually placing his phone on the edge of the table. “We’ve got next.” he announces, his tone easy as he gestures back towards where you were standing. One of the players glances up, meeting Schlatt’s gaze with a nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the game. Tension was high as the game came to a close, the team to the far end of the table sinking both of their final ping pong balls into the other team’s cups. The room erupts—half cheers, half groans—as the losers down the rest of the cups on the table. Ted steps between you and Joelle, walking closer to the table and clapping the winners on the back in congratulations.

Joelle flashes you a grin as she walks toward the table. After a round of quick hellos, she turns to you, giving a playful wave to draw you over. You smile awkwardly, realizing how comfortable Joelle is in this chaotic crowd. You wish you could be as easygoing, but it’s a challenge when everyone seems so... effortlessly at home. She gestures to you like a proud mother to the two vaguely-familiar men. This Y/N!” She faces you and Ted adds, “This is Charlie and Tucker, our other buddies staying at Schlatt’s for the week.” You glance at them with a smile, realizing you recognized them from the bar last week, though you hadn’t really taken them in until now. Both were shorter than Ted and Schlatt, with piercing blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. Charlie’s hair was messy and fluffy, one ear pierced, his gorgeous smile bright and inviting. Tucker had a classic short crew cut, with a solid build and muscle mass that was noticeable in the way he stood. He took a sip of his drink and nodded a casual hello.

Jesus, they were an attractive group of friends.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Charlie says, his smile warm and genuine. “Joelle was talking about you when we met. I remember seeing you chatting with Schlatt at the bar when we were heading out.” You manage a laugh, trying to hide your nervousness. “Yeah, I was taking a breather,” you reply, motioning toward Joelle. “This one makes me dance way too hard.”Joelle scoffs, but you notice the affectionate glint in her eyes. “Yeah, okay. I forced you to get out there and shake ass.” Her retort flusters you, and before you can respond, Schlatt’s voice booms from the opposite end of the table. “Hey, can we get this show on the road, please?”

Charlie pulls a face at you, his expression comical, as if to say ‘we were talking, but I guess I better move’. You smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll come back to this later. It was great meeting you.” “Yeah totally, same here!” he replies with a grin, stepping away. Meanwhile, Ted and Tucker dap eachother up as Ted strides over to join Schlatt at their side of the table.

“Alright, ladies and germs!” Ted bellows, his deep voice cutting through the room. “We’ve got me and the big guy versus these two lovely ladies—Y/N and Joelle!” 

The room erupts in cheers, shouts of “Yeah, Schlatt!” and “Let's go!” echoing throughout the room. One voice rises above the commotion, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Schlatt, I hope you lose!” 

A collective ‘oooooooh’ ripples through the crowd like you were in grade school again, followed by laughter and scattered claps. You follow the voice to its source, a guy with shaggy black hair and a bright pink hoodie leaning casually against the wall near the couch on Schlatt and Ted’s side of the table. A smirk stretches across his face, one that practically screams that he knows exactly what he’s doing. Schlatt’s head snaps to his right, locking onto the man like a hawk. “Oh, fuck you, dude. You’re just mad that me n’ Astrid smoked you so bad last time you had to lock yourself in the bathroom for half an hour to ‘take a breather’.” The man straightens, now fully standing and visibly pissed off. “Uh, yeah, because you cheated, asshole!” Schlatt spins away from the table to fully face him, arms flung wide in exaggerated disbelief. His voice rises, drawing a new wave of laughter and hoots from the room. “How the fuck do you cheat at beer pong, dumbass?!”

Ted steps in with the practiced calm of someone who’s seen this exact scenario play out more times than he can count. He grips Schlatt’s shoulders with the firm strength of someone who knows how to handle a hothead. “Alright, alright.” he mutters, his voice like the calm in the eye of a storm. Schlatt grumbles but doesn’t resist, muttering a final insult under his breath before turning back to the table. As the scene plays out, a blonde girl lounging on the couch on your side rolls her eyes, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “You guys are totally gonna destroy them.”

Joelle lights up, pointing at her with a grin. “Oh, I like this girl already.”

As the game kicks off, Ted and Schlatt waste no time, each sinking a shot with precision that draws a chorus of cheers. Groaning in defeat, you and Joelle lift your cups and take your drinks, the fizzy drink doing little to soften the sting of their early lead. From the other side of the table, Schlatt’s voice cuts through the noise, pointing a finger aimed squarely at the guy in the pink hoodie. “How’s that for losing, bitch?!” he shouts, his grin wide and triumphant, earning another round of laughter and hollers from the crowd.

 The more time you spent in the epicenter of the party, the more you noticed Schlatt’s shift in demeanor. It wasnt necessarily bad, just different- The way he’d spoken to you at the bar, or even how he’d just acted with you, Ted, and Joelle in the kitchen 20 minutes earlier, felt like a far cry from the boisterous, crowd-rousing host now commanding the room. The soft chuckles and understated gestures you’d grown familiar with were replaced by loud, triumphant cackles whenever he made a good play, and exaggerated mock-punches to the wall behind him whenever he fucked up. It was like watching a different side of him come alive, a version fueled by the energy of the crowd. You found yourself mesmerized, caught somewhere between amusement and intrigue. Schlatt seemed to feed off the energy in the room, thriving on the attention and laughter that followed his every move. He was magnetic in this setting, his booming voice and larger-than-life antics commanding the space effortlessly. And somehow, in the middle of all the chaos, his attention would occasionally flicker back to you—brief, fleeting glances that made your stomach flutter despite yourself.

Yet, even as he leaned into his role as the life of the party, you couldn’t help but wonder which version of him was closer to the real one—or if they both were, just in different contexts.

Before you even realized, the game was nearing its conclusion, and you were losing– you and Joelle’s one remaining cup facing Ted and Schlatt’s two. You glance at Joelle as she lines up for her second shot after missing the first, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. With a flick of her wrist, the ball arcs perfectly into the cup, drawing groans from the other side of the table. Joelle erupts in triumph, fist-pumping the air. “Let’s go!” she shouts, and you cheer alongside her as the two of you high-five. Schlatt scoffs dramatically, shaking his head as he grabs the cup and chugs his half before passing the rest to Ted. “Unbelievable.” he mutters under his breath. Ted gestures grandly toward the remaining cups, his voice dripping with confidence. “And it all comes down to this, my loves.” he purrs, picking up his own drink from the floor and chugging the rest in one smooth motion.

The pet name catches you off guard, a flutter of warmth spreading through your chest before you can suppress it. You know it's just part of Ted's natural charm, but this time it got to you. You glance at Joelle, who’s already looking at you with an expression that perfectly mirrors your own flustered amusement. Leaning into each other, the two of you dissolve into tipsy giggles. You don’t notice how Schlatt elbows Ted lightly, the glare he shoots his friend anything but playful—daggers sharp enough to kill. Ted responds with a questioning look, his brows raising slightly in surprise. You and Joelle turn back to the table just as they both snap out of it, the moment passing like a whisper in the noise of the room. Ted steps forward, lining up his final shot with exaggerated focus.

Ted steadies his hand, the room falling into a brief, charged silence as everyone watched his every move. “Let’s do it, baby!” he shouts as he tosses the ball, and for a split second, it feels like time slows…

It misses, bouncing off the rim of the cup and onto the floor. A chorus of exaggerated groans erupts around the room, followed by a round of laughter. Ted puts his hands on his head. “No! Fuck!” He looks at Schlatt, who has squatted on the ground with his head in his hands. “Oh my fucking god. Ted.” You hear him mutter. After a moment he stands up, pointing at the ball on the ground. “Go get the ball. I’m gonna show you how a real fuckin’ man wins beer pong.” Ted scoffs as he grabbed the ball and slapped it into Schlatt’s open hand. “Alright, Mr. Beer Pong Prodigy, take your shot and save us all.”

 Schlatt shot him a pointed look before focusing on the shot. “I got this, man.” He tossed the ball with exaggerated precision, only for it to bounce off the rim and onto the floor the same way Ted’s shot had landed. The room erupted in laughter as Schlatt shouted a pained “Fuck!” and dragged a hand down his face. “Oh my god. Oh my god!” 

The other guests roared with laughter, some clutching their sides as Schlatt groaned dramatically, pacing back and forth like the weight of the world had just crushed him. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, dragging both hands down his face now. Ted can't contain his amusement, his grin stretching wider as he pats Schlatt on the back. “You really showed us how it’s done, buddy,” he says through laughs. He slings an arm over Schlatt’s shoulder, the picture of faux sympathy. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll get ‘em next time.” Schlatt just glares. “Shut up, Ted.” he snapped, but there was no real bite to his words. His expression softened into a begrudging grin as he looked around at the still-laughing crowd. “Alright, alright, everyone get it out of your system. Y’ act like you’ve never seen a man miss before.”

Joelle leans over to you with a grin as the commotion settles, offering you the ping-pong ball. “You wanna land our winning shot?” You glance at her, mischievous grin matching your own, and take the ping-pong ball from her. The lack of weight to it feels strangely significant. “I’ll try not to disappoint.” you say with a wink, straightening up and focusing on the cups across the table. Joelle’s volume lowers as she steps back, her voice teasing. “No pressure, right? You’ve got this.” The room falls into a tense silence, every pair of eyes locked on you. Not a single word is spoken, the only sound filling the air is the low thrum of the music. Ted and Schlatt, still recovering from their earlier fuck-ups, glance at each other before turning their focus back to you, half-smiles tugging at their lips. Schlatt lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms with exaggerated patience. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” he says, his tone a mix of challenge and curiosity.

You line up the shot, taking a deep breath as you focus on the farthest cup— the last remaining. For a split second, the world narrows to just you, the ball, and the target. You feel Joelle’s eyes on you, focusing on her familiar gaze to distract you from everyone else’s. You flick your wrist, sending the ball sailing through the air in a perfect arc. Time seems to stretch for another moment. The ball hits the rim of the cup, bounces, and then... 

swishes straight in.

The room bursts into cheers and laughter, the tension melting away. You and Joelle scream in surprise, throwing your arms around each other in a tight embrace. The victory feels surreal, the rush of it hitting you both all at once. You exchange wide grins, your laughter blending as you high-five. It’s just a game—a houseparty match of beer pong, something you’ve played a hundred times before back in college. No grand prize, no tangible reward for your effort—but for some reason, this win feels different. It’s a small, stupid, fleeting triumph, yet it’s worth every bit of emotional celebration. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Joelle says, pulling you into another hug, her excitement matching yours. “Now that’s how it’s done!” Ted’s booming voice cuts through the noise, and you glance over to see him grinning like a maniac.“Who’s fucking team are you on, man?!” Schlatt’s voice rings out in response, cutting through the rising clamor of the room. His frustrated tone is at odds with the rest of the celebration, but there’s a playful bite to it that keeps the atmosphere light. “What’d I say? Fuck you, Schlatt!” The guy in the pink hoodie shouts once again, his voice loud above the laughter. You catch a flicker of anger flash in Schlatt’s eyes, but it evaporates just as quickly, replaced by a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders. “I’m not even… going to dignify that with a response.”

You glance at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. He’s standing at the table, shaking his head dramatically with arms crossed as he glares between you and Ted. Ted just shrugs, clearly unfazed by his friend’s attitude. “C’mon, man. She crushed it. You can’t even be mad.” He rubs Schlatt’s shoulder in consolement but Schlatt just grunts, trying (and failing) to suppress a grin. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Schlatt mutters through his grin. “Alright, alright, you got us. I’ll give it to you.” He pauses as he and Ted down the last two cups of beer, then continues. “But next time, I’m gonna win.” You chuckle, the playful back-and-forth easing any tension that had lingered. “We’ll see about that.” you reply, not quite able to hide the pride in your voice.

As the excitement begins to fade, the crowd starts to scatter, some heading to the kitchen for more drinks. The hum of conversation and laughter fills the space, but it’s quieter now, more laid-back. Joelle nudges you with a playful grin. “That was awesome.” she says, still grinning from the rush of the game. You smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment settle in. “Yeah, it definitely felt good to land that shot.” you say, glancing at Ted and Schlatt as they talked. Joelle throws an arm around your shoulders. “I think we’ve earned a drink, don’t you?” With a laugh and a nod, you both head toward the kitchen, leaving the boys to their chat and their mock threats of revenge. The night is still young, and for now, you’re savoring every second of it.

You and Joelle mixed well into the crowd, getting the chance to properly introduce yourselves to the other guests and chatting as everyone refilled their cups. You reconnect with Charlie, the two of you talking about winning and Schlatt being a “little bitch” when it came to losing (Charlie’s words, not yours).

"Seriously, though, Schlatt's the worst." Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “The guy acts like he just lost the Super Bowl, not a beer pong game at his own party.” You chuckle, agreeing. “Yeah, he doesn’t handle it well. But, hey, you gotta respect the passion.” Charlie raises an eyebrow and laughs. "Passionate is definitely a word for it. I thought he was about to flip the fuckin’ table." You both laughed as you caught sight of Schlatt entering the room, joining a conversation by the fridge as he grabbed a Corona. There was a lighthearted edge to the way he was speaking now, the frustrated glint of defeat in his eyes now replaced with something sweeter. 

As the crowd around you settled into a relaxed rhythm, mingling and chatting, you couldn’t help but feel the growing ease of the atmosphere. Joelle had joined another group, deep in conversation, and you could feel her occasional glances toward you—she was definitely enjoying the night as much as you were. Then, the music blared louder, pumping new energy into the room. The guy Schlatt had been playing with when you first arrived—Ludwig, you’d learned his name was (thanks, Charlie)—leaned casually against the doorframe, fist raised in the air as he called out to the crowd. “Me and the boys are about to throw down for the next round of pong if anyone wants to spectate!” His voice carried a playful, almost frat-bro energy, drawing a few chuckles from those nearby. 

You shrug and follow Joelle, Ted, and Charlie back into the living room, where the couch had cleared. The four of you claimed the spot, sinking into the plush cushions as Schlatt and Tucker lingered behind with a few others. “Jesus, Schlatt, this couch is amazing,” Joelle commented, her voice full of admiration. Schlatt grinned, clearly pleased. “Thanks. The one thing I don’t skimp on is furniture. Right, Ted?” Ted rolled his eyes in response, and you guessed the topic was a sore subject between the two of them. “Man, I loved that stupid, shitty couch.” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back, clearly amused by the memory. You smile. “Well, now you gotta tell us about the couch.”

⭑

The night continued to unfold around you, the energy of the party shifting in waves. Conversations ebbed and flowed, the sound of laughter mixing with the steady thump of the music. You and Joelle played a few more rounds of beer pong, each match feeling like a new burst of adrenaline. The guys joined in, with Ted and Tucker teaming up against Schlatt and Charlie at one point. The game was a mess of playful banter and competitive energy, but in the end, Ted and Tucker claimed victory, raising their hands in triumph. “It’s all about childhood friendship and smoking weed, baby!” Ted declared, a grin plastered across his face as Tucker laughed and exclaimed with a “hell yeah!”.

With each drink, you felt more at ease, connecting with the new faces around you. The chill music, the spectating comments on the current game of beer pong that Joelle was participating in, and the hockey game that someone had turned the TV onto at some point all blended into the perfect mix of sounds and visuals to keep your tipsy brain entertained. You were having a good time—until, out of nowhere, the familiar buzz of inebriation began to feel a little too heavy, almost suffocating. You shifted in your seat, your whole body feeling hot as the warmth settled a bit too deep. The chatter around you faded into a low hum, and the bright lights from the TV flickered in your peripheral vision, making the room feel like it was spinning just slightly. Joelle’s laughter from across the room was comforting, but a throb began to pulse behind your temples.

Your gaze shifted to the sliding glass door in the back of the living room—was that a balcony?

Without thinking twice, you pushed yourself up from your seat. “I hope it’s okay to go out there,” you thought. “But honestly, I’ll deal with asking Schlatt for forgiveness if it means I’m not about to pass out right in the middle of his party.” You excused yourself quietly, slipping away from the couch and weaving through the crowd. 

As you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air hit you like a wave, the sharp contrast to the warmth of the party a welcome relief. Ahead of you, Manhattan stretched out in all its glory, sparkling like a thousand diamonds. The city you loved so much seemed to pulse in rhythm with the distant hum of life, its lights twinkling like stars in the dark sky. The view was breathtaking, made even more mesmerizing by your tipsy haze. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the coolness settle against your skin, trying to force your body back into some semblance of normal. It’s just the buzz, you tell yourself. It’ll pass. You’re fine. Just need a minute.

Leaning against the railing, you took a long, steady breath, letting the fresh air clear the fog in your mind. It felt good to be outside, away from the noise, even if just for a few minutes. The city around you was a quieter companion from this high up and this late at night, offering a softer exchange between you and the view. The muffled sound of music filtered through the glass door behind you, but out here, it was just the steady rhythm of the night, calming and still. Peaceful. And as the dizziness finally began to lift and your thoughts started to settle, you instantly felt ten times better. You shoot a quick text to Joelle to tell her where you had gone in the midst of her beer pong frenzy.

Suddenly, you hear the door slide open behind you. You turned, expecting it to be someone you didn’t really know and preparing for an awkward conversation, but your breath caught in your throat as you realized who’s gaze you were meeting.

Schlatt.

He stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door closed behind him as he handed you a water bottle. "Needed some air too?" he asked, his tone easy. You nodded, offering a small smile as you took the water bottle from him, cracking it open and taking a sip. The water was so cold it almost burned on the way down like the liquor had. "Thank you." you said, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, i’m good. Just needed a break. Things were... getting a little too much in there." You paused, glancing toward the view before adding with a small chuckle, "I hope it’s okay I came out here. Figured this was a better option than testing how far down the elevator went before I started puking trying to get out to the street for fresh air.” Schlatt let out a short laugh, leaning against the railing beside you, his broad shoulders easing into a relaxed pose. “You’re good, that was definitely the better option.” he said with a grin, lifting his water bottle to his mouth for a quick sip. His eyes flicker over you, usual confident demeanor fading into something a little softer. “You’re alright, though? I mean, aside from needin’ a breather?” “Yeah,” you said, leaning forward on the railing, letting the cool metal press against your arms. “It was just a lot all at once, you know? But this…” You nodded toward the city skyline, the lights twinkling. “This helps.” 

“It does,” he agrees. “I grew up here—well, in Brooklyn—and it still gets me sometimes. There’s something about it that just… puts things into perspective. Makes everything feel smaller.”

You turned your head to look at him, catching the way the city’s glow reflected in his eyes. For someone who could dominate a room with his sharp humor and larger-than-life presence, there was something grounding about seeing him like this—still and thoughtful, at ease in the quiet. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s something different in the way Schlatt looks at you now. It’s not a look of teasing or competition, like the one you’d seen during beer pong. This feels... more focused, as if he’s studying you, watching how you breathe in the night air, how your posture relaxes now that you’re away from the crowd. You catch yourself holding your breath, wondering if he notices too.

“Didn’t peg you as the reflective type.” you teased, your tone light.

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into that familiar, playful grin. “Don’t let it fool you,” he shot back, his voice a little more relaxed, the playful glint returning to his gaze. “I’m not about to start journaling or writing poetry or anything. I just… like to take a minute when I can.”

There was a surprising honesty in his words that caught you off guard. It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d expect him to admit, and yet it felt so natural in the moment. You smiled softly, nodding. “I get it. I’m from here too.” His gaze flicked back to you, curiosity sparking in his expression. “Yeah? Explains the attitude.” he quipped, his grin widening. You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Yeah, you’re one to talk. I saw you playing beer pong, I bet you road rage like that, too.” Schlatt let out a bark of laughter, his grin stretching wider. “Road rage? What road rage? Please. I’m a model driver. Always have been.” You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure you are. Bet you’re the guy laying on the horn the second the light turns green.” He shook his head, trying to look indignant but failing miserably, smirking instead. “Nah, I give people at least a solid two seconds. It’s called being considerate.” “Generous,” you teased, leaning on the railing again, your words a bit slower as the alcohol fully settled. “So, what’s worse? Losing at beer pong or getting cut off in traffic?” “Oh, definitely losing at beer pong,” he said without hesitation, his words a little more drawn out than usual. “I can get over some idiot cutting me off on the Belt, but losing? To Ted and Tucker of all people? That’ll haunt me for weeks.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.” He shrugged, unapologetic, his shoulders dropping with a lazy ease that matched his smile. “What can I say? I’m competitive. Comes with the territory.” “Yeah, okay,” you said with a chuckle, the sound light and carefree.

“Anyways,” Schlatt said after a beat, his tone lighter but curious. “You always lived in New York?” 

“Pretty much.” you said, turning to face him, the city lights blurry at the edges of your vision. “Born and raised, though I moved around a bit for school and work before coming back. Couldn’t stay away for long, though. I’m not from the city or anything, I’m about an hour and a half out, but I’ve always loved it here. It’s always just… called to me. It has that pull, you know?” He nodded, a knowing look in his eyes, and you noticed the way his eyes squinted just a little more than usual, like he was trying to keep focus. “Yeah. No matter where you go, it’s always in the back of your head, isn’t it? Like it’s waiting for you to come back.” “Exactly,” you said, surprised at how perfectly he’d put it, the words coming easier than they should. You studied him for a moment, curiosity pulling at you. “What about you? Do you ever think about leaving?”

Schlatt tilted his head as he considered the question, his gaze drifting just a little. “I did, for a while.” he admitted, his words slower now, each one weighed with thought. “I lived in Texas for a few years, in Austin. Thought I loved it, but I realized after way too long that it was a shithole, and I missed my life here. Maybe I'd leave again once I’m retired, but it’s hard to imagine. New York’s in my blood, you know? Even when it drives me nuts, it’s home.” You smiled. “Guess that makes you a true New Yorker, huh?” “Damn right.” he said, raising his water bottle in a mock toast. “And don’t you forget it.”

The two of you met gazes, and for the first time all night, you really, truly looked at him. 

It’s not the playful teasing or the loud, larger-than-life energy of Schlatt’s party-host persona that stands out now. In this quiet moment, there’s something different about him—more grounded, more present, almost like you’re back at the bar with him. His eyes, usually sharp and full of confidence, are softer now, more thoughtful, like he’s letting his guard down just a little. His expression is calm, and you realize how much this side of him contrasts with the guy who had been the center of attention just hours ago. For a moment, the noise from inside fades into the background, and the only sound is the soft hum of the city around you. It’s a strange feeling—one that pulls at something deeper. You feel it in the air between you, a subtle shift that catches you both off guard. Schlatt’s lips twitch, like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t, and neither do you. Instead, he takes a small step back from the railing, running a hand through his hair, the casual gesture almost self-conscious. “Well… anyway,” he says, his voice pulling back into that familiar, confident tone, but slower now. “You feelin’ better?” You smile, a soft chuckle escaping you. “Oh, yeah. Definitely still kinda drunk, but better.” you reply, a little hesitant to break the tense moment, but knowing that’s what he was trying to do. Still, there’s something about it—the way he subtly shifts back, like he's putting the walls up again—that lingers in the air, unspoken. You turn back toward the door, the party still going on inside, waiting. But there’s a part of you that knows this conversation, this small break in the night, will stay with you longer than the noise that surrounds it.

"Hey, why is it that we only seem to cross paths like this when we're both kinda drunk?" Schlatt asks, ending with a hearty laugh, breaking the silence. You laugh at his question, not fully realizing how true that was until you heard it out loud. “I dunno. Maybe it’s fate.” “Fate, huh? You believe in that shit?" You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe? I kinda like the idea that everything I’m supposed to become is out there waiting for me, but I’d also like to think I still have some say in the matter too.” You take a sip of your water. “What about you? D’you think this gorgeous penthouse with one of the best views of Manhattan has just been sitting here waiting for you for 25 years?” you ask, gesturing around the apartment.

He laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, hell no. The last guy who lived here killed himself in the bathroom. If the universe's been subconsciously calling me to live here, I’m pretty sure it’s not setting me up for anything good." You freeze for a moment, eyes wide in disbelief. He chuckles at your reaction, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm kidding." You roll your eyes, shaking your head. "You're ridiculous." He grins, shrugging. "Yeah, I know."

 As silence settles back over the two of you, you hear a familiar song begin playing from inside. The lyrics are muffled, but the beat is unmistakable. You smile, turning your head toward the music. “Did you make this playlist?” Schlatt’s brow furrows slightly at the question, his smile shifting to one of mild confusion. “Yeah, actually. Why? You not feeling it?” You grin. “No, quite the opposite. I love this song.” His eyebrows raise, and you raise your hand to your mouth in a mock-microphone pose, singing along to the lyrics you can barely piece together but know by heart. Schlatt grins and joins in quietly. As the first verse ends, you both dissolve into laughter.

“That was so stupid,” you say, still giggling as you catch your breath. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah, don’t apologize. It wasn't stupid. It was cute.” The blush creeping up your neck betrays you once again, and you turn slightly, letting the music fill the space between you. 

Did he just say cute?

Schlatt’s voice breaks the quiet before you have time to think about it. “Kinda funny that this song’s playing right now, huh?” You glance over your shoulder at him, curiosity sparked. “Why?” He hesitates, his fingers drumming lightly against the plastic bottle in his hand. “Do you know what the song’s actually about?” You shake your head. He draws a short breath, almost like he’s steadying himself. “It’s, uh… it’s about meeting a girl at a party who seems so cool, so out of reach, that you end up just waiting around for the perfect song to come on to give you the nerve to go talk to her.”

Your lips part slightly, the weight of his words settling in the space between you. The air feels different now—charged, as though the universe itself had leaned in closer to eavesdrop. “Yeah?” you ask, your voice softer, a little unsure, as you met his gaze. He nods, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, like he’s testing the waters. “Yeah.”

The world around you seemed to blur at the edges, softened by the gentle haze of the night and your tipsy state. His deep brown eyes, framed by long, delicate lashes, held your gaze effortlessly. As your eyes traced the contours of his face, you found yourself memorizing every freckle, every mole, every faint line etched by laughter and time, all illuminated by the soft glow of the dim light. That warm blush was still ever present across your cheeks, now unmistakable even in the chill of the night. Part of you hoped he’d chalk it up to the cold, but a quieter, bolder part of you almost wished he wouldn’t.

“Hey, would you-” He speaks, words hanging heavy in the air, thick with tension between the two of you. “Would you maybe wanna go get dinner sometime?”

The words hung in the air, their weight settling between you like something fragile and precious. You could feel your pulse quicken, the warmth in your chest spreading outward as his gaze softened just slightly, waiting for your response. Your lips parted, but no words came at first. His question had been so simple, yet it felt like the most important thing in the world. You couldn't help but smile, a little nervous, a little breathless, but entirely captivated by the way he was looking at you, the way he seemed to be hanging on your answer.

Yes please, absolutely, a million times yes.

Before you could manage to squeeze out your answer, the door behind you slides open. Both you and Schlatt turn toward the sound, breaking the moment. A shorter guy steps out, sunglasses perched on his head and a Switch controller in hand. You recognize him vaguely from earlier—Connor, maybe? “Hey, Sch—oh, shit, sorry if I’m interrupting,” he blurts, pausing as he takes in the scene. “I was just sent to tell you Hasan’s heading out and wants to say goodbye.”

Schlatt sighs, a deep red flush settling over his face as he stands from leaning his forearms on the railing. “Of course he does.” he mutters under his breath. He flashes a quick look at you, his expression softening for just a split second. “I’ll be right back.” he adds, before turning toward Connor and walking inside. Schlatt walks off, and Connor just looks at you. “You comin’ in?” He asks, and you nod. “Yeah, thank you.”

You glance at your phone, your heart skipping as you realize it’s nearly 3 AM—how long had you been outside? You start to think it’s probably time to find Joelle and head back to your apartment. The time spent outside, combined with the water bottle Schlatt had brought you and the emotional conversation you’d just shared, definitely sobered you up a bit—but any progress you had made had immediately been thrown off by Schlatt’s question, head now spinning for an entirely different reason. Nerves? Excitement? Maybe both?

 Glancing around, you notice that several people had already left, leaving a smaller group huddled on the couches, engrossed in a video game. As you scanned the crowd, your brain zeroed in and focused when you realized Joelle was nowhere to be seen. You take a step forward, then stop in your tracks, scanning the room for a face you could confidently put a name to. You spot Tucker leaning against the wall, and quickly make your way over. “Hey, do you know where Joelle went?” you ask. “Oh, she passed out on the couch earlier.” Your stomach tightens, and you must’ve made a face because he quickly adds, “Oh, not like, passed out-passed out. Just fell asleep.” He gestures toward the hallway. “Ted took her to the guest room to let her chill. It’s the second door on the left.” Relief washes over you, though it doesn’t completely extinguish your nerves. “Okay, cool. Thank you.” 

As you turn toward the hallway, unease creeps back in. You try to shake it off, telling yourself it’s nothing, but the thought lingers: hopefully, everything’s fine. Approaching the dimly lit hallway, you spot a door left slightly ajar. You cross your fingers, hoping it’s the right room—and hoping even more that you’re not about to walk in on something you’ll wish you hadn’t seen. Taking a slow breath, you nudge it open just enough to peek inside. The room is dim, bathed in the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. Relief washes over you as you see Joelle, fully clothed, peacefully sprawled on the bed. Her head rests gently in Ted's lap, and he looks up at you as the door creaks open. His fingers are gently threading through her hair, playing with it absentmindedly as he scrolls through his phone. "Hey.” he says, a soft smile forming on his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hey." you reply, matching his quiet tone to avoid waking Joelle as you move over to sit on the edge of the bed, near her legs.

“She’s fine,” he says quietly, preempting any questions. “Just needed a place to crash. She conked out waiting for her turn on Mario Kart.” You give a small nod, the tension in your shoulders easing a little. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Thanks for making sure she’s okay.” you say softly. Ted’s eyes flicker toward Joelle before returning to you, his voice still quiet but steady. “Yeah, no problem. She’s a sweetheart.” You smile at his words, feeling a warmth settle over you in the quiet of the room. “Yeah, she is.” you agree, glancing at Joelle again, her chest rising and falling with every soft breath.

After a moment, you break the silence. “We should probably get going soon.” You place a hand on Joelle’s leg, rubbing it gently to wake her up. “Hey, Jelly.” you call softly, volume at a slightly higher level. She stirs, letting out a small grunt, and Ted chuckles under his breath. “Hmmm…? Y/N?” she murmurs, blinking slowly as she starts to wake up. “Yeah, it’s me.” You respond, smiling. “We’re still at Schlatt’s, you fell asleep. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to wake up, but we’re gonna head out soon, okay?” She sighs, rubbing her eyes. “Okay.” As she opens them, her gaze flicks through a few emotions before settling into a grin when she realizes she’s lying in Ted’s lap. “Oh hey, cutie.” she says, her voice light. Ted lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh hey, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes, smiling playfully as you stood up from the bed. “Okay, I’ll be back for you in ten minutes. I better not catch any funny business when I come back!” you say, adopting a mock parental tone. Joelle giggles, and as you turn to leave, you throw them an accusatory glance through the crack in the door. “I see everything.” you mutter, closing the door softly behind you with a smile. You turn your back to the wall, sliding down until you're sitting on the floor. You pull your phone out and scroll for a moment, but before you can get too lost in it, you hear the sound of a door shutting at the opposite end of the hall.

“What’s goin’ on over here?”

You look up to find Schlatt walking toward you with a beer in hand, that familiar grin on his face. You can't help but smile in return. “Another beer? You might wanna slow down there, dude.” He scoffs, closing the distance and sliding down to sit against the opposite wall. He bends one leg to fit across from you in the narrow hallway. “I’m 6’3 and 250 pounds. It takes a lot more than what I’ve had tonight to get me drunk.” You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh as he finishes the sentence with a small hiccup. “Right.” 

Changing the subject, you gesture behind you toward the guest room. “Ted and Joelle are in there,” you explain. “She fell asleep on the couch earlier, so he was just keeping an eye on her while she napped. We’re heading out soon, but I figured I’d give her a few minutes to wake up and say her goodbyes. I told them no funny business.” Schlatt takes a swig of his beer, eyes narrowing. “There better not be any funny business. I’ll kick Ted’s ass if he tries anything in my house.” You laugh, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

 “Thank you for inviting us,” you say, your gaze meeting his again. He smiles. “Yeah, anytime. Although, I’m not sure how many more parties like this I’ll be throwing. I’ve been over it for the last, like, two hours.” he adds, a slight weariness in his tone. You grin. “The curse of being the life of the party, huh?” He nods. “Yep. Guess so.” The smile still lingers on his lips, but his eyes carry a different weight, something hidden beneath the surface of his words.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with a quiet, hopeful curiosity. “Yeah, I did!” you reply with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the night settle around you. “I was pretty nervous at first, with Joelle and I being the only ones who didn’t know everyone else, but it worked out. Everyone was super nice.” He nods. “Good. I’m glad.” The two of you sit there together, the hum of the party still floating through the air from the living room. You notice him absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of his crewneck, his gaze distant as though his thoughts are far away. Before you can ask what’s going on in that (frustratingly unreadable) mind of his, his eyes flick up to meet yours– that confident glint you recognized from earlier was back. 

“About what i asked earlier.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he continued. “I know I pointed out how we’ve only ever crossed paths while we’re getting drunk, but.. I dont need the alcohol to want to hang out with you. You’re cool, you’re easy to talk to, i just…” he pauses. “Would really like to see you while i’m not already four beers deep. And that’s crazy coming from me, ‘cause I love to drink.” he ends the sentence with a small laugh, and you smile, looking away from him to distract from the major blush creeping across your face. 

Was this seriously happening? The handsome guy you met at the bar last week, the one who was textbook-definition your type, texted you all week, invited you to his party, and now was asking you on a date? Not to mention, your best friend was currently getting into it with his best friend. Either the universe was answering every prayer you’d ever sent its way, or it was setting you up for the most gloriously humbling disaster of your life.

Pulling yourself from your swirling thoughts, you glance back at him. There’s a flicker of nerves in his expression, something endearing and almost vulnerable. You smile, letting your words tumble out before overthinking them.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

He raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching into a playful grin. “‘I’d like that’? I work up all this courage to ask you out on a completely stone cold sober date, and all you’ve got for me is, ‘I’d like that’?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a diva.” Crossing his arms, he leans back against the wall, the familiar shit-eating grin spreading across his face like it never left. “Nah, I wanna hear you say it.” You shoot back. “Are you serious?” “Dead fuckin’ serious,” he replies, nodding with feigned seriousness, the laughter already breaking through his voice. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Fine. Yes, Schlatt, I’ll go on a date with you.” “Sober?” he presses, his tone teasing but his eyes sparkling with real amusement. “Yes,” you reply, drawing out the word dramatically. “Completely sober. I promise.” He nods, his grin softening into something almost boyish. “Alright. That’s what I like to hear.”

He leans back against the wall, clearly pleased with himself, and takes a sip of his beer. You can’t help but shake your head, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch him. The room feels a little warmer, the noise fading into the background as the moment lingers between you.

“So,” you tease, breaking the silence, “where does a guy like you take someone on a sober date?” Schlatt smirks, tilting his head as if he’s deep in thought. “Oh, you know, somewhere real high end for you. Probably a dive bar—” he lets out a fake wince. “Wait, can’t do that. Forgot the ‘sober’ part.” You laugh, sticking him with a soft punch to the leg. “Very funny.” He chuckles, the sound low and easy. “You know me.” 

The two of you sit, chatting and laughing, the hallway conversation stretching longer than you’d realized. A glance at your phone jolts you back to reality: 3:54 AM. “Jesus, okay, I really need to go home. Where’s my roommate?” you mutter, pushing yourself up from the floor.Schlatt stands as well, adjusting his crewneck as he pushes off from the wall. You turn to the door of the guest room, knocking lightly. When no response comes, you knock again, louder this time. Still nothing. Schlatt rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. Let’s go, Ted. Let the poor woman go home.” Without hesitation, he grabs the handle and swings the door open. 

Both of you freeze. 

Joelle is straddling Ted’s lap on the edge of the bed, the two completely lost in a heated make-out session. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Schlatt blurts, shielding his eyes dramatically. “Didn’t Y/N specifically say no funny business?!” Joelle pulls back, breathless but grinning sheepishly, while Ted groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Could’ve knocked.” Ted mutters. “I Did! Twice!” you exclaim, throwing your hands in the air with a smile of disbelief. Schlatt crosses his arms. “Honestly, Ted, this is just embarrassing. Under my roof? I’d say you’re better than this, but i think we both know that’d be a dirty fuckin’ lie.” 

Joelle laughs, still perched on Ted’s lap, clearly unbothered. “Alright, alright, you’ve caught us. Let me grab my stuff, and we’ll head out,” she says, sliding off Ted and smoothing her hair with zero urgency. Ted huffs, his cheeks flushed as he stands, adjusting himself and shooting Schlatt a pointed look—half sheepish, half murderous, as if to say I’m going to strangle you for this. Schlatt, of course, is utterly unfazed, leaning further into this mock-authoritative dad persona. “You are not sleeping in that bed tonight.” Schlatt says, leveling a dramatic finger at him. “Clean sheets, Ted. You don’t deserve them.” Ted throws his hands up in frustration, though his smirk betrays his disamusement. “Fine. Couch it is. Happy, Dad?” “Ecstatic,” Schlatt fires back, his smug grin growing. “Now get the fuck ‘outta here before you traumatize Y/N and I any further.” Ted scoffs. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t done worse in less respectable places.” he continues as he saunters out of the room. Schlatt’s grin widens, unrepentant as he follows his friend out. “Yeah, but I don’t get caught. Rookie mistake, my man.”

You shake your head, still laughing as Joelle grabs her bag and slips on her shoes. “God, they’re worse than us,” she mutters, rolling her eyes affectionately and flashing you a grin. “Seriously,” you snicker, motioning her toward the door. “Let’s get out of here before whatever they’ve got rubs off on us. I’m not ready to start sucking at beer pong too.”

As you step back into the main room, only a small group of people remains, gathered around the couches and fixated on a YouTube video playing on the TV—its chaotic humor incomprehensible out of context. You and Joelle make your way over to say your goodbyes, exchanging a few high-fives and Instagram handles along the way. It warms your heart to hear that these creative, talented content creators enjoyed your company as much as you did theirs. You bid your dramatic goodbye to Ted, who you actually found yourself becoming a lot better friends with than you expected. He was a goofball, but he was genuine. 

As you turn, you spot Schlatt leaning against the wall next to the front door, his gaze fixed on you. A small smile tugs at your lips as you approach him. “So,” he says with a grin, his voice low and easy. “how’s next Wednesday at 6:30 sound?”

 Your heart flutters at the thought—Schlatt, actually taking you out on a date.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, a smile playing on your lips. “Where are we going?” He shrugs, his grin shifting to something more sheepish. “Honestly? I have no idea yet. Didn’t expect to get this far. But I’ll let you know.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Right.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ted and Joelle exchanging hugs and saying their final goodbyes. You glance back at Schlatt, warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest unmistakable—and for once, it’s not the result of alcohol. 

“Well,” you say softly, holding his gaze, “thank you for the party. I’ll talk to you later, and…” You smile sweetly, your voice light. “I’ll see you Wednesday at 6:30.” Schlatt’s grin widens, and his eyes light up in a way that makes your cheeks flush. “I’ll be there.” You scoff playfully. “You better. I know where you live now—I’ll find you.” Schlatt smirks, stepping aside to open the door for you. “Yeah, I bet.” 

You take a step back, lingering just a moment longer. “Goodnight, Schlatt.” He smiles, leaning on the doorframe, Ted looming behind him. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He extends a goodnight to Joelle as well, and the two of you set off down towards the elevators.

As you hear the door latch behind you, Joelle nudges you with her elbow. “That was cute, what was that?” You grin, still feeling the warmth of the moment. “God, Joelle, I have so much to tell you.”

← last chapter

[thesimstree]

A Marriage Proposal in The Sims: 6 Unique Ideas

In The Sims 4, you have countless ways to turn this moment into a magical story! From mountaintop engagements to cozy at-home proposals, from romantic boat rides to mysterious quests – every couple can find their perfect way to say "yes".

Let’s start with a small collection of mods and poses that can help bring each of these scenarios to life:

– Engagement Ring Purchase Mod by Zero

– Engagement Announcement Mod by @missyhissysims

– Enhanced Proposal Reactions Mod by @thatssojordy

– Romantic Conversation Poses by che

– Adorably Sweet Proposal Poses by @talentedtrait

– Photo Pack for Showcasing the New Ring by @ashlegacies

– Scattered Rose Petals for the Perfect Setting by @thesimsbaddie

– A Stunning Engagement Ring by @feyona 

A Proposal on the Top of Mt. Komorebi

– Glowing "Marry Me" Sign by @simspirationbuilds

Your Sims had been preparing for this hike for a long time – carefully packing their backpacks, choosing the safest route. That evening, they set up camp at the mountain’s base, lit a campfire, and gazed at the stars, warming up in each other’s embrace.

By nightfall, a soft layer of snow blanketed the ground. And in the morning, their adventure awaited – the climb to the very top. A long journey, slippery rocks, but they held on together.

And finally – the summit. Above them, an endless night sky; beneath them, the entire world. 

But the most important moment was yet to come. Just around the bend, she saw it – a bright message spelled out in tiny glowing lanterns: "Marry Me". She held her breath. The wind gently swayed the falling snowflakes, and there he was, kneeling before her, a ring in his hands.

"Will you marry me?" His voice was filled with tenderness and excitement.

She looked into his shining eyes and knew – yes. They stood there, high above the world, but their love soared even higher.

A Proposal at the Aquarium

– Pose Pack by @mdrayvvv 

– Aquarium by ellie builds 

This aquarium had always been their special place. It was where they had their first date, surrounded by shimmering blue waves, gliding stingrays, and curious turtles. They loved coming back here time and time again, spending hours watching marine life and imagining the world that existed beyond the glass.

This visit felt just like any other. They wandered through the halls, admiring the vibrant fish, laughing as dolphins put on yet another playful water show. But suddenly, in front of the massive aquarium, she stopped.

"Do you remember the first time we met here?" she asked.

She smiled, about to answer – but in that moment, she knelt down, a small box in her hands.

"Let me make you happy. Forever"

Her eyes filled with tears of joy. Behind the glass, jellyfish twirled in slow, mesmerizing patterns, as if dancing to the rhythm of their hearts.

"Yes!" she whispered, throwing herself into her arms.

A Proposal During Renovations

– Pose Pack with Sims Painting Walls by couquett

"Looks like the paint isn’t just on the walls", – she laughed, pointing at the bright streak on his nose.

They had been painting the room all day, turning it into a full-blown brush war. Paint splatters, laughter, a game of "guess the color" – their renovation felt more like a celebration than work. 

At one point, she went to the kitchen to prepare a quick snack, and in that moment, he was struck with inspiration.

Grabbing his brush, he quickly dipped it into the paint and started drawing a heart on the wall, planning to turn it into a proposal. But just as he was about to finish, he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t have time to complete it.

She walked in to find him frozen mid-stroke, paintbrush in hand, standing in front of an unfinished heart. And right there on the table beside him an engagement ring.

Their eyes met.

"You… you’re…" She suddenly realized what was happening, then gasped, "YES!!!"

The renovation was forgotten. All that remained was joy, paint, laughter, and a love far greater than any wallpaper could ever replace.

A Boat Proposal Surrounded by Floating Lanterns

– Pose Pack by @puffersuffer 

– Boat  by @puffersuffer

The water was as smooth as a mirror. The boat swayed gently, cutting through the golden reflections of the lanterns soaring into the sky. They drifted slowly, savoring the magic of the moment, as if the whole world was woven from light and stars.

He held her hand.

"I’ve always wanted to see this", – she said, gazing at the hundreds of glowing lights in the sky.

"Me too", – he replied, rising to his feet and pulling out a small box. "But more than anything in the world, I want to see you become my wife".

The world stood still. Just them, the boat, the shimmering lanterns, and their love.

A Song Proposal 

He was nervous. His heart was racing faster than the beat of his favorite melody.

The park was bustling today – families, kids, musicians, street performers. They sat on a bench, sipping milkshakes, and he casually picked up a guitar. "Want me to teach you a few chords?" he asked. She smiled, taking the instrument. But after a couple of minutes, he gently took it back and said, "Now, just listen."

The first string trembled, then the second, and soon a soft melody filled the air. He sang about how he met her, how he fell in love, how he dreamed of spending his whole life by her side. The final note lingered in the air as he knelt down and whispered, "Will you be my wife?"

But it could be even grander.

That evening, the entire park gathered by the stage – spotlights shining, live music playing, a crowd of spectators. She stood in the front row, watching in astonishment as he stepped onto the stage. Surrounding him were friends, family, musicians.

He sang about love, about laughter, about shared dreams. He sang about her. The song swelled, emotions overflowed, and at the climax, he took a step forward, pulling out a small box. "Will you marry me?" – his voice blended with the ecstatic cheers of the crowd.

She covered her face with her hands, holding back tears of happiness. "Yes!" she cried, and the entire park erupted in applause.

The Proposal Quest

– Pose pack with a letter by @hula-zombie

Text message: "I’ve hidden a puzzle for you. The first clue is in your room."

She found a card with a note: "The place where we had our first kiss". At the café by the waterfront, another clue was waiting. And so, step by step, she followed the trail through places that held their most cherished memories, collecting small gifts along the way, her favorite chocolate, a flower, and heartfelt words. 

The final clue led her to an old graffiti-covered wall.

He was waiting for her there. Behind him, among the colorful patterns, was a message: "Will you marry me?"

She held her breath as he dropped to one knee: "You’ve found all the answers. Now give me yours".

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