#- but i will also be happy in the future too!

[trustmypoison]

Ateez finding out that you're pregnant

Requested? Yes!

Request: Hi! <3 I loved your ATEEZ reaction with a low maintenance partner! I was wondering if I could make a request? Either: How each member prefers to sleep with you at night/whether they like to be held or do the holding/etc. I did see the sleeping positions one but I figured this one was different enough. If not that's totally fine!! Otherwise, maybe a pregnancy one, I saw the ones planned for svt and I'd love to see ateez. tysm!! <3’

TW/CW: pregnancy and baby talk. Skip if you aren’t into that. 

Hongjoong

The picture of totally put together. There will be only a split second of shock before he’s holding you tight and telling you how happy he is about the news. If you were nervous about the news (which I think most people are at least a little), he’s putting your mind at ease immediately. No, it’s not too soon. No, he’s not worried about the group or the company. Yes, he can’t wait to start a family. 

Seonghwa

Stunned silence. You actually think you might have broken him. Once he starts talking, it’s one half-finished question only to be interrupted by another half-finished question, but you get the picture so you explain that you realized you were late and took a test. If the shock goes on so long that you feel like this whole thing is going down the drain, he’ll snap out of it to assure you he’s thrilled, he might just need some time to wrap his head around it. 

Yunho

He had a sneaking suspicion when you got a ‘stomach bug’. He doesn’t say anything right away and you’d be too busy being sick to care. So he simply takes you to the doctor. He’s totally silent when you stammer that you don’t need to take a test and the doctor assures you it’s just to eliminate potential causes. When the doctor announces your results, he’s already braced for the shock and handles it far more gracefully than you do. Please, he’d be such a steady partner, change my mind. 

Yeosang

When you tell him, he just smiles and nods. You ask if he has anything to say and he smiles and says no. This sort of questioning goes on until you really aren’t convinced he even heard you. You don’t feel good and this is a tough topic if only because it’s a surprise, and the whole thing makes you impatient. “Are you even listening? I said I’m pregnant!” The frustration will double when he just smiles and says, “I know. At least I suspected.” He pulls you in for a hug as you rage, “Then why didn’t you tell me??? I didn’t know!!!” Irritatingly calm in the face of such news. 

San

The gentlest of guys and you can’t convince me otherwise. After like the third bout of illness in one morning, he puts you back to bed and very carefully brings up the possibility. He hates the panic that flashes across your face at the mere mention of it and he decides now is a great time to tell you that he’d love it if you were expecting. It puts your mind at ease and the conversation is a slow buildup to you finally asking him to get the tests. Super sweet and supportive even before the tests are purchased. 

Mingi

Panic. I could leave it at that but I guess I won’t. He does not know what to do with this information and might not handle it gracefully. He hates that he can see how nervous and upset you are but I envision he’d need to step away. Imagine him going to an older member in crisis mode. Also, imagine Hongjoong blowing up because he just left you like that without any comfort. After some careful coaching, his older members will demand he go and make things right. When he calms down and thinks of the future, he likes it, but a big change like that is scary. 

Wooyoung

He just shows up with a couple of tests and demands that you take it. It’s so perplexing that you’re kind of waiting for the punchline (because he always has one). But he really doesn’t have one now and he’s very serious. Now, that doesn’t mean he’s not a smart ass!! He’ll say something like, “You’ve been biting my head off for weeks, you keep gagging at the food I make, and you missed your period last month. Take it so I know how offended to be.” He’s joking on that last bit because of how pale you get at the implication. He’s thrilled about the news, but he’s equally thrilled to know that you don’t just hate him!! 

Jongho 

Overjoyed. Like there’s not even a moment of shock. The way he holds you close and tells you how happy he is in an instant really smashes any doubts you might have had. Totally doting immediately. I’m serious, do not move, do not pick anything up, do not try to do anything for yourself. I think normally he would not baby his partner quite so much, but he’d do a complete 180 with this news. Prepare to be coddled for at least 9 months, or maybe forever, idk. 

[sabo-torao]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIVI!!!

i've only managed to do this simple doodle bc i've been so, so busy with work... but i did everything in my power to be able to post something for my queen <3

additional scribbles under the cut!

a namivivi one bc i love them and vivi deserves all the kisses and hugs nami can give her, and a vivi and deuce one bc today is also deuce's unofficial birthday!!! i love them both dearly they deserve to meet each other and be friends. but alas

[decaffeinateddreamlandturtle]

Some idea that I got while reading this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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If Danny said that he was a manifestation of a concept and emotion, and then He said He killed Danyal, but Damian knows that it was himself, as the son of the greatest detective in the world (also the most paranoid man in existence, quality that he genetically seems to pass to his descendants), maybe he would try to think about the meaning of 'The Concept and Emotion' of the being, and why the being decide to take the form of his dead brother (Hekilledhim)

Maybe Damian could end up thinking that He somehow have part in creating this being in specific?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Constantine can sense that the concept of the being is 'Balance' but doesn't know of what balance especifically (Life and Death of course, the in-between)

But for Damian? That can make sense, what the being must represent (somehow in his distressed mind) is the balance between 'Good and Evil' (I don't know what I'm writing), because that is what He always think of Danyal, a contradiction, after all, the two of them were created not with innocent purpose, educated on the ways of assasination, made to be the darkness in this world and ruling it in the shadows. After living with his father and family, he could understand that the bloodline He cherished so much in his younger years was the representation of 'Evil'

But Danyal was not that, he was too weak, no, Danyal wasn’t weak -even if the fact make him full of envy and hurt his pride-, Danyal was as strong as he was determined to follow his own ways even if the rest of their world not like it (alwaysstrongerthanhim)

Danyal was weak, not because he doesn't know how to fight, Danyal was the best fighter of the two of them -just not with the sword, as he doesn't seemed trully interested in that sacred art-, Danyal was weak because of his soft heart, he had what Richard will call a 'Heart of Gold', one able to resist being forced to kill, one able to see the good, as if Danyal could see what sins have you comited in life just to know if you can be forgive, the type that would give you closure, the type that wouldn't doubt in give a helping hand; Danyal was weak because he was Good, the only good -the only peak of light- in a place like Nanda Parbat, a quality that was not cherished in the Al' Ghul's, a sign of weakness

Danyal would not kill, not when he can sense that the one supposed to be his victim can be redeemed, not when the one he is supposed to kill is a kid of his age that doesn't understand what he's forced to do, not when the one he is supposed to kill haven't commited any sin

--That person ran away Danyal, he must be punish. He just wanted freedom--

Danyal was Good in a place full of Evil, he knows how to be evil and how to kill, but he wouldn't do it, because that wasn’t him (Just like father, but almost like Todd)

Danyal was balance, and that made him weak.

But that being was also made of an 'emotion', What emotion could it be? It would be Danyal's emotions or his own?

[Both? Both. I want both]

Danyal was happiness, integrity, hopes for the future, forgiveness, mercy, determination, naivety, kindness (Fear).   Danyal was closure, He was solace for the lost ones

But Damian? Damian wasn’t that, Damian was anger, envy, hate, greed, narcissism, power, pride (Guilt).   Damian was the one that will break your closure, He was the one that will deny you your solace

And in Danyal's last moments?

Their emotions were running wild, but he can remember what he felt, he can remember the emotions flashing trough his brother's eyes

Fear, anger, sadness, disappointment, discouragement, frustation, disillusioment, hate.

(GuiltguiltguILTGUILTGUILT)

Contradictions, Danyal was a contradiction (and He was a contradiction too)

He hated and envied Danyal his whole life -just to now call him his beloved brother?-, he always hated how meek and forgiving Danyal was -but He too will seek his presence to give him solace-, he was disgusted of how his brother seemed so weak even more weak when Danyal was with him -how naive and idiot Danyal was-, how Danyal would seek for Damian, to be with him and give his unneeded company -but sometimes in the deepest of his soul, he waited for that moments that somehow give him closure and affection-

(Hypocrite)

And Danyal loved him as much as he feared him the day he killed him (the look on his brother's beautiful blue eyes losing all his hopes and light)

......

The cruelty of this being, because the being look like him with the beautiful eyes of his brother (after all his brother died too young for the being to mimic a body clearly older, so it must be his own appereance)

Acting all high and mighty -like Damian would have done-, saying how he killed his brother with such pride..

But it was him the one who killed his own brother

He was the one who killed Danyal, He killed his own brother, He killed his brother, He killed him

And the being (himself) is looking straight a him with his brother eyes (Danyal), giving him the same expression he gave to his brother the day he took away the light of his eyes

The being was balance

The being was forgiveness, mercy, hope (Fear)

The being was anger, power, pride (Guilt)

And the being looked at him while holding such resentment in the deepest of his brother's eyes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was the idea that got me after reading this, sorry if isn't really understandable, I'm not that good at English and don't really trust Google translator for this ngl

I use red and green when writing Damian in representation of who He was and who He is now, and blue for Danny/Danyal for his eyes, my way of saying that that's what Damian remember more of him, what he liked/envied more of him

Damian will always think of Danyal in blue while Danny/Danyal will always think of himself in red

Demon Twins and Death

Inspired by this post by @spiders-in-the-primrose

Damian had spent years loathing Danyal. The weaker, pathetic son. The son who did not have what it took to carry the name Al Ghul. The twin who had died and was swallowed by the Lazarus pits, never to be seen again.

The twin Damian killed.

His brother had welcomed death with tears and sobs. His last words were stained by the blood he choke out, "It had to be you, akhi." He whispered as the blood spilled from his mouth and a sword was pressed further into his stomach.

When he was sent to his father, he remained with his belief in being the better son. That Danyal was not worthy of being the son of the demon and the son of the bat. He could have been one but in the end, only Damian was worthy for both.

And yet as the years passed, Damian grew and changed. And then he finally understood.

In his family of heroes, his family who strived to make the world better—Danyal would have been a better fit. Instead, Damian had been the one to become his father's son with his own twin's blood on his hands. His father must never know.

The idea of Danyal sparks rage, resentment, and utterly self-loathing. His kind and sweet brother who would have been the perfect son for his father. The son who was clearly the better person. Not in skill, power—but morals. Because like their father, Danyal would never kill.

What would have happened if Danyal was here with him? If he were still alive?

Damain can imagine his brother in the colors that Robin wore, another costume, another name. Because Damian will not give up that name after he managed to take it from Drake. But Danyal would have work the colors, would have been bubbly like Grayson. He would have taken care of the children on the streets like Todd. He would have helped their father in cases like Drake.

He would have been the brother they would have wanted.

And Damian tries not to drown in what his brother could have been. He can't help but admire this figment of his imagination. This hero in his kind that wore what could have been Danyal's face. This light within the darkness of Gotham who had a voice identical to Damian's.

And Damian does drown. Because he wants what his brother could have been.

Danyal Al Ghul died by the hands of his brother.

In the back of his mind, he thinks that he just wants his other half back.

Danny Fenton was born as the girl who would be his sister dragged him from a lake and nursed him to health.

The Fentons were strange people with strange ideals. Jack and Maddie were obsessed, they were not suited to care for children as they grabbed their weapons and hunted down any ghost their could find. When they were absent, Danny was left with Jasmine.

The memory of Damian is strong and cruel and it burned itself into his mind. The memory of that katana sinking into his gut, just as blood bubbles up his throat. He remembers an older brother who had to be the one to kill him.

He remembers and then he looks to Jasmine. She is warmth incarnate, with fiery hair and bright eyes that reminded him of stars on painting. His parents lack the warmth he craves but Jazz gives him so much that he can't help but melt everytime he's in her arms.

Neither of them can forget how fearful he was towards her when she first found him. He had only been six years old, feeling the effects of the Lazarus pit on his skin before he was spat out somewhere far, far away. He remembered being in Nanda Parbat then he was spat out somewhere in Illinois.

Jasmine had found him. Jazz had found him.

And Danny has decided long ago that Jazz was much better than Damian.

Even from the distance between them, Danyal continues to fear Damian. The part of him that he wished died when his own twin stabbed him to death continued to live on.

Then he died.

Again.

And he can't help but hope that Danyal is finally dead. That the failure was finally dead. His body only needed two. He only needed Danny and Phantom. Yes... Danyal was dead.

Danny would kill that part of him himself if he could.

He donned the mantle of hero, even when the people called him a menace at times. Danny was finally a hero, he was finally someone who could do good in the world. It was a blessing for him.

In all honesty, being a hero had been fun, even as he suffered. His rogues that fought him felt like friends that he had missed in his life. Parts of him yearned for when Skulker came out for a fight. He laughed whenever Ember moved to blast her music through the town and he was forced to fight her. He was fond of both Kitty and Johnny, even when they fought and caused havoc. Trouble felt like home for once.

The half of him that was dead yearned for a fight, yearned for an obsession. Protection—he was told—was his own obsession.

To protect, to fight, to make sure that whatever fell into his obsession was safe and sound. He thinks of Amity Park—his haunt, his domain—and assumed it was what he wanted to protect. He had fought Pariah Dark, became King through conquest and continued to protect.

But a part of him knew that something was wrong. He knew that it wasn't Amity Park that he would protect at all cost. No.

It was always Jazz. Always his big sister who cradled him, who figured out he was Phantom, who could tell whether he was himself or not. The greatest part of his obsession fell onto the older sibling who loves him unconditionally, always reminding him that there was another half of him in the world that killed him. But Jazz was none of that.

Danny loved his family. He loved Elle who grew to be his little sister. He loved his parents even when they were difficult. He loved his friends—Sam, Tucker, Valerie. He loved them so dearly and yet they could never match up to Jazz.

Danny doesn't know what he'd do without her.

(Lies. He knew what would happen if Jazz was taken from her. He knew what kind of monster he'd become—one that the observants demanded to be killed. He knew damn well that Jazz Fenton was the only thing that kept him human.)

(Dan existed for a reason.)

(Danny would burn the world for his sister.)

(And he'd kill himself for fear of his brother.)

Fate is a cruel mistress that knew what she was doing. Twins were tied by blood, mind, and soul. An invisible thread that made sure they were connected one way or another. He shouldn't be surprised that they were going to be reunited at some point.

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne meet.

It's been years. They've changed. They've become new people. Damian is Robin, the son of the bat (not heir to the demons head). Danny is Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms (not the failure devoured by the Lazarus).

But that doesn't stop Danyal Al Ghul from drowning in fear at the mere visage of Damian Al Ghul.

Danny plays as ambassador, not king. He won't risk himself by telling people who he truly is. He can't. No.

When he summoned and claims that he is an ambassador sent as a substitute, the Justice League accepts what they are given and pleaded for aid.

But Robin is there with Batman. Robin and Phantom meet.

Robin sees Danyal and Phantom sees his murderer.

The moment his body was no longer frozen, Damian sucked in a deep breath as he stared at the face of his own beloved twin. His brother that died by his hands and was claimed by the pits. Had the Lazarus turned him into a creature of the realms?

"Danyal..." Robin sounded hopeful, desperate. He reached forward and almost crossed the circle if not for his father and Nightwing pulling him back with confusion and concern. They look towards the Ghostly being with a face that resembled their father and youngest a little too much.

Danny? Had he been human, his heart would have stopped after ricocheting. He stopped breathing, rendering his lungs useless. This was Damian. A hero of his own right even when he was a monster in Danny's eyes.

Danyal Al Ghul feared Damian.

Phantom was a manifestation of something of Danyal's death.

"You mistake me for someone, Heir to the Demon's head." His voice tore through air, distorted by his own will. Danny was king, he had to remind himself that.

"I am a manifestation. I am born from a concept and emotion. You would not have met me." The lies were not lies. Truths bended to his will as he spoke and pressed against the barrier made by the summoning circle. "But you recognize this body that I have taken form in."

"Then your appearance belonged to a living person." Batman growled.

Danny realizes that this was his father. Perhaps Ra's was right at some point—blood calls to blood.

"What have you done to Danyal?! Where is my twin brother, demon!" Robin's words leak venom as he slams a hand against the barrier.

Danyal tremblesPhantom was amused.

"Bats, tell your brat to back off! That's the ghost king's fuckin' ambassador." The Hellblazer hissed, watching as Batman pulled his son away.

But Damian—Robin—stands still.

Phantom grinned, flashing his teeth as he leaned closed to the barrier. Even when his appearance was born of inverted colors with Lazarus eyes rather than the sky, Damian could recognize his twin's face anywhere.

Both of them knew what happened to Danyal. Killed by his own brother.

But only Phantom knew what happened after.

"Oh little bird... I killed him."

Masterpost

[multi-fandom-imagine]

To go with the latest Fred fic you wrote - them finding out they’re having triplets?

A/n: Fred deserved this life 👏

Fred Weasley had never known a love so consuming until he became a father. Hell he never thought he would even get a chance of this life after the Battle of Hogwarts.

But.

Standing over the cribs, watching his three tiny miracles sleep soundly, he still couldn’t believe it.

Three.

Three beautiful, perfect, red-haired babies.

His triplets.

His and your triplets.

Fred exhaled softly, his chest tightening with overwhelming love and awe. Their little faces were peaceful, their tiny hands occasionally twitching in sleep, their chests rising and falling in the most delicate rhythm.

As he reached down, gently brushing his knuckle over one of their soft little cheeks, a flood of memories came rushing back.

The day they found out had been—well—chaotic.

Fred had walked into St. Mungo’s with you, excited but nervous, absolutely ready to hear about his future child. His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He watched as you sat down on the examination chair, watched as she applied jelly to your belly.

One child.

That’s what he’d been expecting. One. Singular. A baby.

Then, the Healer had smiled far too brightly as they examined the scan.

“Congratulations, you two! You’re having—”

A Pause.

Fred had felt his stomach drop at the pause. Why was there a pause? His smile faltering on his lips as he squeezed your hand.

The Healer had turned to you both, beaming.

“Triplets!”

Then Silence.

Fred’s brain short-circuited. A strangled sound escaping his lips.

You, who had been clutching his hand, froze completely.

Then....

“Sorry—what?” Fred had asked, blinking rapidly.

“Triplets!” the Healer repeated cheerfully, pointing at the image. “See? Three little heartbeats, all strong and healthy!” Her fingers pointing to each little blob on the screen.

Fred had made another strangled noise, his grip tightening on your hand. He could feel his knees almost buckle out from under him.

You, on the other hand, had just stared at the screen, your eyes comically wide.

“Fred,” you had whispered, your voice shockingly calm.

“Yes, love?”

“We are having three babies.”

Fred had nodded dumbly a little "hmmh" leaving his lips.

You had continued staring.

Then, suddenly, had burst into tears.

Fred had panicked instantly.

“Oh, bloody hell! love—are you okay?”

You had just nodded between sobs, gripping his hand so tightly his fingers had turned white.

“There’s three of them, Fred!” You had wailed, shaking slightly.

Fred had absolutely no idea if you were crying because you were happy, overwhelmed, or just spiraling into hormonal shock.

So naturally, he had done what any loving, supportive husband would do.

He had fainted.

Right there.

In the bloody Healer’s office.

Fred smirked to himself, watching the babies twitch in their sleep.

When he had woken up, flat on the Healer’s floor, you had been hovering over him, still crying but also laughing hysterically.

“You—you fainted?” she had choked out between sniffles.

Fred had blinked up at you, still woozy. “You cried first!”

You had snorted, wiping your eyes. “I was emotional!”

Fred had groaned, covering his face. “We are so doomed.”

And yet—here they were.

Surviving.

Thriving.

And most important of all.

Raising their three little miracles together.

Fred smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the forehead of his daughter, then his two sons.

He turned, glancing at you, who was curled up on the nearby chair, dozing lightly.

His heart swelled.

Reaching over, he brushed a stray curl from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek lovingly.

Then, looking back at their sleeping babies, he whispered, so softly it was barely audible—

“Best surprise of my life.”

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Hello, good morning/afternoon/evening/night. I'm the anon that requested for the platonic!dad Lilia vanrouge headcanon. I've finished reading it and I would love to request for the biological one! The adopted headcanon was amazing. And I also apologize for for not putting in my request with more thought 😅.

Thanks for the ask! I can totally do that! And don't worry about it, I was hoping to get to write both anyway <3

(I don't know if I'm thinking too far into it, but I wasn't sure if you wanted pre NRC or present, so I'm going with the same as last time)

!Platonic!Dad! Lilia Vanrouge x Biological Daughter

(Kinda a second part to This in a way)

However it came to be; a one night stand, a past lover, or some freak magic accident, you were Lilia's one and only blood relative left. His darling daughter.

Don't get me wrong, Lilia loved Silver and Malleus more than anything, but it felt different looking at you and being able to sense his fae blood running through your veins.

When you were left to the single father's care it was after he had already dealt with a newborn dragon. He believe that as you were his own flesh and blood you'd surely be easier to care for, but oh how wrong he was.

If anything, you were MORE difficult to deal with because you were his own flesh and blood.

Lilia finally got a taste of his own medicine when you started imitating his pranks (how did you even get in such a high cabinet).

At least he understands your magic and can help you figure out how to control it.

He treats you virtually the same as if you were his adopted child, just with the fact that you have his magic in mind- . . .he looked away for one second, where'd you go?

One time, Lilia left you and Silver with a pre-teen Malleus for him babysit as he had something to attend to. Silver spent the whole time sleeping whilst you spent the whole time making malleus play games with you (he didn't mind, he was just happy to have a friend). Lillia came back to see you and Malleus reenacting the war with wooden animals Baur had carved for you (maybe he told you too many stories of his glory days).

Lilia still loves doing your hair- what's that? You want to do his hair?

The other generals keep their mouths shut, but their eyes are glued to the great Lilia Vanrouge and his messy, lopsided pigtails with bright pink and blue bows on each for the entire briefing.

You escaped the cottage once when he looked away to try and get Silver to eat his food, and he had no clue where you were for almost a day. He was freaking out and about to take his magearm and go on an all-out rampage when he got a letter from the queen saying you had 'made a delightfully unexpected visit to the castle for a playdate with Malleus.'

Lilia rushed over to the castle immediately, ready to scold you, but when he got there he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he fell to his knees crying as he watched you and Malleus sleep softly: cuddled up to each other. The queen found him in this state and simply patted him on the back before recounting how he and her daughter had once pulled a very similar stunt back in their youth. (he has her recount any and all stories of him causing trouble as a child in order to hopefully have a leg up on any stunts you pull in the future)

Right when he thinks he knows how to handle anything you throw at him, you come home with an owl bear cub in toe asking tow. You recount the story of how you found it next to its unmoving mother, and he has no choice but to let you keep it.

When you tell him you want to name the owl bear 'Bear' he tries to argue with you that it's not a very good name, but you win. Bear it is.

Anytime you and Silver go out in the woods to play he sends Bear with you just in case.

Baur gets quite the shock when he comes to pick up his grandson from the cottage only to find him riding on the back of an owl bear as it chases you and silver (you were just playing tag).

He turns to the cottage to see what Lilia was planning to do about this only to see him casually. . .barbequing (if you can even call it that) in the garden and watching you all play. Baur ends up staying longer than expected, mostly to salvage whatever slop Lilia was making for his poor kids, but also to hear Lilia's explanation as to WHY IN THE GREAT SEVENS' NAMES THERE'S AN OWL BEAR PLAYING WITH THE KIDS.

The time finally comes for Lilia to head off to NRC with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, but this time let's say (for the sake of being different that the other fic) that you somehow end up there as well. Lilia would have liked you to be in Diasomnia with him, but you instead end up going to Ramshackle with the prefect. This is an all-boys school after all, so the best place for you to be on campus is probably in the dorm with the only other female student. (That and Bear came with you and Ramshackle already has Grim so. . .)

There's no telling what trouble you'll get to in your time staying at NRC, but rest assured that Lilia will be there to help you out (whether that means getting you out of trouble or helping you cause more).

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Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

Request Information

[hitlikehammers]

that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[steveseddie]

‘cause it’s you and me

rating: g | cw: none | wc: 1,9 k | tags: eddie lives, hospitals and injury recovery, steve has a crush, he also knows how to play guitar, fluff

written for @steddielovemonth day one | You and Me by Lifehouse & the quote “every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.”

read on ao3

Steve doesn’t know how much time he’s spent on the chair that is next to Eddie’s hospital bed.

Too long probably, if the recurrent pain on his back means anything. But not even that is enough to prevent Steve from staying glued to that chair, neither are the doctor’s mean looks or Robin’s insistence about him getting proper sleep or meals for that matter. Steve only leaves the chair when he has a shift or when he wants Wayne to have time alone with his nephew or when the nurses wheel Eddie away for surgery or tests or physical therapy. That’s it.

It makes the months that Eddie spends recovering blur together. Sometimes, Steve even forgets what day it is, only managing to keep track of it by the nurse’s schedule or depending on who shows up to visit Eddie. The kids and Wayne and Robin all come on different days, effectively balancing keeping their friend company with their everyday lives.

All of them except Steve.

Ever since Spring Break, it’s been Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Find Eddie. Get Eddie’s heart beating again. Drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. Pray that Eddie makes it out of surgery. Wait for Eddie to wake up. Comfort Eddie when he’s in pain. Take Eddie’s mind off of the murder charges that haven’t been dropped yet or the loss of their trailer or the long hours of physical therapy ahead of him. Listen to Eddie ramble on the days that he feels better about books and music and Dungeons and Dragons. Watch Eddie sleep and only then try to get a little sleep himself.

The last one might sound a little creepy but Steve thinks it’s justified considering he still can’t forget how Eddie looked when they found him– pale, bloody, dead. Watching him sleep, his chest rising and falling slowly but steadily is the only thing that calms Steve enough for him to doze off in that damn uncomfortable chair.

Only at some point it stops being entirely about making sure that Eddie is alive– the staring. Suddenly, Steve can’t keep his eyes off of Eddie at all times.

Steve stares at his face while Eddie reads a book to him out loud and forgets to pay attention to what he’s saying. He stares at Eddie’s hands while he explains something to the kids and completely miss a question from Henderson. He stares at his mouth while Eddie slurps the extra jello cup that Robin sneaked in past the nurses and blush when she catches him and smirks knowingly at him.

It takes Steve some time to figure out why he looks at Eddie so much, obvious as it is, and when he finally does he actually leaves his chair and heads to the bathroom for a proper floor freak out.

He just doesn’t know what to do with these feelings for Eddie or where to go from there so he just– doesn’t do anything.

And things stay the same.

Except for the way Eddie keeps getting better.

The doctors are so optimistic that they announce that Eddie might get to go home soon. They have him doing laps around the hospital and start slowly tapering off his pain meds and encouraging him to pick back up things he used to do like writing and playing guitar to work on his dexterity, they said.

It’s why Eddie starts writing down plans and ideas for future dork campaigns again and why Wayne brings his sweetheart to the hospital.

(Eddie almost cried when he saw it, making grabby hands and hugging it against his chest with a happy sigh.

“I swear you’re happier to see that thing more than you’ve ever been to see me,” Steve muttered through pursed lips.

“Steve, don’t call her a thing! She can hear you!” Eddie protested, appalled. Which wasn’t a no but at least later he tells Steve that there’s enough room in his heart for two sweethearts.)

It’s not like Eddie goes back to being a rock god on the guitar right away and his writing is intelligible more often than not, but none of that stops him. He keeps trying, keeps practicing, and Steve loves him more and more for it.

Yes. Love. The first time the word pops up in Steve’s head it leads to yet another bathroom floor freak out but once he realizes it, he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting it out several times a day.

He’s doing it right now while watching Eddie excitedly write down a D&D character sheet for him with his tongue poking out adorably between his lips, tempting Steve to lean in and kiss them. So when a nurse interrupts them to take Eddie away for some test, he appreciates the short break.

When he’s alone, Steve reaches for the notebook that Eddie left on the bed. It’s off limits for any of the kids, but Eddie has let Steve peek at it before. He doesn’t think he’ll mind.

He reads his character sheet, recognizing some of the nerdy words while others fly completely over his head. Then he leafs lazily through pages of notes and doodles until he pauses at what looks like an unfinished song, fragments of lyrics and melodies written messily over the page.

Steve sends a sidelong glance to Eddie’s guitar where it’s leaning against the wall.

He’s never told anyone but he took some guitar lessons back when he started high school, hoping that playing an instrument would help get him girls. He knows how to read music and can fumble his way through a few simple songs, but he never made it past that. It seemed useless when he already had Nancy, and then when he didn’t have her anymore, he had the kids and the Upside Down and playing guitar didn’t seem like a useful skill to have when fighting monsters.

He chuckles. “Guess I was wrong,” he mutters to himself, thinking about Eddie saving the world with a Metallica song of all things.

Without giving it much thought, Steve stands up and carefully grabs the guitar, bringing it back with him to the chair and resting it on his leg, Eddie’s notebook open on the bed in front of him.

He clumsily places his fingers on the fretboard and tries to play the melody that Eddie wrote down. He messes up a few notes, but for someone who hasn’t touched a guitar in years he thinks he plays it decently enough. Eddie would surely do a better job, but it still doesn’t sound half bad. Maybe he can ask Eddie for help to improve and–

“What are you doing?” Eddie’s voice breaks through the melody. His fingers slip and the guitar makes a loud, screechy sound that makes Steve wince.

He whirls around and finds Eddie staring at him from the door, his face unreadable.

Steve gulps, his cheeks pinking up at being caught. “Playing guitar?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together. “Since when do you know how?”

“I– uh, I took lessons years ago but I stopped,” he says, tripping on his words. “I– I found your– your song and I was trying to play it–”

Eddie’s eyes dart to the notebook on the bed. Steve winces again, worrying that Eddie will get mad because he went through his things or because he touched his sweetheart.

“That sounds nothing like what I wrote.”

Or because he butchered his song.

Steve blushes brighter, reaching for the notebook and fumbling to close it. “Sorry, I– it’s been a while and I was never that good to begin with.”

With three long strides –and a lot less limping than a month ago, Steve proudly notices– Eddie reaches his side and snatches the notebook from Steve’s hands.

“Give me that!” He says, flopping down on the bed and flicking furiously through the pages, his face pinched.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry, I– I didn’t think you’d be mad–”

“You bet I’m mad!” Eddie says with a huff, patting the bed sheets, trying to find something.

Steve shrinks down on the chair. “I– I think I’m gonna go–” he says, pushing himself to his feet. Better to leave now before Eddie finds whatever he’s looking for and throws it at his head.

“Aha!” Eddie gasps, holding up his pen. Then he notices Steve standing awkwardly and frowns at him. “Wait, what? No, stay. Play it again.”

Steve blinks down at him. “What?”

“The song!” Eddie urges him but his voice is soft, gentle. “Play it again, Stevie, please.”

Stevie. Please. He’s not mad.

“What?”

Eddie heaves out a sigh, but it comes across as fond. “Dude, I’ve been trying to figure out the right melody for that song for like, half a year!” He says, shaking his notebook aggressively. A few pages fall off, but he pays them no mind. “But I just couldn’t get it fucking right, there was always something missing! And it was whatever you were doing when I walked in!”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

“Not at you, Stevie, no,” Eddie chuckles. “Just mad that it was you who figured it out with your secret magic guitar skills and not me.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and he can’t help but let out a chuckle himself. “So you want me to do it again?”

Eddie nods enthusiastically and that’s enough to make Steve flop back down on the chair, propping the guitar on his legs and doing his best to play the song like he did before.

He must get it right because Eddie lets out an adorable squeal before using his pen to cross out something and write down whatever Steve accidentally came up with.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, I’m gonna have to dedicate this song to you now as a thank you,” Eddie says, grinning so wide at his notebook that it shows off his dimples.

Steve hangs a hand from his neck. It feels hot to the touch, probably from the pet name. “Too bad it’s a love song,” he jokes weakly, even if he wants nothing more than for Eddie’s words to be about him.

Eddie glances up, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “I know,” he says softly, his eyes flickering nervously over Steve’s face.

Oh. Oh.

Stomach fluttering with butterflies, Steve stands up, grabbing the guitar by its neck to prop it up against the wall.

“Uh, you– are you leaving?” Eddie asks, chewing anxiously on his pen as he watches Steve move around silently. Little does he know that his heart is currently screaming at him to gently tackle Eddie into the bed.

But first–

“Just making sure your guitar is safe before I go over there and kiss you, Eds,” he says, the corners of his mouth ticking up when Eddie squeaks again, his eyes widening.

“Oh, o–okay. That’s smart. Yup,” he stammers out, his voice an octave higher, his cheeks pinking up. “Does that mean you also–”

“Feel that way about you?” Steve asks, sitting on the bed next to Eddie, who nods expectantly. Steve reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, Eddie, I do.”

When Steve leans in and finally, finally kisses him, Eddie lets his notebook fall to the floor so he can grab Steve’s shoulders. The urgency to write down that perfect melody now replaced by an urgency for Steve.

But it doesn’t matter, Steve thinks that melody is now seared into both of their memories forever, as is their first kiss. The first of many.

[mik3stuff]

Ghostpunk headcanons☝🏽WITH unmythologizably accurate Gwen please

>:3

t4t of course (transfem catgender!Gwen x transmasc unlabeled!Hobie)

They diy each other's clothes and Gwen has a oversized blue crochet cardigan with pink and white flowers and kittens pattern that Hobie's mama made for her as a welcome to the family gift

They are both artists in canon (Gwen dances ballet and Hobie plays guitar) but I also headcanon that they both love to draw and paint and while Gwen loves watercolor Hobie is a huge fan of crayons and oil pastels and they're always trading art and portraits of each other

They wear matching make up and nail polish bcuz I think it's cute so whatever

Hobie braids Gwen's hair and it doesn't matter if they chat or listen to music or just do it in silence bcuz quality time spent together and that's one of their main love languages

Gwen diy funky jewelry like cold ceramic rings and weird earrings they use together

This might sound weird but I don't think they plan on getting married at all or at least not so soon. I mean, it doesn't really matter to them, they're happy with the way things are and thinking too much about the future makes them uncomfortable, I think they would be fine just dating (this one is extremely self projecting btw since I kind of relate them to me and my bsf/qpp in a platonic way of course but still)

They make cotton candy and blue chocolate chips cookies

Gwen introduced him to sonic and that's one of their favorite games

They watch The Owl House together religiously

Both kin Percy Jackson

Oooooh I almost forgot but to me they're also bubbleline/bubblelee coded

Gwen's portrait made by Hobie (she cried/pos)

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[beesgobzzzing]

Article translation

Hooja and Käärijä are performing together for the first time in the first semifinal of Melodifestivalen in Luleå. Maybe Hooja will be participating in Melodifestivalen for real in the future:

You never know, Hooja says. [Bees note: Their manager said in a podcast during the fall last year that they were not interested in competing in Melodifestivalen, so this is definitely a politicians answer.]

Among feather boas and pink sequins, dressed in their particular fur hats, baklavas and fleece jackets, Hooja and DJ Mårdhund has arrived in Luleå Energi Arena. [Bees note: Mårdis and myself has referenced this as Coop Arena before, and that used to be it's name. Like many arenas elsewhere, this one also takes it's name from their main sponsor, which changes every now and then.] They are debuting in Melodifestivalen. They do have someone who has a lot of experience from this setting with them - Finnish Eurovision favorite Käärijä. But they're not taking part in the actual competition.

Together they are here as an interval act in Melodifestivalen's first semi in Luleå, where they are performing their new song "San Francisco Boy".

The trio has taken a break in show preparations and sit down on some chairs by one of the arena entrances. Käärijä is not wearing a mask, but does wear sunglasses just like the duo from Gällivare.

You're a bit secretive, and I think it's fun to work with artists who don't only have the music but another level to it. You have nice clothes too, Käärijä says.

Outside the glass doors another masked artist, Fröken Snusk [Bees note: her artist name translates to Miss Dirty], appears and waves to her coworkers before she once again disappears into the darkness.

Why are you making a song together?

Why not? I listened to Hooja's music and thought "oh, Swedish music can sound like this". Of course in a positive way, Käärijä says and laughs.

He says it's not always easy to make music with other artists. But the collaboration with Hooja has been painless.

Everything went so quick from meeting for the first time until we had a finished song, DJ Mårdhund says.

It was destiny, Hooja adds.

(Text under the picture: Käärijä has watched Melodifestivalen at home in Finland and is happy that he gets to enter the stage in Sweden with Hooja. "Dreams can become true", DJ Mårdhund notes.)

That the song is called "San Francisco Boy" has nothing to do with anyone from the trio having been there.

We have seen San Francisco in pictures, very nice pictures in my opinion. They have a nice and big bridge, DJ Mårdhund says.

Maybe we should go there together and make "San Francisco Boy part 2", Käärijä says.

Käärijä competed for Finland in Eurovision in 2023 with the song "Cha Cha Cha". He came in second after Sweden and Loreen's song "Tattoo". Being in Melodifestivalen now is not something he minds.

It's fun, I love Loreen, and I like you too, Käärijä says and points at Hooja.

He won the audience vote in Eurovision and quickly became a fan favorite. Not least of all in Sweden, where his song climbed the charts. He wasn't quite prepared for the love from the Swedish audience.

There were a lot of Swedish people who wrote to me and said they liked my song. I didn't think Swedish people liked Finnish music, but it was really nice to see that the song charted so well in Sweden.

The trio has a very full schedule during these few days in Luleå. Hooja describes the whole event as "hullaballoo".

There are a lot of people running around but it's a fun show, he says.

Being the interval act together with Käärijä feels safe, according to the duo.

It feels good having you here, you've done this kind of thing before, Mårdis says and looks at Käärijä:

You're almost being a father figure for us.

But will being the interval act this year make Hooja want to compete for real in Melodifestivalen in the future?

You never know. We are not going to say: No, we would never do that. But we're not going to give a definite yes either, Hooja says.

Wow, what a politician's answer, DJ Mårdhund says.

Maybe I should get into politics instead, Hooja says.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

out of the blue, i fell for you 🦋

summary: you and zayn fall hard and fast for each other while you’re working as his tour photographer

vicious speaks: i listened to i can see you one (1) time and this was born. i had so much fun making it and would love to add more to this universe in the future if it’s something you guys would want! 💕

zayn masterlist

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liked by zayn, yourbff and others

yourusername uk you have been amazing so far 🤍 3 shows down, many more to go!

tagged zayn

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yourbff still can’t believe you’re on tour with THEE zayn malik!!

⤷ yourusername you and me both 😭

inzayn love seeing zayn through your eyes!

liked by yourusername and zayn

zayn these shots are sick! been a pleasure working with you

⤷ yourusername the pleasure’s all mine ♥️

⤷ fan1 they’re so cute already

yourmom so proud of my baby 🥹

⤷ yourusername i love you <3

fan2 the best photographer on tour with the best male vocalist, we love to see it 😌

⤷ yourusername lol you’re too kind!!

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

fan1 you’ve only been on tour a short time and you already get us 😭

liked by yourusername

zayn you don’t know what you just started

⤷ yourusername trust me, i’m very aware 😉

⤷ zayn trouble.

fan2 zayn hiring a photographer who’s also a fangirl was a genius idea

yourbff the zquad’s gonna dethrone zayn and make you their new king

⤷ yourusername LMAO

fan3 yn you icon, you know what the people want!!

⤷ yourusername gotta make sure you guys are fed 🫡

yourbrother a ridiculously attractive man…yn i swear if you don’t go after him, i will

⤷ yourusername shut the fuck up 😭

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zaynnews according to a dm sent to deuxmoi, zayn and his tour photographer yn were getting a little cozy at dinner last night! is love in the air for these two?

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fan1 are you guys really gonna believe something sent to deuxmoi of all people?

fan2 “tour photographer” she has a name and it’s yn.

fan3 they’re making it seem like they were on a date when in reality it was a dinner with the whole crew. classic deuxmoi 🙄

fan4 i think they’d be cute together, they always have a flirty vibe whenever they interact during a show. it isn’t really any of our business, though.

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zayn has added to their stories

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fan1 HELLO IS THIS A HARD LAUNCH???

yourusername the best day 🥰

⤷ zayn let’s do it again soon💛

⤷ yourusername just say the word <3

louist91 the fans are gonna lose it, mate 🤣

⤷ zayn lmao they already are

yourbff rip to your notifications

liked by zayn

fan2 oh God you’re in your active era and boyfriend era apparently 😭 WE WON’T SURVIVE

mammamalik yn’s such a lovely woman! i look forwards to getting to know her more ❤️

⤷ zayn she’s the best. she said she adores you and feels the same!

fan3 i’d say this was a hard launch but i doubt you even know what that is

niallhoran please tell me you guys are together, i can’t take any more of the pining 🙄

⤷ zayn we’re getting there. i’d say i wasn’t pining but it was pretty pathetic 😂

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liked by yourbrother, zayn and others

yourusername life lately 💞

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zayn we’re kinda cute

⤷ yourusername the cutest

⤷ fan1 just confirm your relationship already 😭

⤷ fan2 right? they’re not subtle!!

yourbrother coffee, flowers, pastries…he’s a keeper

liked by zayn and yourusername

yourbff who is that gorgeous gorgeous girl on the first slide 😍

⤷ yourusername idk 🤨 some rando

fan3 does no one else think it’s inappropriate for zayn to be dating an employee?

⤷ fan4 inappropriate how? they’re both consenting adults who can choose to enter a relationship if that’s what they want. i swear you people are always trying to make something into what it isn’t. just be happy that zayn’s happy!!

liked by zayn

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zayn added to their stories

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fan1 these pics are so boyfriend coded 😭 i just know yn was behind the camera

fan2 seeing you through yns eyes is something i’ll never get tired of

mammamalik love you ❤️❤️❤️

⤷ zayn love you, mum!

fan3 i can’t believe you’re in your boyfriend era and you’re being active…we used to pray for times like these 🙌

fan4 can you and yn stop torturing us and confirm your relationship already, we want more boyfriend content!!!

yourusername no photo creds 😔💔

⤷ zayn babe everyone already knows you took them. you should see my dms, apparently they’re “boyfriend coded” whatever that means

⤷ yourusername oh wow 😭 i don’t know what’s funnier, the fact that i’m so easy to recognize or the fact that you don’t know the meaning of boyfriend coded

⤷ zayn well come over here and explain it to me

⤷ yourusername anything for you, sir 🫡

⤷ zayn trouble…

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liked by zayn, louist91 and others

yourusername LA! you were simply ✨iconic✨ vegas, see you 🔜

tagged zayn

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fan1 LOUIS IN THE LIKES

fan2 drop the zouis pics, we know to have them

⤷ yourusername 🤭

⤷ fan3 WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

zayn ❤️

⤷ yourusername 💛

louist91 i’m hiring you next

⤷ niallhoran no, i am

⤷ harrystyles actually, i am

⤷ zayn back off, she’s mine

⤷ yourusername ladies, ladies, please. there’s enough of me to go around!!

⤷ fan4 queen 😭

⤷ fan5 louis attending a show, the boys fighting over yn…what fucking parallel universe did i wake up in???

⤷ fan6 the boys are gonna be passing poor yn around like a blunt

⤷ yourusername CACKLING

yourbff you’ve officially made it 😭

liked by yourusername

yourmom my talented girl!! i love and miss you 💕

⤷ yourusername mama 🥹 i love and miss you SO much 🫶🏼

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liked by yourbrother

zaynnews zayn and his tour photographer yn were seen getting hot and heavy in los angeles!

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fan1 “hot and heavy” is an interesting choice of words when all they did was share a couple kisses

fan2 this is such an invasion of privacy, i’m sure they didn’t want pictures taken of them during an intimate moment.

⤷ fan3 eh, clearly they didn’t care about pics being taken. zayn knows that wherever he goes, there are bound to be pics of him 🤷‍♀️ he’s also not new to this and knows how to avoid being seen if he really wants to. they likely talked about it and decided they didn’t want to hide their relationship

liked by yourbrother

fan4 yns brother in the likes is sending me so bad

fan5 no one even knew who she was until rumors started swirling about them dating. she’ll dump him once she’s done using his fame

⤷ yourbrother yn was already a highly successful photographer before even knowing zayn which is how he discovered her. you can dislike my sister all you want but don’t spread lies around about someone you don’t even know.

⤷ fan6 KING

⤷ fan7 we love a protective brother 🥰

⤷ fan8 GET THEIR ASS

⤷ fan9 he really said “i know some of y’all are gonna talk shit but can you at least come correct?” 😭

liked by yourbrother

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liked by yourusername, mammamalik and others

zayn it’s golden like daylight

yourusername i love you 💛

⤷ zayn i love you more 💛

yourbff this yn ass caption 😭 i’m crying

⤷ zayn lmao she made it very clear what it had to be

⤷ yourusername baby, you’re not supposed to tell everyone!!

⤷ zayn i’ll make it up to you

⤷ yourusername 😏

⤷ yourbff right in front of my salad…

fan1 the way you can just tell yn ghostwrote the caption dkfjfjs our girl is serious about two things: her work and taylor swift!

liked by yourusername

fan2 ya’ll are SO cute 🥹

⤷ yourusername thank you, darling 🥰

yourbrother yourusername glad you took my warning seriously

⤷ zayn what warning?

⤷ yourusername 😭😭 i’ll tell you later

fan3 ofc thee swiftie of all time would make zayn use taylor lyrics for their confirmation post

⤷ yourusername i am a swiftie first, human second 🫡

louist91 wow, i’m so shocked. i definitely had no idea you were together.

⤷ niallhoran same.

⤷ harrystyles same.

⤷ yourusername alright, smart asses 😭

⤷ fan4 yn’s really out here living our dream

mammamalik adore you two ❤️❤️

liked by zayn and yourusername

[lukeynewtssimp]

When Nic is out and about with her bf all I see from Lukolas is pure hate and disdain for them both. It’s only now that the man brought out his gf that suddenly everyone is okay with it. Does that seem like equal treatment to you? Where was your defense before this?

You’re happy and proud of him for finally claiming her but where is the happiness for Nic? I’m still talking about Lukolas in general.

Do you not see the people saying he’s finally with someone well matched with him? And when people said the same hateful things after premiere night because of that stunt where was the support for Nic? You think his choices didn’t affect her, whether it was intentional or not?

This side of the fandom is extremely male-centered and you just don’t want to admit it. I am still very much hoping to be proved wrong in the future.

Wow okay there is a lot to unpack here.

Let me start by saying that my blog is very new. I only started posting like a month or so ago so excuse me for my lack of defence back when Nic apparently “needed” it.

Neither of them “need” anybody to defend them lol. We don’t get brownie points for proving we are their number one fan. They literally have no fucking clue who I am and don’t care to find out either. I just use my platform to express my love for the people I am a fan of and the things I am passionate about and to express my frustration at things and behaviours that annoy me. That’s the point of having a personal blog.

idk how to make it any clearer. Like it’s literally in my username, yea I am a fan of Nicola too but I’m a bigger fan of Luke. We all have our faves so I don’t get why you’re so angry that Luke is mine.

Yes I see the very small number of people making comments like that about Antonia looking good next to Luke or whatever. I choose to ignore it because I have seen a very small number of these comments and me talking about it would only amplify these pathetic people’s voices. I obviously do not agree with this take. It is rooted in fatphobia and those people can say whatever they want but they do not speak for Luke or Nic.

Nic is not some self conscious young girl waiting for a man to notice how beautiful she is. The fact that you think Luke’s decisions about who he’s dating affected her, then you’re the problem. You’re the one painting Nicola as this desperate girl crying for attention. Nic is a confident and very sexy woman and she fucking owns it and knows it. She literally ruled 2024 and has gained so much popularity last year as she deserves. And you know what? Luke knows it too and that man, unlike what you and other people think, is not and was never ashamed to show that he’s attracted to her and finds her beautiful and sexy and smart and talented. He’s not the most talkative when it comes to that stuff, that man literally blushes at everything. But his actions speak louder than his words. Just because he is dating a woman who doesn’t look like Nic does not mean he does not find Nic attractive and it also does not mean he rejected Nic by doing so.

As @jenhack beautifully put in the comments: Nic is not bothered! She is busy talking to other SAG nominees and being lauded by her peers. She does not need to, or have to be defined by any man she is connected with.

Crazy Lukolas do not only hate on Jake and Nic but they also hate on Luke and Antonia. Have you seen all the nasty stuff they have called this poor girl?

Sorry this has been very long but I just need everybody to stop projecting their hurt feelings and traumas on Nicola and Luke PLEASE!

PS: the “you” is not just aimed at you specifically anon, but everybody who agrees with that discourse of Luke hurting Nic by dating another woman and taking her to the premieres that I am tired of hearing about. And let’s not forget Nic took Jake to that premiere too…

[tarotbyjam24]

messages from your future spouse

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Masterlist \pick a cards

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ? Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pile 1

Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful .

Some people don't change no matter how hard you try.

But we can not simply sit and stare at our wonds forever .

You spread joy because you're joy that's what I admire most about you .

First love teaches us what love isn't .

It's better to feel the hurt of honesty then to live in a false comfort of lie .

The secret of life is to be obsessed with yourself and be kind to everyone around you.

Some days are just heavy .

Everything you lost will be replaced with something better.

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 2

You haven't met the best version of yourself yet don't give up

when you choose yourself everything around you will choose you too

remember you can start again over and over as often as you need

people don't cry because they're weak it's because they've been strong for too long

the little things ? little moments ? they aren't little

perhaps we should learn to love ourselves so loudly , it silences our insecurities

I love seeing you happy

it happened so that you could grow

you will forever be my always

do it for your future self

Pile 3

You can't go back and change the beginning but you can start where you're and change the ending

expect nothing appreciate everything

you can also comit injustice by doing nothing

be patient. Sometimes you've to go through the worst to get best

how many time can the same thing break your heart ? As long as you love it

find joy in simple things life will always be fulfilling

In the end, I realized the hurt never turned to hate. No matter how much my emotions led me to feel so. I never stopped loving people. I stopped trusting them.

The art of observing and not absorbing

Not liking me is fine, but making up lies to destroy my character is weird.

Keep it private until you know it's permanent

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 4

First love teaches us what love isn't .

Discipline is the strongest form of self love .

She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind

people talk about me behind my back and i just sit here like damn i got myself a fan club

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations .

Forgive yourself for the mask you wore when you didn't feel safe enough to be yourself

YOU DON'T NEED EVERYONE TO love you, JUST A FEW GOOD PEOPLE

may every hour in your soul be golden, may it be filled with endless magic .

Vibes to carry through out the week

You're not sensitive. You're not overreacting. If it hurts you, it hurts you. Don't let anyone invalidate your feelings. Ever

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for pacs : open

[movingmusically]

Unscripted - Part 2

Original Request:

Can I request an austin one shot where austin and single and the female lead is not she is In an high profile relationship like tomdaya and they are happy and engaged but she and austin are co starring In a movie together and they fell in love

Word Count: 8,836

Masterlist

Part 1

The flight back home felt surreal, the stark contrast between the immersive world of the film and the polished, relentless pace of your everyday life almost jarring. As your car pulled up to the house you shared with Jack, a wave of guilt swept over you. This was your life, your future, and yet, for the first time, it felt like you didn’t quite belong in it.

Jack greeted you at the door with his signature easy smile, pulling you into a warm hug. “Welcome back,” he murmured against your hair, his hands firm on your back. The familiarity of his touch was grounding, but it also brought with it a weight you couldn’t ignore. You hugged him tighter, hoping the embrace would erase the unease that had taken root inside you.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping back and offering a small smile. “It’s good to be home.”

He helped you with your bags, asking about the shoot as you walked inside. You gave him the highlights—the beauty of Big Sur, the camaraderie of the cast and crew, the challenges of working without a script. You kept your answers vague, glossing over the depth of what the project had meant to you and avoiding any mention of Austin. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the connection you’d built on set or the moments that still lingered, unbidden, in your mind.

For the first few days, things slipped into an easy rhythm. You and Jack ordered your favourite takeout, caught up on TV shows you’d missed, and stole quiet moments together in the calm of your shared home. It felt familiar, comforting even, but there was something underneath it all—a distance neither of you acknowledged but both seemed to feel.

The tension only surfaced when the topic of the wedding came up again during dinner one evening. Jack had been scrolling through photos on his phone, showing you images of grand venues with towering ceilings and sprawling gardens.

“What about this one?” he asked, holding the screen toward you. The estate was stunning, no doubt about it, but its grandeur made your stomach twist.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “But don’t you think it’s a bit… much?”

Jack frowned slightly but kept his tone light. “It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be big, isn’t it? We’ve only got one shot at this—don’t you want to make it memorable?”

“I do,” you said softly, setting your fork down. “But memorable doesn’t have to mean hundreds of guests or some enormous venue. I’ve always imagined something smaller. Something more personal.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “Smaller, like what? A backyard barbecue?”

You let out a soft laugh, though the comment stung more than you cared to admit. “Not a barbecue, but something more like a celebration. Just the people closest to us, somewhere relaxed where we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I hear you. I do. But I think you’re underestimating how much people expect from us. We’ve got friends, family, colleagues—all of them are going to want to celebrate this with us. A small wedding just isn’t practical.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling heavily. “I know there’s a lot to consider, but I just don’t want us to lose sight of what this is about: us. Not everyone else.”

Jack nodded slowly, but his expression didn’t soften. “I’m not saying it’s all about everyone else, but they’re part of our lives too. We owe them something.”

The conversation ended there, but the knot in your stomach remained long after you’d cleared the dishes. Jack retreated to the living room to make a few work calls, and you found yourself staring out the kitchen window, the ring on your finger catching the faint glow of the streetlights outside. It wasn’t just the wedding. That much was clear.

The next weekend, you and Jack stepped out for brunch at a café in the heart of the city. The morning was crisp, the kind of autumn day that begged for warm drinks and quiet conversation. You tried to focus on the present, to enjoy the simplicity of being with Jack, but the weight of your unresolved feelings was still there.

The conversation lingered as you left the restaurant and walked hand in hand down the quiet street. You didn’t argue, but the difference in your visions for the wedding hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You wanted to believe it was something you could compromise on, but deep down, you weren’t sure either of you would be entirely happy with the other’s version of your day.

In the distance you spotted the glint of a camera lens. Your stomach sank. Paparazzi.

Jack seemed unfazed, slipping his arm around your waist as you made your way down the street. “Just ignore them,” he said under his breath, his voice calm but firm.

You nodded, but the awareness of being watched made every step feel heavier. The cameras clicked furiously as you reached the car, the flashing lights momentarily blinding. You climbed inside quickly, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding as Jack started the engine.

The headlines came the next day. Pictures of you and Jack walking side by side, smiles faint but stiff, were plastered across tabloids with captions like “Trouble in Paradise?” and “Hollywood’s Golden Couple Looking Less Than Happy.”

Jack tossed one of the magazines onto the kitchen counter, his jaw tight. “Do they ever get tired of making stuff up?”

You glanced at the cover, your heart sinking. “It’s just noise,” you said, trying to dismiss it. “People will forget about it in a week.”

“Still,” he said, his tone sharper than usual. “It’s like they’re waiting for us to fail.”

“We’re not failing,” you said quickly, though the words felt more like a reassurance for yourself than for him.

Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a breath. “I know. Sorry. It just gets to me sometimes.”

The cracks deepened over the following weeks. The conversation about the wedding remained unresolved, each new suggestion from Jack feeling like another reminder of how out of sync you were. But it wasn’t just the wedding—it was the way he talked about the future, about stepping back from acting to start a family.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, he brought it up again. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice steady. “Maybe after the wedding, we could take some time to really slow down. Focus on what matters. A family.”

You hesitated, your stomach tightening. “You mean… right away?”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to face you. “We’ve both been working nonstop for years. It feels like the right time.”

You stared at him, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” you said carefully. “There’s still so much I want to do.”

Jack frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. “Like what? You’re at the top of your game. What more do you need?”

“It’s not about needing more,” you said softly. “It’s about… not feeling like I’m done yet. There are roles I want to take, stories I want to tell. I’m not ready to step back—not yet.”

Jack leaned back, letting out a long breath. “I get that,” he said finally, though his tone was resigned. “But at some point, we have to figure out what’s next for us. We can’t just keep going like this forever.”

You nodded, but his words stayed with you long after the conversation ended. The growing distance between you felt insurmountable at times, and no matter how hard you tried to bridge it, the cracks only seemed to widen. You told yourself it was just a phase, that every couple went through rough patches, but deep down, you weren’t sure if that was true.

At night, as you lay beside Jack in bed, your thoughts wandered back to the set, to the quiet intensity of filming, to Austin. You pushed the memories down, but even as you closed your eyes, you couldn’t escape the feeling that the life you’d built was starting to feel like someone else’s.

*

The gala dinner was as glamorous as you’d expected—a glittering blend of industry titans, rising stars, and carefully curated opulence. The film was already generating buzz, and the event felt like a celebration of its success, even before it had premiered. You arrived with Jack, the two of you quickly swept into a swirl of handshakes, polite laughter, and clinking glasses.

Jack’s hand rested at your waist as you navigated the room together, his charm on full display as he chatted easily with producers and directors. You followed his lead, slipping into the polished rhythm you’d perfected over the years. But despite the familiar ease of it all, your thoughts kept straying to the possibility of seeing Austin.

It didn’t take long. You spotted him across the room, standing in a small circle of people, his laugh low and easy. He looked effortlessly put together in a tailored suit, his presence magnetic even in a room filled with celebrities. Your stomach tightened, a flicker of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress.

Jack noticed your attention shift and followed your gaze. “There’s Austin,” he said, his tone neutral but with a flicker of curiosity.

You nodded, your chest tightening slightly. “Yeah. Should we go say hi?”

“Why not?” Jack said, steering you through the crowd with his usual confidence.

Austin turned toward you as you approached, his expression softening with recognition. You offered him a small smile. “Hi,” you said, your voice warm despite the faint tension you felt.

“Hey,” Austin replied, his gaze flicking between you and Jack. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Jack said, extending his hand. “Nice to actually get to talk this time. I think we only managed a quick hello when I visited the set.”

“Yeah, it was a busy day,” Austin agreed, shaking Jack’s hand. “It’s good to finally chat properly.”

Jack’s smile was easy, his tone friendly. “Y/N’s told me a lot about the project—it sounded like a really unique experience.”

“It was,” Austin said, his focus briefly shifting to you before returning to Jack. “Definitely one of the most challenging but rewarding projects I’ve ever worked on.”

“It’s a great team,” you added quickly, feeling the need to contribute something. “And Celeste really pushed us in ways I didn’t expect.”

Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, she has a way of doing that.”

There was a brief pause, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried a weight you couldn’t quite define. Jack’s arm rested casually at your back, his presence steady but unmistakable. You shifted slightly under the weight of both their gazes, your pulse quickening for reasons you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Well,” Jack said after a beat, his tone light. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure we’ll run into you again tonight.”

“Of course,” Austin replied, his voice easy. “Enjoy the event.”

“You too,” you said, your voice just barely steady as Jack began to guide you away.

As you walked through the crowd, Jack leaned in slightly, his tone casual. “He seems like a solid guy.”

“He is,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “Really professional.”

Jack nodded, his attention already shifting to the next conversation. But as much as you tried to refocus, you couldn’t shake the way Austin’s voice, his presence, lingered in your mind.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and carefully crafted smiles. Jack was in his element, charming everyone in his orbit, and you tried to match his energy. But every so often, you caught sight of Austin across the room, his presence like a magnet you couldn’t resist.

Eventually, you excused yourself, slipping out onto the terrace for some air. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief, and you leaned against the railing, letting the distant hum of the city settle your thoughts.

“You have a habit of escaping,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to see Austin standing a few feet away, a cigarette between his fingers.

“Only when I need to breathe,” you replied, your lips curving into a faint smile.

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried. There was a moment of silence, not awkward but heavy with something unspoken. You looked out over the city, the hum of distant traffic filling the space between you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, his voice quiet but warm.

“Good,” you said, the word feeling too small for everything you wanted to say. “Busy. You?”

“Same,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Feels like I haven’t stopped since we wrapped.”

You nodded, your mind flashing back to the last days of filming, the weight of everything you’d tried to leave behind pressing against your chest. “The film—it’s been getting great buzz,” you said, your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. “Celeste sent me some of the early edits. It’s… different. In a good way.”

“Different,” you echoed, the word catching in your throat. “That’s one way to describe it.”

He smiled faintly, and for a moment, it felt like you were back on set, caught in the strange, electric connection that had grown between you. His gaze lingered on you, searching, as though he could see the cracks you were trying so hard to hide.

“You’ve changed,” he said finally, his voice low. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… you seem different.”

The words hit you like a jolt. You looked away, your fingers tightening around the stem of your champagne flute. “It’s been a busy few months,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

“Busy doesn’t change who you are,” he said, his tone gentle but certain. “But I guess it’s not my place to say.”

Your chest tightened, a swirl of emotions threatening to surface. “It’s complicated,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t press, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. When you turned back to him, his expression was soft, understanding, but there was something else in his eyes—a quiet longing that mirrored the ache you’d been fighting to ignore.

You didn’t notice you’d stepped closer until your shoulder almost brushed his. The warmth of him was a stark contrast to the cool night air, and the faint scent of his cologne sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you then, his gaze dipping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes.

You stepped back quickly, your heart racing. “I should get back,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Jack will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. “Y/N.”

You hesitated, your hand on the door.

“I’m really glad we worked together,” he said, his words laced with quiet intensity. “I mean that.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and slipped back inside before the pull toward him could overwhelm you.

Back in the room, you found Jack deep in conversation with a producer, his easy charm on full display. He looked up as you approached, his smile widening as he reached for your hand. You let him pull you close, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as the echoes of your conversation with Austin lingered in your mind.

The night wore on, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The space between you and Jack felt more pronounced, every laugh and touch feeling like an act you were performing for an audience. Across the room, you caught sight of Austin one last time. He was talking to someone, his expression relaxed but his eyes distant.

You looked away quickly, guilt and longing warring in your chest. Whatever had shifted between you and Austin, whatever spark still lingered, you knew you couldn’t let it consume you. But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t escape the feeling that something had been set in motion, something you weren’t sure you could stop.

The car ride home with Jack was quiet, the kind of silence that was comfortable only on the surface. Jack rested his hand on your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly drumming a rhythm that should have been soothing but only heightened your unease. Your gaze stayed fixed on the city lights streaking past the window, but your mind was elsewhere—back on the terrace, the way Austin’s gaze had lingered on yours, the weight of his words still pressing against your chest.

Jack glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’ve been quiet since we left,” he said, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

You forced a small smile. “Just tired,” you replied, your voice carefully neutral. “It’s been a long night.”

Jack nodded, his attention shifting back to the road. “It was a good night, though. You handled yourself brilliantly. Everyone loves you.”

“Thanks,” you said, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

He didn’t press further, which you were grateful for, but as you pulled into the driveway, the tension in your chest only grew. You’d been holding onto too many feelings for too long, each one pulling you in a different direction, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep everything buried.

*

The living room was strewn with wedding magazines and loose papers, a small tablet perched on the coffee table displaying a sleek website for potential venues. Jack sat on the couch, his laptop balanced on his knee as he scrolled through an email chain with a wedding planner he’d found through a colleague. You sat cross-legged on the floor, an untouched cup of tea growing cold beside you.

It wasn’t exactly the wedding you’d imagined.

“I think the guest list is manageable now,” Jack said, his tone upbeat as he glanced at you over the screen of his laptop. “We’ve cut it down to about 120. That’s pretty small by Hollywood standards.”

You nodded, tracing patterns on the edge of the rug. “Yeah. Smaller,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

He frowned slightly, sensing your hesitation. “I know it’s not what you originally wanted,” he said, his voice softening. “But I think it’s a good middle ground, don’t you? It’s not the huge spectacle everyone expects, but it’s still special.”

You managed a small smile, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm. “It’s a compromise,” you said, echoing the words you’d told yourself over and over since the planning had started.

Jack set his laptop aside, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Hey,” he said gently, catching your gaze. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “It’s not… bad,” you said carefully. “It’s just… all of this—the guest lists, the menus, the colour palettes—it still feels like we’re planning something for everyone else, not for us.”

Jack exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But I want it to feel right, Y/N. For both of us. I’m trying to find that balance.”

“I know,” you said quickly, reaching for his hand. “And I appreciate it. I really do. I just… I never pictured something this formal. I always thought it would be small, intimate. Just us and the people closest to us.”

His fingers tightened around yours, his expression softening. “I want that too,” he said. “But I also want to celebrate this properly. I don’t want it to feel like we’re hiding.”

You nodded, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, though the words felt more like a reassurance for him than for yourself.

Jack smiled faintly, leaning back against the couch. “So, what about a date?” he asked, his tone shifting to something lighter. “We should lock something in, right?”

You reached for your phone, pulling up your calendar. “Let’s see…” you began, scrolling through the next few months. “I’ve got the Greta Gerwig project starting in a few weeks, and then there’s a press tour…”

Jack’s face shifted, his smile faltering. “Right. And I’ve got…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.

You looked up at him, your stomach twisting. “What?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I got the offer for the lead in that film I told you about. The one shooting in New Zealand.”

Your heart sank. “When?”

“In four months,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “It’s a three-month shoot.”

The words settled between you like a weight, the implications hitting you both at once.

“That’s…” you started, your voice catching. “That’s a big deal, Jack. You should do it.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I mean, I already said yes. It’s the kind of role I can’t turn down. But the timing…”

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

His eyes softened, but there was a flicker of doubt there that you couldn’t ignore. “Ok. You’ve got the press tour. And the new project. How long does that one run?”

“Two months,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But then there’s the post-production work. ADR, reshoots… It’s a lot.”

Jack leaned back, his expression heavy. “So we’re both about to disappear for most of the year.”

The truth of it settled over you both, the reality of your lives pulling you in opposite directions. You sat in silence for a long moment, the plans and compromises scattered around you feeling suddenly insignificant.

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the weary look in his eyes.

“We’re both busy,” he said finally, his voice quiet but heavy. “I get that. But sometimes it feels like we’re barely in this anymore. Like we’re just… going through the motions.”

Your throat tightened, the truth of his words hitting you like a blow. “I know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Neither did you.

*

You’d just wrapped your latest project, a gritty drama that had demanded every ounce of your focus and energy. The long days on set had been a welcome distraction from the strained reality of your relationship with Jack. With him halfway across the world, the distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore. Calls had become shorter, text messages less frequent. When you did talk, it often felt like you were tiptoeing around something unspoken, both of you avoiding the cracks that seemed to widen with every passing day.

Throwing yourself into work had been your coping mechanism, and for a while, it had helped. But now, with the film behind you, there was no escape. The press tour for the improvisational project you’d filmed with Austin had arrived, and you’d thrown yourself into that instead, grateful for the busyness and the change of scenery.

It was during one of these interviews, seated side by side in a sleek hotel suite, that you felt the first real crack in your resolve. The journalist had asked a question about the improvisational nature of the film, and Austin’s response had been so earnest, so thoughtful, that you found yourself watching him with a mix of admiration and something deeper you didn’t want to name.

“It was all about trust,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “We had to rely on each other completely, and I think that shows in the final product.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before turning back to the journalist. “It was definitely one of the most intense but rewarding experiences of my career,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The interview moved on, the journalist’s questions shifting to lighter topics, but your mind lingered on Austin’s words. Trust. He’d said it so simply, but it carried so much weight. That trust had been the foundation of everything you’d built together on set, and you felt its echoes now, in the way he listened so attentively to the interviewer’s questions, the way he leaned toward you slightly as though his presence alone could steady you.

After the interview, as you stepped into the hallway, Austin fell into step beside you. “That went well,” he said, his tone casual but kind.

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing up at him. “You’re good at this stuff.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “So are you.”

It was such a small thing, but the way he said it made your chest tighten. There was no ulterior motive, no performance. Just sincerity. It was a quality you’d come to admire in him over the course of the shoot, but now, with everything so raw and strained in your personal life, it felt magnified.

As the tour continued, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just his looks, though that was part of it—the easy charm of his smile, the quiet intensity of his eyes, the way he carried himself with a confidence that never felt arrogant. But it was more than that. It was the way he treated everyone around him, from the journalists to the hotel staff to the fans who waited outside the press junkets for hours just for a moment with him.

He was kind. That was what struck you most. Kind in a way that felt rare, especially in an industry that so often rewarded the opposite. You watched the way he spoke to people, always present, always genuine, and you felt your chest tighten with something you were beginning to recognise but couldn’t admit.

There was a moment in the hotel lobby one evening, between events, when you saw him chatting with a fan. She was nervous, fumbling over her words, but he knelt slightly so they were at eye level, his tone gentle as he reassured her and took a photo. You watched from a distance, your heart aching in a way that felt both sweet and unbearable.

Later that night, as you sat in your hotel room scrolling through the day’s photos and interviews, you found yourself replaying small moments in your mind. The way Austin had touched your elbow to guide you out of a crowded room, the way his laugh had filled the car during a quiet drive between interviews, the way he’d looked at you during that panel discussion when you’d stumbled over a question, steadying you with just a glance.

You weren’t just attracted to him. You were falling for him.

The realisation hit you like a jolt, your chest tightening as you set your phone down and pressed your hands to your face. It was so much more than you’d let yourself acknowledge before. You didn’t just admire him, didn’t just appreciate his presence. You were in love with him.

And it wasn’t just the idea of him, either. It was the reality—the warmth of his kindness, the quiet strength of his support, the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in so long.

You lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of it settled over you. The feelings you’d tried so hard to push down were impossible to ignore now, no matter how much guilt clawed at you. Jack’s name flickered through your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of shame that followed.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, the truth was there, undeniable. You loved Austin. And with every passing day, it was becoming harder to pretend you didn’t.

*

The press tour had been a whirlwind escape, a way to throw yourself into work and momentarily forget about the cracks that had started forming in your relationship with Jack. But now that you were home, the weight of reality settled heavily over you. The house was familiar, but it didn’t feel like home anymore—it felt like a place where unresolved tensions lingered in every room.

Jack was leaving in a few days, flying halfway across the world for six months. You’d barely had time to reconnect before his suitcase was back in the corner of the bedroom, half-packed and looming like a reminder of everything you hadn’t talked about.

Dinner that night was quiet, the clink of cutlery on plates the only sound. You could feel the tension between you like a physical presence, heavy and suffocating. Jack was the first to break the silence.

“Have you thought any more about the wedding?” he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

You sighed softly, setting your fork down. “I have,” you said, glancing up at him. “And I think we’ve done a good job meeting in the middle. It’s bigger than I wanted, smaller than you did… but it still doesn’t feel like me, Jack. I’m trying to get on board with it, but…”

“But you’re not,” he finished for you, his tone tinged with frustration. “Y/N, I get that this isn’t your dream wedding, but it’s not exactly mine either. We’ve both compromised. Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be about?”

“It is,” you said quickly, your voice cracking slightly. “And I’m grateful for that. But it’s not just the wedding, Jack. It’s… everything.”

His brow furrowed, his fork paused mid-air. “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I mean, the wedding has made me realise how different our visions for the future are. It’s not just about the size of the guest list or the colour palette. It’s about what happens after. You’re ready to settle down, to start a family, and I… I’m not.”

Jack’s fork clattered onto his plate, the sound sharp and jarring. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You said you wanted that too—just not right away.”

“I do want it,” you said, your eyes welling with tears. “But I don’t know when, Jack. And every time we talk about the wedding, it feels like this countdown to a life I’m not ready for yet. You’re ready to step back, but I’m just getting started. There are still roles I want to take, things I want to do. I can’t give that up—not yet.”

He stared at you, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m asking you to find a way for both of us to have what we want. Isn’t that the whole point of being together?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now. “It feels like we’re on two completely different paths, Jack. You want to slow down, start a family, have this settled life. And I feel like I’m barely getting started. I don’t know how to make those paths line up.”

His shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So what are you saying? That this isn’t going to work?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m just… scared. Scared that we’ll keep trying to force this and end up resenting each other. Scared that one of us will always feel like we gave up too much.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I don’t know how to keep us together when it feels like we’re falling apart.”

The admission hit you like a blow, and you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this. Every time we try to talk about it, it feels like we’re just going in circles.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his frustration. “I love you,” he said simply, the weight of the words almost too much to bear.

“I love you too,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But sometimes… sometimes love isn’t enough.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything you couldn’t say. Jack’s hand tightened around yours for a moment before he pulled away, standing and pacing the length of the dining room.

“Maybe we’re trying too hard to hold onto something that isn’t working anymore,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, your heart breaking even as you acknowledged the truth of his words. “Maybe we are.”

He turned back to you, his eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t want us to hate each other,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want us to turn into something we’re not.”

You stood, closing the distance between you, and wrapped your arms around him. He held you tightly, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I wanted this to work so badly.”

“I know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “I did too.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet tears and whispered goodbyes. You sat together on the couch, your hands entwined, saying everything you needed to say even as your hearts broke. There was no anger, no blame, just the quiet understanding of two people who loved each other deeply but couldn’t make it work.

When Jack left a few days later, his suitcase packed and waiting by the door, he turned to you one last time. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “You too,” you managed, the words barely audible.

As his car disappeared down the street, you stood in the doorway, tears streaming down your face. The house felt impossibly quiet when you stepped back inside, the echoes of your life together lingering in every corner.

But even through the pain, there was a small, fragile sense of relief. You’d made the right decision—painful as it was—and now, for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that the path ahead might hold something new, something true.

*

The awards ceremony buzzed with the kind of electric energy only Hollywood could generate. The film had been nominated for multiple categories, including Best Picture, and the stakes felt impossibly high. You hadn’t attended an event like this in months—your first red carpet since the breakup—and the thought of facing the cameras, the questions, and the inevitable whispers made your stomach twist with nerves.

But tonight wasn’t about you. It was about the film, about the months of work that had pushed you to your emotional limits and left you forever changed. You’d spent the afternoon carefully preparing—your team perfecting every detail of your look until you finally felt like someone ready to step back into the spotlight. The gown you wore was sleek and understated, a shimmering black that caught the light just enough to feel glamorous without being ostentatious. It was a deliberate choice: elegant, confident, but nothing that screamed look at me.

The red carpet was as overwhelming as you remembered. Flashes exploded in bursts, reporters called out your name, and the cacophony of voices blurred into white noise. You smiled for the cameras, answering questions with poise, but the effort of it all left you breathless by the time you made it inside.

The venue was grand, its high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the sea of perfectly dressed attendees. You navigated the room with the same grace you’d worn on the red carpet, exchanging polite smiles and making small talk as you slowly made your way to your table. The cast and crew had been seated together, a mix of familiar faces and new additions filling the space with laughter and quiet anticipation.

Austin was already at his seat. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up with an easy, warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, rising slightly from his chair. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, managing a smile that didn’t quite mask your nerves.

As you slipped into your seat a few chairs away from him, the rest of the table began to fill with the familiar faces of the production team. Celeste arrived shortly after, her energy as magnetic as ever, her soft grey gown a striking complement to her usual unassuming brilliance.

The ceremony began, and as the awards were announced, the tension in the room began to build. When the film won its first award for Best Sound Design, the table erupted into cheers, Celeste clapping exuberantly before raising her glass in a small toast to the sound team.

Between awards, the conversation at the table was lively, punctuated with laughter and shared memories. Celeste turned to you and Austin at one point, her expression softening as she placed a hand lightly on your arm.

“I’m so proud of both of you,” she said earnestly. “This film… it wouldn’t be what it is without the trust and vulnerability you brought to it. You carried so much of its heart, and I hope you know how extraordinary that is.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “That means everything coming from you.”

Austin, seated across from you, nodded, his voice equally sincere. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked on something that felt this… real. You pushed us in ways I didn’t know were possible.”

Celeste smiled warmly, her gaze darting between the two of you. “That’s what makes it so special. It’s rare to capture something so raw, so alive. I’ll always be grateful to you both for taking that leap.”

The conversation lingered in your mind long after Celeste had turned to speak with someone else. You stole a glance at Austin, finding him already watching you. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a flicker of the trust that had defined your work together.

As the evening progressed, the film continued its winning streak, culminating in the announcement of Best Picture. When the title was called, the entire table erupted into cheers, a whirlwind of applause and celebration. You found yourself pulled into a series of hugs, but when Austin wrapped his arms around you, the moment felt different—longer, steadier, as if grounding you amidst the chaos.

“We did it,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. “We really did.”

The applause and speeches blurred into a wave of euphoria, the weight of the achievement sinking in as you stood together on stage with the rest of the cast and crew. The moment felt surreal, a culmination of months of work and emotion condensed into a few fleeting minutes.

The after-party was held in an opulent ballroom, the perfect backdrop for the industry elite to unwind after the ceremony. You floated between groups, a glass of champagne in hand, the glow of the night still warming your chest. The congratulations from colleagues and acquaintances were plentiful, and you did your best to accept them graciously, though the noise of the room felt overwhelming at times.

You spotted Austin near the bar, laughing with a few of the cast members. He caught your eye briefly and gave you a small wave, but before you could make your way over, another familiar face approached.

“Y/N,” came a voice, rich with warmth and mischief. It was Sophie, one of your co-stars from a previous project. She looked stunning, as always, her emerald gown shimmering as she leaned in for a quick hug. “You’re glowing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s been… a lot.”

“I can imagine,” she said, her tone dropping slightly. “Especially after everything with Jack. I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but… are you okay? I mean, it must be hard seeing the headlines and still being so put together.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you managed to maintain your composure. “I’m fine,” you said, the practiced answer coming easily. “It’s been a while now.”

Sophie nodded, her expression softening. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look incredible. And you’ve got so much going for you—this film, all these awards… you don’t need anyone to complete you.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” you said, your smile genuine but small. “I appreciate it.”

She gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before disappearing back into the crowd. You turned away, exhaling quietly as you moved toward a quieter corner of the room.

“Y/N,” Austin’s voice came from behind you, soft but steady. You turned to see him standing there, his expression tinged with concern. “Are you okay? I saw Sophie talking to you.”

You nodded quickly, though your throat felt tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. She just brought up Jack, and it… caught me off guard.”

Austin hesitated, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tuxedo trousers. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up,” he said carefully. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just… a little strange sometimes, hearing other people talk about it like it’s still fresh.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze warm and steady. “If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

The simplicity of his words, the quiet sincerity in his tone, made your chest tighten. “Thank you,” you said softly. “But I think I’m finally starting to move forward.”

His smile was faint but understanding, and the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. It felt natural, easy—like slipping back into a rhythm you hadn’t realised you’d missed.

The energy of the party shifted as the hours wore on. The initial rush of excitement mellowed into a relaxed, almost intimate atmosphere. The room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of conversations that had become more personal as the night stretched on.

You found yourself gravitating toward Austin more and more, drawn by the calm he seemed to exude in contrast to the buzz of the crowd. The two of you had settled into a quiet corner of the room, where the chatter softened to a gentle backdrop and the lighting felt warm and forgiving.

“This is nice,” you said, leaning back against the plush cushions of the seating area. Your shoes were long abandoned, and you’d curled your legs beneath you. The champagne flute in your hand was still half-full, but you weren’t in a rush to finish it. “Being able to just… be, without a camera in my face or a question about my personal life.”

Austin chuckled softly, his posture as relaxed as yours. “It’s rare, isn’t it? These moments where you don’t have to perform for anyone.”

“Rare and precious,” you agreed, your gaze drifting over the room before settling back on him. “I’ve missed this—the quiet moments.”

He nodded, his smile soft. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like the only time you can really breathe is when the spotlight moves to someone else.”

For a while, the conversation meandered through safe, familiar territory—funny stories from the press tour, the chaos of awards season, and lighthearted jokes about how Celeste had probably orchestrated her own victory dance when the film won Best Picture. But as the noise of the party faded further into the background, the space between you shifted.

The way he looked at you felt different—softer, warmer, yet somehow more intense. You found yourself leaning in slightly, as though drawn to him without even realising it. His hand rested on the arm of the couch, fingers brushing against the fabric, and you resisted the sudden, irrational urge to reach out and touch them.

“Austin,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his name on your lips made your chest tighten. “Can I tell you something?”

His gaze flicked to yours, the easy smile on his face fading into something more serious. “Of course.”

You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat. But the look in his eyes—steady, open, and utterly patient—was enough to push you forward.

“Being around you tonight,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “it feels… easy. Like I can breathe again. And I didn’t realise how much I needed that until now.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but his expression was full of understanding. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said softly. “You deserve to feel at ease.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem of your glass. “It’s not just tonight, though. It’s… you. It’s how you are, the way you make everything feel so… uncomplicated, even when it’s not. You’re just… so good, with everyone. And with me.”

The confession hung between you, the air growing heavier with each passing second. His lips parted slightly, his eyes searching yours, but he didn’t speak right away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the vulnerability of the moment threatening to overwhelm you.

“I don’t know when it happened,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper now. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing you as just a friend. And I’ve been trying so hard to push it down because it’s messy, and it’s not fair, and I’m scared of what it means. But I can’t keep pretending it’s not there.”

Austin exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as though some invisible weight had been lifted. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I think I’ve always seen you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw honesty in them hitting you like a wave. “I thought it was just me,” you admitted, a faint laugh escaping you. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing. It’s never been nothing.”

His hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours where they rested on the cushion between you. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but the way his gaze lingered on yours told you it wasn’t.

“It’s not nothing,” he said softly, his voice steady. “But I don’t want to rush you, or complicate things more than they already are.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly, your heart pounding. “Austin, you’re not making things harder. If anything, you’re the only thing that’s been making sense lately.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavily in the space between you. His fingers brushed yours again, more deliberately this time, and your breath caught as the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Out of here? Like… now?”

He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “Just for some air. No cameras, no crowd. Just us.”

Your pulse quickened at the suggestion, but you found yourself nodding before you’d even fully processed the question. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I’d like that.”

The courtyard was quiet, the soft glow of string lights above casting warm pools of light onto the cobblestones. A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the ivy climbing the walls, and the gentle trickle of the fountain filled the silence. You let out a slow breath, trying to ground yourself, but your heart was racing, every nerve in your body alive with the weight of what had just been said.

Austin stood close, his hands still in his pockets, like he was holding himself back. His gaze hadn’t left you since you’d stepped outside, steady and searching, his expression open in a way that made your chest ache.

“This feels…” He paused, his voice low, unsure. “It feels like we’re finally being honest.”

You nodded, your fingers gripping the edge of the wrought-iron bench beside you for balance. “I think we are,” you said softly. “And it’s terrifying.”

He let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You smiled faintly, the tension between you shifting, charged but no longer stifling. He took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

His hand lifted slightly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before brushing against yours. The faint touch sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching. Your gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and the unspoken question hanging in the air passed between you, heavy and certain.

You didn’t wait for him to close the gap. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you slid your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into the soft waves at the nape of his neck. His breath caught, but he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer as your lips met.

The kiss started slow, tentative, like the first notes of a song you’d been waiting to hear. His lips were soft, warm, moving against yours in a way that felt both careful and electric. You tightened your hold on him, your fingers brushing the base of his hairline, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, almost like a sigh.

As the kiss deepened, you caught the faint taste of champagne on his lips, the sweetness mingling with the warmth of his breath. His tongue brushed against yours, tentative at first, before the kiss grew bolder, the restraint between you giving way to something more urgent. A soft whimper escaped you, and his hands tightened at your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you.

Your body melted against his, your heart pounding as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The world around you—the fountain, the courtyard, the muffled sounds of the party inside—faded entirely. All that remained was the feel of him, the way his tongue explored yours, the gentle scrape of his teeth on your bottom lip as he broke the kiss just enough to catch his breath before diving back in.

His hands slid from your waist to your back, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of your dress like he couldn’t bear to let you go. You felt his hair between your fingers, soft and slightly mussed, and the quiet intimacy of the moment made your chest tighten.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless, your lips tingling. His hands stayed on your back, holding you close as his thumb traced small, soothing circles just below your shoulder blade.

“You taste like champagne,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“So do you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “And strawberries.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said quietly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “For so long.”

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rushing through you—relief, longing, and something deeper you weren’t ready to name. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I just didn’t know how much until now.”

His hands shifted to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheekbones. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his tone steady despite the faint shake in his hands. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your lips brushing his in a soft, almost tentative kiss. It wasn’t urgent this time, but lingering, filled with quiet promises neither of you needed to say aloud. When you pulled back, you felt steadier, lighter, like the weight you’d been carrying for months had finally started to lift.

In the soft glow of the courtyard, his gaze held yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe. Whatever happened next, you weren’t alone in it. Not anymore.

[eternalwritess]

jjk matchup for @kittywhoo

i match you with... 𝓢𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓾 𝓖𝓸𝓳𝓸 ██ 20% _ ████ 60% _ █████ 80% _ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

❁ You guys met at Jujutsu Tech when the two of you were students most likely and he grew pretty attached to you pretty fast! In terms of personality you were nothing short of perfect for him. You being argumentative didn't bother him at all, in fact he liked it. To him it was a challenge and one that he really really wanted to win. So he'd start a fight with you whenever he could

❁ He would commonly start mini arguments over the simplest of things and you would call him an idiot and he would call you one back. Soon enough these insults would spiral every now and then and then Yaga or Suguru would need to step in but he always loved it when it escalated

❁ While he's not easily forgiving he is pretty easy going... also he can totally take a joke. In fact the two of you will be making harsher and harsher jokes towards each other to the point where no one knows if you even like each other anymore. Don't worry though, you do <3

❁ He actually really likes you, like he thinks about you all of the time and will commonly send you things that remind him of you and- ... oh he's in love. It took him a LONG while to notice it but once he did he didn't need anyone to tell him to confess as he did it himself

(◍•ᴗ•◍)

❁ At first you really took an issue with his whole "the weak just need to get strong" attitude and would argue with him on it all of the time. But soon enough it changed, and when it changed god did it hurt. After the Star Plasma Vessel he just walked past you and told you that you were right with no context. It freaked you out but whenever you pestered him about it he never said anything and instead just looked away. You learned from Shoko what happened

❁ You were probably the only person at the time who pushed him into talking about it and what had happened to him, since communication is important to you he began talking. Of course he left out some details like a lot of them but he told you the gist of it and that he would tell you more when he was ready. He felt really bad about the whole thing

❁ Anyways onto some more happy things, he lets you decorate him all of the time and he lets you dress him up however you like. This is mostly because it confuses the hell out of Utahime and Shoko finds it hilarious

❁ Whenever you paint his fingers he always forget that you're well... painting them and will reach over to grab something and you have to hold him back and remind him that he needs to stay still while his nails dry (or while they're under the uv light, whatever you have really)

❁ Physical touch? He loves physical touch, he wraps his arm around you all of the time and holds your hand constantly. There are so few times of you initiating the hand holding because whenever he sees you he grabs your hand

❁ He also spends all the time that he can with you. He gets rather busy in the future but he makes sure that he mas time for you, no matter what. Sometimes he'll even ask for a day or too off and they'll give it to him because... well he's the strongest

[fawnsmagicalisland]

oh my god your blog theme is so beautiful it’s giving temptation 🥰🥰

I follow your bnd acc and I love love love the way you write them! And I see you write for &team which is great since not many people do 😭

So I was wondering, if you take requests, how do you think Nicholas would deal with coming home to you after a long day of practice? I see him as a switch so in I think in this case he would let you take control and make him feel good but I ask for you to expand on this idea!

If you don’t take requests that’s fine too, I’ll be supporting your future works 🫶🏽

EEEEEK nonnie tysm for your sweet compliments!! 🥰 i'm so happy you're happy with my work!!! 🤧🤭 also i definitely did use txt’s temptation concept as inspo hehe. and i do take requests, yes yes! i LOVE this idea when i saw it i squealed n giggled… kicking my feet, twirling my hair, etc. but anyway let’s just get into it. hope you enjoy! <3

warnings: smut, mdni!, switch!nicholas but really only focuses on him as a sub in this scenario, just some thoughts not a full fic, afab!reader but no pnouns used, praise, oral (reader receiving), edging (idol receiving)

wc: 550

nicholas gives me switch vibes too! sometimes domming is too much work, so he just wants to be subby for you. :( in any case, he loves things to be taken slow. i think he’d be a pretty romantic guy in the sense that for him, sex is more than just the physicality. it’s about the emotions as well. 

when nicholas comes home to you after a tiring day of practice, all he wants is to be coddled. this man lives for giving you compliments, and also receiving them from you. when you run your fingers through his hair with his head on your lap, telling him about how proud he makes you, he immediately goes into a subspace. 

nicholas has a tendency to get overstimulated after a long day–who wouldn’t?--and his best way to cope with that is via sex. there’s something about combating a negative overstimulating environment with a positive overstimulating one that has him hooked. even if he’s had a long, tiring day, he’s still got enough energy to last him for a couple of hours. 

he loves to eat you out on days like that. he loves it when you’re a bit rough and needy about it too–bucking your hips into his face as he desperately tries to keep up a rhythm. he eventually gives up though, instead just allowing you to use his face. 

he also likes to bury his face in between your boobs. it’s both comforting and so hot to him. he loves marking up your skin too while looking up at you with adoration as you ride his cock. 

i think he’d be a soft sub, not very bratty. especially when he’s tired–he’d rather direct his energy toward making you, and therefore him, feel good. he loves putting a lot of care into making you feel good because sometimes he feels like he could just cum from the sound of your moans alone. 

he does appreciate being told what to do, but he would be a bit whiny if you told him to not touch you. nicholas loves to always have his hands on you–whether it’s holding your hand or fondling your boobs. i think that’s the only time he would be “bratty.” he knows that he’s sexy, though, so he knows that even if you try to be more strict during sex, you’ll probably fold for him. 

extra thoughts: 

he wouldn’t mind edging–especially if it means he can still touch you.

he would prefer, whether he’s dom or sub for the evening, to light some candles and turn on music to make things even more romantic. 

he is desperate when it comes to making you cum. he prefers for you to cum before him, maybe even twice or three times. 

he’s big on power imbalances, so i think he’d always like things as either he’s dom and you’re sub or he’s sub and you’re dom. sometimes the positions may switch during sex, but they’re still present nonetheless. 

speaking of positions… i think he’d love trying different ones. one position i think he’d really like is when making out, having you straddle his lap while on your knees, hovering above him. he’s really tall, so he kind of likes it when things are flipped and he’s the one looking up at you.