#Angst & Fluff

[riverbutghost]

He is much more older than you || 2

(sorry, this is a bit longer than I intended it to be and no more parts are coming, just your imagination ;)) part 1 here || part 3 here!!

You still couldn’t help but think about his words over and over again. It was hurtful, getting scolded from him was always hurtful. But this was something else, he had rejected you.

“Sir,”

You mumbled, and opened the door after he had told you to come in.

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t look at him. What happened to ‘You weren’t going to stop?’ huh?

You didn’t know what to do, God you weren’t that brave either. Your last encounter left something in your heart. A little crack.

You sighed, it was simple. You decided to not say anything if he didn’t, and if he did well, you weren’t sure if you could control your emotions.

“How are you?”

Yeah.

“I’m fine, sir. Have a good day.”

You mumbled and got out. Almost immediately after you left, your chest started tightening. You breathed deeply.

“Hey, long time no see!”

You jumped, all of the folders in your hand dropped to the floor.

“Oh my God, Gaz.”

You exclaimed, and he just laughed. You laughed too after a while, he was back. You started chatting with him, your mind was slowly losing your lieutenant’s words.

-

Simon on the other hand, wasn’t feeling all settled.

“Oh my God, Gaz.”

He heard your voice, slight excitement in it. His eyebrows were furrowed immediately. He felt primal, raging as if someone stole his mate.

As your voice were dying down, he got up and locked his door. He pulled off his mask, and rubbed his temple quite aggressively.

“Fuckin’ hell..”

He sighed. He knew he was denying it, everything. He was denying it, because that was easier. Easier than loving you. He knew it, and he hope you did too.

But this wasn’t enough. He was angry, hungry. He didn’t know what he wanted- no he knew. You.

“Sir..?”

He jumped up, grabbed his mask and put it on after hearing your soft, delicate voice.

“Yeah-yeah. Come in.”

You got in, a smile forming on your face. You were in a lighter mood, he assumed.

“Price told me to drop these off..”

You said, while giving him some of the documents that you were carrying. He sighed and thanked you, your scent making him feel.. yeah.

He cleared his throat, and you looked at him. You blinked a few times under your thick long eyelashes. He gave a breath.

“Gaz is back?”

“Yeah, thank god he is alive. Would you like a coffee, sir?”

His thighs tensed, and he fisted his hand. Closing his eyes, he shook his head.

“Are you okay-?”

He panicked, he didn’t want you to see it.

“Get out.”

There it was. You knew it would be like this if you ket your hopes up.

A disappointed sigh left your mouth as you got out of his room. Simon cursed himself, for making you sad again.

He was going to regret this.

He called your name. Yelled it, actually.

You turned around in shock, body tensing as your eyes connected with his’

“Yeah..?”

You mumbled. Confusion spread over your face.

“I. Fuck, come here.”

“What?”

He sighed and got up, steps coming in a hurry. He backed you up into the door, and you gasped quietly. You looked up at him.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

He calmly but firmly said, making your knees go weak.

“What am I doing to you, sir?”

He slammed his fist next to your head, cursing at the same time. You flinched. You liked it. He was finally caving in.

“You and this fuckin’ filthy little mouth. Beautiful little mouth.”

He looked up, almost trying to gain some control.

“Fuck it. I’m done playing games. Get over to the desk. Come on now, pretty girl.”

Your breathing was unsteady, your heart was pounding. You thighs were dripping.

“You asked for it, now get over to the desk. Let’s see if that’s what you want. This sweet little face is gonna be messed up.”

He clicked his tongue and rolled his sleeves up, making you mutter an ‘oh fuck’.

You knees buckled, but he held your waist.

“Now.”

[2-dsimp]

I'm feeling quite sadistic today hehe so I'm craving ANGSTT

What if Xavier learned that darling fears he will be left alone after they died? Like they don't want them to be lonely and so they stayed and gave Xavier the attention and all the time of the world they had at their behest

Thank you for heeding my request, Your Grace 😈

Cw: angsty hours

———-/——-/————

Yandere Poltergeist! Who Would just cackle and call you a dumb baby. As if you’d ever got a chance at deserting him even after your death in the first place. He’s been mooching off your company and he intends to keep it that way. No matter if you’re being put down 6ft under, bones n all, you’d still be his.

You think he’d let those pesky Angels guide your soul to heaven? No, they’d have to try to do so over his pure spite. At anything standing in between you and him. He’d keep your soul hostage inside this house so you both can rot in lingo together.

Though Xavier can’t deny the faint stinging from his eyes. No, those aren’t tears! He’s clearly destabilizing his corporal form is all. It’s not as if your death would break him down even more than he is already. But why does his soul waver at the thought of not being able to feel your fleshy body? At not hearing your beating heart, and the prospect of seeing the light of life within those vibrant eyes slowly fade away…

“Fuck, instead of thinking useless shit with that pretty head of yours. How about you focus more on living till you’re old and gray? You’re my flesh bag and I intend to use ya to the fullest...”

“So don’t ever think about leaving me. I won’t let you. And that’s a promise.”

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends to Lovers, Exes to Best Friends, Hinted Exes to Lovers

Warnings: Mentions of physical harm to y/n (bruises).

Word count: 577

PART 2 HERE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 「11:37pm」 - 30 days or more was the minimum. That was the agreement made to ensure there were no hard feelings. Once the distance grew, you knew there was no going back. But you never really forget how someone makes you feel.

He had driven to your location to pick you up from an event being held by major Guild Masters. Wrong number. Right time, you figured as you could've swore it was a cab service you called and not his personal phone number.

Mentally cursing yourself as you stood beside him in the rising elevator, that bottle of gwasilju nears its end in your system.

"I already told you I called you by accident." You insist as he walks you to his familiar apartment front door.

Jinwoo's lips go flat while unlocking it, leading you inside. "Accident or not, I wasn't going to leave you there alone. You called, I came."

It was obvious he was worried about you. He managed to bring a jacket to wrap around you and some slides for your feet as he predicted they'd hurt by the end of the night. Habits like these were hard to break.

Much like him getting you a glass of water, fresh washcloths and towels, and one of his shirts to sleep in.

"Jinwoo, I'm serious. You don't need to do all this. I'm fine." You glance up to the ceiling. "It's not their fault I wondered off."

"Regardless, you're here now, so just ease up a bit."

He's always been so stubborn when it came down to you. You nod, stumbling somewhat to the bathroom, him not far behind you. Gently, he took your hand, sitting you down on the rim of the bath tub, massaging cleansing oil onto your face.

Jinwoo knew better, but he couldn't shake you. Your presence reminds him of a simpler time.

He continued your nightly routine, him leading you to his bedroom where your clothes were. "If you want, I'll sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, Jin, I just...this is hard on us both."

Right. Just months ago, you and him did this same song and dance. It wasn't fair how both your duties as hunters found precedence over what was once shared. He's snapped out of his thoughts as you began changing, not bothering to tell him to look away.

"It doesn't have to continue like this - what is that?" His question plummeted swiftly like a guillotine's blade.

You didn't budge, pulling his shirt over your head. "It's nothing. You know I'm careless."

"I won't ask again. Who did that to you?" He approaches you from behind, fingertips barley making contact as you wince. Purplish blue watercolor lined your ribs, tender to the touch, causing you to flinch.

"Let's just say it was a physical disagreement between guild members." You let out a harsh breath. "If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy."

"That's not funny y/n....you've probably had this for weeks, and you weren't going to tell me?"

"And tell you what, Jinwoo? The last thing on my mind was to go crying to you about my problems. You're not my boyfriend anymore." You choke back a lump in your throat upon exit of your sentence. His shirt now draped over your body. "No contact. That was the deal."

"Fuck the deal!" A line appears between Jinwoo's brows. "I never stopped caring."

That was it. The linchpin.

"...What?"

Please comment, like, and reblog if you enjoyed it

[agyraty]

Heartshot

———————————————————

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: Taking a ride with Arthur, you found yourself ambushed by O’Driscols, you were shot straight through the stomach..

Angst, fluff, some gore (I’m not good at writing it so)

Not my best work, hopefully you guys like it!

———————————————————

Arthur rode back to camp as quickly as he could, your weak body sitting in the saddle in front of him. His eyebrows knitted together tightly, a clear testament to the turmoil churning within. He held your limp body against him tightly, staring out at the road ahead. His free arm snapped the reigns of his horse, driving it faster.

"Stay with me, keep those eyes open!" he urged, cradling your weakened form. You had been Ambushed by O'Driscolls during while on your way to town to pick up things for Dutch, a bullet had found you, tearing through your midsection.

Arthur's embrace acted as both a shield and a sanctuary, his palm pressing firmly against your belly to slow the blood that quickly pored out. "We’re Almost to camp, I promise I’ll get you help there." he spoke with hushed urgency.

“Arthur..” you whispered breathlessly. Your hands rested atop of his, pressing it farther into the puncture wound on your stomach. This was the most intense pain you have ever felt, every little movement you made had sent searing pain throughout your body. Your knuckles began to turn white due to how tightly you held his hand, You weren’t meaning to squeeze him so hard.

His horse sprinted through the dense forest, staying on the path that would soon take you to horseshoe overlook. Each hard step the horse took, rocked your body, sending waves of pain through your wound.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you darling.” He whispered gently in your ear, trying to comfort you, all the while trying to keep himself calm as well. He was freaking out, his mind running with possibilities. He was so worried that he wouldn’t make it in time.. that you’d die in his arms.

You fought with all your might to stay strong, but eventually, the weight became too much. Tiny sobs shook your body, betraying the emotions you usually kept hidden.

Arthur could see the camp come into view, a small hopeful sigh escaped his lips. He urged his horse to go faster, matching the pounding rhythm of his heart.

The blood quickly pouring from your wound stained the fabric of your long sleeve shirt. You quickly began to feel light headed by how much blood you were loosing.. not to mention the awful pain.

"Darling, stay with me. Don't close your eyes," Arthur pleaded, tightening his grasp, and pulling you farther into his chest.

He pulled his horse up the road, and into the camp. He skidded to a stop just at the hitching poles, and jumped off, pulling you off his steed, and holding you carefully in his arms.

“Somebody, help!” Arthur called, quickly caring your frail body into camp. You curled farther into him, holding the puncture wound on your stomach tightly, letting out small whimpers and grunts.

You’ve never felt pain like this before. Sure you’ve been shot plenty of times, but in places like your leg and your arm. Never once have you been shot somewhere like this, somewhere so painful, so fatal..

He quickly carried you over to his cot, several other camp members following in tail, either curious if you were okay, or there to help.

Arthur laid you down with utmost care, his arms retreating as he cleared some space around you. "Back up, give her some air!" he yelled out firmly, ensuring no one crowded too close. “Arthur, what happened?” Susan asked him as she rushed over to his tent.

"Susan, she— shes been shot," he said, panic edging his voice as he moved to fetch supplies. "Reverend, we need you. I'll explain later—just help her now!"

Susan pulled up a chair besides the cot, swiping the medical supplies out of Arthur’s hand and placing them onto the night stand besides her.

She wastes no time, her hands find the hem of your shirt, and pull it up, just below your chest so that your whole stomach was exposed.

Your breathing grows heavier, panic coursing through your veins. You knew what was about to happen, and even though you needed it to be done to survive, you were scared. Your chest heaved up and down, eyes fixated on her hands as they grew closer to the bloody hole in your abdomen.

Susan reached her tweezers inside the wound, digging around for the bullet that hadn’t yet left. Your eyes shoot wide, a pained gasp leaving your lips as you began to squirm, instinctively reaching out for Arthur seeking solace and comfort.

"Just hang in there, darling. I ain't goin' anywhere," Arthur comforted, reaching down and placing his hands on your shoulders in a steady grip, offering a sense of comfort amidst the pain and fear, but also keeping you still.

"Just stay still, don’t move.” As the others worked to remove the bullet, Arthur's gaze never left your body, his concern evident in his eyes. He stayed in his spot, trying to keep you as still as possible so they could help you.

The pain shot through you as Susan carefully pried open your wound even farther. The edges of the torn skin exposed muscle underneath, a distressing sight.

In the midst of your groans from the intense pain, Arthur's hands laid on your shoulders, squeezing you slightly, providing comfort and support.

Susan quickly found the piece of lead that was lodged into you, pulling it out and dropping it beside you. Reverend to over, gently rubbing your stomach with a wet towel, cleaning it as best as he could.

"We've got it," Arthur whispered gently, his voice filled with reassurance. You faintly heard what he said as your head began to spin, eyes growing heavy. You knew you were about to loose consciousness..

“Hey— Hey! stay awake!” He spoke quickly, one of his hands going up to your cheek in a way to keep you awake. He could see your fatigue, he knew you were falling asleep.

You felt yourself going limp, your breathing growing slower as you began to succumb to your exhaustion. “I’m so tired..” Arthur’s Heart sank as he heard the last words you managed to say before passing out.

———

You awoke with a small gasp, your eyes squinting from the bright morning light. You quickly looked around, trying to piece together what had happened, you noticed the bandages on your body, and the slight ache coursing through your stomach. Confusion filled your mind, and then it all came rushing back—the events of the previous night.

You looked to the side, and there sat Arthur, his hand in yours. He was hunched over your bed, head resting in his palm.

“Arthur..” you whispered, although your voice was rather raspy. You watched as he quickly sat up straight, his eyes wide and his lips agape slightly. “Y/n..” he whispered, hand squeezing yours tightly.

You quickly looked away, not quite to sure what to say. You felt the need to apologize, for everything. For being reckless enough to get shot, and for making him deal with you. You felt like you burdened him.

“Arthur I— I’m sorry.” You shook your head, a frown finding its way to your lips. “I didn’t mean for you to have to deal with my mistakes.. I should have been foolish enough to allow myself to be shot—“

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” He hushed you quickly, shaking his head, bring his other hand up and squeezing your hand even tighter. “It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”

His voice was filled with sincerity as he continued. “And I couldn’t bear to see you loose your life. I care about you to much for that.. so taking care of you was really no trouble at all.”

The warmth in your smile didn't wane, even as you attempted to push yourself up to sit. But as you moved, a sharp pain shot through your midsection. You froze, a pained grunt escaping your lips. The discomfort a rude reminder of your injuries. Through the haze of pain, you felt a surge of affection for Arthur, your heart swelling for the man who had stayed by your side through it all.

He quickly realized your hand, scooting one of his arms under your back to help you up. “Careful there.” He warned.

You smiled gratefully at him as he helped prop you up. “I would hug you, but unfortunately I can’t lean forward.” Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Then let me make it easier for you.”

He moved forwards, and gently pulled your body into a tight embrace, carefully though so he wouldn’t hurt you. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, breathing in your scent. He never wanted this to end. He was so worried that he was going to loose you, that he was up all night sitting here by your side.

And now that your awake, and okay, sitting in his arms, he couldn’t help but feel over joyed and happy. His grip around you tightened. “Oh Y/n.. I thought I lost you..” he whispered against your neck.

Your face flushed red, as you felt his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Oh Arthur, I ain’t going down that easy.” You joked, a small airy chuckle escaping your lips, but you immediately regretted it as soon as you felt a sharp pain move throughout your belly.

“Careful now.” Arthur pulled back slightly, removing one of his arms from you and bringing it to rest on your stomach lightly as he looked down at it, not realizing just how close your faces were.

Your eyes widened a bit, his face was just inches away from yours. You could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and by now you forgot all about your pain.

Arthur slowly brought his gaze up to meet yours, his cheeks were tinted a light pink as he realized how close he was. Not that he was complaining.

His hand slowly slipped up, and cupped your cheek, his eyes never leaving you as he did. By now your heart was beating a million miles an hour, and you could feel butterflies settle in the pit of your stomach. Oh god, how badly you just wanted to love forwards and kiss him.

It seemed your prayer had been answered. Your heart skipped a beat as Arthurs hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, gently moving you forward, and placing his lips atop yours. You closed your eyes and wasted no time in kissing him back. It was a quick, yet passionate kiss, And you could tell he was trying to be gentle with you, considering all that had happened.

A soft whisper escaped your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that..” you confessed, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you…

———————————————————

[changbeansss]

Solace

Pairings : Non-idol!Bang Chan X reader

Genre : Angst-y fluff (?)

Warnings : Mentions of smoking (Idk what else lmk)

A/N : I haven’t been mentally stable in awhile so yeah posting after so long and is this my first long story?omg???

The city lights glimmered like distant stars against the midnight sky, painting the rooftop in a soft, eerie glow. The cool breeze swept past, whispering secrets that only the night could understand. Chan sat on the edge of the apartment building, legs dangling over the side, cigarette smoke curling around him like a ghostly veil. He wasn't one for smoking, but the rare cigarette was a comfort he indulged in when he felt restless—when the weight of the world felt too heavy to bear alone.

He didn't notice when the door to the rooftop creaked open, but he heard the soft footsteps approaching. He turned his head slightly, surprised to see someone else at this hour. You. The girl from the next apartment over. You seemed to live in your own world, always quiet, always avoiding his gaze in the hallway. He’d never spoken to you, but he’d seen the sadness lingering in your eyes—a sadness he recognized all too well.

Tonight, though, there was something different in your expression. Something darker. Your eyes were swollen, like you’d been crying for hours. You walked to the edge, not too far from where Chan sat, but far enough that you might have thought he wouldn't notice.

But he did.

He saw everything. The way your shoulders trembled, the way you hesitated at the very edge, looking down as if searching for an answer. The way your hand clutched the edge of the railing, knuckles white from holding on too tight, like you were anchoring yourself to the last shred of will you had left.

Chan exhaled, flicking the cigarette away. It landed somewhere on the rooftop with a quiet sizzle. He didn’t say anything at first; he just watched you, his eyes taking in every detail, every sign. And then, in a voice that was somehow both soft and firm, he broke the silence.

“Thinking of jumping?” he asked bluntly, catching you off guard.

You flinched, turning to face him, and for a moment, you seemed lost. You didn’t answer, but you didn’t look away either. You were caught between fear and curiosity, between wanting to escape and wanting someone to understand.

Chan stood up, dusting off his jeans, and took a step closer, but not too close. He didn’t want to scare you. “It’s a long way down,” he continued, gesturing with his chin towards the street below. “And the landing... it’s not as peaceful as you think.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a tear slide down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “You don’t know anything about what I think,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

He shrugged, leaning back against the railing, his demeanor relaxed, almost as if he were just having a casual conversation. “Maybe not. But I’ve been where you are now, standing on the edge. I know what it feels like to think that there’s no way out.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was a quiet understanding, a familiarity with the darkness you felt enveloping you. “Why are you here?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Why are you even talking to me?”

Chan chuckled softly, the sound low and a little sad. “Because I’m your neighbor,” he said simply. “And because I know what it’s like to feel like the world’s crashing down around you.”

You swallowed hard, your grip on the railing tightening. “And what do you do?” you asked, almost desperate for an answer. “When it feels like that?”

Chan’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “I come up here,” he replied, gesturing around the rooftop. “I think. I breathe. I try to remind myself that there’s always another sunrise. That nothing stays the same forever.”

You felt something shift in your chest, a tiny crack in the walls you’d built around yourself. “And does it help?” you asked, a faint flicker of hope in your voice.

He nodded. “Most nights, yeah. Some nights... not so much. But it’s worth sticking around to find out.”

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like an eternity, but in that moment, something changed. The night didn’t seem as cold, and the rooftop didn’t feel as lonely. Chan didn’t move closer, but somehow, his presence felt like a lifeline—a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

“I’m Chan,” he finally said, offering a small smile. “Just... Chan. And I’m here if you need someone to talk to. Anytime.”

You didn’t respond right away, but you nodded, taking a step back from the edge. “Thanks,” you whispered, and it was the most sincere word you’d spoken in a long time.

Chan just nodded, his smile growing a little warmer. “Don’t mention it. We’re neighbors, after all.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel quite so alone.

---

You spent the next few minutes sitting in silence beside Chan, both of you facing the cityscape. The noise of the streets below was a distant hum, and the wind gently whipped around you, carrying the smell of rain. The awkwardness you expected didn't come; instead, there was an odd sense of comfort in being next to him. Maybe it was his calm demeanor, or maybe it was the way he didn't push you to talk more. He just sat there, present, like he understood that sometimes words weren’t necessary.

"Do you come up here often?" you asked after a while, breaking the silence.

"More than I probably should," he answered with a chuckle. "It's peaceful. Helps me clear my head."

You nodded, pulling your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. “I never noticed,” you admitted. “I’ve never really noticed you before.”

Chan glanced at you, his lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. “Yeah, well, I’m good at not being noticed when I don’t want to be.”

The two of you fell into another comfortable silence. A slight drizzle began to fall, and you felt the tiny droplets of rain kiss your skin. Chan stood up, stretched his arms, and looked up at the sky.

“You know,” he said, “we should probably head inside before it starts pouring. But… if you want to stay, I’m fine with that, too.”

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to retreat back to the safety of your apartment, curl up in your bed, and pretend none of this ever happened. But another part of you, the part that had made you come up to the rooftop in the first place, wanted to stay just a little bit longer.

“Can we… can we stay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan nodded, sitting back down beside you. “Of course. As long as you want.”

The rain began to fall harder, but neither of you moved. The cold droplets splashed against your skin, but you welcomed the sensation, the grounding feeling of something tangible in this otherwise surreal moment. You noticed Chan shivering slightly, but he didn’t complain or suggest leaving again. He was really just… there.

“Why do you care?” you blurted out suddenly, unable to hold back the question any longer. “You don’t even know me.”

Chan glanced over at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and thoughtfulness. “I care because I’ve been there,” he replied softly. “I’ve felt what it’s like to want to disappear. And if I can do anything to keep someone else from feeling like that… I’ll do it. Even if I don’t know them.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, tears stinging your eyes once more, but you fought them back. “That’s… really nice of you,” you managed to say. “But I don’t think I’m worth it.”

Chan’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but firm. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You’re worth so much more than you think.”

His words hung in the air, cutting through the rain and the noise in your head. You’d heard similar things before from friends, family, even therapists. But something about the way Chan said it made it feel different. Like he genuinely meant it, like he saw something in you that you couldn’t see yourself.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I… I don’t know how to keep going,” you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it. “It feels like everything is too much, like I’m drowning and I can’t catch my breath.”

Chan nodded, his expression solemn. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I really do. But you don’t have to do it alone. Sometimes, it helps just to have someone there, even if they don’t say anything. Just knowing they’re there.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any hint of pity or judgment, but all you found was understanding. “Would… would you stay?” you asked, almost afraid of his answer. “Like… just for a little while?”

Chan’s smile returned, warm and genuine. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

The rain continued to fall, soaking you both, but neither of you seemed to care. You felt something shift inside you, a tiny flicker of hope sparking to life. Maybe things wouldn’t get better overnight, and maybe the darkness wouldn’t vanish completely. But right now, on this rooftop with Chan beside you, you felt like you could breathe just a little bit easier.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

---

Over the next few weeks, things began to change between you and Chan. You’d see each other more often, exchanging quiet smiles in the hallway or quick greetings in the elevator. Sometimes, you’d find yourself on the rooftop again, both of you sitting in silence or sharing stories about your lives, your fears, your dreams.

Chan wasn’t a bad boy like you’d first thought, but there was an edge to him—a rawness and honesty that drew you in. He told you about his own battles, his own struggles with feeling like he didn’t belong, his own nights of wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. You found solace in his words, comfort in his presence. He wasn’t trying to fix you, and he never pressured you to be anything other than what you were in that moment.

Slowly, you started to feel lighter, like the weight you’d been carrying for so long was slowly being lifted. Some days were still hard, some days you still felt like the world was closing in, but now there was a hand to reach for, a voice to listen to, a reason to keep trying.

And as the nights passed, you began to realize that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

----

As the days turned into weeks, the rooftop became your sanctuary—a place where you and Chan could escape the world and just be yourselves. Nights blurred into mornings, and you found yourself waiting for those moments when you’d hear his light footsteps coming up the stairs or his quiet knock on your door, inviting you out for another midnight chat.

He was like a constant rhythm, a steady heartbeat in your otherwise chaotic life. You still had your dark days, the ones where getting out of bed felt like a Herculean task, but knowing Chan was there made it a little more bearable. You didn’t have to explain yourself; he understood the silent language of pain.

One particularly cold night, you found yourself standing outside Chan’s door, hesitating. You hadn’t spoken to him all day, hadn’t seen him in the hall or heard his footsteps. For some reason, you felt a strange unease. A part of you worried—had you been too needy, too dependent on his presence? Did you scare him away?

Before you could turn away, the door swung open, and there he was, standing in front of you, eyes wide in surprise.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and inviting. “I was just about to come find you.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “Really?”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Really. I thought maybe you could use some company tonight… or I could, you know?”

You returned his smile, feeling something warm bloom in your chest. “Yeah… I think we both could.”

He stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. His apartment was small and sparsely decorated, but there was a warmth to it—a stack of vinyl records in the corner, a guitar leaning against the wall, and a cozy blanket draped over the couch. You hadn’t been inside before, and you found yourself curious, your eyes scanning the little details that made up his world.

“Want something to drink?” he asked, moving towards the tiny kitchen. “I have tea, coffee… or maybe something stronger?”

“Tea sounds good,” you replied, feeling a little shy but also strangely comfortable. You sat down on the couch, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. It smelled faintly of him—woodsy, a little smoky, with a hint of something sweet. You felt yourself relax, the tension in your shoulders easing for the first time all day.

Chan joined you a moment later, handing you a steaming mug. “Peppermint,” he said with a grin. “Good for the soul.”

You took a sip, savoring the warmth spreading through you. “Thank you,” you murmured, glancing over at him. “For… everything. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

He looked down, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just… glad to be here with you.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sound being the soft rain tapping against the window. After a while, you felt a surge of boldness, a need to know more about him—this boy who had somehow become your anchor in such a short time.

“Can I ask you something?” you ventured, your voice quiet.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. “Anything.”

“Why do you come up to the rooftop?” you asked. “I mean… what is it that you’re running from?”

Chan’s smile faltered slightly, and he took a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I’m running from something or towards something,” he confessed. “Maybe both. I guess… it’s hard sometimes, feeling like you’re constantly expected to be someone or something that you’re not. I’ve always felt like I had to wear a mask, pretend to be okay even when I’m not.”

He paused, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “The rooftop… it’s the one place where I can take that mask off. Where I can just be Chan, not who everyone else expects me to be.”

You nodded, understanding more than you could say. “I get that,” you whispered. “I really do.”

Chan smiled softly, his eyes filled with a quiet gratitude. “I think that’s why I like being around you,” he admitted. “You don’t make me feel like I have to be anything other than who I am. You just… let me be.”

A warmth spread through you at his words, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something like happiness blooming inside you. “You do the same for me,” you replied. “You make me feel… seen.”

Chan’s gaze softened, and he shifted a little closer to you, his hand brushing against yours, sending a spark up your arm. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “Because you deserve to be seen. For who you are, not who the world wants you to be.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes overwhelming. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite control. “Chan…” you began, but the words got stuck in your throat.

He seemed to sense your struggle, and his hand gently squeezed yours. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. You squeezed his hand back, a silent thank you, a silent promise.

For a while, the two of you sat there, hands intertwined, the rain falling outside like a lullaby. The world outside could wait; for now, this was enough.

A Few Days Later…

You’d been having a particularly rough day. Everything seemed heavier, every thought darker. You hadn’t seen Chan all day, and you found yourself missing his presence more than you expected. By evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in your chest. It was suffocating, consuming.

But then, there was a knock on your door.

You hesitated, wiping at your eyes quickly before opening it. There stood Chan, his face lit up with that familiar grin, holding two takeout bags and a slightly battered old boombox.

“I was thinking,” he said, his voice filled with an infectious enthusiasm, “that tonight is the perfect night for bad Chinese food and even worse music.”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

Chan laughed. “Come on, you said you’ve never had a ‘proper rooftop party,’ and I figured there’s no time like the present. Plus, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Before you knew it, you were back on the rooftop, wrapped in a blanket as Chan fiddled with the boombox, his face scrunched up in concentration. Finally, he managed to get it working, and the sounds of an old 80s ballad filled the air.

You laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that made your sides ache. “This is terrible,” you giggled.

Chan grinned, holding out a hand to you. “Dance with me,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

You hesitated, but his infectious energy was impossible to resist. You took his hand, and he pulled you into a clumsy dance, the two of you swaying to the beat of the cheesy music. The city stretched out below you, the lights flickering like stars, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Chan spun you around, his laughter mingling with yours, and you felt a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to the light. And Chan… Chan was the first step toward that possibility.

“See?” he whispered as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “There’s still some magic left in the world.”

You smiled, tears of joy filling your eyes as you whispered back, “Yeah… I think I’m starting to believe that.”

---

The rooftop became more than just a refuge; it was a world of its own, a world where time seemed to stand still. With each passing night, you felt yourself falling a little deeper into something you weren’t sure you were ready to name.

It was the little things—the way Chan would notice if you seemed a little quieter than usual and bring your favorite drink without asking, the way he’d brush a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The way his laughter could make your heart feel lighter, like maybe all the heavy parts of you were starting to dissolve into something softer, something warm and bright.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t expected it. But slowly, steadily, you were falling for him.

One night, you found yourself waiting on the rooftop, bundled up in a thick sweater, watching the stars twinkle overhead. Chan was running late, which was unusual for him. You checked your phone for the third time, feeling a little nervous. Had something happened? Was he okay?

Just as you were about to go back inside, you heard the door creak open behind you. You turned around and saw Chan, slightly out of breath, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry,” he panted, running a hand through his hair. “Got held up at work. But I brought peace offerings.” He held up a bag of pastries from the bakery down the street, and your heart melted a little more. He knew they were your favorite.

You took the bag with a smile. “You’re forgiven… this time.”

He laughed, sitting down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Good. I’d hate to think I’d lost my rooftop privileges.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “No chance of that.”

For a while, you just sat there, sharing the pastries, talking about everything and nothing. It was easy, being with him. Natural. Like he was the missing piece of a puzzle you hadn’t even realized you were trying to solve.

As the night grew colder, Chan pulled a blanket from his bag and draped it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you freezing to death on me,” he teased.

You chuckled, but your heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against yours under the blanket, his fingers tentatively grazing yours. You felt a jolt of electricity, and you wondered if he felt it too.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel the heat of his body so close to yours, his breath warm against your cheek. The air was thick with something unsaid, something fragile and beautiful.

“Chan,” you whispered, turning to look at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soft.

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of fear and excitement bubbling inside you. “I… I think I’m falling for you,” you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Chan’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. For a moment, you feared you’d made a mistake, that you’d ruined everything. But then his expression softened, and a slow, beautiful smile spread across his lips.

“I’ve been falling for you since the first night on this rooftop,” he admitted, his voice just as soft. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Your heart leapt, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through your chest. “Really?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

He nodded, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. “Really,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your skin tenderly. “I’ve never felt like this before. Like… like maybe there’s hope, like maybe I could be more than what I’ve been.”

You felt tears sting your eyes, but this time they were happy tears, tears of relief and joy. “You’re already more,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “You’re everything.”

Chan’s eyes glistened with emotion, and before you knew it, he was leaning in, his breath warm against your lips. Your heart pounded wildly, and you felt like you might float away.

And then his lips were on yours, soft and gentle, and everything else seemed to fade away. The world, the pain, the fear—it all melted into nothing as you kissed him back, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss was tender and slow, filled with all the words neither of you had said. It was a promise, a beginning, a silent vow to keep holding on, to keep finding each other in the dark.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other. Chan’s hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin.

“You have no idea how much I needed that,” he breathed, a grin spreading across his face.

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing against his. “I think I needed it just as much.”

He kissed you again, this time more confidently, and you felt a flutter in your stomach, a lightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in so long. It felt like freedom, like the start of something beautiful.

As the night stretched on, you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing quiet conversations and soft kisses, the city below glowing like a sea of stars.

And for the first time in a long time, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together. You and Chan, two broken souls finding solace in each other, finding love in the most unexpected of places.

And in that moment, with Chan’s arms around you and the world spinning softly beneath your feet, you felt like maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be okay.

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

���Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[myg-butterfly]

How Many Things

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi invites you out to a party with him, and in trust, you say yes. But what happens when you lose him in the crowd, just to find him again with someone else by his side? In the midst of panic and longing, you wonder how many things he thinks about before he gets to you.

Tags: Non-Idol AU, Anti-Social Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Anxiety, descriptions of panic attacks, Yoongi is an asshole for a minute, some of his friends are big time assholes, insecurities, social anxiety, lots of feelings, Teahyung and Namjoon are sweethearts, crying, jealousy, author's first fic lol.

A/N: HEY HELLO HI!!! This is my first fic that I'm publishing here so pls be gentle 🙏 And if you enjoy, leave feedback, good or bad, I love interactions. This is self-indulgent comfort that I've been thinking about for a long while and I was like ,,,,,, Yoongi got me 🥰🙏 Also this was slightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "how many things" from her album EICS go listen if you want the extra angst. So yeah, enjoy!

main masterlist

You began to panic, the music was so, so loud, the clattering of dishes and glasses from the bar, the yelling, all the bodies and their humidity, it was all becoming too much, and to your dismay, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen.

You tried to recollect yourself as you began pushing through the crowd, determined on finding him. With every slip past a person, every step and stumble, you grew even more exhausted, but then finally, Yoongi came into view.

He was to the other end of the bar, a smile plastered in all his glory. Whoever he was talking to was clearly making him laugh, and just the sight of him made the tension in your shoulders ease a little bit. You were just about to call out to him, maybe even when fling yourself in his arms, but then-

Then you saw her. The one responsible for the way his face was currently scrunched with a happy grin. They stood close to each other, even as they turned the other way and moved to take a seat together at the bar. They were hand in hand, they looked like the human embodiment of perfection.

You felt your heart deflate as Yoongi pulled out a chair for her, proceeding to signal something to the bartender, the peace sign on his fingers and the pointing between him and her gave you the idea he asked for a drink for both of them. They continued to laugh and talk, and you had to force yourself to look away.

The sight of them made you remember why you hated going out, but even worse, you remembered why you vowed to not get romantically attached to anyone, especially not Yoongi.

The turning of your stomach was becoming hard to ignore, your quick breaths making matters worse. You knew you had to get out of there; with or without Yoongi. So with one last glance at him -who was still engrossed deeply in conversation with the woman next to him, leaning to whisper something in her ear and her reacting in a flustered manner- you fought your way to the door, tears beginning to spill the moment the night breeze greeted you.

As much as you wanted to just run and run and run until your body gave out on you, you knew better than to try and make it back to the dorms by foot.

You sighed defeatedly and pulled out your phone, texting the one person who you knew would be here without fail. As much as you didn't like bothering him (even though he's told you countless times you're not) you knew he'd scold you if you walked home on your own, and a scolding from him was never an enjoyable experience.

Y/N: are you busy rn?

Namjoon: Not currently. Why?

Y/N: can u pls come pick me up

Namjoon: Where are you? Are you safe?

Y/N: yeah, here's my location *📍*

Namjoon: I'll be there in less than 10. Stay put, okay?

Y/N: ok. ty joon.

Putting your phone away, you sat at the nearest bench you found, and attempted to stop the tears from falling further before Namjoon arrived.

But no matter how hard you tried, it was pretty much impossible to not think about why you were out here in the first place. Were you overreacting? Yoongi's allowed to have friends. So why are you so hurt? It's not even like you're together or anything.

In all honesty, you wanted to be mad at them.

You wanted to be mad at him for giving you even the slightest hope that there might be something more between you two.

You wanted to be mad at that girl he was with for being so damn perfect for him, for being everything that you could never begin to come close to.

But deep down you didn't have it in you to be angry at anyone but yourself.

How could you have been so stupid?

You knew that no one would want you romantically, you knew that all he felt for you was pity, that you'd never come first, and yet you still got your hopes up.

You let yourself dream that he wanted you like you wanted him. You believed all those things he said out of pity, all the reassurances and compliments, you knew that they were nothing but him simply being who he is; a naturally kind person.

You knew all of this, so why the hell were you crying? Why were you walking out and aimlessly trying to find anywhere else to go?

'Pathetic' you scoffed at yourself. You were being immature, everything everyone else had said about you was true. You were stupid to think otherwise.

Before you could continue to wallow in your self-pity, you felt a small tap to your shoulder, and you looked up to find Namjoon looking down at you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" You quickly wiped away your remaining tears and nodded your head, standing up to greet him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for coming Namjoon." You bowed slightly, trying your best to look well put together. "It's no problem dear. My car's this way, come on."

"You want me to drive you back to your apartment?" You both got in his car and he asked as you put on your seatbelts. "Yes, please. Thank you." He only hummed in response as he began to drive, a soft tune playing on the radio, just loud enough to make it less awkward.

Namjoon knew you probably weren't in the mood to talk, and you were grateful for the silent understanding you guys shared. You weren't awfully close, but you'd shared your own personal memories with each other, and you mutually knew the other would be willing to lend a hand when needed. That's what you liked about him. He was just understanding like that.

The drive to your apartment was short, and even though you lived on the 3rd floor, Namjoon insisted on walking you to your door.

"Hey, take care okay? If you need anything else don't hesitate to call me, yeah?" He said as you reached your door, the genuine look on his face made you tear up once more.

"Yeah. Thank you, Joon." You waved him off as you stepped into your apartment, closing the door as he began to turn around.

You immediately kicked off your heels and went to grab a glass of water. You chugged it down as if you hadn't had a drop of water in days, proceeding to open your fridge and let the waterworks begin as you realized your appetite was gone just seeing the carton of orange juice sitting there with a sticky note that reads, "YOONGI'S!!! DO NOT DRINK >:("

He'd helped you with your groceries about 2 weeks ago, and the orange juice he bought was claimed by him, protesting that he needed "emergency juice" because he was at your apartment so often.

Not wanting to look at his skrunkly handwriting anymore, you shut the fridge door and rested your head in your hands on the kitchen counter.

The more you thought about it, the more prominent the ache in your chest became. He was the one who invited you to that party in the first place. He was the one who wanted you to have fun. He was the one that promised he wouldn't leave your side. Yet here you were, back at the dorms, hugging yourself in attempts to conceal your heartbreak.

If you had gone on your own and just happened to see him there with another girl, then that would have been a different story.

But no.

Yoongi himself told you two nights ago that he was invited to a party, and he wanted you to accompany him as his plus one. And as nervous and hesitant as you were, he spurred you on, encouraging; "No matter what you wear you'll look stunning." And "Everyone will love you" and "I won't leave your side, okay?"

That one stung the most when you thought about it, because not even 15 minutes into the party, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. You could tell that most of his friends weren't too fond of you, and you felt ridiculous in the pink dress you wore.

You thought of how you'd taken hours to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not cry at your appearance made you cringe. You tried so hard to look nice, to feel pretty, to feel wanted, and it still didn't work.

You grew angrier, why weren't you good enough? What made it so hard to love you? You practically ripped off your dress, the fabric suddenly piercing your skin, your arms wiping off your already smearing makeup furiously, and you stomped to your bed, plopping down violently before letting out a strangled groan that sounded more like a whimper.

You felt like shit. Your whole night was shit.

Were you overreacting? You had been rude too. I mean, you left without even telling him. You're just as bad, right?

He's the one who left you standing there, Y/N. Your brain going back and forth until you decided that falling asleep would be easier.

"Sooo how'd it go with lover boy last night? Assuming things went well from what I saw." An overly excited Taehyung appeared at your side, a smug grin on his face as he poked your arms. You just shrugged your shoulders as a response, the mere mention of the previous night was enough to deflate your already souring mood.

"Don't give me that look, Y/N! I know you and Yoongi got it on last night!" Taehyung flailed his arms accusingly, as if waddling around would make his statements true. "We didn't get it on, Taehyung. Literally nothing happened. Nothing." You tried to remain calm as you spoke, but your patience was running thin.

"Oh come on Y/N. Yoongi was absolutely plastered this morning and you're gonna try to tell me nothing happened?" He kept on going as he shook your shoulders, and it took everything in you to not slap his hands away.

"Did he get home safe last night?" Your brows furrowed in slight worry at the mention of Yoongi being wasted, and no matter how hurt you were, you had to know if he was okay.

"Uh, yeah. Were you drunk too? I thought you guys left together. Do you not remember?" The lump in your throat was becoming harder to swallow down as Taehyung spoke. You had to be strong. You were not gonna cry over this to your poor friend who's excited.

"You know I don't drink. And, no we didn't leave together. I asked Namjoon to take me home." You hoped he'd stop asking questions, but much to your dismay- "You left with Namjoon?!?! Does Yoongi know?!?!? Did anything happen with him!?" At this point you were on the brink of tears, you hated talking about this.

"Taehyung, please let it go. I just wanted to know if Yoongi got home safely. Can we please just drop it?" Taehyung caught onto your pleading tone and the hurt look in your eyes, and he nodded with his softened expression.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to pry." He spoke cautiously. "It's okay Tae."

He shot you another worried look before returning to walking in silence beside you once again.

The rest of the day went painfully slow, your mind too exhausted to deal with walking from one side of campus to the other, and much less to pay attention to what your professors were saying.

Expectedly, you collapsed onto your bed the moment you went back to your dorm. You were gladly going to continue feeling sorry for yourself, but the ringing of your doorbell rudely interrupted you.

You groaned, hoping they'd just go away, but after a few seconds another ring came. You [grumpily] got up, running your hands through your hair in attempt to look somewhat presentable.

As you made your way to the door, you wondered who could be at your apartment, especially now that it was beginning to get late, the sun going down quickly outside.

You hesitantly opened the door, immediately wishing you would've just continued to ignore whoever was at the door once you saw who was standing in front of you.

"Hi, I brought dinner." There Yoongi stood with a soft smile on his face, lifting a brown bag in reference to dinner.

You stood stunned, wanting to say something, but your mind went blank.

"Y/N? You there?" He playfully waved his hands around trying to get your attention.

"Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry. Just didn't expect you to come by."

"Oh, sorry if I startled you. I texted you but you didn't respond, and you didn't answer last night when I called, so I wanted to come check if you were okay." He shuffled from foot to foot, worry evident in his eyes.

"Oh, just haven't been on my phone lately." You looked down, feeling unsure on how to talk to him without showing him your hurt.

"Oh alright. So, we heading in for dinner?" The smile returned to Yoongi's face, and no matter how hurt you were, you still found it hard to say no to him.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Of course."

You opened the door a little further and stepped aside to let him in.

On a normal occasion, dinner with Yoongi would've been the highlight of your day. But now, it was filled with awkward silence and poor attempts at small talk — Yoongi hates small talk as much as you, so you don't know why he's still trying — the tension in the air was hardly going unnoticed.

It wasn't until you finished eating that he decided to just rip the bandage off.

"Are you angry with me?" Yoongi asked, and you almost questioned if he was being serious or not, but the expression he held made you realize that he was in fact clueless about the hurt he put you through.

You weren't sure what to say, so you stayed silent. I mean, it's not like you were angry at him. But you also weren't too happy with him either. Yoongi felt his heart drop as your gaze dropped his own, denying him from an answer.

"Y/N? Did I do something?" He asks from across the table where he's sitting.

For some reason hearing those words from him made the tears you've been holding back so well spill over.

Did he really have no idea? Were you genuinely overreacting? Did you just make everything up in your head?

"Do you really not know?" You tried to push your voice out firmly, but it came out in a broken whisper. You wanted to look at Yoongi, you wanted to see if his face washed over with realization, but your eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Is this about me getting drunk at that party? I thought you said you didn't mind if I had alcohol." His wording sounded harsher than he intended, but with your already weakened state, you had to hold back from full on sobbing right there in front of him.

"This is about you leaving me by myself in the middle of the party when you promised you wouldn't leave my side!" Your frustration began to take over, did he really not see it? He's supposed to know you better than anyone else.

"Leaving you by yourself? Last thing I heard, you had found yourself a new companion for the night." Yoongi scoffed, his mood souring when he recalls finding out that apparently you'd left with some other guy.

The drinks he'd had were enough to make the night slightly blurry and to make him work a little harder to recall the night's events, but unfortunately, they weren't enough to make him forget how someone had stole you away from him.

"Where did you hear that?" You asked, trying to mask the hurt you were currently feeling.

"My friends" He responded, as if that was supposed to change what you had said.

"Your friends ... the ones you introduced me to?"

"Yeah"

"Your friends really don't seem to like me." You muttered, but Yoongi somehow caught the soft mumbling.

"What do you mean? To me it looked like they were all happy to meet you." His tone remained cold, and you felt more tears forming quickly.

"Well, you weren't there with me when they all laughed at me because I'd lost you in the crowd." You tried to defend yourself.

"They're not like that, I know they aren't."

"You wouldn't know how they acted towards me because you left me alone." You continued on, his face morphing into one resembling more of guilt.

"He left you already? Didn't even last half an hour."

"They haven't even had 1 drink tonight, no wonder Yoongi ran away so fast. Prude."

You winced while recalling how they'd laughed at you when you tried asking for Yoongi, passing it off as a joke when you'd gotten visibly upset.

You softened your tone, sadness catching up with you and replacing your frustration.

"It hurt, Yoongi. You know me better than anyone. You're supposed to know me better than anyone. You know how much I hate parties and bars, how I hate talking to people I don't know, how I don't do things alone. Ever. And you know that if I made you promise to not leave my side it's because I'm not ever planning to leave yours either. Do you know how bad it hurt to be panicking only to turn around and see you having the time of your life? Especially with someone else, when you promised me that night was for you and I only? It hurt, so damn bad."

Yoongi's heart dropped at your words, had it really been that bad for you? How did he not notice?

"I didn't leave with anyone yesterday, Namjoon brought me back to my apartment and left the moment I walked inside that door. You're the one that left with someone else last night, and it wasn't me."

A thick moment of silence engulfs you, and you begin to wait for a snap, or some sort of outburst from Yoongi, but all that comes is—

"Y/N... I- Shit. That's not-" You looked up hesitantly at the sound of Yoongi fumbling his words. He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief before slowly moving closer and crouching down in front of you. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I swear didn't mean to leave you. I went to go get the drinks, I did. And then when I couldn't find you I went and asked my friends if they had seen you, and they said that you'd gone off dancing with some guy, and so I went to go look for you and I ran into a classmate, which is the girl you saw me with. And I thought, since Y/N's off with someone else, it wouldn't hurt to have a drink with a girl from my class. I wouldn't have left you if I knew that you were by yourself. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi's gaze dropped to the floor as he finished, ashamed for being the root of your tears.

"I should've known better, I- I was just so opposed to seeing you happy with someone else that I immediately rejected the idea of looking for you to avoid the possibility of someone else making your night special. And I know that's not really a valid excuse, not looking for you because I was jealous- of something that wasn't even fucking happening- it isn't fair to you whatsoever. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I truly am." He takes your hands in his and takes a moment to recollect his next words.

"What can I do to make it up to you? Even if it's just the smallest fraction, I want to show you how sorry I am. Anything you want. Please." You paused for a moment, even though your conscience immediately knew what you wanted.

Hold me. Please. Hold me. Nudge your head with mine, lock our pinkies, put your leg against mine, anything. Please, hold me.

With your brain screaming mantras of 'I need to be held', you reached out for him for a second, before your body jerked to a stop.

No. I need him to hold me. I need him to reach out. He needs to initiate- please-

Yoongi's quick to notice your body language, and equally quick to react. "Do you want to be held, sweetheart?" You swear you felt yourself physically start to glow at the sound of him uttering the words you've been dying to hear for god knows how long.

You nod your head and you're so delighted by the aspect of someone- well, not just someone, but Yoongi- comforting you, that you don't even notice the soft whimper that leaves you as he scoots closer to you.

"Words, darling." He says softly, and your body automatically responds with soft chants of "Yes, please, yes Yoongi."

You don't even notice how tears begin to fall against your cheeks again when you feel Yoongi's hands wiping them away.

"C'mere, I've got you baby. Let's go to bed, yeah?" He grabs your legs and wraps them around his torso, before he holds you against him tightly and begins to stand up with you in his arms.

You feel yourself melting at the pet names he's giving you, glad that he's carrying you because you're sure your legs would've given out on you at this point.

You continue turning to mush when you feel how gently Yoongi sets you down once you reach your bed, how he squeezes your hand and asks for permission to lay with you with his eyes, how he reaches for you under the covers and cradles you close, fingers running through your hair softly.

The bliss is only momentarily, broken when your mouth moves faster than your brain;

"Yoongi?"

"Hm?"

"Why did it upset you when you thought I was at the club with someone else?" Your question comes out as a whisper, scared for his response.

"Y/N." He pulls back a little to see your face.

"Yoongi." You reply mocking his tone.

"Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you?" He's secretly glad that it's dark in your room, otherwise you'd be able to see the blush coating his cheeks.

"What are you talking about?" You ask, and his only response is a huff while pulling your head back into his chest.

"Yoooongiiii" Your whine comes out muffled by his shirt.

"Y/nnnnnn" It's now Yoongi's turn to mock your tone.

"Answer the questionnnn"

You feel the vibrations of his chest as he mumbles something into your hair, and you would've lost it on the spot if you weren't so focused on getting an answer out of him.

"Yoongi I can't understand you when you're mumbling like a child." You chuckle slightly, not wanting to dwell on how you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you before he mumbles once again, only this time louder.

"I don't understand you for shit." At this, Yoongi lets go of you and sits up with a sigh, looking at you for a second before securing his gaze on his hands. You follow suit and sit up as well, only slightly behind him.

"I like you. I've liked you. For a really long while." His voice is so soft and it sounds so timid, you almost think you're imagining it.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Wait- that's not a good way to respond to that. Uhhh- wait." You quickly shift so you're facing him fully.

"Do you mean like as in 'you're a homie' or like as in 'you're not just the homie you're THE homie'? Because before I say anything you would have to clari-"

"Do you think I do this with all my friends?" He cuts off your nervous ramble, grabbing both of your shaky hands with his equally shaken ones.

"What specifically?"

"All of it."

"Wha-"

"The sharing food? The holding hands and carrying you and bringing dinner over and inviting them everywhere with me? The cuddling and the 'baby' and 'doll'? You know how I am about my personal space, and you know how I am about my sleep, and you know how I am about affection. Do you think I do that with just anyone?"

"Well- I don't know, I mean- I don't know what your other friendsh-"

"I don't. You're the only one that gets to see me like this. You're the only one I treat like this. You're the only one I want to treat like this. I like you. And I want to be with you. And that's why I was upset. Because when I thought you were with someone else, it made me feel as if you didn't want the same thing as me."

Before you got the chance to even begin to process, Yoongi catches himself and feels the need to justify: "Obviously if you don't feel the same then I won't like, lash out at you or anything, it'll hurt but I don't want you to feel forced into something more with me than what we have now, it's just you asked me why I was upset and that was the only way I could explain it but I-"

"Yoongi." He's stopped by a soft tug to his shirt and the even softer sound of your voice.

You catch each other's eyes, the flickers of hope and longing between them, and the search of honesty.

"I feel the same."

A sigh leaves his lips and he breaks into a smile before picking you up in one motion and setting you on his lap so you're straddling him.

"Does this mean we're like, um- like,,,,"

"Like...?" His tone is teasing, and you know he knows what you mean.

"Like, y'know- like..."

"I actually don't know...."

"Yoongi." You huff out, your shyness getting the best of you.

"Yes?" His tone is smug, making you groan into his chest.

Working off of pure adrenaline, you mumble quietly: "Like, together."

"What was that doll?" You could practically hear the smirk on his face, making you try and shuffle away from him, but Yoongi's quicker, pulling you back into him with a giggle.

"If you're asking if we're officially dating, then don't even question it baby." He's still laughing, but his tone is firmer this time.

"So I'm taking that as a yes?"

"Fuck yes."

You burst out laughing at his response, and soon enough you've both fallen into a fit of giggles, as well as back into the bed, with you on top of Yoongi, before he flips you over so he's hovering over you.

"Y/N."

"Yoongi?"

"Can I kiss you?"

End.

[takes1]

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

masterlist.

requests open.

[valeriele3]

Kalim Al-Asim x Bullied!Fem reader

Warnings: Verbal bullying and not proofread (Please lmk if I missed smth)

Words: 669

Serious ver. | Crack ver.(You're here!)

"Y/N is such a bitch." - Random Student A

"I know right!" Random student B says.

"Oh right, have you heard? Apparently Y/N seduced multiple housewardens. Must be why she's so close to them. What a slut."

Random students A and B laugh.

"Hey! Take that back!"

"Huh? And who—” - RS.A

"O-Oh Kalim! Hey there! How's it going?" - RS.B

"Don't pretend like you weren't just talking bad about Y/N! Please take back what you said; none of them were true at all."

“I—” Student B gets cut off by Student A.

"Hm? Whatever could you mean by that, Kalim?"

"You called Y/N names."

"Names? Oh, that? I'm afraid we were simply saying the truth, though. Almost everyone agrees."

"Look, I'm not sure where you heard that, but Y/N is far from what you guys think."

"She's a hard-working, earnest, and sincere person."

"She never seduced anyone."

"She managed to form the connections and friendships she has by communicating with them, helping them, and just being herself."

"And that's why I love her."

You just got done with your potionology class and were walking towards the cafeteria.

You were about to turn the corner until you heard a familiar voice.

"-nd that's why I love her."

Kalim's voice.

Thud

'Ah, it seems that I really stand no chance'

'He already loves someone else.'

"Hm? Oh! Y/N!"

Panicking, you quickly run away, leaving behind your book that you accidentally dropped. "Hey, wait up! You dropped your book!" Kalim runs after you.

After a bit of running, Kalim eventually caught up to you.

He taps your back and says, "Hey, why'd you run away?"

Sniffle

"H-hey..Are you..Crying?"

"What's wrong?"

You stay silent.

After what felt like an eternity, a different voice spoke up.

"Kalim? Y/N? What are you guys standing in the middle of the corridor? You guys are blocking people's way."

You quickly hide your face in your hands.

Awkwardly, Kalim speaks up, "A-Ah, Jamil, can you please prepare us some food?"

"Mm..Alright. C'mon." Jamil leads the way to the Scarabia mirror.

After Jamil finishes preparing your guys' meals, he turns to leave the room.

Kalim mouths to Jamil, "Thank you."

"Just talk whatever it is out" he mouths back.

Creak

Shut

Kalim clears his throat. "Y/N. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"'m tired..I hate this place..The bullying, the overblots, that irresponsible headmage, and my home being taken away from me. I'm tired, Kalim."

Upon hearing this, Kalim engulfs you in a hug.

He doesn't say anything. He just listens attentively.

It felt warm. Like a comfortable blanket embracing you and protecting you from the harsh reality.

After calming down a bit, you move away from the hug.

You felt tempted to lean back into his embrace, but that would be too selfish. It would be unfair to Kalim.

But little do you know that Kalim himself had to stop himself from wrapping you in his arms once again.

"Kalim, I hope you'll be happy with her."

"Her?"

"I mean, the person you love. Obviously, I heard you talking about it earlier." You chuckle, although it sounds strained.

"Hmm, well, I'm always happy with you!"

"Eh?" You pause.

'Did I hear that wrong..?'

"Ahah..I think I heard you wrong, Kalim."

"Heard what wrong? It's true! I'm always happy when I'm together with you!" He gives his signature bright smile that could rival even the sun itself.

'Me..Her..Happy..'

'Wait!'

"Y-you mean me?! You like, no, love me!?" You blush.

"Of course! Who else would I love?"

It was then that you noticed how his eyes seemed to shine so bright; he's looking at you only, all his attention on you, as if nothing else matters right now but you.

"Oh right! Let's eat before the food gets cold!"

"Yeah..!" You turn to the already cold food. 'Oh well, Jamil's food is the best, so I'm sure it still tastes good'

A while later..

"I didn't expect you to confess so bluntly."

"Hm? Wait, what?"

'..I just basically confessed twice. This is so embarrassing!' He blushes

.ೃ࿐Reblogs are highly appreciated! ^^

[quichein-me-softly]

reminisce w/ sans and papyrus

(Plot: Each night, Sans tucks Papyrus into bed and tells him a bedtime story. But tonight, Papyrus asks for something different—a story about you, Sans’ late lover and the group’s best friend, who passed away from old age. As Sans recounts heartfelt memories, the brothers reflect on the love and friendship they shared with you, cherishing those moments that still linger. — TW: death from old age)

(author's note: still technically a sans x reader buckle up, it's the bittersweet kind of angst)

Papyrus’ bedroom was as vibrant and full of energy as he was, bright red curtains framing the window and his collection of action figures proudly displayed on shelves. His bedspread, a bold, heroic blue with star patterns, was tucked neatly, and his beloved plushies were arranged at the foot of the bed. Despite the playful atmosphere of the room, tonight felt different—quieter.

Sans stood beside Papyrus’ bed, his hands resting deep in his hoodie pockets, watching as his brother settled in for the night. The routine was familiar: Papyrus would climb under the covers, adjusting his pillow just so, and Sans would sit at the edge of the bed, ready to offer a bedtime story. But tonight, as Papyrus tucked himself in, something lingered in the air between them, a heaviness neither of them could ignore.

Papyrus looked up at Sans, his usually bright eyes a little softer, more contemplative. "SANS..." he began, his voice gentler than usual, a stark contrast to his typical booming enthusiasm. "DO YOU THINK YOU COULD TELL ME A STORY? ABOUT... HER."

Sans froze for a moment, the question hanging in the air. Papyrus reached up, clutching his blanket just a little tighter, as if it could bring comfort. "I MISS MY BEST FRIEND."

The words hit Sans harder than he expected. He glanced down, the edges of his usual grin softening as he exhaled quietly. The small lamp on Papyrus' nightstand cast a warm, dim glow across the room, making it feel almost like a bubble, a space where nothing from the outside world could touch them.

"yeah, bro," Sans said, his voice low but steady, "i miss her too."

Papyrus shifted in the bed, the quiet between them lingering. He always trusted Sans to know what to say, to find the right words even when things felt uncertain. But tonight, it seemed even Sans was grasping for the right way to start. Still, he sat down at the edge of the bed like always.

The springs giving a soft creak under his weight. He leaned back, resting his elbow on his knee, and glanced over at Papyrus. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted the quiet vulnerability in Papyrus' expression. Sans felt a twinge in his chest, but he kept his tone light, like always.

"what kind of story ya want?" he asked, his voice soft, carrying the familiar warmth he used when he was trying to keep things easy, even when they weren't.

Papyrus adjusted his pillow, pulling the blanket up snug around his chest. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought, before turning his gaze back to Sans. His voice was quieter than usual, full of that same innocent sincerity he always carried, but tinged with a longing that Sans knew all too well.

"SOMETHING... HAPPY," he said after a moment, his voice carrying a note of hope. "SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE SHE’S STILL HERE... EVEN IF JUST FOR A MOMENT."

Sans felt his chest tighten at that, but he didn’t let it show. He was good at that—keeping things locked away. He gave a slow nod, keeping his gaze steady on Papyrus. "yeah... i can do that." His voice was soft, but there was a promise in it. "got plenty of those."

Papyrus smiled, a small but genuine one, as he settled further into the bed. "GOOD. SHE ALWAYS MADE ME LAUGH, SANS. JUST LIKE YOU DO." His eyes closed, his expression peaceful but expectant, waiting for his brother to begin.

Sans looked at him for a long moment, his grin fading slightly as he let the silence linger, gathering his thoughts. He missed you too—more than he let on. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about remembering you the way you'd want them to: with smiles and laughter.

"alright," he finally said. "i think i got just the one..."

Sans closed his eyes too, letting the memory take shape, the edges of it coming into focus like a picture being pulled from a fog.

“there was this one time,” Sans began, his voice settling into that comfortable rhythm he always used when telling stories, “when she decided she wanted to learn how to bake. she had seen one of those cooking shows—y’know, the ones that make it look way easier than it actually is.”

Papyrus made a quiet sound of recognition, as if he already knew where the story was going. "I REMEMBER THAT!" he murmured softly.

Sans chuckled, a fondness in his tone. “yeah, you were there for part of it, bro. she started out all confident, had a cookbook open and everything. flour everywhere, counters a mess... she insisted it was ‘part of the process,’ even when there were more ingredients on the floor than in the bowl.”

The memory unfolded before him, clear and vivid.

The kitchen had been filled with the smell of butter and sugar. You stood in the middle of the kitchen, the cookbook propped open on the counter, your eyes scanning the recipe like you were deciphering an ancient code. You had this determined look on your face, lips pressed into a firm line as you measured flour and sugar, both already scattered like snow across the counters.

The thought of it made him smile even now.

"this is gonna be amazing," you had declared, giving Sans a quick glance as if you needed to convince yourself as much as him. Sans just leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, watching with that easy smile of his. "sure, looks like you got it all under control." You had nodded, though the kitchen looked like it had been hit by a small hurricane of baking supplies. Measuring cups clattered, and the mixer whirred as you added ingredients with more enthusiasm than precision. There was a streak of flour on your cheek, but you didn’t notice.

“she had flour in places i didn’t even know flour could get,” Sans added, his voice full of amusement.

Papyrus chuckled lightly from under the covers, his eyes still closed. "SHE NEVER WAS VERY GOOD AT COOKING, WAS SHE?"

Sans grinned faintly, shaking his head. "nah, not at all. but she had heart, that’s for sure. kept sayin’ she’d get it right if we gave her some time."

Time. The bitter irony clung to him like a relentless shadow.

“At one point, she handed me this... uh, spoon—i think?" Sans paused, the details blurred as a sense of dread settled deep in his bones. He was forgetting.

He clenched his fists tight, as if somehow that could hold the memories in place, hold you in place. It was all he had left of you—fragile, fleeting, and fading. Still, he continued.

"told me to stir the batter while she cracked the eggs. problem was, she missed the bowl—dropped one right on the counter.”

You handed Sans a wooden spoon and gestured toward the bowl with a flourish. "Okay, stir this while I get the eggs," you said confidently. He took the spoon, giving the batter a half-hearted stir while watching you carefully crack an egg. Well, almost carefully. The egg slipped from your fingers and cracked open on the counter, the yolk oozing across the surface. “you, uh, missed the bowl,” Sans commented with a grin. You had just shrugged, wiping your hands on your already flour-coated apron. "That’s fine. It's part of the process, right?" you said, a smile creeping over your features. Sans didn’t say anything, just watched as you cracked another egg—this time managing to get it in the bowl. You were nothing if not persistent, and he admired that.

“the kitchen was basically a war zone by the time she was done," Sans said, the memory clear in his mind. "but she didn’t care. she just laughed about it."

Papyrus opened his eyes slightly, smiling at the thought. "AND SHE STILL INSISTED THAT IT WOULD TURN OUT GREAT. SHE ALWAYS DID THAT."

The memory played on like a movie in Sans' mind. He could still see you, standing in front of the stove with this fierce determination, your hair slightly messy from concentrating so hard. You looked so beautiful.

Eventually, after much trial and error, the cookies were finally in the oven. You stood in front of the stove, hands on your hips, a look of proud accomplishment on your face, even though the counters were still a disaster and the mixing bowl looked like it had seen better days. "These are going to be amazing," you declared confidently, look like you hadn't a care in the world. Sans had just leaned back, arms crossed, watching her with that same lazy grin. "we’ll see."

“she finally pulled out the tray of cookies, right?” Sans continued, his grin widening a little. “they were... well, let’s just say they weren’t the most edible things in the world. hard as rocks. you probably could’ve used ‘em to build a house.”

Papyrus giggled softly. "I REMEMBER BITING INTO ONE! I THOUGHT I HAD CRACKED A TOOTH!"

When the timer finally dinged, you pulled the tray from the oven with an excited grin. "Behold!" you said, holding it up for Sans and Papyrus to see. Sans had squinted at the cookies. They were not exactly what you’d hoped for. The cookies were solid lumps, misshapen and blackened at the edges, but you still beamed like you’d created a masterpiece. "well," Sans had said, "they sure look... unique." Papyrus, full of his usual optimism, had grabbed one immediately, not one to be deterred by appearances. He took a big bite, his enthusiasm quickly faltering as he chewed—his face scrunching up in a way that even he couldn’t hide.

"SHE NEVER STOPPED SMILING, EVEN AFTER WE TRIED THEM," Papyrus said, giggling softly at the memory.

Sans laughed quietly, the sound more genuine now. “yeah, she just laughed and said they’d make great paperweights.’"

If Sans concentrated, he could hear you—laughing along with the both of them as if the whole thing had been an adventure instead of a culinary disaster. You never let it bother you, the mistakes, the mess. You just rolled with it, making light of everything as you went. That was how you were. Even when things didn’t go the way you planned, you made it fun.

“even though the cookies were rock solid, it didn’t matter,” Sans said softly, his grin softening as the memory settled in. "she had this way of making everythin’ feel easier. like it didn’t matter if you messed up ‘cause it was still fun."

Papyrus shifted under the covers, a quiet smile on his face. "I MISS HER, SANS... SHE REALLY WAS THE BEST."

Sans nodded, his own voice low, filled with warmth and a little sadness. "yeah, bro. she really was."

As Sans sat there, basking in the silence, his mind lingered on more than just the humor of the baking disaster. Beneath the surface of his storytelling, there was a deeper ache he didn’t show. That smile you always wore, the way you found joy in the smallest things—it stuck with him. It haunted him in moments like this, when the night was quiet, and Papyrus was listening intently, hanging on his every word.

Sans had always admired that about you, even though he’d never said it out loud. How you made even the most mundane moments feel meaningful, like the universe wasn’t so heavy after all. It wasn’t just the baking. It was the stargazing, the late-night talks, the way you understood him without asking too many questions. You just got him, in a way most people didn’t. And now, with you gone, he found himself wondering if anyone else would ever understand him like that again.

The memory of your last moments was sharper, harder to shake.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind where the sun hung low in the sky, casting warm, golden light through the windows of your small home. Sans sat beside your bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders hunched a little more than usual. He'd been there for hours, barely moving, just watching you. He didn’t say much. Didn’t need to. The usual banter, the jokes he was known for, all felt… insignificant. They couldn't reach you now, not where you were heading.

You had grown weak—more delicate, but never losing that spark in your eyes. You kept that warmth, that sense of humor that made the world feel okay, right until the end.

But even that couldn’t stop the inevitable. You were human, after all, and humans didn’t live as long as monsters.

Sans knew that.

You were lying beneath the covers, your breaths coming slower than they had just days before. Your body had grown frail over the years, a stark contrast to the vibrant, lively person he’d known for so long. Yet, despite everything, your eyes still had that twinkle—soft but bright, as if you were still in on a joke no one else knew. You smiled at him, even now, with so little strength left in your body. You were always like that. Unshakable. “hey,” Sans muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "how ya doin’?"

He could recall the way you’d held his hand, squeezing it weakly as your breath grew shallow, your eyes still filled with that same quiet strength you always had. And Sans just sat there, trying to keep it together, trying to make one last joke to ease the tension.

You gave a quiet chuckle, though it was weaker than the laughs he remembered. “I’ve had better days,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand as best you could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him anchored in the moment. He chuckled too, though it was more of a breath than anything. “heh… yeah, i bet. guess i’m not exactly helpin’ either. just sittin’ here… not even cracking a good one-liner. shame on me, huh?” You smiled again, that soft, knowing smile that never failed to pull him back from the edge. Even now, when you were slipping away, you were still trying to make him feel better. That’s how you’d always been. Always more worried about others than yourself. “I think… you’ve earned a break from the jokes,” you whispered, your eyes half-lidded but still focused on him. "Besides… I’ve heard all your best ones by now."

But the words stuck in his throat.

Sans gave a small shrug, even as his throat tightened. "yeah, guess that’s fair." He didn’t know what else to say. He’d always been good with words, always knew how to spin a situation into something lighter. But now? Now there was nothing to say. Your breath hitched, and Sans’s grip on your hand tightened instinctively. He didn’t want to admit what was happening, didn’t want to face the reality of the situation. You’d been a part of his life for so long—made it feel less lonely, less pointless. He wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. “you don’t gotta… do this, y’know?” Sans murmured, his voice barely audible. "you could just… hang on a little longer. for me." Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment before slowly reopening, your gaze softening even more. “Sans… it’s okay. I’m tired,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath now. "But I’m glad you’re here." He looked down at his hand gripping yours, feeling the fragility of your bones beneath his fingers. The world around him felt like it was closing in, shrinking until it was just the two of you in that small, sunlit room. You looked beautiful, even then. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second reminding him that time was running out. You took a slow, shuddering breath, and for a moment, Sans thought about all the times you’d sat with him in silence, watching the stars, or those late nights when you’d laugh at his stupid puns, or that one time you tried baking with him and Papyrus, filling the kitchen with the smell of burnt cookies. It all came flooding back, memories layered on top of each other, but none of them seemed enough to stop what was happening now.

He felt so helpless, watching you slip away, knowing there was nothing he could do. Nothing but sit by your side, holding on, even when you were gone. When the last breath left your lips, a silence had settled over him like a heavy blanket. He felt hollow, like part of him had vanished with you. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to keep going.

Your grip on his hand loosened, and he felt the change immediately. “Thank you, Sans,” you whispered, your voice so faint it was almost lost to the air. And just like that, you were gone. He could’ve dusted away right there. The room felt too quiet, too still. The sun still streamed in through the windows, casting that warm light across your face, but you weren’t there to see it. Sans sat there, staring at your hand for what felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest, but his body numb. He wanted to move, to do something—anything—but he couldn’t. All he could do was sit there, trying to process the fact that you were gone. Just like that.

Papyrus had been there, of course. His brother, ever the optimist, had been the one to pull him through, motivating him to smile through the pain. Papyrus was the sole reason Sans was still here, constantly pushing him to become the best version of himself. For you.

Papyrus found him an hour later, still sitting in the same spot, eyes hollow and distant. His brother had gently touched his shoulder, encouraging him to stand, to keep moving, to keep living. But Sans had never really left that room, not fully. A part of him had stayed there with you.

Sans wasn’t the same since. And in the quiet of his own thoughts, he’d made a promise to himself: he wasn’t going to let anyone else in like that again. Not after losing you.

He shook the thought away before it could settle too deep. He couldn’t let it get to him, not now. Papyrus needed him, needed these stories to remember you by, and Sans wouldn’t let his own grief show. That was his thing, wasn’t it?

But inside, he missed you more than he could ever say out loud. More than he let anyone know—not even Papyrus. And that promise? It was still there, buried beneath his grin. He wouldn’t let himself fall in love again. Not after you. You were everything.

"goodnight, paps."

[riverbutghost]

Drunk In Love

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Trope: ❛ people get hurt if they get too close to me. ❜

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy in the end, getting shot, military stuff etc.

since non of ya’ll send requests, I did a request for myself💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃🕺💃

You were scared. Your heart was beating so hard that you could hear the sound of it.

“Sir, I need to speak with you.”

Your voice cracked at the end, making Ghost spin around in his chair. His eyes looked tired and distant, his desk was full of papers.

“Is it urgent? I’m kinda busy right now,”

There was a lump forming in your throat. Since that day, he didn’t speak to you for even a second. He was cold, distant. You saw him from a far only.

One time, you were back on your feet and wanted to match with him on your first practice after… yeah.

And he said you were weak, you looked weak and he chose another rookie to train with.

You remembered feeling so exhausted after the training, your head swaying and your ribs aching after getting an accidental punch to your side. Gaz apologized profusely, but you didn’t mind it.

Ghost was the one who minded it, though.

He gave Gaz a hard punishment, he made you go to the nurse and never train again for two weeks. You cried a little that day, you felt like a garbage after all. Like a toddler who was always in trouble.

“Uhm,”

He sighed and turned around, leaving you all hurt and confused again.

“I don’t have time for this.”

You sucked your bottom lip, feeling every ounce of pain from his words.

You got out, your mood souring immediately.

_

“Ghost, let them look.”

Price’ voice was gentle, like he was trying not to scare the animal.

His whole body trembled as the doctors forcefully took you out of his arms, your body weak and eyes shut as they hurriedly took care of your wounds.

He couldn’t help the twitch of his hands, his mind wandering off to things that made him choke on his spit.

He still got nauseous from that day. You were bleeding in his arms, your bright and shiny eyes were closed and your heartbeat was slow.

He gripped the pen tightly, his breathing slowly getting worse.

“fuck..”

He mumbled and got up, taking his mask off and locking the door.

He started breathing in and out, the tightness in his lungs started fading away.

-

“Hey lass, why you lookin’ like that?”

Soap pointed to his face as he sat down next to you.

“Your fuckin’ lieutenant is giving me a massive headache!”

Soap looked as shocked as you were at your outburst.

“Uhmm, well Gaz is calling for me,”

He got up and sprinted out of the room, making you feel a lot worse than before. Nobody wanted you. You were going to ugly cry.

You didn’t want to cry but it was hard to hold the tears.

“Sergeant, in my room. Now.”

As tears gathered in your eyes, you heard your stone faced lieutenant’s voice. No, you wanted to say. But he was your superior.

You shakily got up and turned around. He didn’t even wait for you.

With quick and steady steps, you knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

Without making eye contact, you sat down on the chair.

“Yes sir?”

Simon inspected you, the redness of your eyes and the puffiness of your mouth.

“You cried.”

A shocking wave swept through your body, a gasp left your mouth.

“No-“

“Don’t lie to me, soldier. Why did you cry? Who, made you cry?”

You wanted to laugh, the audacity of this man.

“You did.”

Simon’s face hardened with the way you looked at him, so sharp and beautiful.

“Did my words hurt you?”

Your gaze fell to your lap. Simon felt his chest tighten as he saw a tear forming on your eye.

“I apologize. You have to understand that I am your lieutenant, you can’t get hurt by my words.”

You shook your head.

“You changed, Simon.”

Simon clenched his jaw, a weird feeling crushed down on his chest.

He whispered your name.

“I don’t want this.”

He shook his head, a panicked breath leaving his mouth.

“Whatever you’re thinking will never happen. You and I both know that, love.”

You licked your lips and his attention was drawn on you.

“No, all i know is that I want you.”

Simon sighed, suddenly feeling too hot under the mask.

“I don’t.”

A sharp pain formed in your belly, feeling like a fool all of a sudden.

“Tell me, Simon. Spit it on my face, do you want me? If you don’t, I’ll never speak to you other than business. I promise.”

Simon thought for a moment. Did he really want you gone? No, he needed you to be healthy after that day. But he could still look at you from far away, he wanted that right?

“People get hurt if they get too close to me.”

Your face softened, realizing that this was hard for him. When you opened your mouth to soothe him he cut you off.

“Fuck it, I do want you. In my arms, bed, everywhere.”

Relief washed over you. Simon suddenly stood up, taking his mask off. You saw his face before but this time, it felt more intimate.

You got up as well, taking slow steps towards him.

“Kiss me, then.”

Simon’s throat bobbled as he swallowed his nerves. His hands shot out to hold your body against his as he pressed his scarred lips against yours, feeling the soft warmth of them.

He still wasn’t sure of whatever you two were beginning to do, but he realized that he was too old and life was too short. He kissed you deeply, like a hungry wolf, memorizing the way your lips felt against his.

You moaned as his hand went up to your breasts, gasping at his sudden change of behavior.

Let’s say that, Simon and you had the other day sleeping in.

[editorialtazadegato]

EN TUS MANOS (FIC)(ESP) Agatha x reader PARTE 1

Después de una semana y media de pura crisis finalmente pude acabar el capítulo de esta historia nueva en español :´) Espero lo disfruten.

¿Confiar en Agatha Harkness o no confiar? Esa es la cuestión.

AgathaxLectora. Aquí la lectora es aprendiz de Lilia, quien le advierte no asociarse con Agatha Harkness pero es algo difícil de resistir, especialmente si se la pasa apareciendo en tus visiones.

1 Lecciones de magia y esa mujer misteriosa

No te gustaba recordar tu pasado. Haber vivido por diecisiete años con una familia que mostraba desprecio hacia quién eras y que fue capaz de dejarte abandonada a tu suerte en las calles como "castigo" por lo que eras nunca fue un tema que podías abordar con tranquilidad, así que a veces mentías y decías que creciste en un orfanato si alguien te lo preguntaba, así las preguntas paraban de una vez. Incluso después de diez años más el recuerdo de los maltratos o del día en que te echaron a la calle te atormentaba algunas noches en sueños, tus padres religiosos se acercaban con ira a ti como si quisieran golpearte, te tomaban fuertemente de los brazos al punto de causarte dolor y te arrastraban hasta el auto de tu padre para lanzarte a los asientos de atrás y llevarte lejos con el objetivo de abandonarte a tu suerte. 

¿Cuál fue el supuesto delito? Ser una bruja. Específicamente una bruja clarividente que podía tener premoniciones, pero a tus padres les daba igual los tipos de brujas que habían en el mundo (sin siquiera saber de las más despiadadas), para ellos una bruja era una bruja y todas debían ir en fila a la hoguera o ser colgadas. Ellos hablaban mucho de la hoguera, de improvisar una en un lugar alejado, pero al parecer contigo tuvieron algo de misericordia y "sólo" te dejaron abandonada en una carretera a merced del clima, el hambre, y por supuesto, gente de mal vivir como los dos tipos aterradores en auto negro que intentaron secuestrarte esa misma noche.

Deseabas deshacerte del recuerdo y cada vez se hacía menos complicado, pero apenas el primer día fue brutal contigo hasta que afortunadamente Lilia Calderu y la fascinante cultura de las brujas llegaron a tu vida. Esa misma noche fue cuando Lilia apareció en la calle oscura donde estuviste a punto de ser secuestrada. 

No habías tenido ninguna visión al respecto, no entendías por qué si antes de acabar en la calle tenías visiones de cosas que ocurrirían de vez en cuando. En aquel entonces te costaba mucho tenerlas pero lo más importante era que aquella señora de cabello rizado y ropa holgada te salvó de un destino espantoso. 

Su nombre era Lilia Calderu, decía que era siciliana y una bruja clarividente al igual que tú, pero con cuatrocientos cuarenta y siete años. Abriste mucho los ojos y te asombraste, jamás en tu triste vida habías conocido a alguien tan longevo. Por un momento pensaste que podría ser mentira, hasta que empezó a hablar de sucesos históricos en los cuales estuvo presente y no podías disimular el asombro. Total, te habías criado en una familia muy católica, y nadie en tu familia había vivido más de noventa y cinco años aproximadamente, cualquier miembro de esa familia se escandalizaría al oír sobre alguien de más de cien años. Lo que Lilia te contaba te hacía olvidar que estabas literalmente sola y abandonada a tu suerte, incluso habías estado llorando sin control esa misma tarde, hasta que te preguntó sobre ti.

"¿Dónde diablos están tus padres, niña?" Te preguntaba mientras caminaban tratando de encontrar a algún oficial de policía y decir que habían secuestradores pero no encontraban nada ni a nadie cerca. Lilia llevaba su bolso y en él tenía una bolsa de papel llena de croissants. Te ofreció la bolsa y tomaste uno. "No me digas que tuviste una visión y escapaste, ¿sabes cuántos niños desaparecen sólo en Westview? Yo sé lo que les pasa a muchos, y no es NADA genial..."

"Me dejaron en la calle" Contestaste antes de dar una mordida algo desesperada por el hambre, a lo que Lilia reaccionó alzando las cejas. "sólo me metieron en el auto, mi padre condujo por dos horas y me dejaron por aquí" Terminaste la oración para seguir comiendo con muchas ganas. Ni siquiera habías desayunado y la oscuridad de la calle apenas dejaba ver la irritación e hinchazón de tus ojos.

"¿Qué? Oh..." Dijo Lilia tratando de que lo que dijiste cobre sentido dentro de su lógica. Por supuesto que vio cosas mucho peores pero aún así le pareció algo espantoso al juzgar por su expresión. " Oh, Lo siento ¿y has estado caminando por aquí desde la tarde?" Lilia parecía estar sacando cálculos en su mente sobre algo. "Ya sabes lo que dicen niña...la misma historia, diferente época...tienes suerte de estar viva" 

Tú sólo asentiste con la cabeza. No lo sabías en aquel entonces, no sabías a qué se refería si fuiste educada en casa y nadie te explicó de los juicios a las brujas con detalle, eso lo aprenderías más adelante, cuando Lilia se convertiría en tu mentora. Te sentiste un poco avergonzada de haber mencionado tus poderes porque no siempre se manifestaban. Sucedía de vez en cuando, y temías que Lilia te considere una farsante.

"¿Cuál es tu nombre?" Preguntó Lilia. "Soy Lilia Calderu, hago lecturas del tarot a los mortales, con todos los medios de pago y...también tengo un negocio aparte, Lilia´s Leggins"

"Soy T/N" Contestaste, habías terminado todo el bocadillo y te había encantado pero no querías volver a mirar la bolsa.

"Bueno, T/N, no vas a quedarte aquí a que te vuelvan a querer raptar o asaltar, ¿verdad? parece que estás de suerte pequeña, porque justo en estos momentos necesito una asistente en mi negocio con urgencia, estaba a punto de preparar carteles porque todo está hecho un caos" Dijo Lilia deteniéndose en una puerta de vidrio templado con un cartel grande que decía "CERRADO" y un diseño de un ojo en la parte superior al centro. Había otro cartel, mucho más grande en letras gruesas, que decía: 

"MADAME CALDERU´S PSYCHIC READINGS"

"¿De verdad?" Preguntaste algo exaltada, de un momento a otro te había permitido trabajar para ella y quedarte en su negocio, no podías creerlo.

"¡Claro! sólo no rompas nada, las bolas de cristal son caras e importadas. No voy a permitir que una bruja joven e inexperta se quede sola en medio de la calle si puedo ayudar. Lamentablemente muchas brujas no tendrían la misma voluntad pero ese estereotipo de la bruja cruel que hace sacrificio tras sacrificio o asiste a ciertas "fiestas" o a eventos con cierta "artista" está muy anticuado, yo no soy así. Sólo para que lo sepas." Se formó una ligera sonrisa en sus finos labios. "Bienvenida"

Lilia abrió la puerta e hizo un gesto para que pases, miró a todos lados antes de cerrarla. Al entrar encendía las luces y empezaste a observar detenidamente toda la decoración. Había una puerta que conducía al negocio a su pequeño y acogedor apartamento, con una mesa pequeña de comedor junto a la cocina y por otro lado tenía el sofá. Tenía algunas plantas en macetas de todos los tamaños, algunas puestas sobre estantes de madera vieja y algunas colgando en una esquina, el papel tapiz tenía diseños de flores, en un rincón encontraste una mesita cubierta por una pila de libros, tenía estantes con cristales y piedras y pinturas de paisajes enmarcadas, mirabas todo con asombro y te encantaba la energía de la casa, así sea antigua y tenga un poco rasgadas algunas áreas del papel tapiz. 

"Por cierto, no sólo trabajarás para mi, sino que también tendrás clases conmigo y vas a leer mucho, ¿entendido? Libros de lectura de tarot y todo lo que debes saber al respecto, libros de historia, te haré una introducción a nuestra cultura porque es muy importante que lo sepas. ¡Oh! y mañana te voy a preparar un espacio para que duermas, hoy dormirás en el sofá, no te molesta, ¿verdad?" Dijo Lilia mientras dejaba sus llaves en una de las mesas.

"Muchas gracias señora Lilia" Le dirigiste una sonrisa y tus ojos se humedecieron nuevamente.

"Maestra Lilia" Contestó, inexpresiva. "Comamos algo y vamos a dormir, tienes mucho que aprender, T/N"

--------------------------------------------

Pasaron casi cuatro años desde aquel día y tú ya te habías familiarizado no sólo con el negocio de Lilia, sino también con todo lo relacionado a las brujas y tus propios poderes. Lilia te había proporcionado clases intensivas incluso los domingos, incluso en navidad y el cuatro de Julio, te había asignado lecturas diarias para después del trabajo, te enseñó a leer el tarot y mencionó, indignada, todos los estereotipos sobre la brujería que le parecían ridículos. Fabricaron juntas una litera para que puedas dormir más cómodamente y organizaron una pequeña biblioteca en un almacén donde Lilia también guardaba los artículos de limpieza. 

Solías empezar tu día haciendo limpieza en el negocio junto a Lilia, sacando polvo de las mesas, colocando manteles nuevos y revisando quién tendría una cita ese día o en otros casos acompañabas a Lilia a hacer sus lecturas en eventos privados. Desayunaban algo ligero y mientras Lilia atendía a los clientes, tú te ponías a leer lo que tenías pendiente si es que no debías entregar algún pedido de los leggins(Lilia te consiguió una bicicleta para que puedas ir más rápidamente). Lilia no te pedía que hagas lecturas aún, te decía que debías estar lista pero podías practicar cuando no haya nadie siempre y cuando coloques todo en su lugar después, y al final del día ambas volvían a repasar lo leído y Lilia te contaba historias o anécdotas de sus días en épocas pasadas. 

Ustedes dos se llevaban bastante bien y trabajaban muy eficazmente como equipo, sin embargo hubo un asunto que te dejó un poco preocupada. Obviamente habían brujas malvadas y magia muy oscura, eso era algo de lo cual Lilia te exigió (Literalmente usó la palabra "exigir") que te alejes de ese tipo de temas, y sólo ver lo básico de forma teórica pero lo que te inquietaba era que tus poderes comenzaron a manifestarse nuevamente después de años de quedarse casi bloqueados. Empezaste a ver cosas. Situaciones. Personas.

Y con personas, te referías a otras brujas. Una en específico.

A veces estabas pasando el trapeador por la cocina de Lilia mientras escuchabas a Fleetwood Mac (afortunadamente a Lilia le gustaban sus canciones y la voz de Stevie Nicks) y venía a tu mente la imagen de una misteriosa mujer. Esa mujer comenzó a repetirse en tus visiones, del mismo modo que una especie de bosque oscuro lleno de maleza y un camino que apenas se veía. La mujer podría ser unos cien o doscientos años más joven que Lilia, tenía cabello largo y oscuro, unos expresivos ojos azules y un hermoso rostro con pómulos marcados, mandíbula fuerte y nariz romana. Memorizaste sus rasgos y el aire de superioridad con el que aparecía en tu mente porque no podías negarlo, la mujer era bastante atractiva, era muy difícil quitarte su imagen de la cabeza al punto de cuestionarte qué era realmente lo que sentías al verla. Se lo comentaste a Lilia y ésta arqueó las cejas. 

"Una mujer de cabello oscuro y ojos azules, pues conozco a varias con esas características T/N" Contestaba Lilia, pero sabías, intuías que ella estaba enterada de quien era la mujer a quien te referías y por algún motivo no te lo quería decir por lo tensa que se veía. 

Un día de aquellos, la viste de nuevo en una fotografía. En un libro. Era la misma mujer con los mismos rasgos, sólo que con ropa de otra época y con rizos elaborados. Le mostraste el libro a Lilia mientras se tomaba un café que le preparaste durante el desayuno y puso los ojos en blanco. Se notaba un aire de exasperación.

"Ah, esa era..." Resopló. "...Agatha Harkness. No quieres saber de ella, ¿sabes a cuántas ha matado? Mató a su propio aquelarre, a su propia madre e incluso dicen que sacrificó a su propio hijo" Dijo Lilia con desdén, mirando la imagen como si hubiese una cucaracha aplastada en el papel para después desviar la mirada rápidamente. 

"¿En serio?" Preguntaste, tus pupilas se hacían cada vez más grandes. "Oh..."

"Ajá, fue una sobreviviente de los juicios de Salem ¡pero a qué costo! qué mujer desagradable...no te recomiendo que busques mucho sobre ella, está desquiciada si es que aún sigue con vida. Es traicionera, siempre anda con engaños y nos hace quedar mal a todas y a nuestra cultura. Verla me pone de mal humor, hazme el favor de quitar eso" 

"Aparece siempre en mis visiones" Dijiste, dejando el marcapáginas y cerrando el libro. "También un bosque o algo parecido" Lilia estaba a punto de dejar su taza ya vacía en la mesa de la cocina pero se detuvo de inmediato al escuchar tus palabras.

"Entonces parece que sí sigue con vida. Si estás sola y la ves, aléjate. No le respondas, no le dirijas la palabra. Es por tu bien. Un poco más de café, por favor" Ordenó Lilia entregándote la taza en lugar de dejarla. tú asentiste con la cabeza.

La mujer llamada Agatha Harkness y ese lugar seguían apareciendo en tus visiones. Te observaba, te sonreía de una forma maliciosa, podías escuchar su voz. Tarareaba una canción. Cada que te perdías en tus pensamientos mientras realizabas alguna actividad rutinaria, tus visiones llegaban como en desfile y lo primero que veías era a aquella bruja. Viste un largo saco azul que se movía con el viento, su cabello recogido en un peinado de la época victoriana, su rostro muy cerca del tuyo y mordiendo su labio inferior después de escanear tu alma con la mirada, y las visiones no paraban. A veces cantaba en voz baja.

"Al sendero voy...bruja bruja soy..."

No habías escuchado esa canción en tu vida, pero no estabas segura si preguntarle a Lilia al respecto.

El lugar donde tus visiones se llevaban a cabo no parecía real. Era un bosque pero estaba conformado por demasiados elementos que parecían sobrenaturales. Iluminación azul proveniente de alguna fuente desconocida, árboles extraños, plantas luminosas, un camino largo de pequeñas piedras, niebla, y esa mujer caminaba a tu lado sin dejar de observarte. Reía. Empezaste a asustarte, no sabías qué hacer, ¿por qué eras la única que tenía esas visiones?

El timbre del negocio sonó pero estabas lavando unos platos así que fue Lilia quien atendió. A ambas les parecía un poco extraño porque no habían citas pero tal vez se trataba de algún cliente nuevo. Continuaste con lo tuyo pero sentías que tu corazón se aceleraba, algo no marchaba bien y no entendías qué era. Lilia se tardaba lo normal como con cualquier cliente, pero había algo que despertaba, sacudía, tu intuición.  Te secaste las manos y al voltear, Lilia estaba de vuelta en el comedor pero esta vez estaba acompañada de dos personas. Un adolescente con vestimenta oscura que usaba delineador...y ella.

Agatha Harkness. 

Tuviste suerte de haber dejado el último plato en la mesa porque si lo hubiese tenido en la mano, se te hubiese resbalado de las manos temblorosas y hecho pedazos en el piso al verla y tu respiración se cortó por un segundo. Era exactamente la misma mujer de tus visiones. El mismo rostro, la misma mirada penetrante, las mismas líneas que se formaban en los extremos de sus ojos y la misma sonrisa de oreja a oreja dirigida hacia ti.

"...mi aprendiz y ayudante, T/N" Pudiste oír que Lilia le hablaba pero se escuchaba casi como si estuviese sumergida en el agua. El rostro de Agatha era lo que cautivó tu atención y te dejó en shock tras haberla visto finalmente en persona. Agatha Harkness, la mata-brujas. No sabías si sentirte asustada o dejar que la intriga siga creciendo. Lilia miraba la Agatha con desdén y estuvo a punto de decirte que te retires a otro lado porque pudo notar tu asombro.

Tuviste otra visión fugaz con Agatha como protagonista. Esta vez estaba también Lilia y otras mujeres que no conocías y todas estaban tomadas de las manos.

"Hmm..." Agatha te sacó a la realidad al acercarse lentamente.

"Lo siento...soy T/N" Agatha pretendió no escucharte y continuó. "Me parece que esta encantadora joven sabe quién soy yo, ¿o no?" Dijo Agatha mientras observaba cada milímetro de tu rostro y cabello. "Y es una muy buena aprendiz, por lo que veo...¿No te gustaría unirte tú también?"

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff, Hurt/ Comfort, Best Friends to Lovers, Exes to Best Friends, Hinted Exes to Lovers

Warnings: Mentions of physical harm to y/n (bruises).

Word count: 461

PART 1 HERE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 「1:55am」 - "Seeing you again brought everything back."

Heavy gray obscures the sky. Raindrops racing down the windows at the same time you're caught staring at him in a catatonic stupor.

His outstretched hand drops sharply from your clothed injury. At the foot of his bed, he rests, massaging the back of his neck. There's a sour taste in your mouth awaiting his oncoming words. You might as well be back under your umbrella the night the music died.

"Don't." You exhale, pleadingly gazing out the window. Those raindrops may as well run down your cheeks, too.

Looking through his long lashes, refusal of acceptance burns bright in Jinwoo's cold glare. "People called me crazy for letting you get away. And they were right."

Your mirthless smile goes hand in hand with your emotional mourning at his statement. Why wait now to want you back?

"We were both so hurt that we didn't see how much the other one was hurting." You affirm, arms remaining at your sides.

Jinwoo stammers. "Yes, but I'm sorry for how it ended. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

You're taken aback, some of your tension releasing from your shoulders. The atmosphere that of a boa constrictor between you two. You kept up your end of the bargain when the metaphorical house of cards came crashing. Three months' time to the day when you and him couldn't take it anymore.

Apart from the ever so slight proximity you couldn't face him. There's no point mustering up the courage. You're not afraid. You're exhausted.

"We fought, and you thought that meant we shouldn’t be together. Couples fight. Fighting is healthy."

He returns your gaze through the windows' reflection, dispatching a disquieting jolt through your limbs.

What's worst, the fact that your dating anniversary is two weeks from today or that you're back in his room, in his clothes, under his care just as you were prior?

Deafening thunder booms as the sound waves from the lightning reach your ears.

You bite back a lie. To tell the truth would allow for your emotions to run away with your mouth. "It seemed like the right thing at the time. We weren't ready for it."

Jinwoo tracks your every step as you draw nearer. The mattress dips beside him during which you lay down in fetal position.

He continues his visual exploration, searching for a sign in your soft features. A sign of hope. A new beginning.

"Do you think we are now?" He asks earnestly.

Hell could not fathom your need to let go contrarily to your want for the unrealistic. Jinwoo mimics your actions, laying back onto the bed. With glossy eyes, you shift closer and place your hand on his chest. His steady heartbeat beneath your palm.

"I don't want this with anybody else."

Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[queenbees21]

Day one — ʀᴇᴅ: ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ ᴅᴇᴋᴜ; ᴍʏ oɹǝɥ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴀ

Here’s the list prompts <3 ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴ : ❤︎ , ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ : ★?

Villain Deku chooses! ➢ ★

⚠️Warning! : Grammar errors, Not proofread, Yandere deku, Ooc Deku, pervy! + possessive Deku, kidnapping - slight dark content - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/n : these little prompts might be a little short, but I’ll try to make them last longer! 🙇‍♀️

[February 12, 2023 __ 11:45 PM ]

“Alright, I heading out now!” You called out to your co-worker. They waves their hand goodbye with a “Safe travels,” as they processed to clean the countertops of the bar.

You head out the door of the club; swinging it open and walked down the hall while tracking your bus. As you waited for its arrival, you hadn’t noticed two pairs of emerald orbs watching you.

[February 12, 2023 __ 11:56 PM ]

You, softy, closed your door to your apartment complex while shrugging off your coat. You place it in the coat rack and walk to your dark kitchen. Throwing your keys on the island and switching on the light, although; as you did, you didn’t notice the company that was making it—himself comfortable in your chair. “Welcome home precious girl~”

You shudder in fear but kept your brave face on, “what are you doing here.” You mostly stated and then asked a general question…

He chuckled playfully but it sounded dark from afar, he place his foot down for he had it across his leg, stood up; walking towards you. You suddenly felt small compared to him and, as always he wasn’t giving you any personal space; whatsoever.

He gazes down at you with an unreadable expression. He just stood close doing nothing, no sudden movements were made. You gasped in surprise as he swiftly pulls you close to him and lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder.

You felt your face heating up and tried to kick your way out of his arms. He struggles to handle you, as you kicked and tried to punch your way out of his grasp, although; that soon stopped when you suddenly felt a smack against your thigh.

Now you are pissed off and at the same time flushed. You curse Deku out in your native language and still processed to smack and kick him in his back, and again it did nothing to prevent him from holding you still.

You suddenly felt the fresh breeze of the wind of the night and heard the slam of a door, ‘He’s kidnapping me!!’

Deku again opens another door and throws you in the passenger seat of a car, as he struggles to put on your seatbelt.“Help Me! he-mph!!” He covers your mouth and swiftly closes the door preventing you from escaping. Before he left, he turned on the cars AC. As you try to open it, it only made a taping sound…. ‘Child lock’.

He somehow managed to get the door to close and looks towards your… co-worker! at the bar!! They both talked for a little while, you only heard mumbling. Their noises drifted off, you heard nothing... Deku paid the said co-worker and shooed them away.

….. Then realization came crashing down…Your co-worker… It’s no wonder now, how Deku found out where you lived; it’s simple really. Your so-called “loyal” co-worker, rat you out and yet in the end he’ll be the one to get punished...

Deku hates tattletales…

But before you can think of anymore about this hectic situation. You suddenly felt dizzy, tired, and can feel an incoming headache arrive- wait.…

The.. air… AC…

Dame it…

[February 13, 2023 __ 1:30 PM ]

Red

Red is… I see red…

All I see is.. red

But revenge is best served… cold

“ Aw Baby girl no need to worry about me~ it’s just a little paint~” he once said

___

You wake up with chills running down your spine. You panted in fear, quickly you stood up from the bed. Wait? bed? You hastily looked around; trying to remember where you were.

Air..

Of course, Deku must have put chloroform in the AC! That’s dame bastard! dame him and his clever schemes! You wanted to bang your head for not thinking straight or even way around that situation.

As you were contemplating with yourself, you hadn’t noticed a certain presence; watching think to yourself. He smirks, but how can he not? When he has a beautiful angel in his bed.

“Good morning Precious~ or should I say afternoon instead,”

Oh my goodness, No.

“Stopping calling me that! And no it’s not a good morning or afternoon or whatever is it!” You slipped your legs off the comfort of the warm bed and met the cool air, breezing your exposed legs.

“It’s afternoon baby,”

“Whatever!” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning your head to the side. As you did Deku just gazes at the soft skin of your neck, and without thinking he leans towards your neck peppering kisses down your neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sudden contact, feeling your eyes get slightly droopy and you breathed out a shaky sigh.

You tried your best, not to let any sort of noises that might make him feel ‘accomplished’. Well rather it was noise or whatever, if he was able to get you to squirm a little then he’s done his job right.

Deku hums against your neck as he pulls you close to his body. He slowly but surely, wrapped his arms around your waist; bringing you close and sitting on his lap.

He felt warm against you. You slowly wrap your arms around his muscular frame. Or at least tried to, for the palm of your hands reaches up to his spin; trying hard not to fall; although, Deku has  prevented that from happening.

He held you with caution, and for a spilt second, it almost felt like he cared but, it was only for a mere moment.

For some reason, in the back of your head; you knew this was wrong. You knew you had to stop but you couldn’t, you knew you had to let go, although; he didn’t let you. You knew and yet neither one of you, not even for a mere moment, let go of one other.

There is no guarantee that you might one day, up run and leave Deku again, like last time. From now on he’ll make sure you never leave. He’ll make you, that you only look at him, seek Him, love him, and no one else. He’ll make sure of it.

As you both pull away for a breath, you panting for air. Deku places his forehead against yours as he rubs his nose with your own. He smirks at your flushed features, and he quickly kisses you once more but pulls away just quickly before he loses it again.

Red is what he sees in both your futures, although; it won’t be red of the drips of blood; within the palm of his hands, the blood of his enemies.

No, it’ll be the red roses in the garden, with you dressed in white. With the red rose on the crown of your hair. Ready to be wed, and red petals placed everywhere on the bed only. Yes. Thats the red he’ll be looking forward to.

A/n: Sorry if it’s short! And weird 💀 but I thought this was cute (kinda) and it’s been on my mind for a while, and I couldn’t figure out how to end this without leaving it in a awkward position… But with that being said,

[chronicbeans]

I need more fluffy Simon Petrikov x Reader angst turn fluffy comfort fics NOW or else I will do it myself.

This is a threat because I am not confident in my ability to write fluff.

But I will if I must lol

[yarrystyleeza]

Arduous Solitude

"I used to want to be alone. Now that you're here—I don't want to be alone anymore. The solitude that I once wanted took no place in my heart ever since I had you."

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

Taglist: @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @bellaxgiornata @babygirlmurdock @1988-fiend @v4leoftears @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @floral-charlie-cat

[curiosity almost killed the cat]

Word count: 1.7k!

Warnings/tags for this chapter: none!!! Talks of art, cats, and tea. Someone gets a burn scar!!! other than that—there's nothing.

You looked even more interesting this close.

You eyed him curiously with high eyebrows— waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat, flashing a smile. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he states, his voice was gravely but it was warm, even soothing. Eerly soothing.

It wasn't really matching his face, he was handsome, you couldn't doubt that for a split second, but he was a bit perturbing. He had a weird aura, maybe off-putting too, but he looked nice. Very nice.

Stop that, you literally just met the man. You mentally shook your head.

"Thank you, mister..." you stopped, waiting for him to finish your sentence.

"Henry," he said, "my name is Henry," he smiled once again.

You nodded, "pleasure to meet you, Mister Henry."

You introduce yourself. "Such a lovely name," he says, and you feel the blood creeping up beneath your skin.

"I apologize—it seemed like you were having a lonely time," he says.

You shook your head, almost instantly, "no worries, you didn't bother."

Why did you say that? Why did you sound so eager and... desperate? In your head, you smacked yourself across the face.

"Oh, um--" he trailed off.

You gasped. "Oh, I'm very sorry-- please come in," you swing the door wider, allowing him to pass inside. He took off his dark fedota and wiped his shoes at the entrance mat. He wasn't this 6ft tall huge—but he was huge, with broad shoulders and a wide dorsum. You felt a little small next to him, maybe more than just a little.

You show him the way into your living room, moving your cozy blankets out of the way for him to sit on your sofa. He gently settled down, eyeing the interior of your house thoroughly. Did he like the decor? Wait--why would you even care? It's your house, not his.

"Sorry again, let me go grab something for you to drink, you must be freezing," you say, turning in your heels and walking straight to the kitchen. He called your name. It pinned you in place.

You never liked how your name sounded more than now.

"Don't bother bringing anything, I don't really need--"

You turned, shaking your head, "that would be very impolite of me, Mister Henry, now allow me to bring you some tea to warm you up."

He surrendered with a huff, "alright," he quietly said. You continued your trip to the kitchen and placed the teapot over the stove.

"Would you like chamomile tea? Hibiscus? Earl Grey? The regular?" you asked as you scavenged through the cupboard for other options.

"Whatever you have there," Henry politely answered.

"Alright, I think we're up for hibiscus."

He stood off his seat to closely inspect your bookshelves. The last residents of this home were an elderly couple, so there's a chance he learns something new about the world from your perspective.

You seemed to be a bookworm, there were dozens and dozens of books on your shelves. He noticed you had a shared interest with him, too; miniature artworks. You loved to collect them, but he loved making them.

He wondered if any of his many miniature works ever made their way to your hands, maybe passed by someone to you, or you received it as a gift, or thrifted it from some local antiques store.

But then he saw the very petite canvas of a peacock. He remembers that, he just doesn't quite remember when, but he surely knows he painted it more than 250 years ago.

"Oh, you seem like you like my collection?" you cringed at yourself. Since when were you this outgoing and social?

You placed the tray down. "I'm sorry, I was just--" he trailed off, turning to look your way with your little art piece in his hand.

You shook your head, "it's alright, I got this one in an auction three years ago for only fifteen hundred pounds! It should've costed way more than that to be honest, it dates back to the seventeen hundreds, as I assume," you were astonished by how talkative you are now. Maybe you were just too excited about your miniature collection.

But he admired how dedicated you were to track it back to its date of manufacturing, and you paid this much for it and still had the will to pay more.

He couldn't help but smile.

"What fascinated you about it?" the artist had to ask.

You shrugged, "well... I guess I like ancient things, specially art," a warmer smile split the pitch darkness of his beard, "the size is enough to amaze you, and the artist was so dedicated in painting the blue feathers, I love it when someone pours their soul into something, it creates something magnificent."

"Are you an artist?" he asked, you nodded, gesturing at the wall behind the sofa. He turned around, his back now facing you, but you could swear you heard him quietly gasp.

"You made these?" he turned to look at you, his brows shooting up his forehead. You hummed, he looked back at the pieces you hung on the wall, moved closer to them, he inspected them, touched them even.

You've never seen a man this mesmerized by your art. All of your previous partners usually plainly reacted to it, other times they never even batted an eye for it.

But him, Mister Henry, he was in awe, his tips were following the wild and free strokes of your brushes, they walked over the ups and downs of the layers, and sensed the pebbles of dry paint so delicately, his fingertips almost dancing over the canvas.

That stirred something in you.

"Are you an artist?" it was your turn to ask this question, he turned to face you, his fingertips still lingering on the canvas. Your eyes shifted between his and his tips, still amazed by the fact that he was interested in your art.

"You can say that," he shrugged and winked.

This, somehow, changed the flow direction of the chemicals of your brain. The lights flipped on inside your head. Your face turns red.

You had no idea what was going on with you, but this was the most attractive thing you've seen a guy doing in years.

Not only he's interested in art, but he's also an artist.

You had to distract yourself from looking into his vast eyes with this unlimited amount of admiration. "The--the tea!" you ripped your eyes off of him, looking at the tray placed on the coffee table.

He hadn't drank tea in decades and never truly minded it, but now he wanted to drink it with you, he felt he missed what it tastes.

He was almost to grab his cup, but something buzzed the skin of his hand, and that's when he noticed that the tray was made of silver.

He almost killed himself for a cup of tea.

You reached down and handed him the cup, he nodded, his face was paler than a sheet, but he smiled to distract himself from the fact that he almost died in a stranger's house... For a little cup of tea.

He felt stupid for this.

"Can I ask you a question, if you wouldn't mind?" he said after taking a sip of his drink. He sure missed that warm and earthy and sweet taste.

You nodded.

"You seem to look like a city girl, what brought you here to the suburbs, in a house near the woods?" Henry is obviously more curious now.

You shrugged, "I needed to be alone, to breathe, and this is what I found, my very own little witch house," he chuckled at your answer, and you couldn't lie, you loved that man's chuckle, you fell in love with it.

It wasn't just because it's been a while since you had a man in your life, but he had something so charming and elegant about him. His fancy clothing, his wizardly attitude, his very sweet but dignified features and, his eyes.

You really, really loved his eyes.

There was an odd reflection of fire in them that you couldn't explain, you didn't know if he was born this way or was it the fireplace behind you or is your mind playing tricks on you.

Marmalade yelled from upstairs, it made your heart drop in your stomach, tearing your train of thoughts apart and shaking your ground. Although you've had this flameball for years now, you never really got used to his sudden loud shrieks; they always took you off guard.

Henry's ears visibly stood up, he caught the scent of fur and canned food, and watched as the little noise machine waddled down the stairs.

"That's Marmalade," you had to say—as you pulled him up to your chest.

"Hey Lad," Henry says, smiles and waves at him.

"He loves to let me know he's present, sorry if he scared you," you lull Marmalade in your cradle-made arms.

Henry gutted a giggle and shook his head, "never mind, he's adorable."

However, Marmalade's ears went into airplane-mode, he pushed you in the chest, forcing you to let go of him and ran up the stairs once again. You were astounded by his act, you turn back to look at Henry, who stood silently with his eyebrows shooting high and his eyes fixed to the ground.

"I'm really sorry, I don't know what's going on with him, maybe it's because he just moved in--" you were explaining, and you don't even know why you were justifying a cat but you stood there and did it.

Henry shook his head, "it's alright I'm... I'm not very favored by most animals," he shrugged, "however, I think I should be going now, I must've kept you past your bedtime and maybe it's why your lad was grumpy," he put on his fedora and passed you.

You were a little startled by the shift of his demeanor, but you followed him to the front door.

He turned the doorknob then turned to look at you. Quietly, he said your name with a smile, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

But this wasn't the last thing you saw of the very peculiar Mister Henry.

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