#I’m sorry I don’t know what this is either

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

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“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?” The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain’s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[wonderjanga]

Billy's Gears/Modes Inspired by the post where you say he is far more serious when doing 'Champion of Magic' work. What other personality shifts might Billy go through that seem drastic and terrifying to Green Lantern and the Flash? Broke Billy might do something weirder and more drastic than just stealing more. or maybe after seeing movies he becomes more dangerous by imitating physics defying cgi on the job

Private justifications that cause drastic observable "unexplainable" shifts in how Marvel behaves (I doubt Billy is aware of the shifts in behaviour but Mary might notice the patterns) idk "the many faces of marvel"

I love this idea! Lemme see what I can do with it!

There is something wrong with her brother. Mary knows it. She doesn’t know what exactly it is, but she knows it’s something. Whatever it is, it not only affects her brother, but his Marvel form. It seems she’s not the only person who noticed these personality shifts too.

Flash, GL, and Marvel: *fighting Adam in Fawcett*

Black Adam: *mentions something about Billy’s parents*

Marvel: *looks more mad than Flash or GL have ever seen in their lives*

That’s how they ended up just standing to the side as Marvel was on top of Adam, beating his face in. He looked like a wild animal. A rabid dog if you will. Wow.

GL: *from like 20 feet away summons a hand to pat Marvel’s shoulder* “Hey, man? I think you got him…?”

Marvel: “NO, I DON’T!”

Flash and GL: *flinch*

Flash: “Oh okay. Our bad.”

As an apology, he ended up taking them out for milkshakes.

Marvel: “Guys I’m so sorry you had to see that side of me.”

Flash: “It’s- it’s fine. Do you let that side of you out normally?”

Marvel: “I try not to.”

GL: “I see. I see.” *nods head*

Then, there’s the time Freddy, Mary, and Billy snuck into a movie house to watch a thief movie. Billy got inspired to rob Ebenezer.

Billy: *humming the mission impossible theme as he sneaks through one of Eben’s windows*

Mary: “This is extremely unethical. Are you sure you’re pure of heart?”

Billy: “Yup.” *barely listening*

Mary: “So where’s the money?”

Billy: “What money?”

Mary: “The money we’re stealing? I was under the impression we were gonna steal money cause we’re broke.”

Billy: “Oh. No. No no no. We’re stealing this.” *stops at a drawer and pulls out Eben’s cane looking straight up evil*

Mary: *jaw on the damn floor* “Are you serious?”

Billy: “Yup. Now cmon.” *hums the mission impossible theme again as he heads back to the window*

Later…

Billy: *back to being the chipper little guy he normally is*

Mary: *shakes her head* “How do you do that?”

Billy: “Do what?”

Mary: “Go from being normal to evil then back to normal?”

Billy: “What? How am I evil?”

Mary: “Billy, you stole an old man’s cane. That’s evil.”

Billy: “Nuh uh. It’s Ebenezer.”

Mary: *sort of understands but still thinks he’s evil* “Okay.”

After a couple more flash instances of him being evil or angry for a couple moments around friends or family. Someone finally asked the question of what was wrong with him. Specifically, Flash and GL went up to Junior and Mary to pop the question.

Flash: “Hey uh… Kids? Does Cap have some kind of instability or condition or something?”

Junior: “Uh no, what are you talking about?” *looks him up and down like he’s stupid*

Flash: *feels stupid* “Well, uh-”

Mary: “You mean the personality shifts right?”

GL: “Yes!”

Junior: “The what?”

Mary: “B- uh Marvel sometimes does this entire like 180 into a different personality because he either feels really strongly about something or he’s just really focused on something.”

Flash: “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! What uh what’s up with that?”

Mary: “To be honest, I don’t really know. He just gets like that under certain circumstances. Don’t worry though. They’re normally rare circumstances.”

[jeongin-lvr]

thoughts on virgin!jeongin 😋😋

absolutely yes 100% i hope this is okay i made this my little headcannon list >< cw. virginity loss, pocket pussy + masturbation, endurance training, blowjobs + pussy eating.

virgin! jeongin who acts so relaxed, so nonchalant all the time. and, y’know, with the way he carries himself, his cadence, you’re inclined to believe he’s way more experienced than you. little do you know he’s such a little loser, pathetically whining and fucking a pocket pussy (a gag gift from a friend...) while thinking about you, his oh-so-oblivious girlfriend.

virgin! jeongin who actually twitches when you ask him to finger you for the first time. he has no idea what to do, so he just happily follows your instruction. using his pretty hands (which you excitedly compliment and praise him for) to run over your nub and folds, spreading your precum. he hesitates and stops himself from licking his fingers, not wanting to cross any lines, though he wants to so badly. when he sinks his long fingers into you and hears you moan for the first time... he might cum from the sound. you don’t tease him though, too busy fucking yourself back on his quaking hand.

virgin! jeongin that you have wrapped around your finger with little effort. he can and will (gladly) sink to his knees to beg you for a blowjob, or for just a chance to taste your pussy. and if you agree? well, he’s twitching and obliging by every rule and demand you give him. you want to tie up his wrists while you blow him? yes, absolutely. you want to sit on his pretty boy face and suffocate him your slick? well, he isn’t complaining.

virgin! jeongin who cannot control himself. he pops boners everywhere, and either you’re too oblivious to notice or you pretend to be. it drives him crazy. he also cums wayyyy too early its so cute. imagine both of you having sex for the first time and he’s shaking so hard just putting the tip of his thick cock inside your slick walls; he feels like you’re sucking him in, it’s unlike anything hes ever felt. one stroke and he’s gone, i’m sorry.

but that’s what endurance training is for!

virgin! jeongin who actually sheds tears when you ride him for the first time, telling him he can’t cum until you do, or maybe until you tell him. he is quite literally blacking out and biting his lip till it bleeds trying to hold back that gigantic bubble of pleasure in his tummy. you’re telling him how handsome, cute, sexy he is and he’s sure his brain is going numb from the sound of your cunt swallowing his cock. when you finally give him the go-ahead to cum he thanks you so gratefully, voice shaky and whiny as he grips your hips and fucks up into you. finally using those muscles of his to his advantage.

once jeongin isn’t quite a virgin anymore it’s like a flip switched in his brain... now that he has the option to be in your slick walls, he kind of abuses his power... but its okay !! you’ll let him won’t you?

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙒/ 𝙎𝙆𝙕*

Pairing: Hyung - Line x Reader (GN)

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Could I have made this just all one? Yes. Why didn’t I? Because I wanted something to post tomorrow on Christmas too lol. Hopefully these turned out as cute as i thought. Happy holidays to all! PS. Sorry for any mistakes!

Hyung Line | Maknae Line

-🎄

Bangchan:

Both bundled up for the cold weather as you walked into the tree farm. Chans hands interlocked with yours. This was the first Christmas you were spending living together and he wanted to make it perfect. He came up with the idea to go find the perfect tree for what he says “the perfect person.”

“How about this one?” He asks pointing at a tree.

“Chris- that’s gigantic” you said laughing making him laugh.

“Fine fine, let’s keep looking” he said smiling taking his hand from yours to wrap it around your waist.

After a few minutes of strolling you came to a medium sized tree, it had the perfect amount of leafiness. “Oh oh! This one’s perfect!” You say smiling. His heart melted at the way your eyes just lit up. You were smiling so widely looking at him with those beautiful eyes.

“Alright this one it is! I’ll go get someone you protect our new son” he said with a teasing seriousness.

When he came back with the guy he helped cut it down and took it to the car. As you got it back home he listened to you talk about decorating it. Smiling ear to ear just listening to how excited you were.

“You know, I’m happy I get to do this with you” you said smiling taking his hand that was on your lap.

His cheeks and ears started to turn red blushing at your words. He brought your hand up to kiss it “me to love, and many many years to come” he said blushing even more. His words making you blush along with him.

As you decorated you both couldn’t help the warm feeling of it all. Chan helped you up to put on the star stepping back to look at your work. “It looks perfect” you said smiling. The lights from the tree making your eyes look even more sparkly than normal.

“Not as perfect as you” he says pulling you to him. He kissed the top of your head as you smiled looking at the tree. He insisted on taking a bunch of pictures and making sure to get one or a ton of you both in-front of it.

Minho:

You weren’t completely sure if he’d be down to do it but you were hopeful. You had gotten all the stuff for it plopping down all the bags on the counter. You sat everything up before he got there. Placing all the little candies out and the boxes for the gingerbread houses. You may have went overboard but you were just excited.

When he arrived he couldn’t help but chuckle making you jump. “So this was your big plan hm?” He said with a grin.

“Yep! But if you don’t want to it’s-“ you started to say only for him to interrupt you.

“No I want to, gonna build a better house than you” he teased.

“Oh yeah? Wanna make a bet?” You say.

“Name your price loser” he teased.

“If I win you have to match PJs with me and take a picture!” You say.

“Fine and when I win you have to make those cookies for me” he says.

“Oh it’s on!” You giggle.

You both sit down at the table crafting your masterpieces. However he was getting frustrated with the house. It kept sliding “I think this was rigged” he huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his house was leaning, the one side falling off. You wanted it to be a fun time so you decided to help him. “You’re using too much if you do this” you say as you fix it making it stand perfectly.

“There” you say smiling.

“You know you shouldn’t help your opponent” he said with a chuckle.

“Well I was planning on making those cookies either way so” you still smiling as you decorated the house.

“Yeah? Guess I’ll do the PJs buuut we gotta get the cats in the picture” he said.

“Deal” you say kissing his cheek.

As you finished the houses Minho took a glob of icing smearing it on your lips. “Oops” he laughed. “Let me get that for you” he said kissing it off your lips.

“Smooth” you blushed.

“Of course, it’s me” he said before kissing you once more. “Missed a spot”

Changbin:

It had been snowing a lot the last couple of days. Changbin had come over surprising you because you thought he worked. “Hey gorgeous, get your snow stuff on” he said smiling.

“For what?” You asked confused.

“Just do it pleeease” he whined.

How could you say no to him? You got up putting all your stuff on. He smiled taking your hand as you both went outside. It was still snowing a little but he had a few things In a bag.

“Let’s make a snow couple” he said grinning ear to ear.

“Gonna be together human and snow form?” You say laughing.

“Duh” he teased back.

He helped you roll the snow up as you both got to work making cute little snow people. He had a few item to put on them like hats and scarfs. He found the perfect sticks for the arms as you made little faces in the heads.

You decorated them both stepping back to look at the snow couple you made. “They’re in love” he said smiling. “Oh wait!” He said moving their hands so they were holding “now they’re in love” he said making you giggle.

“If we stay out here any longer we’re gonna be the snow couple” you said.

“Right, let’s go inside and get some hot chocolate?” He said smiling.

He made you sit on the couch in a bunch of blankets making you both some hot chocolate. He handed you the mug snuggling up to your side. “Warm?” He asked. You nodded prompting him to put his cold hands on your stomach. You jumped at the coldness “hey! I just got warm!” You pouted.

“Yeah, now I gotta get warm” he said chuckling putting the rest of his cold body against yours.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin found a flyer for a holiday market that was going on this weekend. He excitedly asked you if you wanted to go with him and of course you said yes.

He had cute couple outfits picked out for the both of you making the whole day even more special. You both strolled down looking at the booths. Some had holiday candles, snacks and clothes. “I’ll be right back.” He said with a grin running off to another booth.

When he came back he had that smile of ‘I did something’. He moved your coat placing a little necklace around your neck with the letter H on it. He had another in his hand with the first letter of your name on it. “Would you do the honors” he said smiling moving his hair.

God why was he so freaking cute. You placed the necklace around his neck. He brought you into a tight hug kissing you softly. He couldn’t help but smile looking at you. “I love you Angel” he said kissing your cold nose.

“And I love you hyune thank you” you said softly.

“For what?” He asked.

“The necklace silly”

“Oh right” he laughed “of course! Thought it would be cute.” He blushed. “We should take some pictures” he said pulling his phone out.

You both strolled, stopping at more booths and to take more pictures. After it all you ended up with bags full of clothes, one with a few candles and of course all the snacks. He couldn’t help it, anything that you even so much as looked at he bought.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[lotsofmilfs]

Shades of Cool Part 2

Pairing : Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Summary : After sharing your magic with Agatha, the bond is stronger, so you start to tease her through it.

Word Count : 6.8kish

Notes : Part 3 soon! (NSFW 😏) i’m sorry if this ended up being repetitive, i’ve edited this for days in a row and keep changing things lmfao.

Part 1

The warmth of her touch lingers as Agatha steps back, her hand still loosely holding yours. The bond between you hums steadily now, like the soft rhythm of a heartbeat. Her magic flickers through the connection—not as strong as it once was centuries ago, but it’s alive, pulsing faintly like a spark waiting to ignite.

You’re exhausted, your body feeling lighter, almost hollow, but there’s no regret in the act. If anything, there’s a strange comfort in knowing she feels more whole now, even if it came at your expense.

Agatha seems to sense it, her sharp gaze softening. “You look like you’re about to collapse,” she says, her voice still laced with that familiar sardonic edge, but there’s an undercurrent of concern that wasn’t quite there before.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your knees threaten to betray you.

“Liar,” she mutters, her free hand reaching out instinctively to steady you. Her fingers brush your arm, firm but careful, and the bond thrums faintly in response. “You’re always so reckless, always giving and never thinking about the cost. You—” She stops herself, her expression twisting into something conflicted.

“Spit it out, Agatha,” you say tiredly, though there’s no real bite in your tone.

Her lips press into a thin line. For a moment, you think she won’t say anything, but then she exhales, her hand lingering on your arm. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says softly. “You didn’t have to… give up part of yourself for me.”

You meet her gaze, your exhaustion tempered by the raw vulnerability in her voice. “You think I’d just stand by and let you suffer like that? Agatha, we’re bonded. I feel what you feel. I couldn’t ignore it even if I wanted to.”

Her jaw tightens, and she looks away. “You’ve always been like this,” she mutters. “Too selfless for your own good. It’s so fucking infuriating.”

You laugh faintly, the sound dry but genuine. “And you’ve always been too stubborn to admit when you need help. So I guess we balance each other out.”

She doesn’t respond right away, her fingers still lightly gripping your arm. But there’s a warmth in your chest, and you can feel the gratitude she’s trying so hard not to voice.

“Come on,” she says after a beat, her tone lighter now. “Let’s get out of this wretched place before you decide to martyr yourself any further.”

She moves to step away, but you catch her hand before she can let go. Her eyes widen slightly at the gesture, and you can feel her surprise ripple faintly through the bond.

“Agatha,” you say, your voice steady despite your exhaustion. “Don’t let this go to waste.”

Her expression falters, her carefully crafted walls cracking just enough for you to see the emotion beneath. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she squeezes your hand in return.

“Okay I- I’ll try.” she says quietly, her voice carrying a weight that feels like a promise.

You nod, satisfied, and let her lead you forward. The mist around you begins to thin, the glowing blue light of the witches’ road shifting to a soft, golden hue. It feels like a small victory, like the road itself is acknowledging the fragile progress you’ve made.

As you walk, Agatha’s hand brushes against yours every now and then—not quite holding, but not quite letting go either.

The quiet between you feels different—less strained, more… charged. You try to ignore it, chalking it up to the magic you just shared, but the truth lingers at the edges of your thoughts. The bond isn’t just a connection of power; it’s always been more than that.

And now that it’s whole again, it’s impossible to ignore.

“Do you feel that?” you ask suddenly, breaking the silence.

Agatha stops, her brow furrowing as she glances at you. “Feel what?”

“The bond,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “It’s… different now. More than it was before.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her gaze flickering away as if she’s considering how much to say. “Of course it’s different,” she replies, her voice carefully measured. “You gave me your magic. That kind of exchange would strengthen any connection.”

You narrow your eyes at her, sensing there’s more she’s not saying. The bond pulses faintly, carrying her unease like a ripple in a still pond.

“It’s not just the magic,” you press, stepping closer. “There’s something else. Something I didn’t feel before.”

Agatha exhales sharply, her jaw tightening. “You’re imagining things,” she mutters, though the flicker of guilt in her eyes betrays her.

“I’m not,” you insist, your voice firmer now. “Agatha, what aren’t you telling me?”

She hesitates, her fingers twitching at her sides. For a moment, you think she might deflect again, but then the bond hums with something deeper—an emotion that feels startlingly raw. It makes your eyes water slightly as it fills your chest.

“You’re not the only one who feels it,” she admits finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “The bond… Us… it’s always been more than just magic. But I buried it. I had to.”

You blink, the weight of her words settling heavily in your chest. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you then, her expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely seen. “When we first started to forge the bond, I felt it, those nights in the forest,” she says, her voice steadier now. “Something more than connection, more than power. But I couldn’t handle it—not then. I was too afraid of what it meant. So I ignored it. Tried to bury it deep enough that even you wouldn’t feel it.”

Her confession leaves you breathless, the bond between you flaring further as her emotions ripple through it. You remember those early days—the intensity of your connection, the way being near her felt like standing too close to a fire.

You’d thought it was just the magic, the strength of the starting bond itself. But now…

“Agatha,” you say softly, your voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you saying… you felt this back then? Even before…”

“Yes,” she says, her tone clipped but honest. “And I thought you did too. But you never said anything, so I assumed it was one-sided. That’s… Another reason why I left.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, memories flooding back with startling clarity. The trial, the first night after she left, the ache of her absence that felt more than just betrayal. It wasn’t just the severed bond that hurt—it was losing her.

“I didn’t know what I was feeling back then,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I thought it was just… the magic. I didn’t realize…”

Your words trail off as you look at her, the weight of the moment settling between you. The bond pulses again, and this time, it’s impossible to deny the warmth that spreads through you.

Agatha steps closer, her gaze searching yours. “And now?” she asks, her voice quieter, almost hesitant.

You swallow hard, the air between you charged with something fragile but undeniable. “Now… I think I Do.”

Her breath catches, the bond roaring underneath your skin, as the truth settles between you. Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against your wrist. The touch is light, hesitant, but it sends a jolt through you that makes your heart race.

The world around you feels distant, the golden mist fading into the background as your focus narrows to her—the way her eyes soften, the faint tremble in her hand as it lingers near yours.

“Don’t run again,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “If this is what we are—what we’ve always been—don’t run from it anymore.”

Her lips part, her expression flickering between fear and something softer. Slowly, she nods, her fingers curling around your wrist with a steadiness that surprises you both.

The stillness between you is filled with the quiet hum of the bond, stronger now, resonating like a steady undercurrent. Agatha’s thumb is brushing lightly against your skin—a small, unspoken gesture that sends heat pooling in your abdomen.

She’s not running this time. That realisation alone makes your throat tighten.

Neither of you moves to break the fragile moment, but the bond speaks louder than words. You feel her unease, the raw edges of her vulnerability, but also the faint flicker of something else: hope. It’s tentative and cautious, like a flame coaxed to life after years of darkness.

“I never wanted to hurt you, you know” she says finally, her voice low, almost trembling. Like she couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Leaving… it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much. After… Listen like i said, you never said anything about any extra feelings and sometimes i just felt like I would die if i didn’t-” she cuts herself off and sighs deeply.

You blink, her words settling heavily in your chest. “You thought running away would help?”

Her lips twitch into a humourless smile. “I thought it would be easier to sever the bond and save us both the trouble, I was so scared, to feel more, to be more, to have everything with you. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“You think?” you say, though there’s no heat behind it. If anything, your voice is softer now, touched with the faintest trace of affection.

Agatha huffs a quiet laugh, her fingers sliding down to tangle with yours. “You don’t have to be smug about it.”

You bite back a smile, studying her carefully. In the glow of the road, her features are softer, less guarded. Her usual sharp edges—the sardonic quips, the biting humour—are still there, but muted, stripped down to something real.

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” you ask, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Her gaze drops to where your hands are still joined. For a long moment, she doesn’t answer. When she does, her voice is quieter, almost a whisper.

“I thought you hated me,” she admits. “And I didn’t blame you. After what I did—after what I didn’t do—I thought it was better for you if I stayed away. I killed other witches for sport for years, I figured you’d move on, find someone stronger, someone who deserved…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“Deserved what?” you press gently, stepping closer.

She looks up, her eyes searching yours. “You,” she says simply.

The word hangs between you, heavy with meaning. You feel the bond flare again, emotions rushing through it too fast to parse: guilt, longing, regret, and something warmer, deeper, that makes your heart skip a beat.

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words. You’d spent centuries convincing yourself you didn’t need her, that the ache she left behind was just a relic of the bond. But now, standing here with her, the bond humming strong and full, you realised how wrong you were.

“You idiot,” you say softly, though your voice lacks any real venom. “You’ve always deserved me. I just didn’t realise what that meant until now.”

Agatha’s breath hitches, her hand tightening around yours. Her gaze flickers to your face, searching, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you don’t pull away.

Instead, you lift your free hand and let it brush against her cheek, the touch light and hesitant. She freezes, her eyes wide, but she doesn’t pull back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, the words soft but firm. “Not this time. And I’m not letting you go either.”

Her lips part as if to respond, but no words come. Instead, she leans into your touch, her eyes closing briefly. Through the bond, you feel the tension in her begin to melt, replaced by a quiet, cautious relief.

It’s a fragile thing, this moment, but it’s real.

When she finally opens her eyes, they’re softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re not making this easy,” she mutters, though there’s no real bite in her tone.

You smile faintly. “Good. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

Agatha huffs a laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Right, yeah it was all me.” Your palm cups her other cheek and she licks her lips before her gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath catches. But instead of closing the distance, she presses her cheek into your left palm, her eyes closing again. It’s not quite a kiss, but the intimacy of it is enough to make your heart race.

“Come on,” she says finally, her voice quieter now. “We should keep moving. The road doesn’t wait forever.”

You nod, letting your hand fall reluctantly, though your fingers linger against hers for a moment longer than necessary.

As you walk side by side, the bond pulses steadily between you, stronger than it’s ever been. And for the first time in centuries, it feels like you’re finally moving forward—together.

Each step forward feels lighter, though the weight of the moment lingers between you. Agatha stays close, her hand brushing yours with each unintentional sway. It’s not deliberate—at least, not entirely—but the proximity is unmistakable.

You don’t speak, letting the bond fill the silence. It thrums with a steady rhythm, no longer jagged or uneven, but it carries a tension neither of you can quite shake.

When you glance at her, you find her doing the same—her sharp, calculating gaze flickering away as though you’d caught her in something private.

“Something on your mind?” you ask, your voice light, though your curiosity is anything but.

Agatha exhales sharply, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You, apparently.”

The admission catches you off guard, though her tone is sardonic enough to make you question how much she’s revealing. Still, the bond tells another story. The emotions simmering beneath her words—warmth, vulnerability, longing—are unfiltered and raw, impossible to ignore.

“Should I be flattered?” you tease, tilting your head to watch her reaction.

Her smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of something softer. “You always had a way of getting under my skin,” she mutters, her voice quieter now.

You slow your steps, turning to face her fully. “You’re one to talk.”

Agatha stops too, her arms crossing defensively even as her gaze softens. “You’re different than I remember,” she says, her voice almost wistful. “Or maybe… I just forgot.”

Her words settle between you like a confession, the bond humming faintly in response. Memories flash through your mind—moments of laughter, of quiet companionship, of stolen glances you never thought twice about back then.

“I don’t think you forgot,” you say softly, stepping closer. “I think you were just too scared to see it.”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t deny it. Instead, she looks at you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. “And you weren’t?”

You hesitate, the truth catching in your throat. “I was,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than you expected. “But I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know what we were I thought we were just…”

“We should keep moving, this area” Agatha cuts you off gesturing around at the forest, “It’s getting cold,” she says, her voice steadier than you expected.

You nod, though you don’t miss the faint tremor in her body as she brushes past you. The bond hums softly, carrying her emotions—conflicted but warm, her resolve wavering but not breaking.

As you fall into step beside her again, the silence is less oppressive, though the tension remains.

The bond wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just power or connection. It was something more. Something that always had the potential to be everything.

And now you’re starting to piece it together, you always knew there was a reason why you didn’t marry, but you didn’t realise why. Didn’t understand why you couldn’t get over the loss of Agatha, and now, you can’t help but test the waters.

You glance sideways at Agatha, noting how her eyes dart toward you and then quickly away, as if she doesn’t trust herself to look too long. The bond hums with her emotions, faint ripples of curiosity and unease laced with something sweeter—something she’s clearly trying very hard to ignore.

“Agatha,” you say, your tone light, playful.

She raises an eyebrow, her guarded expression slipping into something sharper. “What?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let the bond speak for you, sending a gentle pulse through it—nothing overwhelming, just a soft nudge of warmth, like the magical equivalent of a hand brushing against hers.

Her steps falter for the briefest moment, and her sharp gaze snaps to yours.

“What was that?” she asks, her tone suspicious.

You feign innocence, your lips curling into a faint smile. “What was what?”

Agatha narrows her eyes, and through the bond, you can feel the flicker of her irritation—tinged with just a hint of something more. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?” you tease, sending another soft ripple through the bond, this time carrying a spark of affection—light and fleeting, but unmistakable.

Her cheeks flush faintly, and she glares at you. “Stop that,” she says, though her voice lacks its usual edge.

“Stop what?” you ask, your smile widening.

“You’re actually impossible,” she mutters, picking up her pace as if putting distance between you will help.

You follow easily, keeping stride beside her. “I’m just trying to make this bond more... interactive,” you say, the bond pulsing again with a playful nudge.

Agatha groans, her hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“What?” you interrupt, your voice low, teasing.

Her steps halt abruptly, and she spins to face you, her eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and something deeper. The bond flares faintly, her emotions rippling through it—frustration, yes, but also warmth, fondness, and that ever-present flicker of longing.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she says, her voice low and laced with warning.

You take a step closer, your smile softening. “Maybe.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, she looks at you like she might actually give in—like she might say or do something that would change everything. But then she shakes her head, her lips quirking into a wry smile.

As you fall back into step beside her, the bond hums with a quiet warmth that feels like laughter, like the shared amusement of two people who are finally starting to understand each other.

You let it carry another ripple, this one deeper—a soft wave of warmth that lingers longer than the others. It’s not overwhelming, but it’s enough to be unmistakable, enough to make Agatha’s steps falter slightly.

Her head snaps toward you, eyes narrowed. “Seriously. What are you doing?”

You bite back a grin, your expression one of feigned innocence. “Walking,” you say simply.

“That wasn’t walking,” she snaps, her voice sharper than it needs to be. But through the bond, you feel the flicker of something else—frustration, yes, but also heat, a spark of something she’s trying desperately to ignore.

“Agatha,” you say, your voice light and teasing, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little flustered.”

Her glare sharpens, but the faint flush creeping up her neck betrays her. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” you ask, and this time, you let the bond carry not just warmth, but a roaring heat in her abdomen, a phantom brush of your hand against hers. A hand sliding up a thigh.

She stops walking altogether, spinning to face you with an expression caught between irritation and something far more vulnerable. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’ve spent centuries not understanding what we were,” you say honestly, taking another step closer. “And now that I’m starting to figure it out, I want to see where it leads.”

Agatha stares at you, her expression flickering between disbelief and something softer. “You can’t just—”

But she doesn’t finish, because you send another wave through the bond, this one gentler, but more deliberate. It’s a feeling of closeness, of warmth, of trust—everything you’ve always felt for her but never quite put into words.

Finally, she exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair in a rare show of frustration. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You step closer still, until there’s barely any space between you. “Why don’t you just tell me? Please Agatha” You’re silent for a moment. The bond feels almost suffocating now, a shared pulse of magic between you, thick with what she’s been holding back.

She finally speaks, and when she does, the words feel like they’ve been ripped from the very core of her. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it down… But you’re making me want you so badly, okay?” She meets your gaze, and you can feel the rawness in her words—her vulnerability laid bare, for once. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that this bond, that you aren’t driving me insane. But you are. And I’m so tired of fighting it.”

Your breath catches, the magic between you sparking with the sudden intensity of her admission. You step closer, your heart racing as her emotions flood through the bond—she’s frustrated, yes, but there’s something more, something far deeper: the longing you’ve always known was there.

She continues, her voice barely above a whisper, “Every time you get close, every time you… tease me, I can’t think. The bond, your magic, the way you look at me, I—” She cuts herself off, visibly exasperated. “I’m not saying it’s just magic, because it’s not. I can’t keep pretending like it is.”

You take a step closer, backing Agatha against a tree, and this time, she doesn’t move away. The space between you is a breath, a heartbeat, nothing more. You can feel the heat in her skin, the pulse of her heart beneath your fingers as they brush lightly against her arm.

“You never had to pretend,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. The bond hums in agreement, a feeling of closeness, of shared emotion, building. “Not with me.”

Her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and the bond throbs, sending waves of heat, of longing, through both of you. She doesn’t speak, but you feel it in the way her breath hitches, in the way her hand shifts slightly, almost as if reaching for you. It’s too much, too close, and yet—there’s nowhere else either of you can go.

“Agatha…” You say her name, soft and almost pleading, as the bond pulses with magic too strong to ignore. “Please my angel… stop fighting this.”

She breathes in sharply, and before you can say another word, she closes the gap between you. Her lips crash against yours, urgent, hungry, desperate—as if the bond, the magic, everything between you is finally too much for her to fight.

The kiss is everything: the years of longing, the months of silence, the centuries of distance and heartache all colliding into one desperate, aching moment. Her magic flares around you, and you feel it in every touch, every press of her lips against yours. It’s not just a kiss—it’s everything, all at once, the bond weaving between you with threads of magic and emotion.

When she pulls back, breathless, her forehead resting against yours, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You both know now, in the deepest parts of your being, that this—whatever this is—is what you’ve both been craving for so long.

“I think I’ve been in love with you forever.” You lean forward and take her lower lip into your mouth, sucking on it and humming in response to her moan. You let the lip go with a pop and you look into her dark eyes. “I should’ve kissed you centuries ago.”

Agatha’s eyes are focused on your lips, unable to think of anything else, and she’s about to kiss you again when she hears the snap of a limb breaking underneath someone’s boot.

“Where the hell have you guys been! We’ve been walking hours!”

[star2fishmeg]

Congratulations on getting 1k! 🎉 Can I request FLUFF #13 with Jack Hughes please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Merry Christmas!

FLUFF #13 "You came." "You called."

📞 dialling…

Nothing could ever go her way. That’s what it felt like, at least. Every Christmas something would go wrong, and she’d be the one left to fix it. If it wasn’t a family feud, it was the cooking or the presents, or somebody got the date wrong and now nobody could fix her problem because she was at the centre of it. 

She leant against the marble counter and held her head in her trembling hands, screwing her eyes closed to hold the tears in and listening to the dial tone ring through her kitchen. She needed someone, really needed someone and that was the disadvantage of living alone. 

“Hey princess, what’s up?” Jack’s voice called out over the speaker and that was enough for her tears to slip down her cheeks.

“I needed company, is all.” Her voice shook and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, “Just a bit lonely, right now. Everyone’s travelling and wondered if you were free? If you’re not, it’s fine, I know you and Luke are heading out soon yourselves, I just… I’m sorry, you’re busy.” 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, there’s always time for you. Gimme ten minutes to finish up and I’m all yours. I love you.” He cooed softly and he hung up. And she buried her head in her arms and sobbed until her throat hurt, the apartment so quiet she could hear her own misery echo off the walls and back around to her.

The only thing that snapped her out of her sorrow was the three knocks on her door. At first, she ignored them, but they knocked another three times, and she felt obliged to answer. It was funny how human brains worked like that, you don’t need to open the door, but you do, it’s like an embedded rule of manners people are born with. She loosely turned the handle, sore, red eyes meeting with Jack’s, his smile sinking and his stomach twisting at the tear stains on y/n’s cheeks. Her cold body grew a blooming warmth the second his strong arms wrapped around her, kicking the door shut behind him and hand placed on the back of her head, cradling her to his chest, stroking her hair as she soaked his hoodie. 

“You came.” She croaked, pulling away slightly to peer up at him. 

He smiled, placing a kiss to her forehead and one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb wiping a tear, “You called. What’s really going on?”

“My family wants to spend Christmas with my aunt in Colorado, but all flights just got cancelled because of the fucking weather and I am not driving across the country.” She sobbed, “Jack, I don’t wanna be alone on Christmas, I don’t know what to do. They’re all asking me to just drive but I can’t do that, I don’t have that kind of gas money either.” 

She buried her face in his chest, letting his hands gently sooth over her back and waist as he swayed them from side to side, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. His stomach dropped hearing her cry, pained him deeply that she spiralled over something out of her control. 

“Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family? They won’t mind.” He said softly, peeling her from his body and holding her hands in his. 

“Not unannounced and I don’t have presents and-”

“-they love you and have been asking about you. Trust me, it’ll be okay. You’re more than welcome and I would rather spend Christmas with you than know you’re sat here, alone. You have your bags already packed, right?”

“More or less.”

“Then how about it? There’s still time to get presents and I’ll take you anywhere you want when we get there. Think of kissin’ under the mistletoe, we can bake those cookies you love, decorate the tree, ice skating…” Jack snaked his arms around her waist, peppering her face with kisses. He had this magic way of reassuring someone effortlessly, perhaps it was because he was an older sibling, used to doing it or maybe it rooted from being so undoubtedly in love with y/n it came naturally. 

It didn’t take a lot of consideration before she nodded, a smile breaking across her lips that soon mirrored his, tears drying and the light glowing back in her eyes. Christmas with the Hughes’ didn’t sound all that bad, if Jack had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t always alone.

"I'd love that, thank you."

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 001 ; only in the movies.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,221)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (runa is very talkative, very minimal profanity, first mention of street racing, shy! reader, karasuno! reader, runa dressing reader in … provocative clothing so they look like they fit in, anxious! reader, runa + suna are cousins again — who’s surprised?? [hint: no one !!], social anxiety)

“Hi, I’m Runa! It’s really nice to meet you. I thought you weren’t going to show up at first, but now you’re here! You seem like a nice girl so far— my last roommate was a total bitch. Sorry, I tend to talk a lot about myself. Where are you from?”

You blink at the brunette a couple times. You’ve barely even crossed the threshold of the dorm, and she’s already bombarded you with seemingly hundreds of questions. Your mind catches up with you and you shake your head to clear the fog away. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” you say quietly, giving her a shy smile. “Um, my name is Y/n and I’m from Miyagi Prefecture. What, uh, what about you?”

“No way!” She exclaims, eyes lighting up. “I’m from Miyagi Prefecture. What school did you go to? Shiratorizawa? That school is really good at sports. Or, Karasuno, maybe? They’re also pretty good. I went to Johzenji— they’re okay at sports, but I never really paid attention to anything but volleyball. I was the manager for the boys’ club.”

“Um, yeah, I went to Karasuno. I wasn’t interested in any sports though, my focus was more on the arts. Choir, photography— stuff like that.”

She nods and hums. “Totally understandable. I mean, who wants to sit in a crowded gym full of sweaty people?” She shudders in mock disgust and you snicker quietly. “I sure didn’t. That’s why I was down on the court making sure nobody died from dehydration or anything.”

You laugh, but don’t say anything more. Her face lights up once more, like she’s just realized something, and she claps her hands together. “Oh my god! I didn’t even let you in the dorm yet. Please, come in, set your stuff down.” She steps out of the way and extends her arm, giggling.

You walk past her, glancing around the room. It’s not huge, by any means, but it’s still pretty nice. There’s two beds, two desks, and a loveseat in the corner that was probably a pain to get in the dorm.

You set your things down on your bare bed— your bag, a succulent plant your mother gave you right before you left, and a takeout bag that only has fries left in it. You were planning on giving them to Runa as a housewarming gift, but they’re probably cold now, so you decide not you.

“Okay, so,” Runa starts, making you turn to look at her. “A couple things to know; I talk a lot, which you probably already picked up on.” She laughs. It’s a nice sound. “I’ll keep my side of the room clean if you do. You seem like a clean person, though, so I doubt that will be a problem. I won’t bring anybody in here without talking to you first and I hope you’ll do the same.” She pauses and purses her lips as if in thought. “I think that’s it. If you have any, like, rules or anything let me know!”

You nod slowly, taking in her words. “Sounds great,” you say, smiling. “I don’t really know anyone here yet, so you don’t have to worry about me bringing people here. And I am a pretty clean person, so that’s not a problem either. Um, I probably won’t talk too much until I get to know you better.” You swallow. “Sorry if that’s mean.”

“No, no. I totally get that. I used to be that way, too, but then I was like, ’I don't really care anymore,’ so.” She shrugs. She opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by a knock at the door. Both of your heads turn just as a piece of what looks like paper slips under the door.

You glance at each other, sharing a confused look, but then she walks over and picks it up. You watch her eyes go from narrowed, to familiarity. “Um, what is it?” You ask.

She flips it over to see if there’s anything on the back, then looks up at you and hesitates. “Uh.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and holds it out to you. “It’s an invitation to a race tonight.”

“A race?” You repeat in a mumble, eyes scanning over the words quickly. ‘T-20. be there at 10 or don’t come at all pussies.’ Your eyes widen a bit and you have to read it again to make sure you’re not hallucinating.

“A street race,” she explains. “They’re, um, like, super rare to get an invitation to. My cousin is racing tonight, so that’s probably why I got one.” You look up to see her brows furrowed. She clocks your gaze and smiles politely. “Do you wanna go with me? It’s not very fun being the only girl there who’s not interested in going home with one of the racers.”

A street race? Like, a real life street race? Those are real? You thought they only existed in movies. Aren’t they illegal?

Hundreds of thoughts flood through your brain and you can feel the palms of your hands start to sweat. You swallow hard. “A street race.” A statement, not a question. “Aren’t those, um…”

“Illegal?” She laughs, but nods. “That’s why they’re invitation-only. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I understand. They’re not everyone's thing.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes falling back to the piece of paper in your hands. You applied to this college purely because you heard Tokyo was not boring. What kind of college girl would you be if you declined this invitation. With a deep breath, you nod. “No, I’ll go. Ten o’clock.” You glance at the clock. “Four hours to find an outfit that will make it look like I belong at an illegal street race. No problem.”

She laughs again, smiling so wide her eyes crinkle. “You’re funny, Y/n,” she says. “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

You smile back at her and, once again, she claps her hands together. “I’ll help you find an outfit, don’t worry.” She walks to her closet, then looks back at you. “How comfortable are you with fishnets?”

“Um.”

The two of you leave the dorms at approximately 9:30, riding in Runa’s shitty Toyota Corolla. You have to suppress a laugh when you see it because when she had told you her cousin was racing tonight, you’d expected her to have a nice car like you assume her cousin does.

You were horribly wrong.

When you pull up to the underpass, it’s packed. Actually, maybe packed is an understatement because there are probably over 500 hundred people present. Almost instantly, you start to sweat. Even in the short-shorts and deliberately ripped up t-shirt that Runa dressed you in. Saying you’re out of your element is also probably an understatement.

You step out of the car and a mixture of gasoline and exhaust fumes hits your nose. You try your best not to scrunch your face up, but it happens anyway.

“You get used to the smell!” Runa shouts over the loud music and constant revving of engines. Somewhere to the left of you, someone screams at the top of their lungs. You glance at Runa and she snickers, walking closer to you. “And the noise.”

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

[gotta-winwin]

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air. 

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003: 

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground. 

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?” 

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised. 

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word. 

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.” 

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.” 

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.” 

--

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met. 

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.” 

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene. 

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister. 

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?” 

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man. 

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.” 

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.” 

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while. 

“I arrived just last night.” 

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one. 

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.” 

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.” 

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses. 

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. “I’m so glad you actually came.” 

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.” 

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over. 

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away. 

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her  a cup of mystery liquid. 

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up? 

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.” 

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.” 

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.” 

She looked up. 

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate. 

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.” 

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all. 

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight. 

--

“Y/N!” 

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out. 

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving. 

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.” 

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.” 

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug. 

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room. 

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.” 

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night. 

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having. 

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.” 

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well. 

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways. 

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality. 

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship. 

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan. 

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?” 

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.” 

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.” 

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.” 

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!” 

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game. 

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners. 

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry. 

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction. 

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.” 

Her voice felt like coming home. 

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently. 

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.” 

“You said that last time too.” 

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago. 

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine. 

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.” 

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words. 

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things. 

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her. 

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door. 

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy. 

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.” 

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air. 

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him. 

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018: 

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger. 

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.” 

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.” 

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.” 

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it. 

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.” 

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.” 

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him. 

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.” 

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS: 

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life. 

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need. 

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation. 

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago. 

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well. 

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too. 

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming. 

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.” 

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.” 

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him. 

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach. 

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him. 

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time. 

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.” 

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer. 

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.” 

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.” 

He shook his head. “You hated me.” 

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.” 

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment. 

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her. 

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me? 

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him. 

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.” 

“Oh.” 

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.” 

“I loved you too, y’know.” 

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?” 

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.” 

“Me too.” 

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's battle

authors note: this is an expanded version of the short i posted a few days ago.

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in a child, slight themes of childhood suicidal ideation

masterlist

words: 3.8k

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starting to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the SUV behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, she only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling, her little chest moving up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of this episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers and redoing it. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice, her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

The time between the phone call ending and Roman arriving feels like an eternity, Solana becoming more overwhelmed and feeling every bit as helpless as is while trying to defuse a terrible situation.

“Move out my damn way!” Roman’s rough, urgent voice prompts Solana to straighten her back from where she was leaning into the car, trying to help her daughter. Just laying her eyes on him is an instant, soothing thing.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as he presses his lips to her temple but quickly moves to replace where she was leaning in the car.

And she doesn’t need to be looking at him to know how devastated he must be at the scene before. “Leya, baby, what’s wrong?”

Leya cries and wipes at her eyes. “I can’t get it right.”

Solana walks over to the other side of the car to work to settle Tama whose combination of sleepiness and worrying about his sister have him stirring in his car seat.

“Leya, it’s fine the way it is, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head as Roman moves to cup her face, the other hand on her leg. “No! I have to do it right or something’s gonna happen to you or mommy or sissy or Tama!”

“Baby.” Tears burn Solana’s eyes hearing how deeply in the throes of distress her daughter is along with the devastation in Roman’s voice. “I swear to you, nothing bad is going to happen. To you. To your sister or brother or your mom, okay?” Solana watches how Roman’s hand has shifted from Leya’s leg, gradually up to where the seat buckles. “Daddy’s always going to protect you guys.” It’s a risky but necessary move as Roman undoes the buckle for her, Leya’s eyes widening when she realizes what’s happening.

“Daddy, no!”

���It’s okay,” Roman comforts, forced to ignore the way Leya’s cries intensify in volume and intensity as he takes the seatbelt off and pulls her out of the car. He moves to cradle her head as she holds onto him, crying into his shoulder. Solana can’t make out the hushed whispers he presses into her temple while walking her away from the car, clearly trying to put as much space as possible between herself and her trigger.

“Is sissy gonna be okay, mama?” Tama suddenly asks, Solana holding him on her hip. A fair question with an answer she cannot provide in this moment. Not the truthful one.

“Ye—”

“Leave me alone!” 

Solana’s ears instantly perk up at the familiar, angry voice. 

Lina.

Quickly placing her son back down in the car, Solana instructs him to stay there, knowing security won’t let him wander. Rounding the vehicle, her shoulders drop when she sees her other daughter, angrily pushing her little fists at the school's security that are trying to restrain her. 

Anger fills the mama bear as she marches over, demanding, “get your hands off my daughter now!”

It only requires one time for Solana Reigns to make her command, the guards easily moving to the side, Lina running over to her. Solana crouches down to meet her little girl. “Baby, what are you do—”

“Where’s sissy?” Lina forces out, her eyes searching for her sister. Solana would guess Roman has taken her for a brief walk out of their line of vision in an attempt to help calm her down. “She needs me, mommy!”

And just like that, an already sad situation is made even more sullen, even if in a tragically beautiful way. Solana adores the closeness of her girls, but as protective as Lina can be of her sister, she’s still a little girl, too.

She doesn’t need to be so caught up in this.

“Leya’s gonna be okay, honey. Daddy and I are gonna take her home and stay with her until she feels better.” Because there’s no way in hell Leya can go to school today. Not after this episode. “But, you’ve gotta go back to school.”

“But, what about Leya?”

“Daddy and I are gonna take care of her,” she repeats and reassures, stroking Lina’s cheek. “I promise.”

Still unsure, Solana goes for a bargain. “How about this? You go back into school, and either I or daddy will pick you up an hour early so you can spend time with Leya?” Both the girls have excellent grades, and whatever Lina misses for her last hour, Solana can help her make up. “Is that okay?”

It’s not preferred, but it seems agreeable, Lina nodding. 

Pleased, Solana moves to take her daughter into a hug, kissing the side of her head. “I love you, Lina.”

Catalina hugs her back just as tightly. “I love you, too, mommy.”

—-------

Roman and Solana don’t take Leya home.

They end up taking her straight to her therapist, Roman having called and explained the situation, thus Brie squeezing them in for an “emergency” appointment. 

Jacob escorts Tama home, and Solana, sitting in the back of the SUV, on one side of Leya, Roman on the other, texts Bayley and Naomi asking one or both of them to go to the house to stay with her son. 

He really doesn’t need to be alone. He should probably be with one or both of his parents, but whatever conversation transpires during this appointment is most likely something he doesn’t need to be present for. Thus, another painful sacrifice. 

Leya is still upset but no longer crying when they arrive at Brie’s office, thus allowing her therapist to take her back first, a welcomed thing as it gives both parents a minute to just breathe.

Or not.

“I couldn’t help her.” It’s a terrible, gut-wrenching thing to admit, but it leaves Solana’s mouth in a pained whisper as they sit alone in the lobby. “She’s…..she’s my baby, and I couldn’t….I couldn’t help her. Why couldn’t I help her?”

“Hey, hey,” Roman starts, moving to pull his wife onto his lap, wiping at her tears. “Please don’t do that, Sol. This is….this is beyond anything we’ve dealt with before. Just like she’s learning, we’re still trying to learn.”

Sniffling, Solana murmurs, allowing the emotions to flow freely. “It kills me to see her struggling so badly. She doesn't—she doesn’t deserve that. She’s just a kid, Roman.”

She should be laughing and enjoying her life for all of the merriment that it carries, but she instead is battling just to live a normal life because of something beyond anyone’s control.

Sadness appears in his warm brown eyes, agreement strong and evident. “I know.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Solana doesn’t either. Just lets him hold her until Brie walks out with Leya. 

Both parents notice immediately she seems even calmer than when she went in.

“Alright, Leya, I’m gonna talk to your mommy and daddy now, okay?” Leya nods, as Brie instructs, “you go in the playroom, and we’ll come get you when we’re all done. Sound like a plan?”

Again, Leya nods, looking once at her mom and dad before walking into said therapy playroom. Brie then motions for the adults to follow her, closing the door behind her when Roman and Solana take a seat on the sofa.

Roman, forever the one to bypass introductions, jumps straight to it. “What are we going to do about this?”

Normally, Solana would be the one to try to ease into the conversation, to prioritize pleasantries. But, this isn’t one of those days. “This….this is the worst it’s ever been.”

Brie’s expression is solemn and knowing, the combination of Leya’s explanation as well as Roman’s phone call cluing her in to just how bad this is and what exactly occurred. “As I’ve mentioned before, Cataleya’s presentation of OCD is pretty severe for a child her age. I know we’re meeting once a week, but if possible, I’d like to bump her to twice a week.”

“That’s fine,” Roman answers, not even needing to consult with his wife. They’re most definitely on the same page there.

Brie nods, admitting, “I don’t know if I have after school availability for the second appointment—”

“We’ll pull her,” Solana answers. Because getting Leya the help she needs for her mental health trumps everything else, including her education. “That’s not a problem.”

Another nod of relief that’s quickly followed up with trepidation. “I know we’ve already discussed medication, and as her parents, I fully respect your stance on it. Nor would I ever try to sway you one way or another, but—”

“She needs it,” Roman interrupts, voice low and heavy. “I—I see that now.” He thought he’d seen it just a couple weeks ago when she made the comment about her brain, but then she’d done relatively well. Her episodes had been well managed, but after today, after this, Roman can’t deny it anymore.

She needs to be medicated.

It’s unfair to his daughter to continue to deny her that.

“Can you resend that list of child psychiatrists to us?” Solana asks. Before, she was thinking they could go through the kids’ pediatrician, but now, the same way Solana benefits from having a prescriber who specializes in mental health handling her medication, so could Cataleya.

“Of course,” Brie agrees, reaching over to her desk to grab a colorful piece of paper. “There is something else I need to show the two of you. Leya wasn’t very happy about it, but I tried to help her understand it’s only so we can keep her safe and better hel—”

“Safe?” Roman cuts in, sitting up, shoulders straightened. “What about safe?”

With a closed mouth sigh, Brie stands and walks over, handing them the paper. “Please read it.”

Roman shares the paper between himself and his wife, the two of them immediately recognizing their daughter's handwriting.

My brain is really bad and won’t work right. I have all these bad thoughts, and I can't stop them. I know it makes mommy and daddy and my sissy and brother sad, and I don't want them to be sad. If I was never born, I wouldn't have these bad thoughts and my family wouldn't be sad.

I wish I wasn’t born.

“Oh my God.” One hand goes to her stomach, the other over her mouth. Years. It’s been years since Solana has experienced such heartache, has had the brutal, visceral feeling of a knife being sliced across her chest over and over again. Tears filling her eyes, she looks up at her daughter’s therapist. “Is she—”

Solana can’t even bring herself to say the word, Roman reaching a hand over to her knee, clearly wanting to settle his wife before her own panic arises.

But, it’s a difficult thing when he himself feels gutted.

To see those words written by a child is one thing. For it to be his child is an entirely different thing.

It’s soul crushing.

“No,” Brie’s answer is the only semblance of relief either parent can find in this situation. “Cataleya assured me that she has zero desires or intentions on hurting herself, and truthfully, I wouldn’t even consider this passive suicidal ideation. I truly believe she’s just severely struggling with managing something she’s almost too young to have, let alone understand..”

“Is this my fault?” Solana blurts, eyes returning to the haunting words written by her seven year old—daughter. “Does….does my PTSD have anything to do with—did I give this to her?” Breaking down in front of her husband and daughter’s therapist definitely wasn’t on the agenda for today, but it’s exactly what’s happening. 

Because this added on top of everything that’s occurred in this single day with the fact that she’s pregnant and hormonal, and Solana being an emotional mess right now is truly the only outcome that makes sense.

Crying into her husband’s shoulder, Solana does her best to listen to the logic that should counter her emotion driven fears. 

“No, Mrs. Reigns. Of course not. OCD can have a lot of origins. There is a genetic component, but nothing that ties to PTSD.” Somewhat helpful, it doesn’t change the fact that her daughter feels the way she does. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for the both of you.”

“We just want her to be happy,” Roman finally enters the conversation, the concern in his voice betraying his visibly “calm” demeanour. A front, for sure.

“And she will be. She is a happy child. I can’t tell you how many times she speaks with such happiness and pride about you two, about her sister and brother. Even the new baby. She’s excited to be a big sister again.” The continued sharing helps to soothe the ache that throbs at the heaviness of it all. “Cataleya is going to be okay. We’re going to make sure of it.”

Both Solana and Roman do their best to keep that last sentence on repeat for the duration of the meeting that has a lot of information sharing, reminding of ways to help Leya when episodes occur, and the importance of working to help her manage her emotions as best as possible.

It’s all appreciated, and the encouragement of Leya having therapy twice as week on top of starting medication is also helpful in alleviating some of the apprehension.

The two find their sweet little girl playing quietly with the dolls in the playroom. All of the girl dolls are piled together, just as the boy dolls are piled together. Same with the kid dolls. All organized and methodical. Another aspect of her OCD.

“Hi, baby,” Solana starts. How she was able to pull herself together is a mystery, but it’s also necessary, especially given what she now knows about her daughter’s insight into this situation. “Can we join you?”

Leya nods, and both her parents move to sit on the floor with her. They allow a few minutes of silence to pass when Solana speaks again. “Leya?” She looks up from the doll that she was playing with, eyes open and curious with an unspoken ‘yes?’. “Brie….Brie showed us what you wrote, baby.”

And just like that, Leya’s gaze is downcast and solemn, something noticed by both adults. 

Roman doesn’t hesitate to pull his daughter into his lap. “Cataleya, I need you to listen to me.” And she does, pulling her focus up from her lap to his heartfelt expression. “You, your sister, and your brother are the best things that have ever happened to your mom and I. We love each other, but that’s nothing compared to how much we love you. And yes, it does make us sad to see you’re hurting and struggling, but that’s because you’re our little girl, and we don’t want to see any of our kids sad.”

“Leya,” Solana murmurs, tears brewing once more as she caresses the top of her baby girl’s head. “You are the bravest, strongest, sweetest little girl we have ever met. We love you so much, baby, and it would kill us if anything—” Her voice breaks, just the thought of it crushing her. “—if anything were to happen to you, okay?” 

Leya sniffles, voice soft and wavering. “But…but I’m not like sissy. I’m not strong like she is…..”

“You’re just as strong as your sister, sweetheart,” Roman comforts, thumb brushing away her tears. “Strength looks different on everyone. Lina is a lot like me. She has my type of strength, but you are a lot like your mom. You have her strength, and there’s not a damn grown-up on this earth I know who’s stronger than your mom.” 

Leya gasps, pointing out innocently. “You said a bad word, daddy…”

Roman chuckles, and Solana laughs, also wiping at her own tears. “Leya….” Solana works to find the right words, not wanting to necessarily open up this box fully, but to some extent, at the very least. “Did you know that you and your sister saved mommy’s life when you were just babies in my tummy?”

Her eyes widen, her jaw dropping. “Really?”

Solana smiles with a closed mouth, nodding. “Sure did, baby girl.”

Turning more towards Solana, Roman kisses the top of Leya’s head and keeps his arm around her, firm and protective. “How?”

Solana chuckles, carefully easing into a decline. “It’s a long story, and when you and Lina are older and can understand the full thing, I’ll tell you, okay?”

And, she will. Will share with them how they very much did in fact save her life and subsequently, themselves as well.

“Leya….” Roman waits until her eyes are on him again before resuming. “We’re gonna start taking you to see Ms. Brie twice a week now, okay?” She nods, a small smile on her face that sparks joy from both parents. “And mommy and I are gonna take you to a doctor who can give you medicine that can maybe help you."

“Medicine?” She repeats in a quiet, unsure voice.

“Yes, sweetie. Mommy takes medicine too, because even though I don’t have OCD like you do, I have something else called PTSD, and it means mommy gets scared and sad sometimes, and the medicine helps me to feel better.” A much simplified, child friendly answer that will hopefully help sway Leya to the side of openness.

And, it apparently does. “Will medicine help me with my bad thoughts?”

Roman nods. “It will.”

Leya looks away, clearly trying to use all of the information to formulate a response. “Okay.” One word. Simple. Very fitting for her. Looking between the two of them, she asks so sweetly, “you guys are gonna help me get better….right?”

Roman’s eyes shut as he kisses the top of her head again, “of course, sweetheart.”

Scooting closer to join in the hug and revel in the much needed warmth of this moment, Solana kisses her cheek. “We will always be here for you, Cataleya.” Always. “I promise.”

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 9

pairing: you x drew starkey

authors note: hi friends, first of all so sorry for my delay in delivering you guys part 9! but if you hadn't read my post from last week, my phone basically got stolen which meant all of my drafts got deleted as well as some papers for my classes so it has been a rough couple of week. this is part 9, but later today or tomorrow i'll publish part 9.5 with their getaway. part 10 will be the last part of this series. Enjoy! <3

The soft hum of the car's engine was the only sound as Drew pulled up to the curb in front of your apartment. The city’s street lights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows over the quiet sidewalk. You glanced out the window, your chest tight as you stared at the building that had always felt like your refuge—but now, with Drew by your side, it felt more like a place of uncertainty.

The moment in his car earlier still lingered in your mind—the kiss you shared, ignited by the weight of your miscommunication and the sudden, raw honesty that had passed between the two of you. It was a spark, a fleeting glimpse of something that might have been… but was it enough to rebuild the trust you once had?

Drew turned off the engine, his hand hovering over the gear shift for a moment before he looked over at you. His gaze was soft, vulnerable—something you hadn't seen from him in a long time.

"Y/N," he began, his voice hesitant, as if choosing each word carefully, "I… I know I hurt you. And I don’t want to rush anything, but I also don’t want to keep pretending that this—that we—don’t matter to me." He took a deep breath, his hand sliding over the steering wheel. "I don't expect you to forgive me just because I say the words. I know it’s going to take more than that. But I need you to know that I’m trying. I’m trying for us."

You stared at him, your heart pounding, your emotions in turmoil. You wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that this wasn’t just another empty promise. But the doubts lingered like shadows, whispering that you couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable again, not after everything that had happened.

"Thank you for saying that," you said softly, avoiding his eyes as you spoke. "But you know… it’s going to take time. I can’t just jump back into this, Drew. I’m not sure if I’m even ready to open up again."

He nodded, though the sadness in his eyes was clear. "I know. And I’ll wait for as long as it takes." There was a pause, a heavy silence that settled between them. "But I’ll keep showing you, Y/N. I’ll keep proving that I’m not the same guy I was before."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you felt palpable, thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

Finally, you exhaled, a faint sigh escaping your lips as you unbuckled her seatbelt. "I should go," you said, glancing at him before opening the car door. "Thanks for the ride, Drew."

"Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll text you when I get home."

You nodded, stepping out of the car. As your hand closed around the door, you hesitated for a moment, then turned back to face him. Drew was still in the driver’s seat, watching you with a mix of longing and restraint. Without thinking, you took a step closer, and before either of you could say a word, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. It was soft, barely a brush of lips against skin, but it said everything you couldn’t put into words.

Drew’s eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause, the only thing that mattered was the connection between them—the unspoken hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

As you pulled away, you gave him a small, tentative smile. "Goodnight," you whispered, then turned and walked toward the building, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn't know what the future held for the both of you, but tonight, in that fleeting moment, it felt like there was hope.

The Next Morning

You sat on the couch in your apartment, wrapped in a blanket with a steaming mug of tea cradled between your hands. You couldn’t stop thinking about Drew’s words, the sincerity behind them, the way he’d looked at you before she left. You had expected him to be the same as before, to show up with excuses and promises that didn’t hold weight—but he hadn’t. He’d shown you vulnerability, and for the first time in a long time, you had wondered if maybe you could find their way back.

The message pinged on your phone, a simple text from Drew:

Drew: I’ve been thinking about last night. And I just wanted to say… I’m really glad we’re taking this slow. I know it’s going to be hard, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove myself to you. You deserve that.

You smiled softly at the message. You had always been able to read between the lines with Drew, and something about this felt different. There was no rush, no pressure—just a quiet promise that he was willing to wait. That was something you weren't sure you could have imagined just a few weeks ago.

Your fingers hovered over the screen as you thought of how to reply, but before you could type anything, your phone buzzed again, this time with a call. You glanced at the screen. Drew. You answered, your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey,” you said, a little breathless.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice came through the line, calm but with an undertone of excitement. “I was wondering… if you’d want to do something this weekend. A getaway. Just the two of us, away from everything. No expectations, just time to relax and get to know each other again.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, you felt her mind whirl. A getaway? It felt like exactly what you needed, but the idea of stepping away from the city, from everything that had happened—was it too soon?

But then again, maybe it was the right time. Maybe this was exactly what you needed to figure things out.

You took a breath and smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I think I’d like that,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of excitement you hadn’t expected.

“Great,” Drew replied, relief in his voice. “I’ll plan it all. You just… pack a bag, and I’ll take care of the rest. I promise you’ll love it.”

As they hung up, you leaned back against the couch, feeling the tiniest spark of hope flicker inside you. Drew had changed—you could see it in the way he spoke, in the way he was acting, in the things he was willing to do. And maybe, just maybe, you were on the right path again.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @esquivelbianca @josephandrewstarkey @willowpains @wtfdudesblog @purplerose291 @rafegf-real @matthewswifeyy @fangirl-magic @snowtargaryen @slut-era @leather-n-velvet @1mcrazybutcute

[watarfallar]

Giving y'all more presents because I'm feeling generous <3

Grian: What's that? Scar: Chocolate. Grian: What's chocolate? Scar: Candy. Do they not have candy where you're from? Grian: Yeah. Grapes, nuts. Scar: No wonder you're so bitter.

Scar, clearly drunk: Grian, hit me another drink… wooOO HOOoo… Grian: I think you need a therapist and not a bottle. Scar: I think yooOOoou need to shuUT YOUR MOUTH!

Grian: I won a new phone in a race. Scar: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Grian? Grian: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Scar: I feel awful about killing you. Grian: Scar: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

Grian: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Scar and not do the thing, Grian: Well there’s a clear right answer here. Grian: proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke

Scar: Stop doing that. Grian: Stop doing what? Scar: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

Grian: Gets down on one knee Scar: Oh my god! It’s finally happening! Grian: Collapses Scar: The poison’s kicking in!

Scar: I want you back… Grian: 3 words, 8 letters. Say it, and I'm yours. Scar: I got food? Grian: …you know me so well.

Scar: raises eyebrows Grian: Put those back down!

Grian: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Scar? Scar: …I’m sorry. Grian: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

Scar: What’s your favorite high school memory? Grian: LEAVING. FUCKING LEAVING!

Grian: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk. Scar: Go the fuck to sleep Grian.

Scar: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Grian: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Scar: Okay yeah thanks Grian, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Scar: We have a problem. Grian: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Grian: Hey guys, today Scar pushed me, so I'm starting a kickstarter to put them down. Grian: The benefits of killing them are that I would get pushed way less.

Grian: I know what you're up to. Scar: Really? Because I barely know.

Scar, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha. Grian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Scar, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha. Grian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Grian: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child? Scar: That naptime was a punishment.

Grian: I'm tired. Scar: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?! Grian: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

Scar: Will you date me? Breathe if yes, recite the Bible in Japanese if no. Grian: 初めに、神は天と地を創造されました。 Scar: What the…? Grian: 地球は形もなく虚無であり、暗闇が深海の面を覆いました… Scar: Is that actually the Bible?! Grian: …そして神の霊が水面の上に浮かんでいました。 Scar: And you stopped breathing, too?! Grian: そして神は「光あれ」と言われました。 Scar: Christ, it would have been preferable for you to just have beaten me up and called me gay!

Grian: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this. Scar: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

Scar, texting Grian: Hey do you like anyone? Grian: Yeah you Scar: Oh, I'm sorry we're just friends Grian: *Yeah, you? Grian: Oh haha sorry lol Scar: *dies inside*

Grian: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers! Scar: Please, just say fuck.

Scar: Even Grian and I have been getting closer. The other day, they gave me half of their sandwich. Grian: I mistook them for a garbage can.

Scar: I want a bf. Grian: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

AND A BONUS LIFE SERIES WINNERS:

Grian: If I fall... Scar: I’ll be there to catch you. Cleo: looks at Scott What if I fall? Scott: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Martyn: watches these two interactions Martyn, to Pearl: And if I fall? Pearl: I’ll be the one who pushed you. Joel in the corner grumbling about how Lizzie isn't here:

[captain-hawks]

Happy holidays, Dee!!! 🎄

So glad all your travels went well! If I may, for the holiday sprint 🎁: Sakura + kissing in the snow?

Thank you!! 🩵

bambi 🎀 sakura haruka x reader

In which Sakura struggles to juggle his feelings alongside your unsteady feet in the snow.

1k — fluff, flirting, first kiss, aged up sakura

“Do you not own boots?” 

Sakura’s voice is gruff when he automatically reaches out to grasp your forearm the moment you start to lose your balance. Again.

As he’s been doing repeatedly for the past fifteen minutes every time the flat soles of your shoes have rebelled against the snowy surface of the sidewalk on your trek home.

It’s endearing, really. Despite the annoyed front he’s been putting on. 

He’s quick to let go—no surprises there—stuffing his hands back into his pockets with a scowl on his face and a dusting of pink traversing his cheeks. You tuck your face sideways into the hood of your jacket to hide your smile. 

He turns his attention back to Suo and Nirei, both of whom have a whole block on the two of you at this point thanks to your far slower pace.

And yet here Sakura is with you—

“You’re not wearing any either,” you counter, glancing down at his sneakers.

Sakura looks from you to his own feet, his pretty eyes blinking several times before he deadpans, “Because I don’t turn into Bambi the second the ground gets a little wet.”

You shrug, “If I’m Bambi, then you’re Flower.”

He pauses, blanching. “Isn’t Flower the skunk?”

Looping your right arm in his left, you tug Sakura forward to continue walking—and if he minds, he doesn’t protest. 

“Yeah, he’s cute, and shy. And he blushes whenever someone shows him affection.”

A strangled noise crawls up his throat. “I don’t—”

“Also the hair. Obviously.”

You shoot him a grin, and Sakura’s jaw works as a furious flush spreads down his neck. His lips part, readying a retort, but it’s at that moment that your lack of attention to the ground below sends your feet flying out from underneath you. 

And because you’re holding on to him, Sakura loses his balance and slips, too.

You feel your body jolt to the right as Sakura does the only thing he can do, which is pulling you toward a far softer landing in a snowdrift. 

The snow crunches beneath your bodies as you fall—or, well, Sakura’s body.

You land directly on top of him.

Sakura groans, squirming at the feeling of your hot breath tickling his neck as you laugh into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” he grunts, hands gently patting your back and shoulders like he doesn’t know what else to do with them but still feels compelled to do something.

“You’re more comfortable than you look,” you tease, lifting your head so that you’re looking down at him.

His eyes go slightly wide as the misty cloud from your breath meets his, tangling in the cold winter air.

“Please get boots,” he sighs, closing his eyes and dragging a hand through his hair.

Reaching out, you idly toy with a lock of his black and white strands, and he swallows. 

“You’re probably going to have to come shopping with me so I don’t slip again,” you mirror his sigh.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhales and exhales slowly before responding. “At this rate, I’ll die on the way there.”

You offer him a little shrug in turn. “I mean, I guess I could ask Suo or Nirei to come…or maybe Umemiya would want to go.”

Lips curling upward in a coy smile, you watch Sakura try and fail to hide the reaction that begs its way across his still-red face. 

“No, I’ll take you.”

The conviction in his voice does something funny to your insides, and you’d worry about him feeling the way it sets your heart thudding in your chest, if not for all of the layers of clothes between you.

Right, you’re still on top of him.

“Sorry, I should—”

“Wait, let me—”

The snow drift’s instability makes itself known as the two of you both try to get up at the same time, and you find yourself buried under a cold coating of said snow with Sakura on top of you this time.

He gasps around a mouthful of snow. “Shit.”

Giggling, you reach up to brush away the rogue snowflakes that cling to his hair, and he catches your hand, eyes narrowing. 

“Okay, also, you need to get gloves, too, honestly—” 

He’s cut off by the sudden press of your mouth against his.

You’ve been dancing around something with Sakura for weeks. Months. 

Something that leaves your heart dancing an unsteady beat every time you catch him staring when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Something that leaves your fingers itching to grab his every time he goes out of his way to walk you home.

Something that nearly has you fisting your hand in the collar of his shirt to kiss him with each and every little peek of poorly-masked jealousy that you drag out of him. 

Sakura makes a noise, and you murmur the only thing you can think of against his lips, “My face is cold.”

His mouth rests against yours, not quite kissing you back, but also not pulling away. “Do we need to get you a mask, too?”

You thread your fingers with his, and he curls his own against your knuckles. Honey-thick warmth seeps through your ribcage.

“I think this works, too.”

You tilt your chin upward slightly, his top lip catching between your own. Slowly, you let your tongue slide along it, and Sakura inhales sharply.

“Haruka,” you murmur, so quietly that it’s hardly more than another huff of condensation in the air. 

But he hears it.

He hears it, because suddenly he’s kissing you back.

Sakura’s other hand cups your jaw as his lips slot against yours. In turn, you go pliant beneath his touch, your own fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes another sound, but this one sounds far more pleased than bewildered as you swallow it.

More snow continues to fall, and the wind howls as it dances through the streets. His face is cold, and your toes are going numb. But his mouth is warm and soft—

—and his tongue is hot and slick and eager when he parts the seam of your lips and deepens the kiss—

A car honks loudly from somewhere nearby, and Sakura pulls away suddenly, breathing hard as he stares down at you.

You shiver.

“...we’re finding you a better jacket, too,” he grouses, reaching down and zipping yours the rest of the way up to your chin. 

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The villain’s stare bored itself into the hero relentlessly and the hero felt - as so often - the crushing weight growing heavier. If it wasn’t for the villain, they’d be dead.

“I don’t know,” the hero whispered. Their voice was hoarse, completely breaking apart. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation.” The villain wiped some dust off their clothes and took in a deep breath. Unlike the hero, they were untouched, perfectly healthy. However, also in a scarily bad mood.

Usually, the villain wasn’t as serious as they should have been. So, this was surprising. The villain had never saved the hero.

“I don’t know,” the hero repeated. They put their head in their hands, grabbed the roots of their hair. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

“Think, then.”

The hero looked up.

“I feel like I’m at a point in my life where…where I’m standing still. I can’t go forward. And if I do move, I go backwards and then, I come back to the same point. I…I don’t know what I was thinking, I knew this mission would be dangerous. I didn’t know it would be suicide. I’m, fuck, I’m…I’m stupid.”

The villain’s brows furrowed.

“Alright, enough.” They raised a hand as if to silence the hero. “Your personal problems don’t concern me, but I can’t save you every time you’re in trouble. Ruins my reputation.”

“I’m not asking you to save me.”

“It’s not much of a choice when you look at me like a sad puppy.” The villain sighed and kneeled in front of them. “You dying would kind of ruin my day, so I’m trying to avoid that.”

The hero buried their face in their hands, squeezing their eyes shut until they saw stars. They were aware that something was wrong with them. Admittedly, they didn't know if they had always been broken, or if this had developed during the last months of saving people.

Somewhere within the hero, they knew this part of them, this unlovable part they were so ashamed of, this sick and weak part that made them crumble and decay, destroyed them from the inside out. Often the hero imagined it was a tumor they could cut out of their flesh, they wouldn't even care if they'd hit bone with the blade. But it was etched into their soul and that could barely be fixed.

A sweet relationship that had turned incredibly bitter, a friend dying in front of them, their noble view of the world changing radically - all of it had tainted the hero in a way words could barely describe.

The hero didn't feel like they could see colors anymore, their taste was dull, they had become lazy. And in their mind, they were the most undesirable, most pathetic, most detestable person in the entire world.

They felt the tears, the usual stinging in their nose and eyes.

"You do know that I don't have to save you, right?" the villain asked.

"Yeah," the hero said, wiping tears away. "I get it. I'm grateful for your kindness. I'll repay you somehow."

"That's not exactly what I meant," the villain said. "I meant that you're perfectly capable of saving yourself."

They bit their bottom lip.

"I get it, some days suck. Some weeks suck. Some months suck. But someone as competent as you cannot be this reckless. Do you think you're unable to overcome what you're dealing with? You out of all people?" The villain tilted their head and let out a long sigh. "If I was cruel, I'd tell you to join me because I can make your life better. But sadly, I don't have all the answers either. And I want you to truly believe in my goals and understand me as a person."

Their eyes fixed on the hero's lips but they looked away quickly.

"Just do me a favor and don't get killed," they said. The hero closed their eyes and took in a deep and shaky breath.

"I will try."

"Good." They felt the villain's fingertips brush their arm, but when they opened their eyes, they were alone.

[redrose10]

I hope everyone is doing okay! I have like four different versions of this saved, but couldn’t decide on which one so today I just chose one and went with it. I’ll begin working on the requests I have again soon. I just needed a little bit of a break so thank you for your patience.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄 🎄

Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of anxiety and depression, therapy sessions, mentions of cheating

You never imagined you would be spending Christmas Eve sitting in a small yet cozy office staring at Jimin, your couples therapist, but here you were. Of course your husband Yoongi was late as usual.

“I’m sorry. I can try calling him again.”, you apologized for the tenth time. “No need, but if you would like I won’t stop you.”, he said taking a bite of one of the cookies he had set out on the table. Just as you were about to pick up your phone the door opened and in came your husband. He sat down without acknowledging either of you. He was angry, you could tell by the way he clenched his jaw.

“Glad you could join us Mr. Min.”, Jimin said with a smile, “I’m guessing Santa will be bringing you a new watch this year?” You smiled, thankful that Jimin could always lighten the mood even if only a little.

Yoongi cleared his throat, “Yeah uh sorry. Traffic was terrible.”

“Thats okay.”, Jimin said while pulling out his note book, “So! Did you both finish the homework that I gave you last week?”

You nodded pulling out the long list of things you had written down. You were both supposed to write down six things, three that you liked and three that you disliked about each other so that you could discuss them and work through anything with Jimin present as a mediator.

It didn’t take long for you to notice that Yoongi didn’t have a piece of paper or a notebook, he didn’t pull out his phone or even have something scribbled on a napkin. It wasnt a surprise to you. He had barely participated in any of the sessions before this so you don’t know why you thought this would be any different.

“Ahh first you show up late and then you don’t even complete the simple task that I gave to you.”, Jimin said eyeing Yoongi up and down.

“I’m busy. I work…a lot. I don’t have time for trivial things.”, he shrugged.

“Exactly Yoongi. This is a big part of the reason you are even here to begin with. You no longer have time for other important aspects of your life.”, Jimin said slowly pointing in your direction.

You heard Yoongi scoff and mumble something about not knowing anything about him before defensively crossing his arms.

“Alrighty Y/N, let’s hear what you have written down.”, Jimin smiled, “”Why don’t you start with the things that you like most about your husband.

Gently you unfolded your piece of paper. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat, “Okay firstly I like the way that you would always hold my hand whenever we watch tv together.”

Jimin nodded, “That is a really nice thing to say Y/N. But why don’t you go ahead and say these things to Yoongi, not to me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. You turned to face your husband trying your best to ignore the way he visibly stiffened up.

“The second thing that I really like about you is your determination. When you put your mind to something you don’t stop until it’s completed, no matter what.”

Yoongi remained stone faced, but Jimin gave you a thumbs up and a nod to keep going so you did, “And the third thing I like is that you are a great cook and I loved waking up to your breakfasts in bed, especially the heart shaped pancakes.”

“Those are all great qualities. Yoongi is there anything you would like to say,either about what Y/N said oooorrrr you can go ahead and say three things you like about her.”, Jimin said in between jotting down some notes.

You watched as Yoongi shook his head. That was all it took for tears to threaded to fall from your eyes so you turned your attention to the small Christmas tree in the back of the room. The soft white lights twinkling away gave you something else to focus on.

Jimin noticing your change in demeanor deciding to provoke Yoongi a little, “Are you sure Yoongi? You’re telling me you can’t come up with three things you like about Y/N?”

Your husband readjusted his position before swallowing thickly, “I like how selfless you are. I like how you always leave me little notes to read. I like that you always reach out for me as soon as I get in bed.”

Jimin nodded, “Those are also very nice. But…I noticed that Y/N, you used the past tense. You said Yoongi always held your hand and that you used to get breakfast in bed. Let’s discuss that.”

You hadn’t even noticed you did that. Jimin was good and now you see why he was always completely booked.

“Umm well.”, you began, “We uh we just don’t seem to be as close as we used to be. We don’t spend much time together any more.”

“I see…I see. And why do you think that is?”, he asked.

“I don’t know. I guess maybe he just doesn’t love me any more or uh he probably found someone else.”, you whispered feeling a bout of confidence with Jimin there encouraging you to finally speak up.

Yoongi scoffed and shook his head.

“Do you have something you’d like to add?”, Jimin questioned.

“Nope.”

“Alright well Y/N thank you for opening up about that. Why don’t you go ahead and read the three thing you dislike about Yoongi?”

You agreed even though your throat was so dry you were worried you couldn’t speak.

“I dislike how you always leave your dirty socks on the bathroom floor.”

You looked over at Yoongi noticing no change in his reaction.

“That is a common one. I have to admit I’ve done that a time or two myself.”, Jimin laughed while encouraging you to go on.

“I dislike how you’ve been going days without even acknowledging I exist.”, you whispered feeling your emotions bubbling up to the service. You bit your lip hoping to keep them in check.

“I’m sorry you’re going through that Y/N.”, Jimin softly replied while handing you a box of tissues. After he sat back he turned to Yoongi, “But I couldn’t help notice the way your grip tightened on your knees when she said that. Did that strike a bit of nerve with you?”

“I just…I didn’t know you were feeling that way.”, he said.

“Oh please Yoongi!! What do you mean you didn’t know? You thought your wife liked being ignored and feeling replaced these last few months?! How dense can you be?”

Yoongi and Jimin both jumped a little startled by your sudden outburst.

“Okay okay I appreciate you finally opening up Y/N. Let’s hear more of that.“, Jimin said trying to get control back of the situation, “Tell him everything you’ve been bottling up.”

“Yoongi I…I’m tired of wondering what you’re doing or who you’re with. I hate that you won’t talk to me any more. You’ve completely shut me out of your life. I hate going to bed alone and waking up alone. I hate that I’m desperate for your touch. I hate crying myself to sleep at night wishing that you were there. I’m tired of coming to these sessions and trying my best to save our marriage and then feeling like I’m the only one left in this marriage.” You were out of breath by the time you were done. Tears were beginning to fall. You even felt a little sick, but at the same time felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

“Thank you Y/N.”, Jimin whispered, “Thank you for being honest. That was brave of you. And even though that was definitely more than three things you dislike about Yoongi.”, he chuckled, “I believe you have one more written down and I’d like you read it if you don’t mind.”

You took a deep breath and nodded and with a shaky voice you said, “The thing I dislike most about you is that no matter how you treat me, no matter how much you hurt me or how lonely you make me feel, all I can think about is you. If you’re happy. If you’re eating and sleeping well. If you are safe and comfortable. All I want is for you to be happy Yoongi even if it means your happiness doesn’t include me.”

Jimin sat there in silence giving you both the chance to process what was just said. As you reached for a tissue your hand brushed with Yoongi’s who was also reaching for one and that’s when you realized he was also crying.

“This is all very good. I’m glad we’re here and doing this.”, Jimin spoke, “Now Yoongi do you have any dislikes you would like to acknowledge .”

He shook his head.

“It’s okay. Now is the time to bring this stuff up.”, Jimin probed.

Yoongi shifted towards you before speaking, “I dislike that the only flavor of coffee creamer you buy is pumpkin spice. It’s the worst. And I dislike that you make me want to be a better person because life would be easier if I didn’t care about what you thought. But most of all I dislike that you are willing to love me no matter what, even when I don’t deserve it.”

“Well that escalated quickly, but I like this discussion we’re having.”, Jimin responded, “Yoongi is there anything else you would like to say because now is a great time to bring it up.”

You watched Yoongi looked at Jimin who was nodding and then he turned his attention back to you. He licked his lips before taking a long deep breath, “Y/N…I…I’m not cheating. There’s no one else. There could never be. I’ve uh I’ve been seeing a separate therapist on my own. I don’t know exactly what happened or why, but a while ago I just started feeling really down and depressed and my anxiety was worse than ever. I was afraid of bringing you down with me so I tried to hide it. I didn’t want my struggles to also become yours…again. So all this time I thought I was protecting you from me. I wanted to get better without you having to have the burden of knowing what I was going through, but I guess… I never saw it from your perspective. I was embarrassed that I let it get so bad and it felt like things were just getting worse and worse and I was drowning and didn’t know how to fix it.”

A lot of the pieces started falling together and making sense to you.

“Yoongi your troubles are my troubles, I want them to be. I am here for you for whatever you need. I am here to take some of the burden from you. I don’t want you to struggle alone.”, you said reaching up to wipe away his tears.

He leaned into your touch and for the first time in months firmly wrapped his arms around you pulling you as close to him as he could.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I really am. I never meant to hurt you like this. I’ll work on it. I promise.”, he mumbled against your skin.

“It’s okay Yoongs. I’m here for you. Always. We’ll work through it together.”

“I just love it when things have a happy ending.”, Jimin beamed from his arm chair, “See what a little bit of communication can do?”

The two of you nodded and agreed.

He continued, “Now you can take it slow and you don’t have to go straight back to the way things were. Take time to get to know each other again.” He got up and grabbed a small box and a couple candy canes before leading the two of you to the door. He handed you the items, “Now go home, do a little more talking, and enjoy your Christmas. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to call.”

Once in the hallway you pulled on the ribbon and gently opened up the small gift box.

‘I don’t think you guys will need this, but just in case….

Merry Christmas

Sincerely,

Jimin’

You chuckled as Yoongi picked up the small sprig of mistletoe adorned with a bright red bow.

He held it above your heads with a large smile.

“He’s right I don’t think we need this.”, you giggled.

He smiled, “Yeah, but it’s Christmas so why not…and I have always wanted to kiss you underneath the mistletoe.”

[st4rrzynight]

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭– 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

𝟏𝟎:𝟓𝟑 𝐏𝐌. i anxiously stared at the time on my phone. it has almost been an hour and paige still hasn't shown up. tonight is my birthday, she promised she'd show up after she washed up from tonights game.

i'm looking around as my friends converse around me in my apartment. my roommates have already questioned me on the absence of my girlfriend. i wish i knew why she wasn't here either.

i enter the passcode to my phone in a hurry as i pull up her contact and type out a message.

Paige 💜🫶

hey, where are you? everyone’s asking about you... are you on your way?

i'm so sorry, babe. i can’t make it.

what?

i know, i know. I feel awful about it, but something came up the team wanted me to come celebrate tonights win with them

its my birthday paige you promised you would be here. going out with the team is suddenly more important than your girlfriends birthday?

it's not just "going out". it's to celebrate tonights win, and it's kind of a big deal. if i don't show up, it could look bad. i don't want to let them down, you have to understand.

no paige, i don’t understand. I’m standing here, surrounded by my friends, and i have to keep making excuses as to why you’re not here. do you know how embarrassing that is? to not have my own girlfriend show up to celebrate my birthday??

i'm sorry, okay? i’ll make it up to you. i’ll take you out somewhere nice tomorrow just the two of us, yeah?

no paige it’s not about “making it up.” it’s about showing up when you say you will. but you NEVER do.

that’s not fair. you know how much pressure i’m under i just want to celebrate the win, look i'll make it up to you tomorrow i promise.

paige i am so tired of this. seriously, you keep making empty promises, you get my hopes up only for you to tell me a half assed excuse that you pulled straight out of your ass last minute.

please don’t do this right now. i’ll call you after i leave.

don’t bother, we're done.

what??

read 10:56

what do you mean were done??

read 10:58

y/n answer me please baby

read 10:59

please ill do anything ill make it up to you i promise please answer my message baby

⚠︎︎ not delivered

꥟

ᵖᵃⁱᵍᵉˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

two years. 730 days. i lost her two years ago today, i lost it all. i know it was my fault, i put everything above her and i deeply regret it. now i have to live life in regret watching from the sidelines as she celebrates her birthday once again. this time, with her girlfriend.

her laugh filling the air knowing i used to be the cause of that laughter. admiring her from across the bar, sitting in between my teammates as they make conversation yet i can't bring myself to take my eyes off of her.

i scan ever inch of her body my eyes stopped on her wrist, then her fingers, then her neck. every single piece of jewelry i got her, gone. none of it in sight as if it never existed.

a hand on her thigh from a woman who was a copy of me. blonde, blue eyes, tall, and she plays soccer. but its not me. it will never be me again.

i can't even blame her, thats why i hate it. i hate that i can't hate her no matter how hard i try because in the end i will always love her and it will always be her.

even if i'm not her happy ever after. i distract myself trying to find someone new but it never ends well. i always find similarities between the girls i've gone on dates with and her. thats what attracts me to them, the fact that they slightly even look like her. but they will never compare to her full look, no one will.

so for the rest of time ill find myself watching from the sidelines seeing her take on life with someone who isn't me by her side, someone who looks like me but is not entirely me.

it will always kill me, it's going to eat me alive till i die. knowing that i'm not hers anymore, i won't be looking for her in the student section knowing shes there. instead ill be looking for her in the student section in hopes she decided to show up, but i know she didn't. she's going to be in the student section of the soccer games watching and cheering on her.

i won't be able to buy her flowers anymore, instead i watch as she gets gifted flowers by another woman. except those aren't her favorite. they're the wrong flowers.

i wont be able to buy her the perfume she always wears when it runs out, her signature scent that i always loved. instead i watch as she gets gifted perfume by another woman. she sprays it into the air and by the time it reaches where i sit i know its not the one she loves. its the wrong perfume.

i won't be making late night sephora trips, picking out her favorite makeup products when shes running low. instead i watch as she gets gifted makeup by another woman. its the wrong brand.

because of my mistakes, ones that i regret so deeply, i now live with the gnawing feeling knowing that she now loves a woman who doesn't pay attention to small details and gifts her all the wrong things, on her birthday of all days, but she showed up. i didn't.

clearly i lacked attention to detail as well if i couldn't see how much i truly disappointed and hurt her and didn't even show up. i wish it went down differently.

every shooting star, every coin toss into a fountain, every time the clock hits 11:11, every fallen eyelash, every dandelion, my last two birthdays, my only wish was to have her back.

but i cant.

not anymore.

and it hurts.

i open up my phone clicking on her contact, i type out one last message, even if i know she won't ever get it. i type it out and send it as some type of closure.

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

⚠︎︎ not delivered

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 —

@uwupaige @jadasogay @sweetluna20

[luvleyshif4]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: it’s hard to talk to someone American when you don’t know English….so what happens when you meet an American boy who doesn’t know your language either…now you’re stuck with An unexpected meeting, unspoken words, and a connection that lingers…

Warnings: language barriers, reader is Italian, reader doesn’t know English, reader is a barista, tiny bit of awkwardness, based in Florence, possibly mispronunciation of the Italian language, a bit of anxiety (doesn’t have a lot of serious warnings)

Word count: 1.04k words

Authors note: hey guys!! just so you know, I don’t speak Italian at all so there is a possibility that I might have mispronounced the Italian I used in the story, but I really liked writing this one. I was watching a movie the other day and I kind of got the idea from that. hope y’all like it!!! (I want this to happen to me..)

The café in the middle of Florence was quieter than usual today, and the stillness only made the air feel heavier. You shifted behind the counter, the familiar hum of the coffee machine and the soft clink of cups the only sound filling the space. There was a certain unease growing in the pit of your stomach as you worked.

Today, you were alone, with your friend not coming in for their shift. It wasn’t the first time, but it always made you nervous. You were still new at this job, still figuring out the flow, and not being able to rely on someone else was making it a bit harder than usual.

You sighed quietly, trying to shake off the anxiety. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in and make things worse, right?

Then, the bell above the door jingled, and your eyes lifted instinctively.

A man walked in. His presence was undeniable—a tall, buzzed-haired figure with striking blue eyes that seemed to hold a spark of something you couldn’t place. He moved with confidence, his gaze sweeping the room, and when it landed on you, it felt like everything else in the café faded into the background. You weren’t sure why, but something about him made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t felt that way before, and it was a bit unsettling. Still, you tried not to let it show as you greeted him.

“Ciao, benvenuto! Cosa posso offrirti oggi?”(Hello, welcome! What can I offer you today?)

He didn’t immediately respond, and after a brief pause, you noticed the slight furrow of his brow. He was looking at you, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and his voice was thick with an accent, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…. Do you speak English?”

Your stomach tightened. Of course, you had already guessed he didn’t speak Italian, but hearing it out loud only made the weight of your nerves feel heavier. You quickly nodded, offering a small smile. “Un po’ di inglese,”( a little English,) you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Not much…”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as though deciding whether to press on. Then, he smiled softly. “No problem,” he said in English, though it was clear that even his words came with some difficulty. “Uhhh… Uno cappuccino?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that the order was something familiar. “Cappuccino,” you said, trying to keep things simple. The rest was up to you, though. You could make the coffee, but the conversation would be a bit more challenging.

As you began preparing the cappuccino, you could feel his gaze on you. It was like a weight on your skin, but not an uncomfortable one. It was as if he was taking in every small movement you made, and your cheeks flushed under the intensity of it. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

When you hold the cappuccino in front of him, your fingers brushed against his as he took it from your hand, you quickly pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. He seemed to notice and offered you a gentle shy smile.

You glanced up at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. He looked down at the drink, then back at you. “I—uh, I don’t speak Italian very well,” he said again, breaking the silence, “but You….you’re really beautiful…..” he said, his English slow and deliberate, the words lingering in the air.

You blinked, unsure of what he meant.

you didn’t fully understand his words so You tilted your head, unsure how to respond, your nerves coming back tenfold.

He noticed your confusion and chuckled lightly. There was a certain warmth to it, though. He pointed at the small flowerpot sitting on the counter beside you, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. “You,” he said, “like this. Beautiful.”

You followed his finger and then looked back at him, finally understanding what he meant. He had compared you to the bright, delicate flowers in the pot, and for some reason, that comparison made your heart race even more. You weren’t sure how to react, but a small shy smile tugged at your lips, and your face flushed redder than before.

“Grazie…”(thank you…) you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The simple word felt like the only thing you could say in that moment.

He smiled, his expression softening, and there was something in his eyes and the way he too had a rosy tint to his cheeks that made your heart flutter all over again.

The moment stretched for a beat, before he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He handed you the money for the cappuccino, and you quickly took it, your fingers brushing his once more. He took a step back and nodded.

“I should go,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice. “Maybe… I’ll see you again….”

You nodded, a quiet smile still lingering on your lips. “Ciao,” you said softly.

“Ciao…” he says as he gave you one last smile, a lingering glance before turning and heading toward the door. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped out, and you stood there for a moment, heart still racing.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, still trying to make sense of the brief but undeniably impactful interaction. There was something about him, something you couldn’t put into words, that made your day feel like it had changed in an instant.

You glanced at the cappuccino machine for a moment, lost in thought, before you shook yourself out of it. Stop thinking, you told yourself. You’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to him.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again…

Authors note: this is honestly so cute that I feel like writing another part to it, but let me know If yall like it and if I should write another part!!!