#Text is angsty so I put it under read more

[hoonieyun]

words that leave wounds .‸.

an argument leads to an exchange of words that leave wounds heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: angst, heat of the moment, drama, established relationship warnings: profanity, arguing, miscommunication?, 18+

hoonieyun notes: i have just been in such an angsty mood... im sorry- but there will be a part two hehe im also trying to get some ideas flowing for my angst series coming for febuary lol

part two taglist closed! read part two here

more under the cut .. !

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

“can you stop? you’re being so annoying right now.” after those words left heeseung’s mouth, the silence that filled the room became suffocating. all you could hear was your heart beating and it felt like it was going to explode out of your chest. heeseung knew what he said was rude but his pride prevented him from apologizing in that moment, choosing to stand behind what he said even if he felt bad for saying it.  “annoying? i’m trying to ask you to clean up after yourself because you made our room a mess… and i’m being annoying? do you think i want to come home to such a messy bedroom and have to clean up after my grown ass boyfriend who clearly doesn’t give a fuck?” you had tried to remain calm and believe that heeseung didn’t mean it but in the time of silence and his apology being absent within that time, you decided that you’d let him know how you felt if that was what he was doing too.  heeseung sighs at your words and tries to hide his eyes rolling as he wipes his face with his hand but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you, causing you to roll your own eyes as you watch him, waiting for a response.  he stands up from his desk, pausing his game and tearing his headphones off, “no one asked you to clean up after me” heeseung says, slightly throwing his hands in the air.  you scoff at his reaction, “alright, then you can deal with this mess because i certainly won’t.” and with that you grabbed your phone and purse, making your way to your front door to slip on your shoes and leave.  “where are you going??” heeseung says, running after you as he watches you put your shoes on. “why do you care? it’s not like you’d listen to me anways.” you say, bitterness in your tone and before heeseung could even respond, you’re slipping through the front door and his voice gets caught in his throat as the door slamming echoes throughout your shared apartment.  you had waited outside the front door for a few minutes, waiting to see if heeseung would follow you and when he doesn’t, you wipe away the single tear falling from your eye as you make your way to your car, unsure of where to go.

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

“when did you get so overbearing?” jay sighs, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as he stares at your standing figure in front of him. the two of you had been arguing about his whereabouts ever since he started going out late and drinking with his friends. this wasn’t a new behavior of his but lately, it’s been happening every day opposed to just the weekends.  you weren’t sure what was happening with him but his words were now becoming pointed as the argument goes on.  “overbearing?” you ask and in jay’s current drunken state, he rolls his eyes; already knowing that this argument was just going in circles.  “sorry that i care and worry about you? is it so hard to send me a text every now and then to say where you are or when you’re coming home?  you’ve been out drinking every fucking night and i have to sit here worried about where the fuck you are until i receive a text from one of your friends that you’re too fucking drunk to drive home or when you stumble into the apartment at 3 in the morning drunk off your ass!” you had been holding this in for a while now, your emotions eating at you as you bottle it up because you didn’t think it was fair to dump your emotions on your boyfriend but clearly he didn’t have that same consideration for you.  you took care of jay whenever he came home drunk, aiding him in his drunken state and the next day when he’d wake up hungover and each time there was no consideration for you and how you’d feel having to spend hours at night worrying about him and then having to take care of him as if he wasn’t a grown adult.  “i don’t need you to do all of that! if worrying about me so much is causing you stress then stop? i don’t need you to worry about me, i don’t need you!” jay says, voice now way above a whisper and you could tell he was genuinely upset because his eyes would shut as he said those hurtful words and the veins in his neck would become prominent.  “you don’t need me?” you ask and although it comes out as a question, you weren’t looking for an answer.  his words hurt but those set of words wounded you. like each word was a stab into your heart.  you don’t let jay respond and when he does try to, everything comes out as a stutter.  everything happens so fast and before jay could fully process what he had even said, you were already leaving your shared apartment and driving away.  jay tries to call you several times and each time it goes to voicemail, choosing to leave you multiple texts.  from: jay <3 where are you going?? its late come back and lets talk this out stop being dramatic, just come back yn?? where are you? baby come on…

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

“chill the fuck out okay? fuck, get off my back!” jake says with a huff and although the two of you rarely got into arguments, this was the worst one. you had spent all day running errands, groceries, laundry, dishes, picking up and dropping layla off at the groomers, and all the while you were on your period and weren’t feeling the best.  all you asked of jake was to transfer the laundry into the drier but to make sure to take out the knit blanket so it could be air dried instead. the blanket was made by your grandmother before she passed and you cherished that blanket dearly and putting it into the dryer would cause the crochet to come undone and potentially get ruined. although jake did transfer the clothes into the dryer, he forgot to take out the blanket and when you had gotten home, the blanket was mishapen and distorted. a gasp rips through the air and you stomp over to jake who was lounging on the couch in the living room, the argument erupting because he just seemed to not care that it was a big deal to you even if it wasn’t to him.  “don’t talk to me like that, jake.. i don’t care if you’re upset or feel a certain way but don’t you ever speak to me that way.” setting boundaries was a big thing for you in every relationship you’ve been in and with jake it seemed like your boundaries were never overstepped as he was very mindful of you– but right now it seems like he doesn’t necessarily care.  the fight escalated very quickly and as you and jake argue back and forth and round and round, it wasn’t going anywhere as you continued to voice your frustrations while jake just seemed to deflect and act like they weren’t a big deal.  “i wouldn’t yell at you if you didn’t rile me up! it’s just a blanket, you can get another one.” jake retorts and you sigh because clearly he hadn’t been listening to anything you’ve said in the last 20 minutes.  you had explained multiple times that it wasn’t just a blanket and that it meant a lot to you and you simply couldn’t just get another one because it was crocheted by your grandmother who is no longer with you.  “you know what, i’m not dealing with this.” you say while grabbing your phone off the counter alongside your car keys. you bundle up the blanket in your arms and when jake notices that you’re about to leave, he gently grabs your wrist to stop you. “where are you going? we’re not done talking..” he says, voice now gentle.  “jake, please let me go. i need some space to clear my head.” you explain, not even bothering to look at him as his grasp loosens.  “tell me where you’re going at least, so i know you’re safe…” jake says, guilt clear in his voice.  “i don’t know where i’m going but i’ll text you later.” you explain and with that you’re walking through the front door, leaving jake to his own thoughts and reflect on the image of you walking away from him that would replay constantly in his mind for the rest of the day.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

“stop being so sensitive!”  your sensitivity was always something you struggled with… and sunghoon knew that. the two of you had been arguing all night because of something one of his coworkers said about you during a work dinner and because sunghoon was afraid that if he defended you it would result in him not getting the promotion, he chose to stay silent.  your mood instantly changed at the dinner and you became more quiet and closed off than you would originally be around new people. sunghoon had invited you to this work dinner because all of the execs at his job would be bringing their wives so he thought it would be a good idea to bring his lovely girlfriend but it resulted in the men sharing laughs at your expense.  even the wives of some of the men would send glares at them for the off hand comments about you being so shy and timid and if you had known you would be the talk of the dinner, you wouldn’t have shown up, but you did… because you wanted to support your boyfriend; something he clearly didn’t care to do.  “i’m not being sensitive, they were making comments about me throughout the whole dinner and you didn’t defend me once!  you laughed with them like i was just some joke… even the wives were uncomfortable and were looking at me so pitiful.” you said, voice trembling as you changed out of your clothes from the dinner.  “it was just a joke, lighten up. you know that these guys are higher ups and i needed to make a good impression on them so i can get the promotion.  do you not want me to get promoted?” and there it was. sunghoon’s specialty; switching the blame onto you and making it seem like your sensitivity was the root of all of the problems.  “of course i want you to get promoted, i’ve supported you every step of the way since you got hired at this company but how is it supposed to make me feel when these strangers are making fun of me?  is it worth it to make a good impression on them at the expense of my well-being? you know what– don’t even answer that because i know you wouldn’t understand.” you say, choosing to slip into a hoodie and head back to the front door.  “where are you going?” sunghoon says, clearly annoyed with you even if you hadn’t done anything wrong.  “you know– maybe if you stopped thinking i was too senstive and started to realize that maybe you were being insensitive, you’d understand how i’m feeling.” you say as you open the front door and close it behind you, not allowing sunghoon to get another word in.  you’re starting up the car and backing out of your driveway when you see sunghoon running out, waving his hands in the air to get your attention. you don’t bother rolling down the windows to hear him out because he hadn’t given you that grace. fighting the urge to let the tears fall and cloud your vision as you drive to god knows where.  sunghoon lets his head fall back in frustration as he watches the car drive away. you two weren’t unfamiliar to arguments but you had never walked away… and this time you did. 

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[hitomisuzuya]

Hiii! hope you're doing well❣️

In some recent fic you mentioned scara having a bit of separation anxiety and now i cant unsee it...

Id like to request a very fluffy and a little angsty fic (some nsfw is ok too ^^) where he's been away from us, and since he feels down we make a surprise visit 🥹

I hope it wasnt too confusing...

scaramouche x fem!reader. fluff. some angst. some smut.

this request🥰 i hope the level of smut is okay.

scaramouche hates being away from you like he hates sweets. he loathes it. he despises it. you are what makes the world look a little less gray to him. it makes him very anxious being away from you.

a selfish part of him feels a little resentful for a moment at how nice you are. you'd gone away to help a friend as moral support for a few days. he understood that. he likes how disgustingly caring you are, but why did you have to always go and be so nice all the time?

if you had just said no, and not been so nice then you could be here with him instead. and he wouldn't be in his incredibly foul mood.

sighing, he picks up his phone and looks at the time restlessly. it was already so late, and you no doubt would be asleep. he decided to try and mess around on his phone in an attempt to take his mind off his anxiety.

these attempts usually are to no avail. anything he did, he couldn't stop thinking about you. how much he misses you and wishes you are here with him. he couldn't even play video games because it just wasn't the same without you. you wouldn't be there next to him praising him and calling him amazing when he did well. or encouraging him when he got pissy about something in the game.

he settled on reading your text messages. it was a little comfort to him because those typed words had come from you, your fingers had done the typing and your thoughts had put the words together. however, reading them just made him miss you more.

scoffing, scaramouuche rests his head back against the wall, tossing his phone on his bed next to him. he cringes for a moment thinking it was going to bounce off the bed and on to the floor.

the absolute last thing he needs is to break his phone. then he wouldn't be able to talk to you at all.

relived to see that it hadn't clattered to the floor, he let the quiet of his room settle around him. maybe he turned on the tv and left it at a low volume he would be able to fall asleep eventually? he supposes the sooner he falls asleep, the sooner he can wake up to a good morning text message from you.

he freezes as his phone vibrates. hastily, he grabs it and almost couldn't believe what he read. it is a text from you that says: 'can you come let me in? it's kind of really cold out here🥺'

"shit!" he hissed, and practically fell getting out of bed. he scrambled downstairs and to the front door. were you really here?! life had better pray it wasn't fucking with him. that this wasn't some dream he was having. did he fall asleep without realizing it?

he unlocked and opened the door. there you were, standing there while snowflakes swirled around you. there was only one way he could be sure that this was real.

he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. wrapping his arms around you, he kicks the front door closed and is immediately greeted with the relief that he could feel the warmth of your body on his as your body settles against him.

his arms tighten around you. you are actually here.

"i missed you," you greet, putting your arms around him. "i pulled some strings and came back early," you nuzzle your cheek on his chest. you didn't like being away from him, either.

"i knew you couldn't stay away from me," he teases, smirking as he watches the cute, flustered blush color your cheeks. as vulnerable as he feels, he is also more than a little scared you would see him as weak.

"i couldn't," you reply, smiling softly up at him. you always miss him just as much as he misses you. chuckling, put his finger under your chin and tilts your head up.

the moment that your lips met his, he knows he doesn't have to be scared of you seeing him this vulnerable. you understood him. you are patient with him. you are entirely accepting of his many quirks. you miss him. nobody ever misses him.

but he could feel it in your kiss. in the way you sweetly open your mouth for his tongue. in the way you shiver in his arms as he runs the tip of his tongue on the sensitive roof of your mouth. in the way you moan softly as he deepens the kiss, his hands wandering on your body.

scaramouche fully intended to pin you against the wall of the hallway and start taking off your clothes while he kissed you, but your hand dips down between his legs to cup his erection outside his jeans. he groans as you palm and rub his cock, feeling his back rest against the wall.

it didn't help that some of your text messages to him had been very dirty. scaramouche knew he could just jack off, but that wouldn't cut it. it would only make his cock ache more, and he would miss you even more. he needed you. so so badly.

it's been really, really rough for him.

"let me take care of you now, scara," you said, your lips hovering over his as you unbutton his jeans. he shudders as you free his cock from his confines, and wrap your hand around it. you pump your hand up and down on his pulsing cock, rnassaging your thumb on his leaking cockhead.

a loud moan sounds from scaramouche as he rests his head against the wall, rutting into your hand. it felt so fucking good on his cock that it was overwhelming for him. you brush your knuckles over the vein that bulges to the surface.

"oh fuck, i missed you. i missed you so fucking much," his moan is tinged with a soft whimper, his cock throbbing in your hand. putting a hand on the back of your head, he kisses you. tangling his fingers in your hair, his teeth bit at your lips, his tongue curling and gliding against yours.

his lips linger on yours for as long as they could before scaramouche suddenly tore his mouth from yours. he couldn't stop the string of loud moans that tore from his throat as you increase the pace of your hand.

"oh fuck," he hisses, rutting more urgently into your hand. you gently twist your hand, squeezing his cock in anyway that made him see stars. he shakes as cum spurts into your hand.

"i'm really glad you are back," he moans shakily, losing himself in the pure bliss of your hand stroking his cock through his orgasm.

"like i said, darling," you press a soft kiss on his lips, "i just couldn't stay away."

[charismatic-writer]

Bun In The Oven (S.R x Fem!Pregnant!Reader)

Summary: (Based off an anonymous request) "Married Spencer Reid x Reader where reader tries to tell Spencer she is pregnant but it goes wrong? Not like angsty, but something unexpected happens?"

Word Count: 808

Warnings: None!

Awaiting Spencer’s arrival back home from his most recent case in Illinois was probably one of the most stressful moments of your life. You had spent all day setting up small hints towards a surprise you had for him once he got home. You spent a large chunk of time moving all of the liquor from its usual cupboard into the back of your bedroom closet, as well as moving your coffee cup from the spot on the counter it is usually found in. The hint you were most excited for was probably one of the more cliché hints of the bunch. During your earlier trip to the grocery store, you picked up a fresh bun from the bakery, placing it inside of your oven. 

Everything had fallen into place just how you had planned, that was until your phone vibrated with a text from Spencer. Your heart ached as you read the message, 

‘The unpredictable Chicago weather has us stuck here for another night. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I love you’ 

You knew firsthand how unpredictable the Chicago weather could get, having lived there for a few years as a child. Flight delays were nothing new to the team either, coming across them every few cases. It was just sucky that it had to happen the night you had been planning for over a week. 

Since Spencer was no longer coming home tonight, you decide to call it a night and head to bed earlier than you would on a night like this. You shoot him a quick reply to his original text, and a goodnight before shutting off all lights in the apartment and heading to bed. 

You had woken up early the next morning, a cup of tea grasped in your hands as you sit on the couch. You opted for a nature documentary, the voice of the narrator being nice background noise while you scroll endlessly on your phone until your husband’s inevitable return.  

The clock on the wall above the TV ticks on as the hours pass; each minute feeling like an eternity, that is until you hear the front door unlock and open revealing Spencer standing in the doorway. You practically jump out of your seat, launching yourself at him. 

“Someone missed me,” He quips, placing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I have a surprise for you, but you have to find the hints I hid around the house.” You say, and admittedly, it was a quite childish game for you to be making your husband play. 

“A surprise?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. 

You nod, and lead him into the living room. “Yup! And it starts now!” 

You watch as his eyes adopt a determined glint to them, and he starts looking around the living room. He sifts through the bookshelves, and through the couch cushions. Soon moving on to the bedroom, he looks through drawer and under pillows and blankets. 

While he is doing that, you decide to start on dinner, setting the oven to preheat while you prepare the chicken. As time passes, Spencer has now made his way into the kitchen opening cabinet doors. He comes across the empty liquor cabinet, and makes a mental note of it. As he passes by the oven, though, a peculiar smell hits his nostrils.  

“Is something burning..?” He asks. 

Your head snaps up at his question, whipping around to face him at the sudden recollection of the bun you had put in there not even 24 hours ago. You go to open the oven door, but he holds his hand out to stop you. He grabs a pair of tongs, and opens the door of the oven, retrieving the now burnt bun. 

“Honey what is this?” He asks, holding up the tongs with the bun in their grasp. 

“It’s a bun.” You say, cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink. 

“Darling, Honey, I love you so, so much, but why did you put a singular roll in the oven?” He drops the bun onto the stovetop, setting the tongs next to it. 

“It’s not a roll, it’s a bun!” You can’t help but laugh now, the look he is giving you was priceless. 

“Okay, why did you put a singular bun in the oven?” He asks 

“It’s a BUN in the OVEN.” You reply. “WE have a bun in the oven.” 

“No, I just pulled it out.” He says, his face remains one of confusion. 

“No- Spence-” You sigh. “We’re having a baby.” 

His face becomes one of realization, and a smile grows on his face. “Really?! Oh my God, that’s incredible!” With a few small steps, he crosses the kitchen, and wraps his arms around you. “I can’t believe you almost burnt our kitchen down, but this is amazing!” 

TY FOR READING!!!!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated

[katyawriteswhump]

love and other catastrophes at the omega cafe (1/8 and index post, fic now complete 🐈‍⬛)

So I posted about this idea before here, (and was overwhelmed by the response—thank you!) but basically a cat café opened near me and inspired this:

Summary: Steve is a runaway Omega who gets a job at an Omega café, where he’s basically paid to curl up and purr in Alphas’ laps. It’s legal, and he earns a living, rents his own place. He’s getting along fine for a packless Omega. Then Alpha rockstar Eddie Munson turns up for an hour of ‘kitty’ petting, and shatters Steve’s fragile little world…

Rating: E; No major warnings, sexual content, omega-verse; Tags: omega steve, alpha eddie, a/b/o dynamics, fluff and angst; (It won't get tooooo angsty, I promise, and I should probably write a shorter version, but this seemed to want to get bedded in for some plot, so...) read on A03 and thank you @lexirosewrites for being so patient with my weird belated questions about what do with my idea!

Chapter 1 (below) Chapter 2 Chapter 3.1 Chapter 3.2 Chapter 4.1 Chapter 4.2 Chapter 5.1 Chapter 5.2 Chapter 6.1 Chapter 6.2 Chapter 7.1 Chapter 7.2 Chapter 8.1 Chapter 8.2 and THE END

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Chapter 1

Steve clocked in with Carol at the coffee counter and cosied up on a beanbag waiting for the first customer to arrive. He couldn’t stop yawning and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t usually work the Monday morning graveyard shift at ‘Kitties’—otherwise known as the Omega Café. Carol usually put him on the weekends, which were their busiest times. Plenty of Alphas—and sometimes Betas—were free then, to pass an hour with a cute Omega purring in their lap.

For a cost, naturally.

Steve, though, had called in sick yesterday and needed to make up his lost earnings. He’d been in heat. So, three days of cold sweats, congealed slick, and crippling cramps. At least the blockers he used for this job curbed his desperation to be fucked. All the same, a dull gnawing pain in his pelvis persisted, he’d barely slept and…

…Ugh, this beanbag was, if anything, too inviting and soft.

He’d gotten his most comfy, stretchy shorts on, his most butter-soft collar, and an only-slightly-cropped-at-the-midriff vest. His feet were bare, which was fortunate. Right now, only his icicle toes were keeping him awake. He was tempted to grab one of the many fluffy blankets scattered around the café, pull it up over him and snooze.

He was torn between asking Carol for a double espresso or napping—to be fair, it was unlikely anybody would join them till noon—when the bell on the door tinkled.

So much for a peaceful snooze.

Fortunately, rather than a hungover Alpha, Robin burst in. On spotting Steve, her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. She hurried up to the counter and presented Carol with her Apple-Pay. “Flat white with an extra shot, and an hour of kitty cuddles, please.”

“Sure.” The payment bleeped through, and Carol turned to grind the coffee beans. She never bothered with great customer service for Steve’s best friend. That said, customer service wasn’t Carol’s strength at the best of times. Steve liked that about her. For an Omega, she was a bitey feral, and she sure had their boss, Tommy, under her claw.

Robin sat down at a table, pulled a cushion onto her lap. Steve shuffled over on his knees and laid his head on the cushion:

“Jesus, Robin,” he whispered, as she started to pet his hair. It was usual practice for Omegas to wait till the customer spoke first, but this was, well, Robin. “You don’t have to pay to see me, you know that?”

“Apparently, I do, Dingus! I’ve been going out of my mind! Why didn’t you return my, like, billion texts?”

“Shit. Sorry.” Her fretful pettings only made him feel more guilty. “I’m out of data, and you know how shit Wi-Fi is in Sunshine Village. Plus, I had really bad cramps this month—I could barely crawl out of bed this morning.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. God, I’m sorry, too.” She slowed her strokes, as they both relaxed a little. “I worry about you all the time, living there. Working here. I wish I could take you home with me. Damn, I should rent somewhere you’re actually allowed to live.”

“No way. I’m fine, Robin. Seriously, I’ve landed on my feet. I like having my own little home. The heating is working in my block this week, and this is a pretty cushy gig.”

Steve didn’t even say that for the benefit of Carol, who’d just dumped Robin’s coffee on the table, slopping half of it into the saucer.

Steve had arrived in the city four months ago, down to his last few dollars. He’d soon realized that acceptable Omega jobs—teaching assistant, nanny, seamstress, junior positions in retail and catering—would all require handing over too much information about himself. He’d also swiftly discovered that Sunshine Village, the district he’d heard about where single Omegas could live unmolested, was little better than a slum.

He’d been caught between the terrifying choices of fleeing back home, starving, or sex work. Then he’d stumbled across this place.

If Tommy had checked the fake name Steve gave, he hadn’t cared. Steve got paid in cash after each shift and earned enough to rent a small place in the Village. Which, despite its shabbiness, turned out to be full of friendly, supportive Omegas.

It all meant he didn’t have to worry about Robin being evicted from her pleasant ‘beta’ neighbourhood for harbouring an unregistered Omega.

Robin chatted on, while sipping the remnants of her coffee and petting Steve idly. While she complained about how unfair the world was for Omegas—they’d met when Steve had turned up at an Omega soup-kitchen she volunteered at—her speech also underlined his point.

His life could be a shitload worse.

This morning, he was being paid for his best friend to give him much-needed bodily contact in a no-strings-attached fashion. While he didn’t have to force fake purrs for her, like he did for the majority of customers, soft sleepy purring happened anyhow.

After Robin left for work, the café was empty again. Carol made them both hot chocolate then turned her attention to doing her nails. Steve breakfasted on an out-of-date lemon muffin, which was still nice and gooey in the middle, then slipped out to the washroom for the second time since Robin left. He needed to re-check his hair.

He was reapplying his eyeliner, when he heard the bell tinkle again.

So much for the ‘graveyard’ shift. He pinched his pale cheeks, bracing himself to face whoever wanted to cuddle him next.

A high-pitched squeal from Carol pierced Steve’s hearing—one that was probably only audible to other Omegas.

And the scent snatched his breath.

The Omega café was flushed with scent-neutralising air fresheners, for obvious reasons. Whoever this Alpha was, his musk was potent enough to punch straight through. It nearly floored Steve with low notes of leather and woodsmoke, and high notes of… Christ, Steve didn’t know what that was.

Plums? Fine Californian wine?

It set his mouth watering, for all of a split second.

Carol! Was she okay?

He rushed from the washroom and peeped from behind a thick velour curtain.

Carol was fine. She was taking payment from an Alpha with long, slightly-frizzy retro hair, a jean jacket—who the fuck wore those?—and dark soulful eyes.

Steve’s heart rate spiked.

The Alpha was pretty damn good-looking, and young too, maybe only a year or so older than Steve.

He was also faintly familiar.

Did Steve know him from back home? Would he recognise Steve?

“So, how does this work?” asked the newcomer. His drawling accent sent a shiver down Steve’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him… and that definitely wasn’t a North County accent. Steve relaxed slightly, ogling the guy who was literally setting both his and Carol’s legs wobbling.

“You pay up front for an hour of kitty cuddles,” she said. “You have to order a minimum of one drink, and all new customers must read and sign our rules and disclaimers.”

“Ma’am, it’s Monday morning.” The Alpha sounded wearily amused, gesturing to the three-page fine-print document she shoved across the counter. “Do I really have to read all this?”

“How about I summarize for you.” Yup, Carol was being helpful and polite. Either someone kidnapped the real Carol, or this Alpha really was special. “You’re not about to go into rut, I take it? Because if you are, Sir, I’m really, really sorry—we can’t take that risk here, or we could get shut down.”

The Alpha shook his head. While Carol reeled off a few pertinent points—“no scenting, obviously. No kissing,”—his gaze snapped onto where Steve skulked, half-hidden behind the drapes.

Steve jumped back out of sight.

“Soooo,” said the Alpha, when Carol finally stopped talking. “To summarise—I can stroke the pussies, but I can’t stroke the pussies?”

Carol giggled. Though they’d all heard that joke, and every variation on it, at least a billion times.

“Pretty much,” she said. “We’re absolutely NOT a brothel. And don’t expect cat-ears and whiskers and all that jazz. Thursday is usually full-costume night, and… erm, right now, we only have one kitty, and he seems to have strayed. Boy kitty okay with you?”

“Yes, thank you, Ma’am,” said the Alpha.

“Cool. I’ll go coax him out with a saucer of milk or something.”

She found Steve backed up against the dingy back-corridor wall, knees basically jello. “Get out there! Christ, you do realize who that is?”

Steve shook his head, throat too tight to speak. He honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him. Alphas moseyed in and out of this place every day. He was usually able to keep himself together.

“It’s Eddie Munson! Lead singer of Corroded Coffin? Super-hot and super-famous bad-boy Alpha rockstar? Jeeees, you really did live in a box till you got here, didn’t you? Look, get out there—before I tell him boy kitty is off the menu, grab my skimpiest bikini, and burrow into that scorching lap myself.”

She nudged him through the curtain. Eddie Munson had already settled onto one of the cafe’s roomiest couches, arms splayed along the back.

Legs splayed too.

Eddie glanced up and those gorgeous eyes raked Steve, head-to-toe, stripping him so bare he might as well have forgotten his shorts. The Alpha’s grin spread slowly, revealing glinting incisors, and creasing up into the sexiest dimples Steve had ever seen.

Steve wasn’t sure how he made it across the room. Somehow, he did, shuffling the final few feet on his knees.

“Hello, Kitty,” said Eddie. Possibly taking pity, he closed his legs. He shoved his thighs forward so Steve could easily lay his head in them.

Steve did so, facing out across the café. His heart skittered like a little prey animal’s. It was only then that he realized Eddie hadn’t placed a cushion on his thighs. Well, if Carol hadn’t highlighted that part of the rules, Steve was hardly in a position to do it now.

Eddie didn’t mess around. Strong fingers plowed straight into the springy mass of Steve’s hair. “What’s your name, Honey?”

“Uh… St-steve?”

Who fucking stammers answering his own name?

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie.” He leaned a little closer, hot breath joining those strong fingers to send Steve even deeper into fluster. “How do you put up with the stink in here? I mean, I get it. All those Alpha-Omega scents battering each other would make this place a real fleshpot. Shame, though. I bet you smell real sweet. I mean, I think I get a whiff of you, even now.”

“You get used to it,” squeaked Steve, cutting that line of conversation off pronto.

“You get used to the diabolical plinky-plonky piano music too, Steve?”

“Honestly, I don’t even hear it anymore.”

To be fair, Steve didn’t hate the perpetual loop of movie theme-tune classics for exactly that reason. Even the smoochiest love songs—like the instrumental version of “Everything I do, I do it for you,” currently playing—didn’t mess with his emotions in the way music so often did.

Eddie snorted a dry chuckle, leaning back against the cushions again. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re right, Steve,” drawled Eddie, massaging deliciously into Steve’s scalp, “it’s pretty easy not to hear it. You have got the cutest purr.”

Steve’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t even realized he was purring yet! Yeah, he could fake purr, but he’d been too befuddled to get to that. Now, he shook with loud rattling purrs that he could barely control.

Omegas purred when they were happy and relaxed, and also when distressed, to comfort themselves. He’d been reduced to that over the weekend. These purrs, though, grew couch-quakingly loud and felt different from anyway he’d purred before.

“You okay there, Honey?” Thank heavens Eddie was nice, though that made Steve’s weirdness all the more inexplicable. Eddie ran the back of coolish fingers down Steve’s burning cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Steve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His hormones must still be doing weird things after his chemically fucked-up heat.

He probably should’ve called in sick today too.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie said. “Look, it’s freakin’ Monday morning. I’m the weirdo Alpha checking this place out. You’re just doing your job, and you’re mighty fine at it, I’m sure.” The words washed through Steve, their brutal truth leaving an awkward residue. “Listen, I’m just gonna sip my coffee and chill. You reckon you can chill too, little kitty?”

“Yes, Alpha,” murmured Steve. The preening growl that jostled from Eddie was enough to make Steve desperate to obey.

He didn’t usually call anybody Alpha on the job. It wasn’t strictly against the rules, but unless a client demanded it—and only the real a-holes did—the kitties avoided it.

Eddie, though, had dragged it from Steve before he could think about it, much like those purrs.

And much like how, a minute or so of petting later, Steve found himself purring effortlessly, and totally relaxed. He wasn’t even stressed by the fact that his cheek rested dangerously close to Eddie’s Alpha dick. Which appeared to be ballooning slightly beneath his thick pair of sweatpants.

This was exactly why the cushions were compulsory. Though Steve barely had time to worry.

“Steve,” said Eddie, fingering around the edge of Steve’s collar in a fashion that literally made Steve’s eyes cross with yumminess. “Are there any rules against you getting in my lap for proper cuddles?”

“No. Absolutely not.” There really wasn’t, though of course, it only worked with the larger Alphas. There’d been no way Steve could’ve fitted into a Beta like Robin’s lap, for example, without some level of squishing. Eddie was, to be fair, not the largest Alpha around, but he was certainly large enough.

After some not-too-awkward manoeuvring—and guided by Eddie’s hand in the small of his back—Steve soon found himself sitting across Eddie’s lap. Eddie scooped him close, and his arms curled around Eddie’s neck.

He stared point-blank into the fathomless depths of Eddie’s dark eyes. Nope. Too much. He dipped his gaze, then squeaked. Now, he fixed on Eddie’s jawline and throat, dusted with scruff, and which drew him like, well, catnip.

Steve inhaled oaky-smoky plums and… Holy crap, what even was that? He was in serious danger of burying his face there and violating the no-scenting rule himself.

Once again, Eddie sensed his discomfort and guided Steve’s head down onto his shoulder, holding him there. “Hey, any chance of another coffee,” Eddie called to Carol. “Extra-large mocha with marshmallows, please, Ma’am? Think I might be settling here for a while.”

After that, Eddie appeared to go out of his way to make Steve even more comfortable. Perhaps noting Steve’s squirmings over getting too close to his scent gland, he slid a thin throw cushion beneath Steve’s cheek. He then settled them both back against the comfiest, most enveloping part of the sofa. He pulled one of those fluffy blankets up over them both. Soon, a floaty weariness, bone-deep but pleasant, overcame Steve.

Even his ovaries had stopped bugging him. God, this was nice. He really got paid for this? Damn, he’d fallen on his feet and Eddie smelled divine. He couldn’t help but daydream about that huge Alpha dick nestled stupid-close to his pussy, with only two layers of fabric between them. He was too sleepy to get too excited, tho’. He soon floated on the surface of a calm ocean, safe and serene…

When Steve began waking up, a honeyed glow saturated his head and heart and previously aching pelvis. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but they must’ve been good ones. He felt complete and happy and… he flicked his eyes open. Oh shit! The cafe buzzed with conversation. Several other kitties had come on shift and were snuggling with Alphas.

He’d fallen asleep on a customer’s lap.

Steve’s focus snapped onto the clock behind the counter, where Carol and her assistant, Chrissy, who also did kitty duties, were rushing around making lunches.

1.57 pm.

He’d been asleep on the job for nearly three hours.

Asleep in the lap of…

“Hey there,” drawled Eddie, “somebody’s a sleepy kitty.”

Steve daren’t look up. Was Eddie pissed? He didn’t sound it.

Steve opened his mouth. Shut it again, dabbing the corner. His head had slipped off the pillow and rested against Eddie’s chest. The Alpha’s booming heartbeat mingled with an amused chuckle.

Steve wasn’t laughing: “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I drooled on your t-shirt!”

“I know.” Eddie’s low rumbling sigh was one of the most contented sounds Steve had ever heard. “You gonna charge extra for that, Honey?”

Chapter 2 on tumblr On A03

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ I have got quite a bit of this fic drafted, so hopefully more soon. If you’re enjoying, please let me know, or like and reblog... it means a lot to know somebody would like to read more *purrs hopefully* and thank you soooo much for reading this far 💚

[he4dliner]

good graces- patrick zweig x reader

cw: (2.5k) kinda angsty, but all resolved in the end, cursing, kinda toxic patrick and kinda toxic reader, allusions to cheating, & implied alcohol consumption

a/n: based on good graces by sabrina carpenter!!! perhaps i may make a release of fics based on the short n sweet album… also I did this instead of writing a research paper :p ….dont mind me making a challengers kinda reference in a challengers fic towards the end…

© HE4DLINER on tumblr. Do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. Do not use my ideas without credit.

things were great with patrick. honestly, they were.

you had been dating for just under a year now, and already friends and relatives had been asking ‘when’s the wedding?’. you’d both even broached the topic of kids, agreeing to want a few in the future, and at times, you couldn’t help but imagine cradling a baby with yours and pat’s features in your arms.

when he had tournaments, you’d pack his bags and suitcases for him, leaving inside little love notes with hearts and swirly letters, handing it to him with a kiss on the cheek, a hummed reminder that you loved him, and to pretty please call you when he checked into the hotel. and before he went to bed. and before going to any events. and certainly if he was going to any parties.

he’d write you the sweetest texts if he was in an earlier time zone than you, wanting you to wake up with a smile. “i love being urs, baby. thank u for packing my good pajama shirt, these sheets here r ass”

you laughed at the text when it buzzed you awake, the bright light of your screen illuminating your room as you rolled over onto your stomach to reply. “you’re so cute. ofc, ml! don’t want the best tennis player EVER to get a bad sleep.”

his reply came quickly, grey dots replaced by a grey bubble. “i swear, ur perfect. promise youll never leave me?”

“i pinkie promise <3. you are the only guy i’d ever need.” there was a few seconds before he replied.

“good.”

after some more chatting that morning, you’d gone about your day, now wearing one of his sweaters when you went out to the library to study. which proved to be a bit of an issue because you couldn’t focus with the smell of his cologne so close to your nose.

once a few minutes had passed, you’d decided to send a text to pat, “missing youuuu”, with a sigh, switching your focus to your laptop to search up whichever service was broadcasting his match.

it wasn’t long until he’d won, and you sent him about a dozen congratulation messages, full of emojis and hearts and exclamation points.

the video feed continued, and you watched as he went to his chair, grabbed his phone- to read your messages, no doubt- but he simply put it back down as someone came up to congratulate him.

some girl.

a very pretty girl. wearing the shortest tennis skirt ever- so short that you were genuinely concerned. was that really allowed? the cameras moved to focus on the players for the next match, but patrick and this girl (tennis girl, you dubbed her), were still in the background, so your eyes remained trained on the pair, watching every detail.

and you knew your boyfriend’s face well enough to tell that when his head dipped down, his eyes were definitely looking at tennis girl’s legs.

is he fucking serious?

so you watched, leaning forward to your laptop screen as tennis girl ran a hand over his arm and they laughed about something. you watched patrick leaning into her, obviously interested in their interaction.

fuck.

...maybe you were overthinking things.

you grabbed your phone, sending another text, “really really so happy for u baby, i’m the proudest girlfriend ever!!!!”

and maybe he didn’t hear the notification because he didn’t check his phone, and well- you really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. so you took a deep breath and called him, gaze fixed on his reaction on your screen as you held your cellphone to your ear.

oh.

he’s fucking serious?

the deep breath you took left your lungs as your eyes widened, viewing in real time your boyfriend’s fall from your good graces.

you watched patrick grab his phone from the chair, read it was you, glance back at tennis girl, silence his ringer with a single click, and go back to fucking flirting with her.

you were infuriated.  why shouldn’t you be? you just witnessed your boyfriend blatantly ignore you for some random girl.

some random girl who was probably also staying at the same hotel as him.

double fuck.

once your phone finished ringing out the call, you took a couple shaky photos of patrick chatting with tennis girl, saving them in your hidden album. then,practically slamming your laptop shut and shoving it into your bag, you made your way out of the library.

your speed walk back to the comfort of your bed only made the cologne from his sweater rise into your face more, and you pulled it over your head- glad you’d worn a tank top underneath- and continued stormed down the halls.

“fucking bitch!” you screamed into your pillow once you collapsed onto your bed, gripping its sides. “i hate you!”

you spent almost an hour moping and screaming and crying into your blankets and yelling at the stupid stuffed animals patrick had bought you, before you sat up, almost laughing at yourself when you caught your reflection in your mirror.

no way was tennis girl winning this. no way was patrick winning this. you were too hot and you had too much confidence to let this… this random bitch ruin your day.

so you showered in scalding hot water, put on some makeup, got dressed, found some friends, and made the drive to a fucking beach because you were going to post some bomb-ass bikini photos. and guess what?

patrick didn’t seem to want to check his phone so its not like he’d even see it for a while.

the friends you’d brought were all a bit surprised by the sudden invitation, so you bribed them. if they could come, you’d pay for a cabana and service, and boom. you got 4 other girls with you and so far 3 contenders of pics to post.

after the second or maybe third drink with a cute lil’ umbrella in it, you decided to post one of the photos. and with your decent following, it was an instant ego boost to start getting likes within minutes.

you decided to put your phone down for a bit- the likes coming in didn’t entirely soothe the fact that patrick had yet to call or text back- and enjoyed some time with your friends.

until your phone began to buzz with a message, and you scrambled to grab your phone from the table beside you, heart pounding because surely patrick had texted you- nope.

but.

in his stead, jordan waters had dm’ed you.

jordan was just some other guy who plays tennis with patrick. and your patrick just so happens to hate him because sometimes jordan plays better and your boyfriend is a sore fucking loser.

also jordan has tried to shoot his shot with you before.

a little grin spread across your face when you realized that you had the perfect option right now.

if patrick could, why couldn’t you?

so you read jordan’s message and replied.

jordi.waters: “hey ur at the same beach as me! you look beautiful in that color btw”

no.1.girl: “aw omg, thank you!!! ur here now? why don’t you come by, we’ve got drinks!”

you bit the inside of your lip as the dm delivered, kind of icked that you were flirting with someone other than patrick, but you remembered his pixelated face on your laptop screen and that fueled you to add a second line.

“you were great in your doubles match the other day btw.” the match where patrick lost to jordan most recently. a low blow, but it would certainly sent the vibe to jordan that you were perhaps not on the best terms with patrick, what with praising the guy who beat him.

“thanks, pretty. i’m heading over rn”

and yeah, a few minutes later, you had jordan waters in your cabana. your friend sam had shot you a wary look when he’d arrived, but you told her you had it under control. she didn’t know what “it” was, but had shrugged.

jordan sat in his own chair beside yours, but was leaning into you as you faked being coy and bashful and whatever shit he seemed to respond to, discreetly taking photos with his leg or shoulder or the back of his head “randomly” in the view of the beach pics you were taking.

once you got the perfect frame, you sat up, pretending to get a text and faking a pained smile. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry, jordan, i’ve actually got to get going now, so it’s been nice meeting with you, but yeah.” not the best, but it did the trick of making him a bit confused as he reluctantly got to his feet, grabbing his beer. “you uh… kickin’ me out, pretty?”

yeah.

ew.

“oh, um, I don’t want to seem rude, no, not like that. but i’ve got to get home to call pat before his next match.” the lie flew off your tongue and jordan’s eyes sharpened a bit at the mention of patrick as he nodded. “alright. yeah. see you around.” with a single look back at you, he walked out of the cabana, and back down the beach.

“do we have to go?” sam asked as you repacked your beach bag.

you glanced at her as you downed the last of your fruity drink. “oh, uh, i’ll pay for the cabana for another hour, i’ve just gotta go, sorry. you’re good going back with the others?”

she nodded, glancing at the three girls that had all laid out in the sun to tan. “yeah, i’ll be good. text me later, yeah? about whatever’s going on?”

you pulled a baggy t-shirt over your bathing suit. “i will see.” and with a blown kiss to sam, which she caught dramatically and tucked into her top, you headed to your car and made the drive home, occasionally checking to see if patrick had viewed your stories yet.

nope.

once you showered again, getting into comfy clothes and completing some random assignment to clear your mind, you settled into your pillows- still ruffled from punching them earlier- and weeded through the photos you’d taken at the beach.

uploading one with you and sam posed in the water to your story, you gave the tempting thought in your head a few seconds before going along with it finally. you posted a photo that very obviously had the side of some muscular shirtless guy in the frame, your legs almost touching.

thanks, jordan, you thought to yourself as it finished loading up. two could play this game. let’s see how patrick felt seeing you with some guy stranger in the corner of your post.

you lost yourself scrolling, trying to not think any more about him, and soon enough you’d fallen asleep on top of your bed sheets, phone in your limp hand.

and to ruin things- it buzzed incessantly to wake you up.

“my babyyyyyy”, the screen reported and with bleary eyes that immediately widened, you sat up, swiping up the call and pulling your phone to your ear.

“h’llo?”

“you went to the beach?” came patrick’s voice on the other line- he sounded tired, maybe angry? maybe jealous. good.

“mhm, yeah, i did. me and the girls. why?”

“who was the guy with you?”

“what guy, baby?”

you could hear him groan back the urge to explode.

“babe, why the fuck was waters there?”

you bit back a giggle. “its the beach, of course there’s water there.”

“that’s not what I fucking meant and you know it, why the fuck-”

“who was the girl with you?” you interrupted, his line going silent for a moment.

“what girl, babe?”

oh. so two were definitely playing that game. “you’re being awfully suspicious.” you replied.

“and you aren't?” he snorted. “why the fuck was jordan waters with you? you know I hate him! and you know he likes you, so what the hell was going through your mind when you had him next to you in a fucking bikini?”

“what the hell was going through your mind when you ignored my call to flirt with that tennis whore on fucking television?” you retorted.

silence again.

“baby,” he started, his voice softer. “is that why you’re switching up like this?”

“don’t fucking start, zweig. i know what i saw. i’m not naive. you weren’t just chatting with some girl. i know you.”

“i swear to god- fuck, why the hell are you- fuck it's complicated. let me explain, please.”

you gripped your pillow again. “fine.”

“yes, i ignored your call, which is a douche thing for me to do. yes, i did it to talk to her instead, but no, i was not checking her out. she had a leg injury a while ago and I was surprised to see she was still playing.”

he continued. “and i am sorry for ignoring you but i haven’t seen her in forever and she was  a good friend of mine.”

your fingers slackened on your pillow. “…so you were not flirting with her?”

he sighed. “yes. i wasn’t flirting with her, babe.”

“then why’d you say ‘what girl?’ like that? like, all suspicious?” you asked.

“because i was genuinely confused since i didn’t think talking to her for three minutes was enough to be like ‘with’ someone, and i didn’t like, even think of her like that cause one, i love you, and two she’s a lesbian.”

oh.

“you’re serious?”

“i mean, yeah, i very seriously love you. and at least, i’m pretty sure she’s a lesbian. she had this weird trio thing with her best friend and some other guy they both liked but it was so obvious that they liked each other, they even had a threesome once and the dude told me they low-key forgot about him.”

you sat in silence as patrick continued.

“i am sorry for trying to make you jealous out of spite.” you mumbled into your phone, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “just let me give you advice, never ignore my calls.”

he laughed. “yeah. yeah, i got that, baby. you genuinely sounded so mad, i’m sorry too. i never wanna kiss your cute ass goodbye.”

that made you smile. “i love you,” you added softly.

you could hear his smile in his voice “thank god. it sounded like you didn’t give a fuck about me for a minute there.”

“never break my heart or it’ll be much worse.”

“never speak to jordan waters again.”

“deal.”

“deal.” he laughed. “alright, i literally just got back from a round of interviews and i need to shower, so i’ll call you after so we can have dinner together, yeah?”

finally, you laid back in bed, looking at your ceiling. “yeah. i packed your conditioner in the mini red bag in your suitcase, by the way.”

“fuck, you’re amazing.”

you giggled. 

“i know.” 

shoutout to tennis girl who was not based on anyone at ALL and who did not have a weird trio genderbent version of ANYTHING else. thank you so much for reading, please please please ;) like and reblog <3333

[harrysdaydreams]

Unsatiated

Summary- Reader finds herself in a low place and has shut out the one person she should know wants to help more than anything. Harry is more than happy to take care of her regardless, which leads to revelations on both parts

Slight angst that ends with fluff that turns suggestive

Or

-Harrys hands gently tug at the hair tie that is somehow still hanging loosely in your hair, letting the tangled strands fall against your back.

He lets out a low whistle, to which you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow causing him to laugh quietly as he tries to separate the matted sections of your hair.

His fingers are soft and careful with your strands, and his use of the brush is even gentler, taking his time to properly ensure every piece of hair is free from knots. The delicate touch of his fingers brushing the back of your neck causes you to let out a gentle sigh, and you unintentionally sink back into his touch.

Word count- 4.3k

Tuesday. Even the word itself sounded mundane and miserable. Throw in some grey skies accompanied by pouring rain, it was a recipe for a shitty day.

Normally you’d crack open a window, light a candle and bask in the fresh sounds of the raindrops hitting the floor of the balcony to your flat.

But it was more than a bad day- the past week you’d been feeling at your lowest, with no real pinpoint as to why. It was hard to find motivation for anything, cooking a nice meal, going outside, reaching out to your friends- several who had messages in your phone left unread- it all just seemed too much.

So here you lay in bed at 1pm, the same place you’d been all day, minus bathroom trips and the tremendous effort it had seemed to have taken to make some instant noodles that still sat on your nightstand uneaten.

You turn over onto your front and sigh into your pillow, having lost count of how many times you’d done the same thing all morning.

Why did everything feel so heavy? This isn’t how you usually responded to feeling low, always opting for surrounding yourself with the people you knew could lift you out of any place, no matter the situation.

Being with people now was the last thing you wanted, especially in your home, with piles of laundry waiting to be washed and dishes to be cleaned.

Uncomfortable on your front, you opt to turn back onto your side, reaching for your phone on the nightstand with the intention of putting on some music to drown out the rain. Hopefully you’d find something that could pull you out of your mood- that or something that further fuelled your angsty state and could maybe push you to finally release the pent-up tears you were too frustrated to shed.

As you scroll through your playlists contemplating what tone to set as you continue rotting in bed for the rest of the day, a text notification pops at the top of your phone.

Harry.

You assume he’s probably double texting you with some sort of snarky message for not replying to your beloved best friend for over two days. Your heart sinks a little as you think of him, his contagious smile and warm personality.

You miss him, and thinking of him is enough to momentarily make you smile as you pull down the notification to read the contents of his message.

Harry- You really gonna leave all four of my messages on delivered? I’m hurt Bitsy, deeply hurt.

You smile at his obvious sarcasm and the stupid nickname he came up with 4 years ago after finding out you were exactly one year, one month and one day apart in age, him being the eldest. He played on the fact that you’re younger than him and ran away with it completely, always making jokes of how small and ‘young’ you are.

 Another text notification brings you back from your reminiscing, a new message directly under the one you’d just read.

Harry- Really though, are you ok? The radio silence isn’t normal for you.

Your heart sinks again and you feel bad for leaving your closest friend worrying about you.

Harry- Usually I have to mute our text thread just for some peace..

For the first time in days, you laugh out loud, a genuine smile spreading on your face that crinkles the corner of your eyes.

You- Uhh, RUDE!

Harry- Ahhh she lives!

Fuck, the way he can change your sour demeanour in just a few short messages. You instantly feel stupid for shutting everyone out, especially him.

You- Alive and kickin’! Specifically, your ass for being so rude. I’m okay though, promise old man. Sorry if I made you worry!

Harry- I’ll await my ass kicking whilst shaking in fear. Miss you though. Want me to come over? We missed pizza night on Sunday because someone... lost her phone? Fell off the face of the earth?

The suggestion of him coming over fills you with dread and takes away all of the momentary relief and lift in mood you’d felt just from texting with him.

You could pretend you were okay to a degree over text, but if he came over, he’d take one look at you, or around your flat and know something was wrong. And you wouldn’t even be able to give him a definitive answer why.

You tap the back of your phone with your nails anxiously trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make him worry more, seeing as you rarely turned down an opportunity to hang out together.

You- Miss you too, H. Raincheck? I feel a migraine coming on. Love you!

Harry- Love you too, Bitsy. Feel better

Feeling guilty, you lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand and try to ignore the new ache in your chest.

Despite your efforts, you scrunch your eyes closed and finally feel the hot sting of tears trail slowly down your cheeks.

You feel terrible for lying to your closest friend, the catalyst to finally unleashing the breakdown that had been sitting inside of you for the past few days as nothing but frustration and restlessness.

Now though, full blown sobs wreck your body as you hug your pillow whilst simultaneously burying your face into it, muffling the sound of your whimpering. You lay like that for a while, your chest rising and falling with every whine and sorry moan.  

Finally, you take a series of deep inhales and long exhales to steady your breathing in a vain attempt to calm down.

What the fuck is wrong with me? you think as you wipe the leftover tears from your cheeks, sitting up against the headboard of your bed. 

You take a long sip of water from your nightstand to wash away the disgusting taste left in your mouth from your dramatic sobbing.

The ache in your chest feels duller and somewhat lighter after releasing the supressed tears that had previously left you feeling so suffocated.

Now though, the lesser anguish in your chest brings your attention to a new source of pain in your neck, and you curse yourself mentally for laying in bed all day to the point it resulted in making your body sore.

After giving in to the fact you really should move, you stretch your arms above your head and then lift away the duvet from your body, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to sit up properly before sliding on your slippers sat on the floor beside you.

As you go to stand up, you hear a key in the lock of your door and your heart jumps into your throat. You listen for moment longer as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up before realisation dawns on you.

“That fucker!” you whisper, discarding your slippers and leaping back under the duvet to feign being asleep.

Harry was the only person you’d ever given a spare key, so you could only assume his kind natured, stupid, perfect self, had gone out to buy you supplies to get you through your migraine and come to check on you. You should have known better than to lie to him about being sick.

The sound of the door softly closing tells you he’s now inside the flat, followed by him gently calling out your name. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter as your heart beats fast in your chest, trying helplessly to ignore your panic and relax your body in the hope to pass off as being genuinely asleep.

He knocks lightly on your bedroom door which is already propped open with a doorstop, and you hear the rustling of a bag that must contain the supplies he so thoughtfully brought to you. Your eyes sting with tears again, why does he have to be so good?

“Hey love, I’ve brought you some strong ass painkillers and some anti-sickness tablets. How are you feeling?” he asks in a quiet voice; you can detect concern in his tone and that alone makes you want to cry all over again.

You’re in half a mind to ignore him and pretend you’re in a deep sleep so he’ll leave but with the knowledge that he’s right there... that he’s in reach and he could hold you… maybe he could make it okay.

You breathe a shaky sigh and reluctantly open your eyes and sit up, sliding back against the headboard again as you look at him, a new kind of concern immediately washing over his features.

He rushes over to perch on the bed beside you, his pretty face painted with worry as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve been crying... is it that bad? Or...” he trails off, looking between your red, puffy eyes as if doing so would decode what was wrong. “Love, what is it? Talk to me”

He can see through your lie now, something you never do, which fills his own heart with heaviness. Ignoring the sting of knowing you lied to him, he awaits your answer, knowing not to press you if something was so wrong to the point you felt the need to mislead him.

So, he doesn’t prompt and push, instead he rubs your shoulder softly as he waits for a reply, his soft green eyes on yours, hopeful you’ll meet his gaze.

“M’not good, Har” you reply shakily, biting your lip to keep it from quivering because the last thing you wanted was to become a sobbing mess in front of him. You shake your head as you continue to look down, more damned tears dropping into your lap despite you willing them to stay away, your finger now absently trailing the wet droplets they leave on your leg.

“Hey, hey look at me.. look at me” he soothes gently, both of his hands now on your shoulders urging you to lift your head to meet his gaze again. You do so reluctantly, and he lifts one hand to cup your face and brush away the hot tears on your cheek.

He offers you a pained smile, one that clearly shows his care for you, but the warmth in his eyes as he scans over your face pushes you to wrap your arms around him, gentle sobs immediately leaving your body again.

He pulls you gladly into a tight hug as his hand reaches up to the back of your head and moves in soft strokes over your hair as you breathe in the scent that is so Harry, so... home.

His eyebrows knit together in response to the twist in his heart upon hearing you cry, feeling your body shake softly as the tears escape. He continues his soft stroking to the back of your head, wanting so badly to take whatever it is away, to make everything better.

“Shhh, I got you. M’not going anywhere. I got you” he soothes, squeezing his own eyes shut to try pull himself together so he can be there for you how you need him. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his voice soft in your ear and his hold on you still tight.

You shake your head as much as you can in his vice like grip.

“Wouldn’t even know what to say. Truly. I don’t know why I’m in such a rut.” you say honestly between sniffles. That was the most frustrating thing about the past week. There was no trigger, no cause.

Foolishly you shut yourself away, the answer to your problem being so obvious now you were in his company- in his arms. Your eyes prick again at the thought, that dull throb in your chest again making itself present.

“Feel better because you’re with me though- I shouldn’t have lied to you- I should’ve let you- shouldn’t have told you- I-” your rambling is cut off by Harry quietly shushing you and resuming his careful stroking of your hair. God, how does he make everything okay?

“Shh, I get it, s’okay… it’s okay. I got you, yeah? M’right here, always right here” he coos in your ear, and you nod your head fervently because of course you know.

Right here felt like the only place on earth. The best place on earth.

You both remain in silence like that for a while longer until Harry slowly pulls himself away from you, leaning back but keeping his hand firmly on your thigh, making a point of keeping some physical contact with you.

At last, you finally look at him properly, smiling awkwardly, a smile that he returns with that boyish, one-sided smirk of his that you’ve grown to love so much.

The comfortable silence between you both is complimented by the rain still hammering down outside.

You turn your head to glance out of the window at the thick droplets bouncing off the glass, then turn back to Harry, who has an amused expression on his face.

He’s the one giving you an awkward smile now, to which you return a puzzled look.

“What?” you ask suspiciously.

He brings his hand up to cover his smile, which is growing bigger by the second. He’s clearly trying not to laugh, but refusing to let you in on the joke, so you poke his ribs to further prompt him to answer.

“S’nothing” he laughs, to which you raise an eyebrow disbelievingly, causing him to laugh again.

You cross your arms whilst feigning an annoyed look, stubbornly waiting for him to kindly share whatever it is that he’s seemingly finding so funny.

“It’s just uhh, when- when was the last time you brushed your hair?” he asks sheepishly, clearly not wanting to embarrass you but finding your lack of effort appearance wise humorous.

Your hand instantly lifts to the messy bun that had initially been propped on the top of your head two days ago. By now it was hanging low at the back of your head, probably a matted mess.

You groan and hit him softly with the pillow behind you, and he raises his arms to defend himself, resuming his laughter as a reluctant smile makes its way onto your face.

“I mean, you look great, but uhh, hairbrushes… great inventions” he taunts, but you can hear his smile so clearly in his voice that it sends warmth through your chest.

“Funny.” you quip, kicking his knee with your socked foot. “please, continue making fun of my misery” you joke, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, I take it back” he laughs musically, and you purse your lips in a bashful pout, eyeing him fondly as he readjusts his position on the bed to sit cross legged in front of you.

The comfortable silence resumes, Harrys fingers absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles at your ankle.

“Seriously though, want me to brush your hair?” he asks, your heart fluttering at the gesture.

Honestly, the idea of having to brush your hair over the past two days was a task that had seemed entirely overwhelming, hence the state of your bun. And now that it was probably a matted mess, it was a job you were happy to give to someone else- someone who seemed to understand entirely instead of sitting here judging you.

You look down at your hands in your lap, half embarrassed before nodding your head.

“If you don’t mind.. thank you, H” you reply, giving him a grateful smile.

He returns it knowingly, standing to grab the hairbrush from your vanity and sitting back down. He motions with his hand for you to turn around with your back to him, which you do so obediently, feeling pre-emptively better knowing one basic self-care need was being taken care of.

Harrys hands gently tug at the hair tie that is somehow still hanging loosely in your hair, letting the tangled strands fall against your back.

He lets out a low whistle, to which you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow causing him to laugh quietly as he tries to separate the matted sections of your hair.

His fingers are soft and careful with your strands, and his use of the brush is even gentler, taking his time to properly ensure every piece of hair is free from knots. The delicate touch of his fingers brushing the back of your neck causes you to let  out a gentle sigh, and you unintentionally sink back into his touch, contentedly.

By the time Harry has completely detangled your hair you’re pressed flush against his back, not noticing he’d finished as he continues to stroke and run his hands through your hair. He observes you warmly, noting how your eyes have softly closed and your breathing has shallowed.

As much as Harry was loving the entire situation, mainly the fact he’d seemingly managed to calm you down and help you relax, his legs were going numb as hell and he needed to move you from your position that had you practically seated in his lap.

With a small squeeze to your shoulder, he breathes gently in your ear “M’done love. All done.”

You open your eyes, not even realising they’d closed, running your hand through your hair and revelling in how soft the stands now felt. You move away from Harry rather reluctantly, turning back to face him as he stands up from the bed.

“Thank you, Har. I- honestly I feel so much better, really.. thank you” you smile gratefully, your heart warm in your chest and full of such tenderness for your best friend.

You would never get over how truly wonderful he is.

“S’nothing, promise. I like helping you relax. Makes me feel good too” he confesses, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You both exchange a look of fondness for each other, your eyes locking for an extended period of time. The exchange is warm, with a weight that is full of unsaid things but it’s also a look that needs no words- you both have a profound care for each other, that much has always been clear, but the longer you’re looking at him, the more your own gaze becomes one of longing.

Harry notices it too, his own eyes seeming to look deeper into yours as the warmth in them turns to something more heated.

You see it, you feel it, its thick in the air and you have to look away.

In return, Harry drops his eyes from your face and clears his throat as he fumbles with the hairbrush still in his hand.

He reaches to put it on the nightstand next to your forgotten pot of instant noodles which he picks up with a sigh. The mood instantly shifts back into one of playful friendliness as he holds them out to you with one eyebrow raised.

“This is what you’ve been eating?” he asks. “or not eating I should say. No wonder you’re so depressed” he jokes before walking out of the bedroom and into the open plan kitchen-living room, instant noodles in hand.

With him out of the room you place your head in your hands trying to calm down your thoughts and steady your heart rate. When did it start beating so quickly?

You’re brought out of your thoughts before you can even begin to overthink the look you’d both shared by the sound of the tap running from the bathroom down the hall from your room.

You step out of your bed and walk towards the source of the noise and are greeted by the sight of Harry running you a bath.

He notices you standing in the doorway and gives you a soft smile before walking over to you and gripping the sides of your arms gently.

“I’m gonna go get some real food while you take a bath, okay? I wont be long” he promises, pressing a parting kiss to your cheek before leaving, your heart quickening and heat rushing to your face.

You watch after him mindlessly, your fingers lifting to the spot he’d just kissed so casually, the feeling of his lips still lingering beneath your touch.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, your hearing dulled, and sense of touch heightened, before a panicked instinct to check the running taps pulls you from your yearning trance.

You turn them off quickly, before removing your clothing and sinking into the soothing warmth of the water and willing it to wash you of these muddled feelings and flustered responses to Harry’s demeanour and affections.

You urge yourself not to overthink his kiss to your cheek, remembering all the times he’d kissed the top of your head whilst hugging you goodbye, usually always followed with some kind of joke about how he can only reach the top of your head so easily because you’re so much smaller than him.

“See ya later Bitsy” you recall his voice and think of how most of those situations ended. Warm but only friendly.

You sink beneath the water to wet your hair, dragging your hands over your face to wash away the grime from your face and along with it any thoughts of Harrys kiss being anything more than a friendly parting.

What you refuse to fully acknowledge is the way your heart leaps at the idea of it being more.

You finish bathing, before wrapping yourself in a towel, feeling so much better for being forced into taking care of yourself.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh set of pyjama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you leave your room to see Harry dishing up the food he left to retrieve.

He looks up from portioning a steaming bowl of ramen and gives you a warm, happy smile.

“You look like you’re feeling a little better?” he asks hopefully, to which you nod, returning his smile shyly.

“Much better, thank you. Mmmh, food smells amazing.” You sigh, reaching to grab the bowl he holds out for you before sitting side by side on the sofa.

You eat together in a relaxed silence, one that offers tender glances at each other and periodic laughs as you both try hopelessly to eat ramen noodles gracefully.

Harry finishes first, and you follow not far behind him before setting your bowl on the coffee table in front of you both.

You feel his eyes, on you but can��t force yourself to move your eyes from your hands in your lap. The silence suddenly feels heavy, you don’t even have to look at him to know his stare holds so much weight.

Its impossible to ignore. You feel it.

Your stomach is fluttering under his gaze and your mind is racing.

In an attempt to take the newly tense and awkward edge out of the silence that had now settled, you clear your throat, but it only draws attention to the tension that hangs thick in the air between you both.

You chance a look at him, his green eyes fixed on you with an expression you can’t read.

“Stop it” you whisper, not chancing your voice cracking.

His face is soft, but his brow is tense, his eye contact unwavering.

“Stop what?” he speaks softly.

You inhale slowly, your eyes closing before releasing a shaky exhale.

“Stop looking at me like that. I don’t know what it means” you say.

He leans closer, only slightly, but the growing intimacy of your proximity is enough to quicken your heart rate all over again.

“Looking at you like what, love?” he feigns innocence, his expression still just as achingly warm.

You can barely bring yourself to answer, still trying to convince yourself you must be misreading the entire situation, that he can’t be looking at you with this intense desire, so gently, so.. so..

“Longingly...” you whisper.

His expression softens, his eyes leaving yours to delicately trail over the features of your face, a soft sigh leaving his mouth as his focus stops at your lips before cupping his hand at your cheek.

“I can’t, love. Because I can’t tell you how long I have longed for this.” he whispers.

Your eyes shut tight at his confession, that familiar warmth radiating through your whole chest as the entire world seems to stop spinning again.

When you open your eyes, they threaten to spill over with tears, and Harry knowingly caresses the side of your cheek with his thumb.

You can’t breathe.

“Me too” you utter almost silently.

Your admission sparks the most beautiful, genuine smile you’ve ever seen Harry wear, and he touches his forehead to yours with his hand gently cradling the back of your head.

“Well, thank fuck for that” he jokes, and you laugh breathily before pulling back to finally meet his eyes with a new confidence.

He looks between each of your eyes before refocusing his gaze on your lips. Before you can even acknowledge the excitement blooming in your chest, his mouth is on yours.

And it’s soft. It’s slow. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

He pulls you into his lap and deepens the kiss, causing you to whimper into his mouth as your hands fist into his t-shirt, desperately trying to anchor yourself to him, not wanting to lose him now that you finally have him.

His hand moves from the back of your head, trailing down your back to gently cup your ass, your core clenching in utter desire in response.

He pulls away from the kiss breathlessly, his hand gliding softly beneath your t-shirt, caressing the skin of your stomach, up towards your ribs suggestively.

“I know you’ve spent all day in bed, love.” he breathes. “But would you mind if I took you back there?”

Your head dizzies with a new lust. You scan over his face as he pulls you down against his lap almost desperately, his expression showing nothing but his adoration and unsatiated need for you.

And now, you can think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

“..yes please.”

[icejjfishesz]

005. ༺WORDS ARE EMPTY AIR༻∘

a/n: i ate THE best cookie today and i just wanted to share that with the class

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is even more down bad (ik who thought that was possible??). paige pining after an ex situationship. kinda angsty.

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

she is cruel, she is beautiful, she is impossible to ignore. she is annoying and addicting and warm. you had assumed your night with paige would be a one off but that couldn’t be anything further from the truth. pent up is the only way to describe the insatiable way paige acts towards you. when either of you get home after a long day, she’s all over you –– kissing you, touching you, making you feel better than you ever had before, cuddling you during the afterglow before she goes back to her friendly attitude like nothing ever happened. 

but even then, she still looked at you with a certain hunger. or maybe you’re just delusional. 

you could only assume paige had a tough day considering how tense she was as she shut the door behind her. you give her a cautious “hey” that she doesn’t respond to, the millisecond she notices you in the kitchen she meets you there. you stare at her a little confused by her silence but then she’s kissing away the confusion, hot and starving. she’s too confident in the way her mouth moves against yours. as if she’d been kissing you for years or like the only air she could breathe was what was in your lungs. she pushes your body against the countertop, it’s cold. but she lets her warm hands reach under your shirt to feel the bare skin of your waist and the temperature contrast makes you shudder. 

she pulls away from the kiss to whisper back in a soft, out of breath tone. “hey…i missed you today.”

it’s candid. unable to be underplayed or considered inscrutable. she means it and you almost tumble over, unable to contain the sheepish smile that coats your lips. “did you?”

paige just nods. “could barely think about anything else…”

your stomach fills with something akin to butterflies, it makes you sick how easily her words could change your entire mood. words are just empty air but hers are caramelized and chocolate covered.

“except your body.” she adds and you can actually feel all the butterflies die. well, damn. though her not wanting you in the exact way you wanted her stung, you had to admit that the sex was the best good. which is why when she leans in to whisper in your ear you shiver and clench your thighs together…because you already know what’s coming. “i want you.”

three words that make your whole body shut down despite how many times you’ve heard them before. she kisses up your neck like routine, she knows your sweet spot like the back of her hand. you tremble against her, shutting your eyes and trying hard to think about anything that’s not the way you truly feel about her.

“so have me…” you mumble, something in between a moan and a whimper, it’s pathetic how quick you melt for her. she smirks into your skin, pulling your shirt off and kissing your collarbone. 

then her phone rings from her back pocket and she groans, releasing her lips from your skin. you whine as she pulls away and she kisses your jaw before checking her phone. she reads the text message and groans again. “shit, sorry baby. i gotta go…” she doesn’t look up from her phone as she speaks this and for like the millionth time, it kills you.

“oh…” you mumble, pushing your body away from the pressure of the counter top and putting your shirt back on. she tries to meet your eyes but you’re dead set on not looking at her as you stuff your arms back through the holes of your shirt.

“come on…don’t be like that.” paige sighs, hand rubbing your thigh slowly which makes your breath hitch. her warmth spreads all over you, her skin leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere it meets yours. “you know the last thing i wanna do is leave right now. and you know i’m gonna make this up to you.”

you nod and clear your throat. “yeah no, i get it. it’s fine. i have shit to do anyway.”

she stares at you for a few moments before she kisses your cheek. kisses. your. cheek. 

nothing even remotely sexually or friendly about the gesture. it gives you pause and you have to physically restrain yourself from pulling her back up against you. 

“i will make this up to you…” she repeats again. it’s a promise and you believe her. “it’s just i forgot i promised to pick up azzi –– ” 

you nod again, smiling at her. “seriously, paige. it’s fine. you should hurry and leave.” your smile reassures her enough to actually leave albeit reluctantly. when you hear the sound of the door shut again, you groan and shuffle back to your bedroom. you throw yourself back onto your bed and shut your eyes, trying to block away all thoughts of her and you voice and her words and her hands on your –– you shake your head, groaning to yourself stop being so fucking horny. your turn over in bed, reaching for the bottle of water on your nightstand. you take a few sips and then you hear a knock at the door. weird. paige has a key.

you walk to the door and look through the peephole. sean. sighing to yourself, you open the door. 

“you are the worst.” sean walks into your apartment casually, plopping down on the couch, “ghosting me for a week like i wasn’t gonna come check on you. i hope you know if you didn’t answer the door i was seriously gonna file a missing persons.”

you snicker, sitting on the couch with him, shaking your head. “sorry, i honestly forget…i got…caught up.” yeah, ‘caught up’ in paige’s ––

“don’t bullshit me.” sean gives a look that lets you know that he sees right through you. 

you sigh, not sure where to start so you just kind of shrug and say, “i had sex with her.”

“okay…ew.” he grimaces, making you roll your eyes. he pauses when he sees no hint of being in a jokey mood on your face. his eyebrows furrow. “was she bad?”

“what?” you half chuckle and half gasp.

“you looked upset saying that. i thought you wanted her ‘real bad’?”

“yeah i –– ” do “did”. 

“...so??”

“it’s just sex.” you shrug. “nothing more or less.”

“and that’s not what you want?” he nods to himself, understanding the unspoken implications.

“it’s love-hate.” mostly hate.

“wait, i thought she was with that girl…olive or whatever.”

you snicker and shake your head. “olivia ended things with her.”

“damn, so you’re a rebound?” 

you groan to yourself. that’s definitely what you were but it was not nice to hear it.

“you probably don’t wanna hear this but…” you brace yourself for whatever he has to say, sucking in a deep breath. “maybe you should end things with her. before you get too attached.”

you bite your tongue, nodding in his direction. you don’t say the unfortunate truth that lies at the tip of your tongue. you don’t tell him it’s too late. you don’t mention that you’re already attached and that you’re not acknowledging it out of fear of rocking the boat. you don’t tell your best friend how you’re falling for a girl who’s probably in love with someone else.

[afantasyoffiction]

buddie fic recs, pt 2

yall i hit 250 posts a few days ago so here's the Updated Version of my first post! aka ive read and posted a fuckton of buddie content since then :)

also i still don't tend to read long novel length fics very often so all are under 100k (most aus being 50-100k), and most oneshots are 5-10k words

best aus

racing with the brakes cut by letmetellyluaboutmyfeels. holy shit holy SHIT this one was good. altered my brain chemistry good. fast and furious au that sounds like it should be unexpected but honestly is more in character than canon

friends don't mean nothing to me (its us) by Kwills91. buddie becomes friends before eddie becomes a firefighter, and its just done ugh so well it was so brilliant. like seriously spamming my friend's texts brilliant keep chortling to myself abt it brilliant just ugh so good

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher. time loop buck pov where he thinks he doesn't love eddie back and its goddamn delightful ok

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead my back to you) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. oh god oh GODS this one WRECKED ME. 1800s buddie soulmate au with modern buddie as well jfc i WENT INSANE. yep ive posted abt this one already and i probably will again jfcccccc

when the universe screams by bucksbelly. omfg girl dad buck au? njwnasjdbvjhlsdfbfjh good lord this one was AMAZING go read it go read it right now

our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) by allstarsneptune. jfc im only human ok u give me sports players taylor swift themed au and i EAT THAT SHIT UP this was brilliant and even made me tolerate a few baseball references

canon compliant (ish) feelings realisations/first kiss

to build a nest (to build a home) by Kwills91. (yes ive been slowly working thru this writer's entire ao3 archive and yes theyre all brilliant, so im only putting a few on here. go read them all). this one made me fucking cry (for totally unimportant reasons don't think abt why shush) its so sweet go forth and enjoy

the ebb of your tide by twobirdsonestone. firefighter convention in indeannopolis (how tf do i spell that) = only one bed! super fun super cutesy

call me hot and pretty by anon. honestly conceptually i thought this would be kinda cringe and it fully wasn't i was so along for the ride

short n sweet (can you tell its my favourite kind)

inappropriate use of federal funding by spotsandsocks. this one is so...teehee teehee very fun

last and forever by kwills91, post s8 ep 6 which is super cute

what would you prefer i call you by kwills91 (seriously go look them up already). buddie first fight but its adorable

sounding like the rest of my life by coupe_de_foudre. another fic where everyone knows buddie is married but buddie

friends don't by disasterbuck. so silly so fun so real honestly

an inch away from more than just friends by ummrys. if you too want sapphic buddie smut go forth and enjoy and yes it will make you gayer

anything to make you stay by intellectual_applesauce. teehee bc eddie notices something about green shirts...

angsty and happy ending

stay with me (you're all i need) by accio magic. yep i reread this one and yep im recommending it again they COOKED ok they COOKED

leave the light on (ill be coming home) by HMSlusitania. i could not for the life of me remember if id read this one or not before so i just read it again and it was just as good it was soooo sooo good.

that is by no means all of the wonderful fics ive read but it is the extent im willing to go through my ao3 history. pls also check out the original post which has plenty more! ur all welcome (its a mess of an ao3 history guys this post has taken me ages)

also i should maybe self plug? ive got two random eddie pov oneshots up under the same username but ill do a new post when i start posting my big hiatus fix it fic!

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : none ; it's just cringe fluff ; Hyunjin and reader are that couple ; Word Count : 1.0k Request : nope! A/N : it was my birthday yesterday and I had to work and y'all, I'm so exhausted. I'm writing this from the future, but I just know I'ma be soooo fucking sleepy!!! I hope everyone is enjoying these and please, know that I am getting to the requests, I just really want to do some cute stuff before I jump back into angst. My life has been angsty enough.

“Send me a picture of your face.” The text came in as Hyunjin walked through the main doors of the airport. Of course, it was from you, so he immediately responded, unable to hide his smile even under the mask that he was wearing. 

“Whyyy? You miss me? Hmmm? You miss me so much??? Wanna hug me? Wanna kiss me? Hmmmm????” He teasingly texted back before slipping his phone in his pocket, giggling to himself and earning disgusted looks from the two youngest guys in the group. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Don’t be jealous that I’m in looove.” 

“Gross. How long have you been dating? Isn’t the honeymoon phase supposed to wear off already?” Seungmin retorted, his nose scrunched up just to emphasize just how disgusted he was. Jeongin nodded in agreement, although they both didn’t hesitate to fall back just so they could keep up with Hyunjin, although it was mostly so they could continue teasing him. 

“The honeymoon phase doesn’t wear off if you’re really in looove.” Hyunjin responded, trying his best not to laugh along with the two youngest. He himself thought it was cringe, as did you, but for some reason, although he didn’t mind it one bit, you both agreed on acting the part of that couple just to see the reactions from the guys. It had been an agreement made at the beginning of your relationship, and now two years in and already engaged, the act had become the real thing and neither of you could shake it. 

“I bet you paint her a bunch of pictures and put cheesy little poems along with them. Don’t you?” Jeongin baited, knowing damn well that he did, but the three of them had made it a habit, almost like yours and Hyunjins habit of being the cringiest couple in the universe, to tease each other about these things. “Bet you guys have matching bunny slippers that you wear around the house.” 

“Hey! Don’t talk about the bunny slippers, you don’t know about the bunny slippers. They’re comfortable and they grip the floor really well.” Hyunjin said, although with that he couldn’t help but let out the laughter that he was holding in. 

“Oh yeah, I bet the bunny slip grips work wonders when you’re chasing each other around having your late night pillow fights.” Seungmin chimed in once more, and now all three of them were laughing loudly, catching the attention of the other members who were walking ahead. 

Truthfully, Hyunjin didn’t mind the teasing all that much for the main reason of being able to talk about you, he loved talking about you, you were his life, his soul, you were his everything, and as long as the teasing stayed aimed towards him most of the time, he was fun with it. You made him beyond happy, and if the guys thought that it was a little cringe, or moreso, majorly cringe, he didn’t care because at the end of the day, he still got to say he was with the most amazing girl in the world. 

“You gonna send me that picture yet or are you gonna make me wait until the tour is over???” He pulled out his phone to read the text from you when he finally sat down outside the gates at the airport, smiling at his phone screen which had your face as the wallpaper. 

Tours were the hardest part of your relationship because you had your own job to be at and you couldn’t just ask for days off, you had to request for them in advance, and Hyunjin wasn’t really the best at telling you about tour dates with much notice. Your relationship was built on trust, a lot of trust, because it was no secret that Hyunjin was by far the most handsome man in the universe-your words, not his-and you knew that a lot of people wanted him. Of course, Hyunjin only had eyes for you, you were the most beautiful girl in the universe, and everyone else-his words, not yours-was a goblin. 

“So impatient babe. Hold up, let me take one.” He teased back before opening his camera and snapping a quick selfie which, for anyone else, would be the worst angle, but with Hyunjin there were no bad angles. He quickly sent the picture with a heart as the caption, watching the little text bubbles pop up almost immediately. 

“How are you so perfect? How am I so lucky? Why are you going so far away this time? Dammit, I miss you. Come back home soon. I love you.” The text read, and his throat tightened as he felt the sudden urge to cry. His heart panged with a sadness and loneliness that he only felt when he was away from you. The tour hadn’t even officially started yet and he was already going through withdrawal from your kisses, your touch, the heat that emanated off your body when you were both curled up under the blankets at home. 

“Send me a selfie a day, I miss you too, you and your beautiful face. I love you so much more… I’ll be back home as soon as I can. We’re boarding now though, I have to turn my phone off. I’ll text you during the layover. I love you babe.” He quickly wrote back before turning his phone onto airplane mode and slipping it back into his pocket, the playful smile that he had been wearing a majority of the time falling ever so slightly. 

“You look like you’re gonna cry… You okay, man?” Seungmin asked, coming up from seemingly out of nowhere to stand beside Hyunjin as they walked through the gates. “Is it because you miss her? Oh man… You’re like… Love whipped or something. It’s weird. Good for you though. Shoulda brought the bunny slippers.” 

Love whipped… Was it a thing? Hyunjin wasn’t sure, not until now. He had heard of guys being whipped by only one other thing, and while he’d certainly, secretly, fall under that category as well, he loved you for so much more. He loved you for everything that you are, everything that you were, and everything that you will be. You had him wrapped around your finger, his heart was connected to yours. He loved you so much that it felt like he was being torn in two just being away from you. Yes, he was love whipped… But god, did he love the feeling of it. 

Perm. Taglist : @whatudowhennooneseesyou @duchesskaren @mytherapisttoldmenotto @lovesunshinefelix @moon0fthenight @kurolils @maruskz @hello-2-u-from-me @mrswolfiechan @bunnychangbin @his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @jiisungllvr @yukichan67 @randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @furiousheartpoetry @its-hannjisung @lixpixstix @felixluvr915 @wordsofkpop @kayleigh-28 @szkstay @spnwinchestersd @fleatree @yehsehneeah @vampcharxter @iloveksmohsomuch @lvlnijiro @neteyamsmate4life

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

Fanfic Writer Interview

Thank you to @ohhcinnybuns for the tag <33

How many works do you have on AO3?

Eleven, as of now! There's quite a few I need to update though, haha. I've got more fics in the works, as well as updates for those already published!

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

I Am You and You Are Me (23,152 words), ongoing, T - a crossover, what-if story about the regular bsd world and the Beast world colliding.

2. What's Wrong, Love? (3,946 words), oneshot, T - Dazai knew Chuuya, in and out. The redhead would never cry, always a strong soldier. Yet here he was, shedding tears in Dazai's lap. Something was seriously wrong.

3. Please, Save Me (4,784 words), oneshot, M - Dazai Osamu stood on the train tracks, ready for the embrace of death. And as that moment comes, he truly believed he was going to die. Except... he doesn't?

4. Sleepy Times (2,536 words), oneshot, G - Dazai, the ever-good partner, knows all of Chuuya's tells. And when Chuuya seems like a walking corpse on their drive to a safe house, he's quick to realize the problem. He's got a beyond sleep-deprived slug on his bandaged hands.

5. Burning Bright! (12,449 words), ongoing, T - Chuuya always worked hard in his young life, balancing a part-time job with full-time college. He makes it work. But when his favorite actor (and crush) Dazai Osamu walks into his boba shop to get away from fans? It turns Chuuya's world upside down.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try! I know I've got a few I still need to respond to, but I promise I read them and I appreciate them so much!! I just tend to forget to respond after reading the email notification since Ao3 doesn't have any other notifications after that :')

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ohhh it's two and they're not published yet haha. But they had me tearing up writing/thinking about it. As for published, it's Four Seasons (Warning: MCD) or To Be Human (more angsty hurt/comfort).

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

So I have a bad habit of jumping between projects A Lot soooo I haven't actually written many endings, just mapped them out. For published, though, I'd say The Feels or Sleepy Times.

Do you write crossovers?

Apart from IAYAYAM's Beast x Canon world crossover, no. I love seeing art or fics that set the bsd characters into other worlds, but I'm not creative enough for that lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't think so? I've received spam but nothing like hate.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

In my head~ but I actually will be attempting to start writing it soon! I created a 18+ acc over on twt to explore it as well. When it comes to smut, though, I adoreeeee when it's tender or a first time.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah :') there was a website back in Julyish this year (2024) that stole a ton of works from Ao3 and put it on its own. Last I knew, the site was taken down, though!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep, into Russian! The link is under What's Wrong, Love? !

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. A friend and I have created threads off our texts using both our ideas, but never actually co-wrote them.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

SOUKOKU. I've been here for three years already and I fear there is no escape.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I've got a few that are just dumb little ideas, like one is labeled Port Mafia Family Adventures and is supposed to be oneshots in a series of crack shenanigans in the pm, especially when skk were there together. Now that I think about it, it'll prolly get turned into a thread or two on here and twt hehe.

What are your writing strengths?

Uhhhh not fully sure. Lily said I captured teen!Dazai very well in a wip the other day so there's that? Skfdkjsjfs

What are your writing weaknesses?

Staying focused/on track... it shows in my writing imo. I'm also not very good at dialogue and I think I can still get better at descriptions and characterizations.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

YES. always yes. I want it as accurate as possible, even if people don't know how to read it. It makes it so much more real, especially if, say, the main character doesn't know the language and someone (the villain, for instance) is telling them something in that unknown language. Makes it feel like you're in that character's place not knowing what's going on.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Hmm if it was gonna be anything, it'd be from either fe3h (sylvix + yuri), zelda (zelink), or hq (kenhina) but my mini hyperfixations on those never last long enough for me to write anything </3

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Ooh. That's hard. I honestly love all of them? Like there's none I regret writing, they're proof that I can focus on something and produce it well enough to publish. I also really like all the concepts I've published so far, as well as most of the ones in my wips <33

Tag Time! @hibiscesque @calmlb @altaiiriss @bloodsherry

[gingerjolover]

You're Losing Me - Part 2

Read the preface and part 1 here!

Warnings: RPF, angsty + sad, mean!naomi, neglectful!naomi?, issues in relationship, fighting?

g's notes: welp....here you go

Naomi heard the door slam, wincing softly as they dropped their tense shoulders, sighing. The guilt runs down their spine like an uncomfortable shiver, turning their head to see your animals peering through the french doors.

"What am I doing?" Noami mumbles to themself, pushing away from the desk, abandoning the open work on the screen, throwing the french doors open and jogging to the front door, opening it like it owed them money.

"Hey, wait..." Noami says seeing you put your bag in the passenger seat, walking in front of the car to the driver's side.

"W-Where are you going?" they stutter, watching you adjust behind the steering wheel.

"I'm surprised you noticed I left," you mumble, voice full of venom, trying to hide the obvious wobbliness in your voice. "I'm going to Kelli and Jo's," you add on, turning the car on and grabbing the seatbelt.

"...Baby wait...come on," Naomi says moving back as you shut the door, looking at it with great offense as it shuts. You roll the window down with a huff, as Noami leans down arms crossed at the window.

"What happened to us talking about what happened? You're just gonna leave me and go stay somewhere tonight? You weren't even gonna tell me?" Naomi asks, the tone coming out annoyed as if the worry was buried deep down underneath the inconvenience of your big feelings.

"You went to your office," you say bitterly.

"Because you didn't want to talk!" Naomi exclaims back.

"I shouldn't have to tell you what's wrong, Naomi! When was the last time we talked? When was the last time you actually listened to what I was saying? What difference would it have made?" you exclaim, tone seeping in frustration.

Noami rolls their eyes lightly, standing up and rubbing their face. Hurt and betrayal rush through them, and they recognize what you're saying is true but cannot process it.

"Okay, I- I admit I've been distracted; I should be giving you more attention... you're right," Noami sighs, letting the pride iced inside of them melt away a little.

"But c'mon babe like, my god, do you have to be so dramatic about it? You don't have to just leave like that..." they ask, face scrunched in annoyance.

Your eyes soften in hurt, in absolute disbelief that Noami, your loving partner, the one who is usually obsessed with you and loves to spend time with you, the one who could listen to you talk for hours, is seemingly more annoyed that you're leaving to stay at Kelli and Jo's than by the conflict ravaging your relationship.

It's quick; the way your eyes show that what Naomi said was like a slap in the face.

Naomi's eyes widen, another twinge of guilt as they stand sheepishly in front of you. "That was- I didn't mean... I just think, we should, you know..." they start, stammering under the weight of your gaze.

"No..." Noami starts to say, shaking their head. "You know what? I do have the time to talk this out. I know I was wrong... I can pause what I am doing to prioritize you," they say, leaning back to the window, trying to see where your head is.

"You might as well finish what you're working on... you're almost done, and I already texted Kelli," you mumble softly, making no clear effort to leave the car, unbelieving of Naomi's willingness to actually talk this out.

Naomi audibly groans, "Can you please stop being so stubborn?" they mutter under their breath, hands running over their face again. Naomi looks into your eyes, softly pleading.

"I said I would pause what I'm doing, I'm serious," they continue, tone softening, "can we just...talk this out? please?"

"I'm being stubborn?" you ask incredulously.

Instantly Naomi knows they've fucked up. The way your eyes went from softened with hurt to a deep rage, Naomi's defenses are back up. Face going slightly red, the repeated words bring a new wave of frustration.

"Yes, you're being stubborn!" they say, softness gone from their voice entirely. The conversation gets completely out of hand again, Noami delivering blow after blow. "You're being ridiculous! Can't we just talk this out like adults? Instead, you're throwing a fit and leaving," Naomi half yells.

And it's devastating. The way Naomi raises their voice like second nature, that your response from weeks of tension in the house is considered "throwing a fit" to your normally communicative partner. There's a sense of dread, like the shoreline of an ocean right before a tsunami, withdrawing all the way inside. Is there really nothing left? Is what ever comes next bound to be a disaster? if this is what you're fighting over is it even worth fighting still?

"Go back inside Naomi," you say deadpan, exhaustion clinging to your bones, eyes feeling full of tears and screaming hurt. There's a level of tiredness in your voice that Naomi notices, but can't be bothered to acknowledge.

"Fine!" they say loudly, pushing away from the car. "Go stay with Josette and Kelli if you're gonna act like this; they can deal with you," Naomi huffs, walking with determination back to the house.

Naomi turns for a quick moment, any hopefulness the minute Naomi says, "Have a good night," sarcastically before heading inside with a nonchalant wave. The door slams, and even though it doesn't reverberate to your car, you can feel the quake, the finality of the slam sending shockwaves through your system.

You stare at the front door, reeling in how absolutely absurd and out of character Naomi is acting. The car is still in park, the engine rubbing beneath your seat, eyes staring blankly as you think about how you can move forward.

Naomi stomps back inside, ignoring the animals curled together on the couch, sitting at the desk in their office. They flick a stack of papers off the work surface, cursing to themselves as they spread out, head in their hands, elbows resting on their knees.

Pausing for a moment, Naomi knows that if anything were to happen to you, they couldn't live with themself. But the way you dismissed them upstairs? The way you packed a bag like it was nothing? escaping to your shared friends' house like it wasn't a big deal? It rocked Naomi to their core.

Like a toxic cycle, Naomi straightens up, quickly typing the passcode into their computer before starting to work again, telling themselves they'll call Jo in a little bit to see if you made it to the house.

You sit in the driveway for an hour. A whole hour waiting for Naomi to come back out. Waiting for an inclination that Naomi would change their attitude and be earnest. Waiting for Naomi to recognize why you are upset and apologize for it. Because surely, you mean something to Naomi, right?

The longer you stare at the house, the more you don't recognize the person within its walls. You know Naomi is stressing about the new record, the intense production, and the deadlines coming up soon. You've been as supportive as possible, always creating a space for Naomi to vent or talk, but Naomi has never acted like this.

You start to feel crazy, like a ghost trapped in your driveway. Your phone dings from a text, a "where are you?" from Kelli, that finally lets this sink in. Naomi isn't coming back outside. The tears start to fall before you can stop them, putting the car in reverse and heading towards a known comfort.

g's notes: sorry i HAD to split this part into two parts but that means part 3 is already written and then you'll be getting a happy ending in part 4! wee!

[secret-sturniolo]

under the stars - matt sturniolo

summary - it's y/n and Matt's 1 year anniversary, and she can't wait to see what Matt has planned...

warnings - angsty beginning but a fluffy ending, one kiss

a/n - thank you so much for all the love on my first fic "Hot Tub"! i'm so glad you guys liked it, and i am so excited to keep writing!

When I woke up to my alarm this morning, I felt super groggy, and my first instinct was to hit snooze and go back to sleep. That is, until I remembered what day it was. Matt and I have been dating for one year today! I immediately checked for any messages from Matt, but I didn't see any. That's strange I thought, but I figured he had something planned and he wanted to surprise me, so I didn't think much of it. Instead, I decided to get ready for the day so I would be prepared for when Matt told me what he had planned.

I started with my makeup, doing a simple, natural look like Matt always liked. Then I picked out a baby blue crop top, (Matt's favorite color), a pair of high waisted jeans, and I planned to wear my white Air Force 1's. Then I put on my silver necklace with 2 small hearts intertwined, which had been a gift from Matt for Valentine's Day. When I was done getting ready, I checked my phone again, but still nothing from Matt. I'm not going to lie, I felt my heart sink a little, but I decided to call him. Maybe he's just sleeping still I thought as I clicked on Matt's contact. I let it ring all the way through, but there was no answer. I began to get a little worried, so I decided to text Chris and Nick.

Hey, are you guys with Matt, he's not answering his phone? 1:32pm

I waited for a response, but still nothing. My heart began to sink even deeper, my hands shaky and thoughts racing. How could he forget? Hot tears began to roll down my face as I lost all hope, smearing my freshly done makeup down my cheeks. I decided to stop trying, figuring that he obviously didn't want to talk to me. Feeling heartbroken, I took off my carefully planned outfit and changed into sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, and crawled back under my blankets. I guess I'm ending up going back to sleep anyways I thought. The tears slowly turned into wracking sobs, until finally I was so exhausted that I could no longer keep my eyes open, and I fell into a deep slumber.

When I awoke, I couldn't immediately tell whether it was morning or night. I rolled over to check my phone, and the time read 8:57pm. I didn't mean to sleep that long I thought, as I began looking at my unread notifications.

hey babe, im so sorry but everything will make sense soon 8:46pm

im picking you up in an hour, wear something cozy :) 8:48pm

I stared at the screen, frozen in place as I re-read the texts. So he didn't forget? I quickly text back okay :) love you and I get out of bed once again to get ready. As I look in the bathroom mirror, I can see that my mascara is no longer on my lashes, but instead smeared around my eyes and cheeks. I gently wipe the old makeup off, but decide to leave my face bare rather than reapply more makeup. I leave my sweatpants on, and swap out my baggy tee for a better fitting hoodie, remembering how Matt told me to dress comfortably. Finally, I put the heart necklace back on, pausing to hold the hearts between the fingers as I wonder what could possibly have taken Matt all day. I remember how Matt thinks I look extra cute with braids in my hair, and I decide to put two dutch braids into my dirty blonde hair. Just as I was finishing up, I heard a knock at my front door, and I immediately knew who it was.

I ran to open the door, and just as I thought, Matt was standing there with a smile on his face, looking as handsome as ever. I jumped into his arms, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

"Matt, I thought you forgot!" I say, slightly exasperated.

"I know, I'm so sorry sweetheart." he says, holding me tighter. "I could never forget this day. I just had to make sure that my plans were perfect for you."

Smirking slightly, I ask him, "What do you have planned?"

"Get in the car, and you'll find out." Matt tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the door.

The ride was about 20 minutes. The whole time, Matt had his left hand on the wheel, and the other was tightly gripping mine, our hands resting on the center console. As the night sky got darker, I admired the stars in the sky. I had always loved them, and I had told Matt multiple times before about my dream of going stargazing one day.

"Matt, look at the stars, aren't they beautiful?" I said, turning to look at him. Matt just giggled in return.

When we reached our destination at the top of a hill, Matt put the car in park and motioned for me to get out and follow him. Once again, he grabbed onto my hand, waiting for me to notice what he had set up. When I saw it, my jaw dropped in awe.

Firstly, Matt had set up a circle of small lanterns, each one giving off just the right amount of light. At the center of the circle, there was a luscious pink blanket big enough for two people, along with two matching pillows at one end of the blanket. At the other end, he had set up a bottle of sparkling juice with two glasses, and an assortment of some of mine and his favorite snacks. It was so perfect, better than I ever could have imagined. All of the stress from earlier in the day melted away, as I turned to look at Matt.

"I hope you like it, I know I upset you earlier but-"

I quickly cut him off with a short, but passionate kiss that said everything that words couldn't.

"Matt, this is perfect! You know I've always wanted to do this!" I buried my head in his shoulder as he laughed and squeezed me back.

"C'mon, let's go lay down." Matt guided us into the circle of light, and we laid side by side, my head on his chest.

"What, am I a better pillow than the one I got you?" he teased.

"The pillow is great, but you're even better." I replied.

As we looked up into the sky, we took turns pointing out the constellations that we could see, just simply being in the moment with each other's company. I couldn't imagine a better way to spend our anniversary, or a more perfect perfect person to spend it with.

[castleofclouds]

ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Nct Dream Alternative Universe OT7.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ pairings ; ot7 × reader (yn)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ disclaimer ; fiction, cursing, 18+ content, kms joke and many more.

Story are by © castleofclouds, do not copy or repost without watermark!

‧₊˚ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

sumarry : your life was peaceful until your stupid friends start giving you ideas of making thread about ur exes, stirring a whole new problems for you, suddenly one by one of your past start running back to you and opening old books of you and them, how do you act in this situation?

genre : gotta be fluff! texts (sometimes smau) angsty, slowburn, romance, humor, mention of 18+ content.

tag : @bluedbliss, @luvandletter

To All The Boys I've Dated ; Better Run.

“Urghh..”

The liquor got the best of you, who knew a simple cocktail you drank last night would mess you up real bad, you looked past your shoulder, seeing your phone on the drawer next to you, as you open plenty of notification pops up, your head still spinning like crazy, you can't read anything that pops up, even with your eyes squinting, those text still feel a lot of trouble to see with your eyes.

You got up on your feet, washing your face it's weirdly peaceful today, like awfully quiet, your roomate and best friend Karina, supposed to be in her rooms either screaming to waking you up to join classes, yet there's no sign of her in your shared apartment, where could she be? You guys had class together and it's not usual for her to ditch you at this hour.

Changing your pajamas into a much more neat blouse and jeans you looked around seeing your own reflection, you look very tired, there's a dark circles under your eyes, well how can't you not? Yangyang make you drink even though you still had classes the next morning, you want to just strangle him to death the more you think.

As you walk to your campus, you felt eyes behind your shoulder but everytime you turn your head, those staring gone, poof, like some sort of magic powder, what happened today? You felt like a criminal with all of the glaring, but some are different, they somehow pitying you? You? Pitied? What's so awfully about you today? You even take shower today! It's unusual of course, even for you.

Yangyang came out of nowhere, putting his hands on your shoulder like a souvenir, you glared at him, Yangyang seems awfully joyous today, what prank did he had again today? Is it about you?

“Don't touch me, I don't have spare change.” you sulk, your day just started and you can't be bothered about his weird attitude at 9 in the morning.

“Whoa, girl wake up and choose violence today huh? Even though you are a celebrity today? Everyone talking about you,” He explains, pointing at everyone that looking at your direction.

So YOU DO get stared at, but why? There's no specific reason for them to look at you like that.

“Why?” you ask nonetheless.

“You don't remember? Oh babe let me remind you, last night you tweet something don't you? Perhaps about your exes?” The words got out of his mouth, you couldn't believe what you just heard. You do remember you tweeted about it.

But that account only had 4 followers, yangyang, karina, winter and your second.

Well if you didn't include yangyang 5 more stan accounts where he use it for fanboying, the boy had big crush on Ariana Grande, same as you.

“Well yeah? It's just a simple funny dare nothing new what's up?” You said nonchalantly.

“Wow, when karina said you never look at your message box she was right.” He added.

You look at your phone on your hands, you do never look at your message box, you either only use it when texting about movie and nude. Never more. But you did remember your twitter dm box are full with text when you just woke up.

“So you didn't know that the whole campus knew your exes? And your exes actually saw your tweet about them?” Yangyang drop the bomb of information on your weak mind, suddenly a rush of shock wave get into your brain.

OMG, YOU ARE FUCK.

That's all you can think, you hurriedly opened your Twitter and saw a lot of dmed, but you saw seven accounts that you knew a lot, it's your exes accounts. How can they know? You never exposed your account, your tweet never get past 2 likes and two of them from Yangyang stan accounts.

You couldn't open them, you knew if you open it they can see you read their messages.

Instantly you run. Like absolutely went berserk, Yangyang couldn't catch up to you, as you run thinking a simple run could save you from your trouble, you spent a solid 30 minutes running before you finally stopped and rest your tired body under that tree next to the campus track field.

How can your life be much worse than this, you don't have any thought, you questioning whether you should be happy or ask someone to just shoot your head and left you as your body laying limp on the field.

Why them? You cursed yourself for being idiot.

You take a deep breath, it's such a long time ago, your exes wouldn't remember right? But their messages. Fuck.

The only thing you can do now is avoiding, avoiding anybody and any attention, as you ready to walk you found so many familiar faces that would interrogate you if you take any step closer to them so you stopped.

As you looked around, you remembered a lot of memories of your past, you used to be the most loved person on planet, you used to wish to stars, taking pictures of everything that look aesthetically pleasing to your eyes, or just laying on the field while reading and talking for a whole day.

You kinda wanted to hate your exes, but you can't, yet you kinda wish you can, since they are the one who walked away from you leaving you alone with all of this trust issues and broken heart.

Until you found someone its Johnny, the guy that had so many gossip on his head, there's even a saying reason why he had so many hair is because he puts every gossip onto his head causing hair to grew up faster, He found you sitting by yourself, you never looked away so fast.

Oh fuck NO! You quickly get up because if he ever catch you, you done for!

You get up quickly, Johnny start following you as you walk away before taking another leap of marathon. Today is your running day. If you can run from your problems, then so be it, you can't see anybody faces right now! At least not today.

You missed a class, even though you never done it before, such a shame tho today lecturer was your favorite, all because you stupidly agreeing on a bet you made. Karina look at you pity, rubbing your back softly as she cheered you up.

“What's wrong girliee? Is there something wrong?” she asked you worrying, you sigh.

“Why did I even agree to that stupid shit last night, shoulda stop at just drinking now I make my own life miserable..” you want to cry, you couldn't believe how everything happen so fast.

“Aww baby, it's not your fault eh? It's totally normal to speak about your exes besides what's so wrong about thinking of your exes and make a thread about them? most people would do worse than that thank God you didn't sleep with any of your exes?” She assured you, even though you don't how how is that considered assuring to you.

Go home is the only thing you had on mind today, your apartment was close you can just walk there but the amount of running causing stir inside your head, as you walk the crosswalk look very funny, you ended up fainting on the middle of the road.

You could hear Karina voices, and Winter too, they are very worried about you, as you get up you already in a strange place with white walls and curtains.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly change your position to sitting, Winter explains after helping you get up. “You fainted babe, how can you faint in the middle of the road like that? Gosh I'm so worried, Karina cried when she pick up the phone! Yangyang are on his way here,” she talks fast, you could see that both of them had glassy eyes, you caused them to worried. What a terrible friends! You think to yourself.

But, who found you?

“Who found me? I thought the road back to apartment are quite desolated, there's almost nobody past there,” You ask curiously.

“We don't know, the hospital calls us, but they said the guy left a note for you.” as Karina gives you the notes.

“Hey, I paid for your tab so you don't need to, you can paid me back at this address. RCafe, Lilac Street, No 14. Hope you are okay.”

You looked at the notes and feel like your life ended, it's bad enough that you already fainted and some stranger bring you to the hospital, now you owed them money?! Even though you already shorts on one, you could only sigh at the notes you hold.

“Man, if I saw yangyang I would kill him.” you remark, while Yangyang could feels chills all over his body on his ride to the hospital.

—

Masterlist. Next.

A/N :

WHAT DO WE THINK? THE FIRST EPS LET'S GO!! gosh, I'm loving this story too much I've been learning just for this? Are you serious? Man any each way I'm happy with how this turn out ngl, I love the idea of exes, and since I don't see anybody made about exes, I'm gonna make one myself hehehehe, how do we say? Do y'all like it? Hope so, kinda wish I had the life that YN had, not the break up part but the college life, kinda missed it, i'm on the last semester of my campus life soo how life passes 🥺 anyway if anybody would love me to continue please continue suport me with those notes and tweet. Needed it very much! 💓

[snek-panini]

Very belated Binderary books, uh...I've lost track actually. I think they are #6 and #7. And it's another two-volume split! This is (Slow) Burn, Baby, Burn by orchidlocked, an extremely long Good Omens fic set in the 1970s. It's about our favorite angel/demon pair navigating the disco scene, and it's not an AU, which is sort of usual in a fic this long and with such a specific premise. There are a fair few real people featured here, some as major characters, and a lot of music history and an excellent playlist alongside all the fun and angsty relationship stuff that so many of us are here for. I learned a lot about disco reading this fic and it was fascinating and also way more queer than I ever realized.

For the cover up there we have a white Allure book cloth on the spine, and white HTV over homemade book cloth for the main cover. The cloth pieces both come from the same sheet but I oriented the stripes this way so they'd be coordinated-but-not-matched and I really love the effect. They're also cotton and really nice to hold. It's funny, I was thinking of binding this fic when I found the fabric while digging through the Joann's remnant bin, and as soon as I saw it this fic not only came to mind but moved up to the top of the to-bind list. It was fate, clearly.

More photos under the cut!

Both spines and a top view. That's orange HTV for the titles. This it the first time I've worked with matte HTV (I usually use metallic or foil) and I was surprised at how much thinner it is, and how easy it was to stick. And I like the color inverse here in counterpoint to the front cover. The top view shows off the handmade endbands and bookmark, and also the rounding job. I'm still working on rounded spines, and the turn-in over the spine didn't come out as smooth as I'd have liked, but I think it's a good result. The ribbon bookmark was supposed to be blue to match the endbands, but every blue ribbon I could find clashed horribly with the cover so it's this nice leafy sage green. Which actually works really well with...

The endpapers! I got these as Joann's too. All four are cut from the same print, but I shifted and rotated them when I trimmed them so the patterns wouldn't all be in the same place. I had desperately wanted this other paper I found on Etsy with little vinyl records all over it, but the pieces weren't the right shape and I'd have had to ship them from overseas ($$), but I like the mood these ones set. And they're thick and nicely textured and look awesome with the cover, so really I think things worked out very well.

Couple of pics of the interior. I kept it fairly simple but I feel like it fits the story.

The scene break line is orange, to match the covers. I usually use gray but wanted something more fun. I recently bought some off-white paper that I used for most of my binderary projects this year because I've heard it's easier on the eyes, and it is, but I used the older bright white for this so the color contrast would be sharper. No complaints; I think it looks amazing. The second image above is the appendix I put together for the volume. Being so centered in the music industry, this fic has a really long playlist that the author put together with their preferred recordings. It's linked in the story and I did include the link text in the book, but I had my mind on preservation and the challenges of digital archiving while I was making this one, so I also took all the title/artist/album info and just listed it here. It was too much to do all by hand, so I learned how to export a Spotify playlist into an Excel doc, then moved that into the Word doc to print. A lot of steps, but not nearly as hard as I'd thought, and way less tedious.

I have to say this book is aesthetically really different than all my previous ones. I ran into so many design hurdles but I honestly couldn't be more pleased with the end result. I'll have to push my comfort zone like this more often, I guess.

[gilverrwrites]

do you have any hcs on how black mask would be romantic or show affection?

You’re asking me about my Black Mask headcanons? It’s been years since I talked about my Black Mask headcanons. Ahhhh. This kind of got away from me there’s loads, don't mind me, just dumping. 🖤🖤🖤

Dropping under a read more cause long post, sorry 🖤🖤🖤

Romance

Roman is very caught up in appearances so he’s very much a gift giver. Likes to buy to expensive clothes and jewellery. If you’re not as financially well off as him, he’ll pay for your haircuts, spa days, whatever you like to have done, so he can show you off, knowing that he has a aided the view, be it by dressing you or keeping you looking relaxed and cared for. Making you feel good about yourself, makes him feel good about himself. You’re like his little toy .

Will also buy you personal gifts that are just for you though. If he sees you looking at things while out, on the spot, “what my baby wants, they get. No expense.”

Or if you mention wanting/needing something, he’ll make sure he obtains it for you. (Or more likely someone who works for him goes and gets it for you.)

He often works long and late hours, so he brings you flowers if he’s been working later than expected. Reserves at least one night a month for you where he can take you out for dinner or whatever you want to do.

HOWEVER, while he’s kind of traditional in his ways of romance, he’s also very self serving. More often than not you’re going to the high end restaurants he chooses. He would never think to take you to a gallery or museum, or somewhere more eccentric unless it was for work.

Typically the gifts he buys, are to his taste. Unless you have picked it out, he’s buying something he specifically wants to see on you, something that matches the image he wants to world to see of you as a couple.

If you want different things you’d have to tell him, and if your tastes are different to his, he will struggle to adjust. Will out right tell you if he thinks your taste or ideas are bad.

Good morning and good night texts when he’s not around. Plus constant messages when he has a spare 5 seconds and is thinking of you.

Will get angsty and paranoid if you don’t text back quick enough.

If you’re spending the night apart, he’ll facetime with you until you fall asleep.

Has your preferred drink order memorised.

Also has your favourite flowers memorised for gifting purposes.

And has all your clothing, shoe, ring sizes memories, also for gifting purposes.

Probably doesn’t actually have those things memorised, he has a guy who keeps note of that stuff for him - but you don’t need to know that.

Like to share his food and drink with you, and vice versa.

After a long night he’ll give you his jacket (and shoes if you’re a heels person) happy to carry your stuff, or even you back to the car

If your hobbies include something with an end product like food or painting or something to that effect, he’ll show all his goons and/or business associates and intimidate them into complimenting it

Giving affection:

Roman is very handsy. Plus he’s hard or hearing so he just generally likes having you as close as possible, easier to hear, easier to feel up.

If you have long hair, he’ll always brush any strays out of your face, want to get a good look at his best gal/boy/whatever you wanna be called.

Straightens your collar, folds away your clothing tags, tucks in your shirt, straightens your necklace etc.

Again it’s about keeping up appearances, but also having an excuse to put his hand in you.

Like, for a man who doesn’t care what people think of him, he cares a lot about what people think of him, you know?

After greeting you with a kiss he always spins you around to get a good look at your outfit. “This is nice, did I get this for you?”

Holds hand when you’re walking together, gotta keep you close and safe. Holds your waist when you’re sitting together.

In the rare occasion your chilling out together, having a lazy day at home, he likes you to be the little spoon, between his legs so he can play with your hair, rub your back, whatever makes you feel relaxed. (This is transactional however, you must return the favour later - he deserves it, he’s always so high strung, give that man a back rub)

When you’re alone together and he wants your attention, he’ll playfully pull your hair, or poke you, or pinch your cheek. (These are like, low level warnings, if you don’t respond appropriately, things will escalate)

If you’re smaller than him, he likes picking you up, twirling you around, comparing your hand sizes.

If you’re bigger/buffer, he likes arm wrestling. Like, if you both want different food for dinner, you’ll settle it with an arm wrestle. Can’t complain if he looses cause he had fun. “Come on then baby, show me who’s boss.”

Probably also does this with smaller s/o’s cause he knows he’ll always win, or you’ll look cute when you’re high on victory (he let you win).

Good at aftercare, like he’ll run both of you a bath, so you can take turns washing each other, then lay together, appreciate the warmth and aromas, enjoy the calm.

Makes sure any marks and bruises are properly tended to. He can be a very tender, gentle man, so long as it’s behind closed doors.

When he has the time, he likes watching you get ready. If you’re struggling to pick something, he will always have an opinion/pick for you.

Also enjoys getting ready together, like you doing up his shirt buttons and tie, him doing up the back of your dress/your shirt and and tie and putting your jewellery on for you.

[blooming-violets]

Shit I forgot to put this in my rb but I wanted to ask what do you think would happen to reader if Peter actually went through with it? I'd like to be a but optimistic and say she surely but slowly recovers from it all but I'm not so sure. How would Aunt May react to that? Becoming a widow then a grieving mother in the span of a few years? Sorry I don't mean to be pushy but like I said I loved the way you beautifully crafted this story from an ask

Trigger Warnings!!!!: it's all about suicide and talking about it and discussing it, it is not something everyone feels comfortable reading or conversing about so please don't continue if it is too upsetting for you, Peter Parker kills himself and I write about it, Gwen's death ptsd is explored and he sees her as a rotting corpse version of herself who talks to him before he dies, the grief of losing someone you love to suicide is also talked about, it's all depressing but if you love depressing angst shit then come on over and join in (not join in on the killing yourself part jfc I mean joining in on the talking about this story) READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION only you know what you are capable of handling when you read. I can't help you any further than explaining the warnings.

Previous posts where this is all discussed:

[first part] [second part] and I rewrite this drabble from two years ago to fit this story but you can read the original here if you feel like it (it ends with less death that this one).

One of my darker, more angsty headcanons is that Peter kills himself by throwing himself off the same clock tower Gwen died in. It takes a few years for it to get rebuilt back to it's former glory. Peter patiently waits those years until it's finally finished. Almost a quiet, stoic sort of patience. A little scary with how composed he is. Like not given any indication of his plans. He wears a beautifully composed mask until the day it happens because he is so sure in his plans and doesn't want a single person to sway him from them. He's stubborn and set in his ways and this is what he feels he needs to do. This headcanon doesn't exactly fit into the story I wrote as that version of Peter is much more unhinged in his actions, and I don't think clocktower Peter could ever let himself get into a relationship because he's too obsessed with Gwen still and knows he's going to die so he's not going to bring anyone else into that mess, but it's just a little random headcanon I always had so I thought I would share since this is suicide talking hour. Maybe I can rework it a bit to fit with this story better.

Let's say unhinged Peter (as I'm calling him now lol) does let the ghosts win. What happens to our Reader character would entirely depend on when in the relationship he went through with it. If she's too far gone and too far down the hole after Peter, then I sort of fear for her future. Unless she has someone really important in her life who would help her, I think she would just keep sinking until she ended up back on that ledge, except this time there's no Peter to catch her. And I personally don't think she has anyone that close to her, especially after mentioning that all her friends stopped texting her or asking her to hang out. They all kind of gave up on her so, when she's at her lowest, I really don't think anyone would be the wiser due to the isolation they both put themselves in.

I want to rewrite something I wrote two years ago that either wasn't that great and people didn't like or it just slipped under the radar (because it wasn't about an x reader or love or anything, it was just Peter's ptsd taking over and sometimes people don't give a shit about a fic if it isn't tagged with x reader). It fits really well in this new story to help show what could go on in Peter's head with how terribly Gwen still sticks with him and what exactly it is he's "seeing" that would push him to throwing himself off a building.

Cut to me pausing to frantically google if Peter Parker could survive a fall off a building or if his super powers make him strong enough to withstand it...

Okay maybe falling isn't the best plan of action but I really like (like isn't the right word but I'm going with it) that idea of him mimicking Gwen's death because he's so haunted by it. He would want to feel what she felt. He would want to go the same way. So for the sake of this story, he's can't withstand that fall.

“Leave me alone!” Peter shouted into the dark shadows of the clock tower. He sat huddled against the newly built glass wall that domed up over his head. The bright, white light of the moon hung in the sky above him and casted wavering shadows around him to mess with his vision. The turning of grinding gears below him haunted his memories of the night Gwen died. Eight years and she still haunted him every time he dared to fall asleep.

He couldn't take it anymore. His head was a mess. His thoughts were spinning.

He was just so tired.

He had fallen asleep here accidentally. Maybe if he went to the source of the problem, she would disappear. It was a stupid plan

It only made her stronger. This was where his ghost of her was most alive.

Maybe that's why he really showed up. He wanted to see her. He wanted to finally confront his demons. She was calling to him and he had to answer.

He had slipped a crushed up sleeping pill into his girlfriends water during dinner. He carried her bed, tucked her in, and kissed her soft and gently. She didn't need to see this. This wasn't for her. She needed to be free of him. He needed to let her go before it was too late. She wouldn't understand at first but, maybe, with time...

What had time ever done for him except make Gwen stronger?

He slipped an envelope onto the bedside table beside her. One for her. One for May. He wasn't sure if he would make it home this time. His mind could still change. He could still make it back before she woke up.

But they were.

Just in case.

He couldn't leave them with nothing.

She was here now. Ready to haunt him like usual. Ready to take over and ruin him. Night after night. Day after day. She was always there. Gwen never left. She walked beside him through it all.

Tonight, she was angry. Furious. This was where he had let her die. Of course, she would be the most powerful here.

He no longer had his girlfriend to help soften Gwen's blows. There was no one to intervene. Only him and Gwen. Stuck in a staring contest. Sizing each other up.

The sunken in face of his dead lover glared back at him from just below his edge of his of his perch, trembling from the sight under him. She was standing on top of a giant gear, watching him, judging him. A large smile grew across her pale, bluing lips. It was too wide. Too big for her face. Her teeth looked rotten and jagged inside of her mouth. A trickle of blood slowly trailed out of her nostril.

“What’s the matter, Peter?” She taunted. Her sickly voice swirled around his head like a swarm of mosquitos. “Did you miss me? Is that why you came here? To see me clearly again? Well, here I am. Look at me. Dead. Putrefied. All for you. Aren't I beautiful? This is what you've done to me.”

A loud sob shuddered through his chest and ripped out his throat. He brought up a hand to wipe away the snot flowing freely out his nose. This nightmare was too familiar. He knew this too well. He didn't feel like he was dreaming this time. He never did.

If it wasn't a dream then his mind was truly gone. Distinguishing between reality and fiction was something he no longer had control over.

This was as real to him as anything.

“Please, Gwen. Please,” he pleaded with her. “Go away. I can’t do this again. Please. You have to let me go."

She tutted her tongue in annoyance and shook her head with disbelief, “Oh, Peter. I have to let you go? Do you think I want to be here?” She became climbing up the gears and the scaffolding towards him. She looked more like himself as she climbed, enhanced and spider-like, taking the movements straight out his brain until she was perching on the ledge beside him. “Do you think this fun for me?”

Peter whimpered in response. His tears were blurring his vision but he was afraid to wipe them away. He was terrified of what might happen if he took his eyes off of her, like watching a snake in the grass, it's better if you can see it in your sights instead of letting it hide and able to strike.

Gwen walked with slow, purposeful steps towards him until she stood directly over him as he cowered backwards on all fours. Under the pale moonlight hanging above them, her skin turned yellow, painted with purpling hues and blacks, and rotting away around her cheekbones to show parts of red, bleeding muscle under the pulled back skin. Her, once vibrant, blonde hair now hung in patchy strands from her head. Most of her hair had fallen out leaving her balding and sickly. When she smiled, browning, broken teeth shone back at him, they hung lose in her jaw, rattling around when she spoke.

She was a walking, decaying corpse sent to haunt him every time he closed his eyes.

“Look at what you’ve done to me!” Her shrill voice echoed off the glass walls. She spun around to show him the back of her head. Her skull was caved in. Parts of brain matter clung to her hair and blood stained what was left of the blonde a deep red. She turned back to face him, leaning in close so she was mere inches away. He could smell the heavy scent of freshly dug dirt and wet grass clinging to her rotting finger nails like she had clawed her way straight out of the ground to find him.

She snarled, “You did this, Peter! This is your fault!”

Peter flinched and scrambled backwards to get away from her, “No! Please, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn't know...I didn't know...I thought I could catch you. I thought I could save you. I'm sorry. Please, Gwen. Please. I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change the fact that I’m dead,” she smirked, eyes darkening, enjoying his torment. She sunk down to her hands and knees to crawl over him, pressing her skeletal body against him, until he was laying flat against the ground with no where else to go.

"Look at me," she whispered into his ear. “I was going to go Oxford. I was going to be a scientist. I was going to change the world. The only way I can change the world now is by letting the worms feast through my flesh until there is nothing left. Something tasty for the bugs. That's all I am now.”

Peter whimpered, turning his head away from her and flinching into himself.

He heard her sniffle like she was about to start crying. He hated hearing her cry.

"Don't you love me anymore, Peter?" She whined. "Don't you care about me? Why did you find someone else? Why did you forget me so quickly? I loved you so much and you left me for the worms. Only they kiss my skin now."

His heart sank and guilt flooded him. Slowly, he turned his head to face her, blinking up at her. For a moment, she looked just like he remembered. Beautiful. Whole. Healthy. Alive.

Peter gave a shuddered, shaky breath, whispering in awe, "Gwen."

She beamed down at him. There were no rotting teeth, no blood, her hair was full and luscious. She was glowing under golden light with happy tears in her eyes like his memory of her on top of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Kiss me," she whispered against his lips. "Like you used to."

Peter's eyes slipped close. His heart ached.

"I can't," he mumbled back. "I love someone else now. I love her like I loved you. She..."

He needed to get back to her. She needed him. He needed her. He should have never left her tonight. He had to leave.

A wailing growl shot ice through his veins as Gwen let out a shriek of pain as if she had read his mind. She was back to her decaying corpse. The sight terrified him.

"You will not leave me! I won't let you! You're mine, Peter! Mine!"

Peter kicked up his feet to shove her off of him. He scrambled backwards away from the haunting vision.

"I can't, Gwen," he pleaded. "I can't be with you anymore."

He frantically shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, in an attempt to make her disappear. Usually by now, his girlfriend would hear him screaming. She'd be here to block Gwen from his sights. She'd be there to force her away until he was safe.

Tonight, there was no one but him.

"This isn't real," he muttered to himself. "She's not really here. She's dead. She's buried underground. Locked in a coffin. This isn't real. When I open my eyes, she'll be gone."

He peaked an eye open. A sense of relief washed over him. He was alone in the clock tower. There was no one here but him.

He could still go home. He could still make it back to her before she woke up and rid her bed side of those letters.

She would never have to know.

Peter took a deep breath, half way through exhaling it when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Gwen's decomposing face poked into his peripheral vision as she whispered menacingly in his ear, "Boo."

He screamed, jumping away, to the sound of her taunting laughter.

"I'm still here, Peter!" She cackled. "You can't get rid of me that easily! I am always going to be here. I am always going to follow you. I will never let you go." Her voice softened. Almost sweet. Sad. Longing. "Because I'm your path, Peter. I am always going to be your path. Follow me everywhere just like you promised. I want you to follow me. I need you..."

She reached out her hand for him to take. The skin had rotted away around the tips of her fingers leaving nothing by bones reaching for him.

This wasn't his Gwen. His Gwen was dead. She was buried in the ground surrounded by fresh flowers. The thing in front of him was nothing but a product of his own twisted mind. Birthed from his guilt and excruciating pain. A monster of his own creation.

"I can't," he choked out through his tears. "Someone else needs me now. I'm sorry. I love you. I will always love you. But I can't follow you. Not yet."

Anger flashed over her darkened, bloodshot eyes, “No! You promised you’d follow me anywhere. Follow me to the grave, you liar!”

Peter cringed at her harsh words. Tears blurring his vision. He had promised.

"Gwen, please," he begged. "Let me go."

Her face softened. He watched her grow back into old self again. Her rich purple dress. Lace tights. Knee high boots. Pale blue jacket. All highlighting her perfectly beautiful face. Large, bright green eyes without a blonde hair out of place. Always so put together. Always nothing less than perfection.

"You want me to go?" She asked, turning around slowly for her to take him in. There was no crack in the back of her skull. No blood.

His breath caught in his throat. He tried to reach out for her, to draw her closer against him, but she stepped away. Just out of his reach.

"You want me to go so I'll go." She whispered. "But you'll have to watch. Again and again and again. You'll have to listen to the sound of my skull cracking against the pavement. Hear my spine snap as your web jerks me upwards. Smell my blood pouring from my open, split open head." A trickle of red blood started to leak out her nose as her eyes closed. "Only you can make it all stop. Only you can make me go away. You know exactly how to do it, Peter. All you have to do is follow me. Just like you promised. Follow me and it will all end."

He blinked through his tears, taking a slow step towards her.

"Follow you," he muttered in a trance like state. "I'll follow you anywhere you go. You're my path. I'll write my love for you across the Brooklyn Bridge so everyone in New York can see it."

She smiled, soft and sweet, "Follow me. Don't leave me alone. Stay with me, Peter. Forever."

"Forever..."

Her arms out stretched to her sides and she leaned back, stepping off the ledge and sinking out of sight past the giant gears, hurdling straight towards her death.

"No!" He shouted.

Without thinking, without caring, Peter leapt after her. He had done this move so many times in his nightmares. He had obsessively walked through every single second of her death. Again and again just like she said. He knew it better than he knew himself.

He jumped on instinct. He leapt after her like he always did.

Keeping his promise. Following her down any path she took.

I know you asked how May and Reader would respond to such a thing afterwards but that's like one topic that's just a little too hard for me to write about. I know it's weird that I can talk about Peter throwing himself to his death and I can write about depression and suicidal ideation and self harm and ptsd and guilt and feelings of worthlessness but writing about someone like May (who I relate far too much to my own mother) finding her boy dead is just a hair too much for my heart to take haha. I was originally going to write a scene of his funeral but then I was like nah too much for even me. I can't watch May cry over her dead kid.

I will say that he would be buried next to his parents under the same gravestone which sits besides Ben's. It's a few rows down from Gwen so Peter can always be near her.

I don't even think I actually answered your original ask but I got carried away with Peter in the clock tower!

Also May puts matching flowers on both Peter's and Gwen's graves every time she visits. hahahaha i gotta stop writing fuck me