#Yeah sending this to the tags in hope people are still lost

[vividxpages]

‧𓍢ִ໋☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆  the boy with the thick jacket and the cute accent *₊˚🍂୧

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 3700

summary: over time, Jace with his books by the window has become your favorite customer at the coffee shop you work at. The two of you quietly pine for each other, but when someone else tries to flirt with you, Jace’s jealousy finally gets him to make a move.

warnings: coffee shop au, meet-cute, pining, really just wholesome fluff, uncomfortable attempt at getting reader’s number (not Jace), first kiss

a/n: just something short and sweet for the cold weather outside! <3  I hope you’ll like it, let me know your thoughts!

⋆.˚🥧⋆.˚

There were many things you liked about working at the little coffee shop down the small alley overgrown with ivy.

The quiet yet busy atmosphere always made you feel welcome, surrounded all day by the smell of fresh coffee and tea, homemade cakes and biscuits and the steady stream of kind and appreciative customers who happened to stumble upon the little shop. The walls were covered with bookshelves and old-worn paperbacks stacked in them and the wooden boards creaked lovingly underneath your feet when you made your way towards guests by their tables.

There were many things that made you love the job, but none of them brought you as much joy as the curly-haired boy in his usual seat by the window, lost in his books and taking hours to finish his order.

The first time he had come in here, he had stumbled in from a sudden rain shower, his jacket dripping on the floor and his cheeks a rosy red as he stepped towards the counter, rubbing his hands together. You had turned around, rather busy in the usual stream of customers in the afternoon after uni ended, and there he was.

Dark lovely eyes, a mouth looking so kissable it made your knees weak and an angel-like face that seemed to be just as awe-struck as you were. You had stared at each other as if you were the only two people in the coffee shop, his glossy brown curls dripping rain while you still held an empty mug in your hand.

Hopelessly hit by cupid’s arrow.

“H-hi, what can I get for you?”

“Hi…”

You had to swallow down a giggle, raising your eyebrow at him. “Hi. What would you like to eat or drink?” You stood ready at the cash register, your eyes wandering to his lips as he opened and closed his mouth once again.

“Umm…yeah, I would like a…I’ll just take something hot please, to go.” The cute stranger tore his eyes away from you and fumbled with his wallet. A pretty blush crept up his neck “Whatever you recommend for me to have.”

My number then, you thought to yourself, but nodded in all seriousness as you tipped something into the screen. “The house’s special it is then, coming right up. What’s your name?”

He smiled at you then, nearly blinding you with it. “I’m Jace.”

Jace.

In your chest, little butterflies took flight.

As your colleague took over the line behind Jace, you got to work, giving some extra love into his coffee order as you drizzled some final touches of the good caramel on top and finally pressed a lid to the cup. The whole time, you could feel the boy’s eyes on you, not leaving you out of sight for once as he admired you.

Usually, you called out people’s names for their orders, but it wasn’t particularly full today and you could not deny that you had asked him out of curiosity. Jace still stood close to your side of the counter as you turned to him with a smile.

“Alright, Jace. House’s autumn special, I hope it’ll warm you up right away.” You told him sincerely and handed him the cup, your fingers brushing briefly and sending small lightning through you as he took it from you.

His eyes shifted to the name tag on your blouse before he paid up, sliding a generous tip into the little piggy bank between you. “I’m sure it’s amazing if you made it. Thank you.” He murmured your name as if he tasted every syllable for the first time in his life and as unexpected as he had come, he was gone and you wanted to melt into a puddle right behind the counter.

Ever since that fateful day, Jace had come back for more than just to-go orders. As the trees outside lost their leaves and the world was painted in red, orange and yellow, he mostly spent his free afternoons in the cozy seat by the window, his papers spread out in front of him on the table.

He was your most frequent customer and over time, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his visits than just the good coffee and the occasional brownie treat he bought, especially when you sometimes caught him gazing at you and ignoring his homework.

By now, you knew what his order would be before he had even fully closed the door behind him or sometimes surprised him with a new little creation of yours in exchange for his honest opinion. (He always loved them.)

You liked the way he talked, a little flustered still but always happy to see you were there and how he always cleared his table so you wouldn’t have to, although it was your job.

You liked the way he could get lost in his books and papers for hours, biting his lip in concentration and absent-mindedly twirling one of his curls around his pointy finger as he took a sip of his warm drink.

You liked to know he was eating and drinking something you made, as if your slowly growing adoration for him could take root in his belly, filling him with warmth from the inside. He made you want to create and bake and become so much more than just his waitress for the rainy afternoons in autumn.

The nature of your timid relationship eventually began to change when he brought you flowers one time. You just had gotten out of the kitchen, a little flour still sticking to your cheek as you were greeted by a big bouquet which he held in front of his face. At your surprised gasp, he slowly lowered it and smiled at you, still blushing as he had on the day of your first meeting.

“I don’t want to hold you up, but the time I spend here is my highlight of the day and...this is for you.” He gingerly handed you the flowers over the counter and you almost walked around it and hugged him, a call from the kitchen stopping you from such impulsive desires.

But after the flowers, you both got a little braver.

You drew little hearts in the foam of his coffee orders and in return, your conversations became longer and longer when you had time in between rush hours. You sometimes recommended him books from the second-hand shelf in the corner and watched fondly when he was absorbed in the story the next day, your chest aching for something more with him outside of your working place.

But Jace seemed to be very polite, almost a little shy if the blush befalling him was any evidence every time you walked up to his table. And while you were desperately pining at this point, you were not brave enough yet to go beyond drawing little hearts on the boy’s coffee… 

One afternoon, you worked quietly behind the counter when a gust of autumn wind rushed into the café and a tall blond woman and two little boys walked in. Jace was sitting by the window, nose buried in a Donna Tartt paperback – he thought you did not notice, but you could feel his eyes on you from time to time – when he suddenly perked up and waved at them.

You watched them silently, nearly spilling milk all over the counter when you didn’t notice the glass for the milkshake was already full to the brim. His mom, you saw the familiarity now, kissed his cheek before he bent down and hugged the kids as they squealed in excitement to see him.

A giddy smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you turned your back towards the shop’s floor and got to work at the coffee machine. With practiced movements, you quickly made two hot chocolates and sprinkled a little cinnamon and chocolate rasps over the creamy foam. You took a deep breath and checked your appearance in the mirror over the big sink, making sure you did not look disheveled from your shift before you made your way over to Jace’s table.

As you got closer, you asked yourself if you were not too impulsive – surely you still had time to turn around? – but just as you were about to lose your bravery, Jace spotted you and his whole face brightened up, the dazzling smile you had grown to adore easing down your nerves.

“Hello.” You smiled shyly into the round and placed the plate in your hands on the table, the two cups steaming and adorned by two bowls of fresh cookies from the counter. “I thought the two gentlemen would like some hot chocolate, maybe? Ma’am, if I can get you anything-“

“Oh, there’s no need for formalities.” She smiled at you, a curious sparkle in her eyes. “I’m Rhaenyra, Jace’s mother. Nice to meet you.”

The little boys, undeniably twins now that you got a closer look at them, eyed you over the rims of their mugs. “Is that her, Jace? The girl you talk about aaall the time?”

“Ooh yes, the pretty girl, aaaall the time…”

Jace and you both froze, his little brother’s words leaving you speechless.

He…talked about you in front of his family? All. The. Time?

Rhaenyra looked between the two of you, noticing the awkward tension in the air and quickly saying: “I’d love to have a coffee with a little milk, thank you, dear.”

Jace still looked at you with wide eyes while his brothers peacefully sipped their chocolates as if they had not just exposed their older brother’s crush right in front of her. You opened and closed your mouth, face burning as you quickly nodded and mumbled: “Coming right up.”

The rest of your shift seemed to pass in a blur, your mind circling around what you had just learned.

Was there really a possibility Jace liked you back? Even his mother had been quick to dissolve the awkward situation and after you had brought her the coffee and Jace seemed to try to catch your eye every now and then, not really concentrating on the conversation at his table.

To get rid of the nervousness coursing through your stomach, you dedicated yourself to the little tarts in front of you, delicately placing small raspberries on the soft dough and decorating the top with small swirls of cream. The end result looked like little clouds and it seemed like your hands weren’t shaking as badly anymore now.

It was starting to get dark outside and there were still twenty minutes until your shift ended. You were the last one behind the counter this evening, only the nice ladies in the kitchen remained with you and most of the customers had left already. You sneaked a look to the window where Jace still sat, alone now again after his family had left, biting his lip and fidgeting as he looked outside into the rain. Would you just move on from this as if nothing happened?

“Hey, could you get me a coffee to go?” A guy you recognized from earlier visits grinned at you, leaning against the counter and a little too much into your personal space.

You nodded politely and grabbed a clean cup from the board behind you.

“And also your number if you’re on it, babe.”

You froze, staring at the cup in your hands. You had never liked this guy, he usually was brash and loud when he came in with his friends and he never left a tip, always demanding and impatient when his order took only a second longer than usual.

You started the coffee machine and looked over your shoulder. “I would rather not, thank you.”

“Aww come on, babe, I’ve been here so often just because you’re pretty, I think I earned it.”

You clenched your fists, the coffee trickling into the cup way too slow for your liking. “There’s nothing to earn, I just work here. And I’m not your babe.”

“Getting bratty now, huh? I think you just wanna-“

“Love, are you ready to go?”

Out of nowhere, Jace had appeared beside the douche, looking between your frozen form and the guy who now raised a confused eyebrow at him. You swallowed thickly, not knowing if you heard correctly. Love?

“Who are you?” The guy asked Jace, ignoring the coffee you now placed in front of him.

“I’m her boyfriend.” Jace said tensely, his dark eyes not leaving him. A warmth rushed through your belly at those words. “Is there a problem here? I don’t like the way you talk to her.”

“Calm down, dude, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

Jace glared at him, his jaw set. “You don’t have to know she has a boyfriend to simply respect her. Get your coffee and go.”

Assured by Jace’s presence now, you calmly turned your attention to the guy and opened your hand. “That’s three-fifty. We’re closing now, so don’t have a seat.”

You watched with quiet satisfaction as he fumbled out a five and let it fall on the counter. You took it from him, smiling sweetly before you glimpsed into the cash register. “Sorry, we’re completely out of change. Bye.”

He grumbled to himself, throwing one last look over his shoulder before he left the café and the last bit of tension left your shoulders. Jace looked at you, scratching the back of his neck, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I knew you could handle it, but the way he talked to you made me so angry…”

You shook your head, smiling timidly. “No, thank you, really. He’s been getting on my nerves before. Maybe he won’t come back now, finally. Although it’s sad this was what it takes for him to leave me alone.”

Jace chuckled nervously. “I couldn’t think of anything else, sorry. And I also apologize for my brothers earlier. I didn’t want you to feel awkward…”

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered hopefully. “They were cute.” You said and searched his gaze. He looked at you the way he had on the very first day, awestruck and hopeful and so, so sweet. You bit your lip, adding quietly: “Did they…say the truth?”

Jace let out a shaky breath. “Yeah…” He told you hoarsely. “I…I’ve been thinking of ways to ask you out, but- I’m a hopeless case, it seems. God, I didn’t want you to find out through my toddler brothers.”

You laughed lightly, relieved to have your hopeful guess confirmed. “Well…my shift is over in about five minutes and I don’t have any plans. Do you want to get something to eat maybe?”

“I’d love that.” He smiled at you brightly and it brightened the room.

You made quick work at the counter as Jace gathered his things and the comfy looking jacket he had been wearing since the start of fall. When you were dressed in your long scarf and elegant coat, the two of you were ready to go.

It almost was weird, to walk and talk with Jace outside of the familiar environment of the café, but the two of you had no problem picking up a conversation, comfortably falling into a discussion about the books you had been reading recently and what he was currently up to at uni.

When you reached the big square of the town, you stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Wait, where are we even going, I did not even ask.” You laughed, surprised how much time had passed already with him by your side.

Jace looked around the street, his dark eyes shimmering with the warm light the street lamp threw down at him. “Umm…there is a great pizza place nearby. They serve really good slices and also sweet mulled wine when it’s cold. We might be lucky tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.” You sighed, your stomach growling at the thought of some good pizza and followed him, barely resisting the urge to lace your fingers together.

The little booth tucked between two shops that were now closed was buzzing with life, the smell of delicious wine and fresh pizza filling the air and making your mouth water. Jace greeted the two men behind the counter and rested a careful hand on your back so you could step beside him and see what sorts they were offering tonight.

“You’re here often?” You chuckled as he nodded shyly.

“I’m not really good at cooking.” He replied. “The quattro formaggi is really, really good. So is the one with the cherry tomatoes and pesto.”

You nodded eagerly and fumbled with your bag, ready to get your wallet out, but Jace shook his head at you. “My treat, okay? You always get me such good pastries and cakes.”

“But Jace, you pay for them as well!”

“Doesn’t matter.” He grinned. “Why don’t you find us a table and I’ll get us some mulled wine and the pizza?”

Soon, Jace returned to you, two paper plates full with steaming hot pizza slices that were joined quickly by the promised mulled wine. The speakers by the booth played some easy music and over you, the sky had gotten dark and the air cool.

At your first bite, you groaned in delight and Jace cocked his eyebrow at you. “Good?”

“So good.” You agreed, eagerly having another one. “We should have this at the café! All the sugar and cinnamon are nice, but this? Thank you for opening the world of spices and vegetables for me.”

You laughed as he tried to break a cheese string between his mouth and the pizza off and the sweet wine only made you giddier to spend time with him. He asked you about your life as you ate and you told him the job at the café helped you to save for a professional training as a commis pâtisserie you wanted to start in spring. Jace listened to you intently, his eyes not leaving yours once.

“You have a little…” He lost the rest of his sentence, reaching out a hand and softly brushing some small crumbs of your pizza away from your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat at his careful touch, holding very still for him. “There, now it’s gone.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, a little breathless. It had been some time since you had been close to someone like this and since it was Jace, you found yourself wanting to lean closer, to let his touch linger and blossom. “It’s nice, talking to you. I’m glad your brothers visited you today.”

You laughed together, both of you trying to hide your smitten faces as you took a last sip of the warm beverage. The plates between you had become empty and your heart sank a little when it was time to leave.

“Thank you for tonight, I…I like being with you, too. I’ll walk you home, if you’d like.” Jace offered warmly and looked down the road. He buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Will you be at the coffee shop tomorrow?”

You nodded, a warm feeling rushing through you at the thought you’d see him there, now that everything had changed a little. “You might get to have one of my famous chocolate fudge brownies if you’re lucky.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as you began to make your way down the street. “Do only your favorite guests get them?”

“Oh yeah.” You teased, trying to stay serious. “Only the ones who save me from annoying guys and invite me out for pizza afterwards.”

You looked at each other underneath the light of a streetlamp, the two of you the only souls still wandering through the night. Jace stared at you, his plump lips slightly agape. He tucked a lost curl behind his ear underneath the hoodie and said sincerely: “Then I will do my best to hold that spot.”

“It’s already yours, Jace.” You said softly and then you could not hold yourself back anymore. You stepped closer and as the boy you had grown to adore so much exhaled shakingly, you held his face between your hands and kissed him.

Jace let out a surprised huff against you, but immediately melted in your embrace as he gently kissed you back, his hands quickly finding their way out of his pockets again to hold on to your waist. You smiled against his lips and sighed happily, your one hand wandering into the curls in his nape as the other grabbed the front of his hoodie.

You had no idea how much time passed as you kissed without a worry in the world. You welcomed his warm embrace as he held you closer, your arms coming to rest around his shoulders as the kiss deepened, his lips tasting of sweet wine and faintly of the waffles he had at the shop today. Your heart threatened to overflow with giddiness as Jace moaned softly into your mouth, cradling you against his chest and touching your soft hair as you kissed and kissed and kissed…

You didn’t know it yet, but tomorrow, he’d bring you another bouquet of flowers, roses this time and you’d spend your lunch break together and kiss some more.

In the following weeks, you indulged in cozy dates at restaurants Jace knew or simply stayed on his couch all night, cuddling and kissing and eventually falling into bed together…

In the next months, you grew closer and closer and you met his family again – “The pretty girl is back, now Jace can stop pining after you like a poet!” – and Jace supported you as you started your training however he could, which mostly meant he got to try all your little perfect creations and praise you endlessly for them.

One year ahead from now on, you moved into a cozy little apartment together, your home always filled with the love you shared and many, many books and baking goods.

You did not know it yet, but oh, how you were going to find out what it meant to love Jacaerys…

my taglist (open): @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[elryuse]

Our True Colours

Tsuki X Male Reader

Tags : Trauma, Bad Past, Vanilla Sex, Love, Romance, Lots of Emotions

Words : 6,333 Words

This Story, Is dedicated to all you Who have ever been in this position before. Feeling Depressed, Traumatized by Past Memories, and Basically Not knowing what to do. I just want to say, You're not alone. I know that You can do it. Don't give Up yet.

I Also made This story, For those of you Who requested me to make more stories about Billie. I hope You Enjoyed it.

The afternoon sun drapes over the college campus, casting long, golden shadows on the ground. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves, sending a crisp whisper through the air. It’s a perfect day to stay indoors—exactly what you always preferred. But something about today made you take a detour from your usual quiet routine.

Hands buried in the pockets of your hoodie, you stroll absentmindedly past the library, weaving through the quiet garden at the center of campus. You walk these paths every day, yet they never feel quite familiar. College is a place full of people—loud conversations, laughter, and the occasional rush of students running late for class. It’s overwhelming at times. That’s why you always blend into the background, existing on the edges, unnoticed.

And then you see her.

She sits on a wooden stool, poised like a vision of serenity, a canvas set before her. A delicate hand moves a paintbrush across the surface, slow and precise, as though every stroke holds meaning. The soft golden light catches her dark brown hair, making it glow like strands of silk. Large, expensive Sony headphones cover her ears, allowing her to drift into her own world, untouched by the noise of the campus.

She’s painting.

You pause mid-step. Something about her presence is… captivating. Maybe it’s the way she sways slightly to the music only she can hear. Or the way her lips curl into a soft, satisfied smile as she mixes colors on her palette. Whatever it is, you can’t seem to look away.

Your heart stirs—an unfamiliar warmth spreading through your chest.

She’s breathtaking.

The sight of her, lost in her own world, makes your stomach twist. You should walk away. You should keep moving, pretend you never saw her. But your feet stay rooted in place. You watch as she dips her brush into a deep shade of blue and glides it effortlessly onto the canvas.

Then, suddenly—

She looks up.

Your breath catches.

For a fleeting moment, time slows as her gaze meets yours. Her eyes—deep and filled with quiet curiosity—lock onto you. There’s no shyness in them, only a soft, steady awareness. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, your entire body warming under the weight of her attention.

She tilts her head, studying you, and then—

A small smile.

Your heart pounds. You’ve been staring for too long. You quickly look away, pretending to be interested in the grass at your feet, but it’s too late. The damage is done.

And then, her voice—soft, yet clear—cuts through the air.

"Do you like my painting?"

Your stomach flips.

You glance up, hesitant, still flustered from being caught. She’s looking at you expectantly, her eyes holding a hint of amusement. She must have noticed your staring.

“I—uh,” you stammer, throat suddenly dry. You shift awkwardly, glancing at the canvas for the first time.

It’s beautiful.

The painting is an almost dreamlike rendition of the college garden—the very place you’re standing in. The way she’s captured the afternoon light, the way the colors seem to melt into one another—it’s stunning.

You swallow hard, feeling a strange nervousness build in your chest. “Yeah,” you manage, voice quieter than you intended. “It’s… really good.”

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, like a gentle melody. “You don’t sound convinced.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, I mean it. It’s amazing.”

She studies you for a moment, as if trying to decide whether you’re telling the truth. Then, with a small nod, she looks back at her canvas, dipping her brush into a lighter shade of blue.

“You come here often?” she asks, her voice casual, yet laced with genuine curiosity.

You blink. No one ever asks you that.

“Uh… yeah,” you reply hesitantly. “I like… quiet places.”

She hums in acknowledgment, as if she understands. “Me too.”

Silence settles between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. She continues painting, and you… you don’t know what to do. Should you leave? Stay? The moment feels fragile, like one wrong move might shatter it.

She suddenly gestures toward the empty bench nearby. “You can sit, if you want.”

You hesitate.

She notices. “Unless you’re in a hurry?”

You weren’t. But you also weren’t sure why she was offering. Most people didn’t pay much attention to you. Yet, here she was, inviting you—someone she barely knew—to stay.

After a beat, you nod and move to the bench, sitting down awkwardly. You keep a respectable distance, unsure of what to say. The air between you is filled with nothing but the occasional scratch of her brush against the canvas and the soft rustling of leaves.

Minutes pass.

You steal a glance at her, watching the way her brow furrows slightly in concentration, the way her fingers gently blend the colors with careful precision. There’s something calming about watching her work, like she’s in sync with the world in a way you never quite felt.

Then—

She turns to you again, her expression thoughtful. “You never told me your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh. It’s… Y/n.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips. “Y/n,” she repeats, testing the sound. Then, she holds out her paint-stained hand. “I’m Tsuki.”

Tsuki.

The name lingers in your mind, settling into a space you didn’t realize was empty.

You hesitate before reaching out, your fingers brushing against hers in a brief handshake. Her skin is warm, slightly rough from handling brushes and paint, but the contact sends an unexpected jolt through you.

She grins, her eyes shining with something unreadable. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

Your heart beats a little faster.

"Yeah,” you murmur. “Nice to meet you too.”

And just like that, something shifts.

Something fragile, something new—something that makes the world feel just a little less quiet.

The days pass, but you can’t stop thinking about her.

Tsuki.

The way her name rolled off your tongue felt strange yet familiar, like something that belonged in your life long before you met her. You find yourself returning to the garden more often than usual, your steps unconsciously leading you back to that same wooden bench.

And each time, she’s there.

Always painting. Always lost in the world of colors and brushes. Always wearing those heavy Sony headphones, swaying slightly to music only she can hear.

But now—there’s something different.

She notices you.

The first time you came back after your first meeting, she had looked up from her canvas, a flicker of recognition flashing in her deep brown eyes. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips, as if she had been expecting you all along.

"Back again?" she had said, teasingly.

You had stammered, made up some excuse about liking the quiet, but she only chuckled before turning back to her work. And somehow, without words, the two of you had settled into a new kind of routine.

Now, every time you show up, she acknowledges you—not with words, but with small gestures. A slight shift in her posture, as if making space for you in her world. A quiet smile before she dips her brush into paint. Sometimes, she’d pull off her headphones for a moment, asking about your day before returning to her art.

It becomes comfortable.

Familiar.

And strangely, you don’t mind it.

One late afternoon, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, you find yourself back at the garden. The moment your eyes land on her, a sense of calm washes over you.

She’s wearing an oversized sweater today, the sleeves slightly covering her hands as she mixes colors on her palette. Strands of hair fall over her face, but she doesn’t seem to care, too focused on perfecting a stroke.

Without thinking, you take your usual seat on the bench.

She doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, she lets you watch her, like always. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, but neither of you feel the need to fill the silence.

Then—

"Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?"

Her voice is soft, yet it cuts through the air like a whisper of wind.

You blink, caught off guard. "What?"

Tsuki doesn’t look at you. Instead, she tilts her head, eyes scanning the half-finished painting before her.

"Like no matter where you are, you’re always just… observing. Never really part of anything."

Your heart skips a beat.

Because—yes.

You know that feeling all too well.

For years, you’ve been the guy in the background. The quiet one. The one who never quite fit in, never truly stood out. Always watching from the sidelines as life moved around you, never quite knowing where you were supposed to be.

Tsuki finally turns to look at you, her gaze deep and searching. "You seem like someone who understands."

And in that moment, you realize—she sees you.

Not just as some passing stranger, but as someone who might just understand her in a way others don’t.

You swallow hard, your fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you say—

"Yeah. I get it."

She smiles then—not her usual teasing one, but something softer. Sadder.

And for the first time, the space between you doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

The days blur together as you find yourself coming back to the garden more often, drawn not just by the peace it offers, but by Tsuki’s quiet presence. You begin to notice the small details about her—the way she hums a song under her breath when she paints, the little frown she gets when she’s frustrated with a stroke, or how her eyes light up when she talks about her art.

There’s a rhythm to it now.

You show up, sit on the bench, and wait for her to acknowledge you. Sometimes she doesn’t speak for a while, lost in her own world of colors. Other times, she’ll turn to you and offer a small conversation—nothing deep, but enough to make you feel like you belong.

It’s during one of those quiet afternoons that something shifts.

You’ve been sitting there for a while, letting your mind wander as Tsuki works, when she suddenly pulls off her headphones and sets them beside her on the bench. Her fingers brush the paint on her canvas absentmindedly, but she doesn’t seem to be focusing.

When you glance up, she’s looking at you.

"You always come here," she says, her voice soft and introspective. "You don’t talk much, but you’re always here. I think I’d miss you if you stopped coming."

Your chest tightens. It’s strange, hearing those words from her. Tsuki—the girl who seemed so self-contained, so distant at times—was saying that she would miss you.

For a moment, you don’t know what to say. The words are stuck in your throat, a mix of surprise and something else—something warmer.

But she seems to understand. She gives you a small, knowing smile and turns back to her canvas.

"I don’t talk to a lot of people," she continues, her fingers tracing an abstract pattern on the canvas. "It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just... I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I can’t say the right things. Like my thoughts don’t fit into words."

You nod slowly. You understand that feeling all too well. It’s exactly why you’ve spent so much of your life hiding away—because words never seemed to come out the way you wanted them to.

After a beat, Tsuki glances at you again, her eyes lingering for a moment before she speaks again.

"I paint because... it’s the only way I can say everything I feel," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "Each brushstroke, each color... it’s like I’m finally letting everything out. Everything I can’t say with words."

You watch her, captivated by the raw vulnerability in her eyes. Tsuki, the girl who always seemed so composed, was opening up in a way you hadn’t expected. She wasn’t just telling you about her art; she was telling you about herself.

"I guess painting is my way of breathing," she adds, her voice soft and distant, like she’s lost in the thought. "Without it, I don’t think I’d be able to stay sane."

The air between you feels thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The only sound is the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft scratch of Tsuki’s brush on the canvas.

Finally, you speak, your voice quiet but sincere.

"I get that."

Tsuki turns to look at you, her gaze soft and searching. For the first time, she doesn’t seem like the confident, carefree girl she usually is. Instead, she seems... fragile, like she’s trusting you with a part of herself she’s rarely shared.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely audible.

You nod, your heart racing in your chest. You don’t know why, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you want to say more—to open up in a way you never have with anyone else.

"I’m not great with words," you begin, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I’ve always felt like I’m... in the background. Like I’m not really part of anything. But when I’m here, watching you paint... it feels like, for a moment, I’m part of something. Like I’m... included."

Tsuki’s eyes widen slightly, and her lips part, like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just looks at you for a long moment, as if taking in what you’ve just shared.

And then—

She smiles.

It’s soft, but it reaches her eyes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no teasing this time. No playful challenge. Just... a quiet understanding.

"I think I understand you, Y/n," she says, her voice gentle, but with an underlying warmth. "You don’t have to be loud to matter. Sometimes, just being there is enough."

You feel a lump form in your throat. For a moment, you can’t find the words. You just sit there, watching as Tsuki dips her brush into a new color, the motion fluid and effortless, like everything about her is in perfect harmony.

And for the first time, you feel like you’re finally starting to understand her, too.

The days go by, and you start to visit her more frequently.

It’s become a quiet ritual. You arrive, she’s painting, and the two of you share small conversations. Some days, she tells you more about herself—about her family, her childhood, the reasons she started painting in the first place. Other days, she’s quieter, lost in her own world of colors and shapes. But no matter what, there’s always an unspoken connection between you.

And as time passes, it becomes harder to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when she’s near. The way your stomach flips when she smiles at you. The way you find yourself looking forward to every moment you spend together, even if it’s just sitting in silence.

You’ve always been the kind of person who shied away from feelings—who hid them behind walls of indifference. But with Tsuki, everything feels different.

It’s like she’s slowly breaking down the walls you’ve built around yourself, piece by piece, and you don’t know whether to stop her or let her in completely.

But one thing’s for sure—you don’t want to leave. Not anymore.

The days turn into weeks.

You visit Tsuki more often now—not just out of curiosity, but because something about her presence feels... right. Natural. Like she’s always been part of your world, and you just never noticed until now.

She’s become comfortable with you. You can tell by the way she no longer hesitates to speak, how she pulls off her headphones more frequently to engage in conversation, how she doesn’t seem to mind your quiet nature.

And you—

You’re starting to realize that you crave this.

The sound of her voice, the way her laughter lingers in the air, the gentle scratch of her brush against the canvas. The way her eyes soften when she looks at you, as if she sees something no one else ever has.

You’re drawn to her, in ways you don’t fully understand.

One afternoon, you arrive at the garden expecting to find her where she always is.

But today is different.

She’s sitting cross-legged on the grass instead of her usual seat. Her canvas is on the ground beside her, untouched. Her eyes are fixed on the sky, lost in thought.

You hesitate before approaching, sensing that something is off.

"Hey," you say softly, settling down on the bench.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she sighs, running a hand through her long, dark hair before finally looking at you.

"Y/n."

There’s something in the way she says your name that makes your stomach flip. It’s not just casual acknowledgment. It’s deeper, heavier.

"Do you ever feel like no matter how much you love something, it’s never enough?"

You blink. "What do you mean?"

Tsuki exhales, tilting her head back. The sunlight catches on her skin, making her look almost ethereal.

"Painting," she says. "It’s everything to me. It’s how I breathe, how I escape. But lately... I don’t know. It’s like I’m stuck. Like no matter how much I try, I can’t make anything feel... real."

You frown, glancing at the blank canvas beside her. You’ve never seen it empty before.

"Is this the first time you’ve felt like this?"

She shakes her head, a dry chuckle escaping her lips. "No. It happens sometimes. I just... I don’t talk about it much."

You hesitate, then ask the question that’s been lingering in your mind for a while.

"Why do you paint, Tsuki?"

She looks at you then, her expression unreadable. But after a moment, she sighs and leans back on her hands, gazing up at the sky.

"When I was a kid, my mom used to paint a lot," she says quietly. "She told me that colors could tell stories better than words ever could. I didn’t understand what she meant back then, but... I do now."

You listen, not interrupting, just letting her talk.

"I started painting because I wanted to hold onto things," she continues. "Memories, feelings, people. I wanted to capture moments so they’d never disappear. But sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get it right. It’s frustrating. Like I’m losing something important, and there’s nothing I can do about it."

She exhales, shaking her head. "Sorry, that probably sounds stupid."

You shake your head immediately. "No. It doesn’t."

Tsuki studies you for a moment, then smiles faintly. "You’re a good listener, Y/n. I like that about you."

Your heart skips a beat. You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, you reach out, hesitantly, and pick up her canvas.

"Then let’s paint something together," you suggest, surprising even yourself.

Tsuki raises an eyebrow, amused. "You paint?"

You scratch the back of your neck, a little embarrassed. "Not really. But... I want to try. With you."

For a moment, she just looks at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she smiles—soft and genuine.

"Okay."

And just like that, she hands you a brush.

As your fingers brush against hers, a warmth spreads through your chest.

You don’t know what this feeling is yet.

But you know one thing for sure—

You never want to let it go.

Painting with Tsuki becomes a new part of your routine.

At first, you’re terrible at it. Your strokes are clumsy, your colors mix into an unrecognizable mess, and more paint ends up on your hands than on the canvas. Tsuki watches you struggle with an amused smile, occasionally guiding your hand, her fingers grazing yours in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken.

But you don’t mind. Because every moment with her feels... right.

And the more time you spend together, the more you start to notice things.

Like how Tsuki isn’t as confident as she seems.

She’s quiet, often retreating into herself when she thinks no one is watching. Her laughter sometimes sounds forced, as if she’s trying to convince herself that she’s happy. And then there are the days when she doesn’t paint at all—when she just sits there, staring at a blank canvas, lost in thoughts she never shares.

It makes you wonder.

What is she hiding?

One evening, as the sun sets behind the campus, casting long golden shadows, you find Tsuki sitting alone in the garden, her knees pulled to her chest. She isn’t painting. Her headphones are nowhere in sight.

She looks... fragile.

You hesitate before sitting beside her.

"Hey," you say softly.

She doesn’t respond at first. Then, after a long silence, she whispers,

"Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?"

The question catches you off guard.

You glance at her, noting the way her fingers clutch the fabric of her sweater, how her nails dig into her skin as if trying to hold herself together.

"Yeah," you admit. "All the time."

She exhales shakily, nodding as if she expected your answer.

"Me too."

There’s something different about her tonight—something raw, unguarded. You’ve seen her tease, you’ve seen her focused, you’ve even seen her frustrated with her art. But this—this is new.

"Tsuki... are you okay?" you ask gently.

She lets out a small, humorless laugh. "That’s a dangerous question, Y/n."

You wait.

You don’t push, don’t pry. You just wait, giving her space to decide if she wants to let you in.

And after what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks.

"I ran away."

The words hang in the air, heavy and unshakable.

"From what?" you ask carefully.

She closes her eyes for a moment before answering.

"My family."

Your breath catches. You weren’t expecting that.

She swallows hard, staring at the ground. "I grew up in a house where love was... conditional. If I was perfect, if I did what they wanted, then I was worth something. If I made a mistake, if I showed weakness, then I was... nothing."

Your fists clench at her words.

"That’s not love, Tsuki," you say quietly.

She gives you a sad smile. "I know that now. But back then, I just wanted to be good enough. I wanted them to see me. To care."

A lump forms in your throat.

"They didn’t?"

She shakes her head. "Not in the way I needed them to."

Silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken pain.

Then, she takes a deep breath. "One day, I realized that no matter how much I tried, I’d never be what they wanted. And I got tired of pretending. So... I left. I packed a bag, took whatever money I had, and ran."

She looks at you then, her eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

"That’s why I paint, Y/n. Because if I stop, I’ll remember. And if I remember... it hurts too much."

Your chest tightens.

All this time, you thought Tsuki was free—untouchable, confident in ways you could never be. But now, you realize she’s just like you.

She’s been hiding, too.

She hides behind colors the same way you hide behind silence. She smiles to cover the scars no one else can see. And for the first time, you understand—

You’re not alone.

Neither of you are.

Without thinking, you reach out and gently take her hand. She flinches slightly but doesn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to keep running," you say softly. "Not alone."

She looks at you, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

And then—

She squeezes your hand back.

It’s small. Barely noticeable. But it’s enough.

And in that moment, you know—

You’re falling for her.

Tsuki’s pain isn’t something she talks about often.

But you see it.

In the way her hands tremble when she thinks too much. In the way her smiles sometimes don’t reach her eyes. In the way she stares at her paintings as if she’s searching for something—something she lost a long time ago.

You don’t push her to talk. You just stay.

And somehow, that’s enough.

She starts opening up to you in pieces, small fragments of her past slipping through the cracks.

"My mother loved art, but she never really loved me."

"My father never yelled, but his silence hurt worse."

"I tried to be perfect. I tried so hard. But no matter what I did, it was never enough."

Every word feels like a knife to your heart.

You want to tell her that she was always enough. That she shouldn’t have had to fight for love. That she deserves everything she never got.

But you don’t know how to say it.

So instead, you stay by her side.

You listen.

You understand.

And maybe that’s why she keeps letting you in.

One night, it’s different.

Tsuki is quieter than usual, staring at a half-finished painting in her dimly lit dorm room. You sit on the floor beside her, your shoulder just barely brushing hers.

"Do you ever wish you could go back and change things?" she asks suddenly.

You glance at her. "What do you mean?"

She exhales, shaking her head. "If I had been stronger, maybe I wouldn’t have run away. Maybe I could’ve fixed things. Maybe they would have—"

"Don’t."

She stops, surprised at the firmness in your voice.

You take a deep breath. "Don’t blame yourself for surviving, Tsuki."

Her eyes widen slightly.

"You were never the problem," you continue, your voice softer now. "They should have loved you the way you are. They should have seen how amazing you are. But they didn’t. And that’s not your fault."

Her lower lip trembles. She turns away, but not before you see the way her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"Y/n..."

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest.

You’ve been holding back for so long—afraid of saying too much, afraid of ruining what you have. But seeing her like this, breaking under the weight of a past that never loved her—

You can’t keep it in anymore.

"Tsuki, I love you."

The words slip out, raw and real.

Her whole body stiffens.

You feel your pulse hammering in your ears, but you don’t take it back.

"I love you," you repeat, gentler this time. "Not because I pity you, not because I want to fix you. I love you because you’re strong, because you’re kind, because you see the world in colors no one else does. Because when I’m with you, I feel like I belong somewhere for the first time in my life."

Tears spill down her cheeks.

She shakes her head, covering her mouth with her hands, as if trying to hold herself together. But it’s too late. The sobs break through, raw and unfiltered, years of pain crashing down all at once.

"Why...?" she chokes out between ragged breaths. "Why would you love someone like me?"

You move closer, hesitating for only a moment before wrapping your arms around her.

She doesn’t push you away.

Instead, she clings to you, burying her face in your shoulder as she cries.

And you hold her.

For as long as she needs.

For as long as it takes for her to finally believe that she is loved.

Tsuki doesn’t let go.

Her body trembles as she clings to you, her sobs shaking both of you. You don’t know how long you sit there, just holding her, whispering soft reassurances as she soaks your shoulder with her tears.

It could be minutes.

It could be hours.

But you don’t care.

Because right now, all that matters is her.

Eventually, her cries quiet into soft, broken whimpers. Her breathing is uneven, her grip still desperate, as if she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she loosens her hold even slightly.

Then, in a voice so small you almost miss it, she whispers,

"Come with me."

You don’t hesitate.

She stands on unsteady legs, her fingers tightening around your wrist as she leads you out of her dorm. The night air is cold against your skin, but she doesn’t let go of you, and you don’t complain.

She walks fast, as if afraid that if she slows down, you’ll change your mind. But you won’t.

You’d follow her anywhere.

Tsuki’s apartment is small, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It’s simple—minimal furniture, a bed pushed against the wall, an easel in the corner with half-finished paintings scattered around the room. The faint smell of paint lingers in the air, mixing with something softer, something uniquely hers.

She closes the door behind you, and for a moment, she just stands there.

Then, without warning, she turns and wraps her arms around you again, burying her face against your chest.

"Please stay," she whispers, her voice barely holding together. "I don’t want to be alone tonight. I—I'm scared, Y/n. I'm so scared."

Your heart clenches.

You lift your hand, gently stroking her hair.

"I’m here," you murmur. "I’m not going anywhere."

She exhales shakily, gripping the fabric of your shirt.

"Promise?"

You cup her face, tilting it up so she has no choice but to look at you. Her eyes are swollen from crying, her lips trembling.

"I promise, Tsuki."

A tear slips down her cheek, and you wipe it away with your thumb.

"You don’t have to be afraid anymore," you tell her. "I’ll stay for as long as you need me. And even after that, if you'll have me, I’ll still be here. Because I meant what I said—I love you. And I want to create new memories with you. Happy ones."

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes searching yours, looking for something—doubt, hesitation, a reason to not believe you. But she finds none.

Instead, she finds warmth.

Safety.

Love.

With a quiet sob, she presses her forehead against yours.

"I don’t deserve you," she whispers.

You shake your head.

"You deserve everything, Tsuki."

She closes her eyes, another tear falling.

But this time, it isn’t from pain.

It's from something softer.

Something she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

Hope.

And as you pull her into your arms once more, holding her as she lets herself believe—if only just a little—you know that this is only the beginning.

Of something beautiful.

Of something real.

Of something that neither of you will ever have to run from again.

The world outside fades into silence.

Here, in the dim glow of Tsuki’s apartment, it’s just the two of you—wrapped in warmth, in emotion, in something too deep to name.

She clings to you, her body trembling slightly, her breath uneven. But this time, it isn’t from sadness. It’s something else.

Something raw.

Something desperate.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes still glistening from all the tears she shed. But beneath the vulnerability, there’s something stronger—something unspoken.

Then, she moves.

Soft. Tentative. A quiet plea.

Her lips brush against yours.

A slow, delicate touch—like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she presses too hard. Like she’s still trying to believe this is real.

But you’re here.

And you’re never leaving.

You cup her face gently, deepening the kiss, pouring every unspoken word into it—every promise, every reassurance, every ounce of love you’ve been holding inside for so long.

She melts into you, her hands fisting your shirt as if anchoring herself.

"Y/n..." she whispers against your lips, her voice breaking slightly.

"I’m here," you murmur, your forehead resting against hers. "I’m not going anywhere, Tsuki."

Her breath shudders, and then she pulls you closer—so close there’s no space left between you.

She wants to feel you.

She wants to believe you.

She wants to drown in the warmth you give her, in the love she never thought she’d have.

And so, you let her.

You hold her close, pressing soft kisses against her skin, letting your fingers trace the shape of her as if memorizing every piece of her existence. Every scar, every wound, every part of her that she’s spent so long hiding—you take it all in, worshipping her in a way no one ever has.

And Tsuki?

She gives herself to you. Completely.

Her walls fall, her fears crumble. In this moment, she isn’t the girl who ran away. She isn’t the girl who paints to forget.

She’s just Tsuki.

The girl who needs you.

The girl you love.

And as the night deepens, as your breaths intertwine and your hearts beat as one, you hold her close—whispering, promising, ensuring her that this isn’t a dream.

That you’re real.

That your love is real.

That you’ll never let her go.

Not now.

Not ever.

The first thing you feel is warmth.

A small, delicate weight against your chest, soft breaths fanning over your skin. The scent of paint, vanilla, and something uniquely Tsuki lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of the early morning.

You open your eyes slowly, the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room.

And there she is.

Tsuki.

Curled up against you, her face buried in your chest, her arms wrapped tightly around you as if afraid you’ll disappear. Her fingers clutch onto your shirt, even in sleep, refusing to let go.

Your heart aches at the sight.

She looks peaceful now, but you remember the way she cried last night, the way she begged you to stay, the way she held onto you like you were the only thing keeping her from breaking.

And now, even in sleep, she still clings to you.

You smile softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She stirs at the touch, shifting slightly before letting out a quiet sigh.

Then, without warning, she tightens her hold on you, pressing herself closer, burying her face even deeper against your chest.

"Mmm... don’t move..." she murmurs, her voice husky from sleep.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her. "Good morning to you too."

She hums softly, nuzzling against you like a kitten seeking warmth.

"Too early..." she mumbles, her fingers gripping your shirt. "Stay like this... just a little longer..."

You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"Alright. I’m not going anywhere."

She lets out a small, content sigh.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. The soft rise and fall of her breathing, the quiet rhythm of your heartbeats in sync.

Then, she speaks.

"I haven’t woken up like this in years..." she whispers.

You glance down at her, brushing your fingers through her hair.

"Like what?"

She hesitates, then shifts slightly, resting her chin against your chest as she looks up at you. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, are softer than you’ve ever seen them.

"Safe."

Your breath catches.

You don’t know what to say.

So you just hold her tighter.

And maybe that’s enough.

Because Tsuki smiles—a small, real smile—and buries herself against you again, holding onto you like you’re the only thing she has left in this world.

And maybe, for her, you are.

And you’ll stay.

For as long as she needs.

For as long as she wants.

For as long as forever.

The days pass like a dream.

Tsuki never leaves your side.

She clings to you in the quiet moments, cuddling against you whenever she gets the chance. When you cook, she stands behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. When you sit on her couch, she curls up beside you, resting her head on your chest. Even in sleep, she never lets go, as if afraid you’ll slip away if she loosens her grip.

And you don’t mind.

You hold her every time.

You whisper reassurances when she needs them. You stay with her through every vulnerable moment, through every silent battle she fights inside her head.

And slowly, Tsuki changes.

She starts to smile more—not the small, fleeting smiles of before, but real ones. Ones that reach her eyes. Ones that carry warmth.

She starts to talk more—not just about her pain, but about her dreams, her hopes, the things that make her heart feel light.

And most of all, she starts to trust you.

Not just in words.

But in the way she looks at you.

In the way she leans into your touch without hesitation.

In the way she reaches for you first, without fear of being left behind.

And that trust—fragile, beautiful, something she’s never given anyone before—means more to you than anything.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Tsuki tugs at your hand.

"Come with me," she says softly.

She leads you to the corner of her apartment where her easel stands. A blank canvas rests on it, waiting.

She hands you a brush.

"Let’s paint something together."

You hesitate.

"I’ve never painted before."

She smiles—one of those soft, secret smiles that make your heart ache.

"Then I’ll teach you."

And so, you do.

You dip your brush into the paint, following her lead, your strokes clumsy at first. But she doesn’t laugh. She only guides you, her fingers brushing against yours, her voice soft as she teaches you how to bring color to the canvas.

Time fades away.

There’s only the two of you.

The quiet hum of the evening. The warmth of her beside you. The colors blending together, shaping something new—something that belongs to both of you.

At some point, she stops painting.

You feel her shift, and then—gently, so gently—she leans her head against your shoulder.

You pause, turning slightly, and there she is—eyes half-lidded, lips curved into the faintest smile.

"Thank you," she whispers.

You don’t ask why.

You already know.

You lift your hand, resting it over hers, fingers intertwining.

And together, in the quiet of her small apartment, with the scent of paint in the air and the weight of her against you, you realize—

This moment.

This warmth.

This love.

It’s everything.

And it’s enough.

The End.

[pookalicious-hq]

pt.1 - bestest friends ... sukuna ryomen x reader

| next | masterlist |

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚part of the all japan youth summer games crossover event! synopsis: they've always been best friends since anyone could remember, what's changed now? tags/tws: crossover au, childhood friends to lovers, swearing word count: 2.5k

If you were to ask Sukuna Ryomen how he stumbled into the world of MMA, he’d roll his eyes and insist that he’d always been a fighter. Some people are simply born with the instinct to throw a punch, and he was no exception. The sport came naturally to him, a second skin that fit him better than any uniform ever could.

Each strike was a release, channelling the frustration of his parents’ absence into raw, explosive power. The thrill of the fight surged through him, electrifying his veins, and for those precious moments, he felt alive. Here, his talent wasn’t just acknowledged; it was celebrated, roars of encouragement enveloping him like a warm embrace. And for that opportunity, he had one person to thank—the only one he truly respected: you.

bestest friend ever! - 2 new messages - omg ryo - let’s check out the big gym! i heard they have free snacks :)

He huffed a small laugh at the text, rolling his eyes at the contact name you’d assigned yourself all those years ago. The message finally registered in his head, the set from before still taking a toll on his energy. He reached for his water bottle with his other hand, the water a stark relief to the heat radiating off of his skin.

After a moment of rest, he typed back.

- already here. - better hurry your ass up

With that, he resumed his workout, feeling the strain in his arms as the weight tested his endurance. He, along with a few other fighters, had already settled into the AJYSG campus, spending the past few days getting accustomed to all the high-end facility had to offer. This was only his second time in the weight room, though he wouldn’t dare tell you that. He hadn’t invited you the first time—or this time—and he knew you’d have something to say about it. Not that he was feeling guilty or that he didn’t want to bother you… Not at all. Whatever.

In all truth, whenever the two of you trained together, Ryomen found himself… distracted. But make of that what you would. Maybe it was the way you filled his ears with soft ramblings, stories of the birds outside your window that you saw the other day. Or maybe it was how even the hint of your smile could make him falter, sending his sets into a nosedive. Not that he minded all that much. You’d be there to spot him anyway, your face scrunching in concentration as the muscles beneath the athletic fabric of your shirt shifted, helping him lift the weights back onto the rack.

Even now, the thought of you scolding him for not inviting you made the slightest smile come to surface, knowing you’d be just as persistent in teasing him as you were at keeping him in line.

All these thoughts from two simple texts. By now, Satoru would be shaking his head, telling him he was “down bad” and, hell, maybe he was. But before he could dwell on it, his phone buzzed again in his hand.

- where are you???

He huffed.

- use your eyes idiot

With a roll of his eyes—but not without a small smile—Ryomen pocketed his phone just as a figure came up to the bench he was using. A girl he vaguely recognized from earlier workouts, dressed in AJYSG gear, flashed him a friendly grin.

“Hey, you were here a few days ago, right?” she asked, shifting her weight as if eager to chat. He gave a short nod, answering with a flat, “Yeah,” before looking back toward the entrance, hoping to spot you.

Undeterred by his response, she continued, “I was hoping to run into you again. It’s such a huge place; I still get lost sometimes.”

“Mm,” he muttered, noncommittal, eyes still flicking to the doorway. Then, as if answering his silent wish he found the vibrant shade of pink he had been hoping to see. 

He spotted you almost immediately—a flash of baby-pink biker shorts and a matching sports bra. You stood near the entrance with your headphones on, oblivious to everything around you as you scanned the gym. Ryomen felt the faintest tug of a smile as he got up from the bench, already moving toward you before he realized it.

The girl, apparently still hopeful, followed close behind him. “So, what do you think of the place so far?” she asked, trying to keep pace.

“It’s fine,” he replied, barely glancing her way. His focus was fully on you now, watching as you turned left, then right, squinting through the crowd with that familiar crease in your brow. You looked a little lost, the corners of your mouth downturned in that soft, concentrated frown he’d seen a thousand times. It was kind of endearing if he let himself admit it.

As he neared, he raised his hand and, without hesitation, gave you a light tap on the head.

You jolted at the tap on your head, your headphones slipping slightly askew, and for a split second, your eyes were wide with surprise. But then, as recognition set in, your gaze softened with pure joy, warmth radiating from you as if he were the best sight you'd seen all day.

Damn. What he’d give to see that look every second of his life.

“This place is too big, couldn’t find you,” you huffed, feigning exasperation, though a grin was already tugging at your lips. He smirked, satisfied with your reaction, and as you tugged one ear of your headphones off, the soft hint of that familiar citrus scent he’d come to associate with you drifted in the air between you. It wrapped around him, grounding him in the shared moment like the quiet center of a storm.

With a raised brow, he stepped closer, flicking the middle of your forehead with a grin. “Nah, you’re just blind.”

You rolled your eyes, batting his hand away. “You know I’m near-sighted, dumbass. I just don’t wanna wear my glasses right now.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms as he towered over you, eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Yeah, I understand. They make you look like a little nerd anyway."

You scoffed, in turn flicking him in the stomach, “Shut up. At least they help me see.”

The two of you were wrapped in that familiar rhythm, the playful back-and-forth that filled the air between you with a quiet warmth. His eyes narrowed, honing in on you, his focus sharpening as you laughed, the sound like a tether that kept him grounded. For a moment, everything else faded—just you, the ease of this orbit you both shared. He leaned in, ready to land his next comeback, when an unwelcome voice broke in from beside him.

“So, what program are you in?”

The girl had reappeared, planting herself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, her gaze unwavering on him, almost as if you were a mere background detail. His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation cracking through his calm. He barely nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting back to you as he tried to sidestep her—only for her to step directly in his way again, as if by sheer willpower alone.

You sighed, nudging his arm, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. “Ryo, don’t be rude.”

He scoffed lightly, shooting you a look that all but said, You can’t be serious. He turned back to the girl, giving her a curt, flat response, “MMA program,” before he moved to stand by you again. Ignoring her, he let his shoulder brush against yours, a subtle but firm return to where he wanted to be—beside you, with no interruptions.

The everlasting smile on your face hadn’t faded one bit. Your eyes sparkled as you took in the facility, a spark of excitement there that he might’ve imagined had deepened as you looked at him. But before he could fully soak it in, the girl’s voice rang out beside him again, her words barely registering as they drifted past his ear.

“—I was really hoping that—”

“Actually,” he cut her off smoothly, his voice carrying just enough edge, “we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

She blinked, as if just now noticing you, glancing you up and down with feigned surprise. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

The three of you were all fully aware she’d seen you from the start.

“Oh!” she continued, her expectant gaze turning back to Ryomen. “Are you two, like… siblings?”

You let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Uh, don’t think we look that alike… but no, not siblings!”

Ryomen snorted, amused by your uneasiness, but it wasn’t enough to deter her.

“Huh, not even cousins or—”

“We’re dating.” His voice cut through the air, smooth and unflinching, his words laced with just enough finality to end the girl’s line of questioning. “Not so nice meeting you. Hopefully, we won’t see you around.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he wrapped his fingers lightly around your wrist and pulled you away, his grip firm but oddly gentle. The warmth of his hand was grounding, and though his focus seemed set on getting away, he missed the deepening blush on your cheeks as you hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“Hurry up and get your stupid yoga stretches in,” he called over his shoulder, still holding your wrist until you matched his pace. “I was in the middle of my set—why are you walking so goddamn slowly?”

He finally glanced back at you, only to find you wide-eyed and flushed. You looked as if you’d been caught completely off guard, and he slowed, arching a brow as he took in your unusual hesitance.

“You good?” he asked, his voice rougher than intended but with a flicker of concern. He’d never seen you look this rattled, not with him.

Your cheeks warmed even more as you averted your gaze, trying to gather your words. “Yeah! I’m fine. Just… um, why’d you say that?”

He blinked, his confusion slowly shifting to a look of mild annoyance, but the blush on your face caught him off guard, keeping his curiosity rooted in place. “Say what?”

“That we’re dating,” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as if you were speaking it aloud for the first time yourself. The words hung between you both, almost fragile. And just like that, something unspoken settled in, taking him by surprise.

He stilled, his mind processing. It finally clicked. Oh. He hadn’t thought twice about the comment—it had been an instinctual way to brush off the girl’s annoyingly persistent questions. After all, he was used to you ignoring his constant flirtations. The idea of you reacting, of actually caring… it hadn’t crossed his mind in ages. An uncomfortable twist formed in his chest, bringing with it a cascade of old feelings he’d long buried, and he found himself momentarily speechless.

With a smirk that barely masked his sudden nerves, he leaned down, meeting your eyes in a way he rarely did, that spark of mischief just barely hiding his hesitation. “What’s goin’ on with your face, dumbass?” His tone held its usual teasing lilt, but there was a slight catch in his voice that betrayed him.

You glared up at him, clearly flustered, and quickly brushed off your embarrassment. “Nothing, I just…” You hesitated, glancing away before mumbling, “Were you just… you know, messing around?”

The question hit him harder than he’d expected, and he could feel his heart lurch in response, though he was quick to mask it with a nonchalant shrug. As his gaze met yours, he caught something in your eyes—a nervous hope, a glimmer of something vulnerable—and the realization stirred up emotions he’d shoved down long ago. This wasn’t how he’d pictured today going. Honestly, he hadn’t planned on bringing up the feelings he’d locked away for what felt like a lifetime.

But he wasn’t ready to deal with those feelings now, not with you looking at him like that. So he did what he did best: played it off.

“Of course I was, idiot.” He gave a casual shrug, though his tone held an edge, rougher than usual. “You can’t actually think I’d be serious about something like that.”

The casual remark barely left his lips before he saw your expression change. It was subtle—just the slightest drop in your shoulders and a flicker of something that looked a lot like disappointment in your eyes. You quickly covered it with a small, practiced smile, but it wasn’t enough to hide the moment of vulnerability he’d managed to bring out.

“No, yeah. Obviously,” you said, your tone light but a little too cheerful, as if trying to smooth over what he’d just tossed away. “I’ll, uh, go warm up. Be right back.” Without another word, you turned, leaving him standing there, watching as you walked off.

The second you left, it felt like he’d been sucker-punched. His stomach dropped, and a knot tightened in his chest, twisting uncomfortably as he replayed the moment in his head. That tiny hint of hurt in your eyes haunted him, gnawing at his thoughts, each replay worse than the last. Why hadn’t he just gone with it? Why did he have to brush you off like that? He could’ve at least made a joke or said something that didn’t leave you reduced to a person he couldn’t recognize.

“Fuckin’ Idiot,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. The self-directed insult echoed in his mind as he paced, now too agitated to focus. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall. It was so obvious that he had feelings for you, had always had them. And when the chance came to admit it, he did the exact opposite.

As he looked over, he caught a glimpse of you stretching across the room, still smiling, but he could tell now it was forced. That fake cheer only made the ache in his chest worse, filling him with a wave of regret and frustration he could barely contain. His fingers itched to go over, to fix it somehow, to tell you that maybe he hadn’t been kidding, that he was just too dumb to admit it. But what would that accomplish now? He’d already crushed whatever moment the two of you had shared, all because he hadn’t been able to let his guard down for two seconds.

With a low groan, he forced himself to look away, glaring at the floor as he tried to steady his breath. It felt like a battle between his pride and his need to fix things, both sides pushing him to take a step but too stubborn to act. As much as he wanted to storm over there and set things straight, all he could do was stand there, caught between the things he wanted to say and the wall he’d built around his feelings for so long.

a/n: omg yay! first fic in my crossover au! i hope you like it pookies, lmk if you have any requests for other characters or any comments, I love seeing what ppl have to say. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist mwahhh <33

taglist: currently no one :(

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hump day, wooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Strange how you never found comfort at home. Well, it never felt like one for you. You were always just a hanger-on. A burden. 

As you enter your grandma's house, you can't help but exhale the tension you've been holding in. She's in her chair, reading, not a word at your arrival. You go into the kitchen, set on eating the frozen meal you lost your appetite for the other night. 

You peel back the corner on the tray and shove it in the microwave. As you shut the door, you nearly wince at the unexpected figure in the doorway. You don't know if you're really surprised or if Andy has you jumpy. Both. 

"Want some coffee?" You offer your grandmother, hoping to appease her. "Tea?" 

She grumbles and waves you off, shuffling across the tile in her slippers. She crosses her arms and her lip sticks out, "nice of that man to come all the way down here like that." 

You turn your attention back to the countdown and shrug, "yeah." 

"He didn't need to just for all that. For you, did he?" She prompts. Her interest both irks and worries you. She never cared about anything. "And after losing his family." 

"Right, yeah, it's tough," you twiddle your fingers at your side. 

"Don't sound so heartbroken," she scoffs, "Christ, wasn't that boy you're friend?" 

You face her as the microwave beeps, "grandma..." you can't tell her. If she even bothered to listen, she wouldn't believe you. She doesn't even know Andy and she's already taking his side. Typical. "Yeah, I'm sad. Guess I'm a bit in shock." 

You turn back and take the too hot tray out, holding back a hiss at the singe in your fingertips. You spin and cross the kitchen to grab a fork. Your grandma huffs and putters after you.  

"He sent them flowers," she says. 

You stir the noodles and cheese, "he did." 

"Fancy. Expensive." 

You don't really get why she's still harping on. She didn't put so much mind to your prom or graduation or even when you got your job. Yet you can't be surprised where she's strayed; she's always been on you about money.  

"Seems to me he's a bit lost," she says, "you're..." she weighs her words before she speaks, something she rarely does, "maybe he's tryna find some direction. He might... might wanna take care of ya." 

"Huh?" You make a face and glance at her from the corner of you eye. 

"Like, I dunno, I watch those talk shows, grief is something nasty. I would know," she goes on. You can't remember the last time you heard her talk so much. "He only got-- had the one kid. You're about the same age... maybe he's tryna, I dunno, replace what he lost." 

You nearly laugh in her face. Really? This is what she cares about? You stare at her and furrow your nose. You could tell her. You could try. She's listening. For once.  

"I don't think... it's not... I'm not his responsibility and I don't wanna be." 

"You're barely your own responsibility," she sneers, "can't see a good thing in front of you." 

"Grandma--" 

"Well? Pretty sure there's more where those flowers came from," he tuts, "you got a few hard lessons to learn, girlie. 

You look down at the macaroni. You're not hungry anymore. You grab the tray and walk away. 

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda tried to teach me some, huh?" You toss over your shoulder and stomp out of the kitchen. 

You go into your room and kick your door shut. How is he doing this? How is everyone, even a woman who hasn't lived in reality for twenty years, on his side? 

You put the tray and fork down and go to the other side of the bed. You sit facing the window and drop your head into your hands. The only person you have is too far away. Besides, you don't want to drag her into this. Not any more than you already have. 

🎮

For once, you’re anxious to get to work. You welcome the distraction from everything else; debt, grandma, and the biggest problem of all, the one you won’t even name. You stroll up to the ice cream booth as Luis stands outside the window, chatting to Jessie as she stands at her vigil inside. You frown. You don’t see the manager often. Only when he hired you. 

“Ah, there she is,” Luis spots you and waves you over, “right on time.” 

As he checks his watch you pull out your phone. You’re early, like always. His presence is more than a coincidence. You have this ripply feeling in your stomach. You black your phone and cross your arms, hiding it under your elbow. 

“Hi, how’s everything going?” You ask as you approach the kiosk. 

“Everything’s great,” Luis smirks, “sunshine’s out, customers too.” 

You glance around. The picnic tables are mostly full. It is the perfect weather for a scoop. 

“Yeah, gonna be a busy shift,” you pander with a smile. 

“Hey,” Luis wags his finger as if remembering something, “before you start, let’s have a chat.” 

“Oh, alright,” you agree. 

He waves you away from the window as more customers approach. You follow him to one of the tables. You wait for him to sit before you do the same. He looks around from behind his black lenses and tilts to reach into his back pocket. He slides out his phone and brings it forward to cradle in both hands. 

“So uh, how are you liking it? The work?” He asks. 

You’re uneasy. You stare at his cell then look him in the face. 

“It’s good. Steady,” you answer as you keep your own phone in your lap. 

“Mhmm,” he hums and once more glances around, “look, this is never easy but I got a complaint--” 

You blink slowly. You’re not surprised. You figured it would happen. Still, you thought maybe Andy might be above that. Or anything at all. 

“Obviously, I take these things seriously. This business is all about customer service, especially with the Dairy Queen down the block,” he explains, “but I do try to give the benefit of the doubt. I checked the cameras.” He pauses for effect as you shrink down, “you closed the window.” 

You sigh and heave out a breath, “I did.” 

“You know we don’t do that,” he reprimands. 

“Sir, I know but... the customer... he wasn’t a customer. He’s... bothering me.” 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and scratches his neck, “oh? Didn’t look like that type. When I spoke to him, he didn’t even seem upset. He just asked me to check in, really, but it’s not his shop. He don’t gotta worry about the bottom line. I do.” 

“It won’t happen again,” you wisp out. 

“I know it won’t,” he says. 

You sit, waiting for him to continue. He just stares at you. You shake your head. No. 

“Sorry, I gotta let you go.” 

“What? It’s my first complaint--” 

“This is an ice cream shop, how many of those do you think we get? Not very hard to keep the people happy so if you’re getting unhappy customers, well, that’s all I need to know.” 

“Please, Luis, I need this job--” 

“Shouldn’t have closed the window. I’m sorry. That’s the one rule.’ 

“God, I--” you huff and snarl, “whatever. Fine.” You stand and untie your apron, “get your bottom line.” 

You toss the apron on the table and swipe up your bag. You turn without waiting for another empty apology. Fuck. It’s shitty but hey, there’s always the DQ and now you have experience, right? 

🎮

You fill out an application for the Dairy Queen and a few other places. Your job hunt has been chronic as it is. It’s only that your search for a second gig, is now back to square one. You have only your last check coming to you before you’re digging into your meagre savings; the money meant for tuition. 

Your grandma is back to living in her novels. Good. You didn’t realise until before how much you preferred it. 

As you close yourself in your room, your phone vibrates. You look down at the message. It’s him. He’s been messaging, still thinking he might talk you into it. He is a lawyer but this isn’t his court. This is your life. 

How pathetic. A grown man meddling in the affairs of a nineteen-year-old. If you could let go of the catfishing, everything else has assured you of his character. You flop onto your bed and swipe away his texts. 

You wallow there for a while. In self-pity, in futility, in listlessness. You don’t know what to do. Everything is at a standstill. You have no job, you don’t know if you can pay for next semester, let alone the year, and you’re stuck in this deadbeat town. 

You put on a video to try to drown out the incessant anxiety. Today, you’re just going to let yourself sink. You can deal with everything tomorrow. You close your eyes and yawn, drifting into a haze that makes your head fuzzy. 

You’re roused by another vibe of your phone. You ignore it. He’s not going to get an answer. He can keep skirting around your blocks but you’re not wasting your energy. You’ve told him enough times to leave you alone. He has to get bored eventually. 

You roll over and bury your head in the pillow. You hear your grandma clunking around in the kitchen. You hate this place. You hate your life. The more you think about it, you can’t deny how horrible it really is, especially in the shadow of your dwindling future. 

What did you do to deserve this? You’re a good person. At least, you’ve always tried to be. It feels like a lot of karma for that Twizzler you stole when you were eight. 

Your grandmother keeps up the racket and your phone keeps on buzzing. You flip over and sit up. You snatch up the phone and stop yourself from flicking your thumb sideways. It isn’t him. It’s Kara. You never did call her back. 

You answer and put her on speaker, “hey, sup?”  

“Hey,” her voice is shaky, “uh, I don’t know.” 

“What?” You sit up straighter, “is everything--” your voice trails off as you listen to the commotion on her end; chatter you can’t make out, movement obscured through the speaker, “what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“The cops are here,” she murmurs, “I don’t know. They just showed up. Said they got a call from the landlord or something. Cause it’s the property owner, they can just come in or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice quivers with panic, “me and Calvin were just hanging out...” 

“That’s... why would they--” 

“Shoot, I think...” she lowers her voice, “they must’ve found his stash. Shit, shit.” 

“Kara?” Your heart races as you try to keep track of what’s going. 

“Miss, can you please hang up the call? We need to question you,” a deep voice interjects. 

“One second, I’m just on the phone with--” 

“Miss, hang up or you’ll be charged with obstruction.” 

The line cuts and you gape at your phone. What the hell? You try to dial back, the call rolls through but doesn’t pick up. You try again and again. You get out of bed and pace, texting Kara helplessly. Shit, shit! How is this happening? Over what? A tiny dime bag? Everyone smokes, not that you’re the biggest fan. Too smelly for you. 

You put your hand to your forehead. What do you do? You can probably get a bus ticket. Even if you get to her, the bond is going to be way more than you can afford. You doubt you’ll even be able to scrape it together.  

Do you call her parents? No, they’d kill her, then she’d kill you. 

You shake as your legs turn to jello. You sit back down and close your eyes. Holy crap, this can’t be real.  

Your phone vibrates. It doesn’t stop. You look down at the incoming call. Unknown Caller. You’re not stupid. You know it’s him and his timing assures you he had something to do with this. This isn’t a coincidence. Those don’t exist. If there was any sort of luck in this world, you would have found some by now. 

“What?” You put the phone to your ear and snarl. 

“I can help your friend,” he says. 

You’re silent. You want to scream at him. You want to swear at him. You want to call him every nasty word you can. But this isn’t about you, not just you. You brought Kara into this mess, even if you never meant to. You won’t let her pay for your stupidity. 

“Meet me at Oxford and Maris. There’s a restaurant--” 

“Fine,” you snip and hang up. 

You lower your phone and shudder. He won. Given his career, he must be used to that. 

[starlightkyeom]

34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | teaser | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI (for the full fic) word count: ~1k for the teaser (full fic here) warnings (for the full fic, teaser has none): art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, very brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, ambiguous ending, smut warnings on the full fic

a/n: this fic is for the amazing world tour collab for @svthub. i'm excited that i got to be part of it! the full fic will be posted on june 28th. if you'd like to be tagged, leave a comment, send an ask, or fill out my permanent tag form here

taglist: @aaniag, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged. 

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs. 

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look. 

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh. 

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.” 

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.” 

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures. 

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window. 

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. 

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card. 

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles. 

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.” 

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel. 

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease. 

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “It wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.” 

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture. 

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.” 

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

i hope you enjoyed this little snippet!

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part vi

✧.* it seems you slowly but finally get your old self back, making lando insecure as your new found confidence catches the eyes of more than one driver.

✧.* boosting girlies confidence before we ruin it again, just a little filler. this is just a feel good part for girlie and some struggling for lando. This is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 467,652 others

y/nusername live, laugh, love or something like that. ☀️

tagged: landonorris

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julliettax I have to remind myself daily that I am in fact a straight married woman and that y/n is in fact a straight woman in a relationship and I'll never have a chance 🥵

simonsbat lando norris you lucky son of a bitch

patrishaaa y'all looking for a third?

norrizz 4th picture?!?! 😭

norry4 I know right?! Need someone to grab me like that (preferably lando but we've lost him) 😭

lan4lan well...they still together I see 🤮

milliewilde I hope lando can fight because my girl's been looking a little too good lately 😭

cecilemoulin you looking like a whole snack

hamilt44n GIRL DINNER GIRL DINNER

y/ncecile1 have you looked at yourself lately? 😍

charleeess16 crying at Pierre and Carlos creeping in her likes 😂

Hannahh we all know Pierre and Carlos are not liking this post because of lando..right? 💀

landonorris 😍😍

landoscar biggest simp on the grid

bott_ass if my girl looked like that..I would be the biggest simp too!

carlossainz55 🔥 🔥

carlandooo mans saw his ex getting her post red-bull glow up and remembered the good old days 😭

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mclaren

liked by landonorris, cecilemoulin and 199,762 others

mclaren front row locked in 🔒 P1 and P2 for the best team on the grid! 🧡

tagged: y/nusername, landonorris

view all 356 comments

mclarennorris oh we're so back!

charlos16 never ever did I think I'd see the day max verstappen gets out qualified let alone by his own teammate 😂

y/nluvv y/n had a shit ton of poles last season but red bull always fucked up her races..

landonorr now bring it back home pls

norrizz if y/n really loves lando, she'd let him have his first win tomorrow 😭

michael90 best team on the grid for sure!

hamilt44n getting y/n back on the team was definitely the right move! Lando doesn't have to carry the team on his back all by himself anymore.

maxfewtrell absolutely mental, those are my friends

fewtrelllando I saw your live stream, dude was about to cry happy tears 😂 sorry about your girlfriend not making it into q2 though 😔

maxmaxmax GIRLFRIEND?!

fewtrelllando yeah Cecile..still a rumor but they're together in my head lmfao..we out here being delulu on the main

thomasgoms absolute legends 🔥

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y/nusername

liked by pierregasly, milouberger and 462,751 others

y/nusername saturday nights 🌜

view all 713 commente

y/nbabeee celebrating that pole in style

norrizz just one chance that's all I'm asking 😭

mcnorrislando asking for attention much? 🤮

norry4 damn, girl can't even post normal pictures without getting shit on..I've got some advice, unfollow her..

jaden00 check your dms?

charles16 these desperate men in these comments are sending me 😂

landonorris damn girl, you come here often?

y/nusername leave me alone you freak, I've got a boyfriend.

lnfoour4 stfu lmfao y'all so dumb 😂

pierregasly 😍

bott_ass jesus christ no shame at all..

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

[mccnstruck]

like LIKE you

characters: kazuha x gn!reader

tags: fluff, misunderstanding, more crack, reader is DENSE af, proofread, op was writing this while their crush was right behind them so they apologize if this is incoherent

a/n: @soleillunne ALY !1!!! HIIIII i had so so much fun writing this for kazuha and i hope you have much fun reading it as i did writing it!! this is for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss don't tell event !! pls reblog and enjoy <3

- When you almost lost yourself in his eyes and hurriedly snapped your head away from him, you knew you were so screwed.  - Your racing heart knew.  - He’s cute. And he most likely knows that you think he’s cute. - You first saw Kazuha in your literature class when you had to sit next to him. He smiled at you before going back to his own work, thus leaving you both to do your respective duties.  - But as the weeks passed and class discussions were more frequent, you found yourself enjoying listening to Kazuha’s discussions on the text presented, sometimes bringing in your own input.  - His voice soothed your mind, and your heart clung onto every syllable he had spoken. His eyes sparkled everytime you listened to his thoughts-  - Ahem.

You were, inevitably, starting to crush on him. 

You walked into class and whispered a quiet prayer to yourself in hopes that you wouldn't reveal anything to him right now. 

And plus, Valentine's Day is such a cheesy day to confess! Besides the couples giggling and buying the really good chocolates, and seeing people talk to Kazuha, and noticing how cute he is when he laughs…

You internally smacked your head and chided yourself for the spiraling thoughts and sat in your seat. 

Kazuha smiled at you, before he resumed talking with with his friends. His friends snickered and patted his shoulder, before he covered his smile with the back of his hand. 

Huh. He never really gets flustered. Did he…

The bell rang, and his friends left the class, yelling out “Good luck!” before closing the door. 

Kazuha sat down and smiled at you once more, yet it was filled with excitement. “I’m sorry I didn’t greet you properly.”

You shook your head and smiled back. “It’s fine. Are you doing anything today?”

“For Valentine’s?”

You shook your head. 

“I was thinking of confessing to someone today. I’m meeting them by my locker after school.”

“You have a crush?!” 

Damnit, you thought.  

He laughed, and a soft red tinted his cheeks. “Mhm. I was thinking of sending them a poem with some sweets today.”

He showed you the gift and you internally recoiled. The gift was so unbelievably throughout, with your favorite sweets inside, along with a poem so sweetened the other person would become dizzy with love. It was beautiful, just like the grin on his face. 

Your heart shattered, and you wondered what you would do after school if you still had time after crying. 

“Kazuha…you put this together so nicely…” 

His grin widened, and he put the gift down. “I’m really glad you like it. It gives me a little bit of reassurance.” 

The teacher walked into the room, and both of you straighted your chairs to start the class. 

“So, because it’s Valentine's Day, we will do an activity…” 

Well, thank the teacher for rubbing it into your face.

Class went on for a begrudgingly long time, and the ache in your heart began to grow. Kazuha noticed your solemn expression and brushed your hands together. When you straightened yourself in a panic, you saw his face of concern. 

“Are you alright? You look stressed right now.”

“Uh.. yeah. Sorry, I have a project for another class that’s really stressful right now.”

He nodded, and you both resumed your work. The teacher droned on about the analysis of the text and the context of the author’s work, yet you couldn’t really get yourself to focus, not with this heartache that remains.

A thought rushed past your mind. What if this was for you?

You? That’s funny, if it didn’t hurt so much. There’s no point thinking about it anyways.

After some more time, class finally ended, and you packed your bag while Kazuha stood up. 

“Ah, I have to head out, I have something urgent to do for a class.” 

He put his hand on your shoulder and smiled. 

“I hope you finished this project of yours. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?”

You snapped your head back and felt your face burn. “Oh, thank you. I’ll see you later.” 

Kazuha left the room and you almost felt yourself succumb to the hot flare that passed your body. Your shoulder, where his hand was, almost felt weak to the touch, and you barely packed up your bag without having a heart attack. 

You looked to the floor and saw Kazuha’s gift underneath his desk. Quickly picking it up, you grabbed your bag and said your greeting to the teacher, before leaving the classroom. 

It was your free period, and you would finally decide on what to do with Kazuha’s gift. You wouldn’t want him to show up to his confession empty handed, or worse, his crush not show up at all. So, you would wait by his locker and make sure you run out before then. Alright. 

Well… it would be alright if it didn’t hurt so much.

And so, classes went on, droning about formulas and equations, and the minutes wouldn’t stop ticking, and your mind wouldn’t stop thinking of who would be the receiver of his gift. When the final bell rang for the day, you took the gift and rushed down the hallways to find his locker.

Except… there’s no one there waiting for him. 

A little concerned, you decided to wait to either give it to Kazuha or whoever was waiting for him.

But the minutes had steadily gone by, and you started to worry whether the person even got a message from him. 

“Ah…There you are.”

Kazuha’s face beamed as he got closer, and you laughed at the sight of him. 

“Here's your gift that you left behind.” You extend your hand to him, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Hm?”

Surprised by his reaction, you were silent as your own eyebrows furrowed. 

“This…this isn't yours? Kazuha, are you sure you're in the right mind?” 

“That's yours.” 

“But, you left it there?! Kazuha, what are you on?” 

“Why do you think I left it there?” 

Your mind blanked, and you looked at him with panic. 

“Kazuha, you left it there. I am here to give it to you.” 

Kazuha started laughing and covered his face with his hands. 

“You are so… I left it there for you.” 

You stayed silent for a second. Then another.

“What?!”

Now that you think of it, Kazuha is never forgetful. And the way he looked at the gift multiple times, and the way he knew of your favorite sweets, and the way he looked at you… 

You covered your face in embarrassment, yet your smile grew into a grin. 

“You could've told me, Kazuha…”

He took your hands and clasped them in own.

“Well, you are aware now, and I am sure you are aware of what I want to ask, dove.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes flickered between him and the gift. 

“Hm? Dove?”

You failed to response, as your body was still in shock and in complete utter denial. 

You finally spoke. 

“Why?”

Kazuha smiled at you and took your intertwined hands to his chest, right where his heart was. 

“Well, ask my beating heart. I assure you it beats the syllables of your name every time I see you.”

You swore to every archon that this man right in front of you would somehow be the cause of your death as well. 

“So, dove, will you be my valentine?”

mccnstruck

[theworldofotps]

Pushed Away

Pairing: Bayley x Reader Word Count: 1,284 Description: In the weeks leading up to Mania, Bayley feels lost and pushes her girlfriend away.

@madhatterbri here you are lovely I hope that you enjoy it! Thanks for sending the request in.

No there is no part two _________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic​ @writtingrose @99hook @madhatterbri @sjwrites22​ @sassymox​ @mrsacklesevansmgk​ @xladyxfatex​ @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29​ @itsicantbelievethis666​ @lilred91 @rebellious-desires​ @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie​ @shortyiceheart​ @serpantscorpio8497​ @thatpanpal​ @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks​ @whenimakeitshine1234​ @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin​ @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana  @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. _______ Bayley knew that something wasn’t right when her group started acting weird around her, not replying much in their group chat. Excluding her from nights out or just finding reasons why they couldn’t travel together. So, when they jumped her in the ring after she overheard them talking about her backstage Bayley felt betrayed. She had put so much into this group trying to make them the most dominant women’s fraction that had ever existed in WWE. The people she had considered her friends deserted her like so many before.

Originally when she won the rumble, she was going to face Rhea that way she and Iyo could be at the top of the women’s division together. That all changed the moment she realized she couldn’t trust them anymore. Bayley knew that the weeks leading up to Mania were going to be brutal she’d have to go after those she cared about. And given what Damage Control had done to the women’s division she knew that help wouldn’t be easy to find.

Every week she’d be looking over her shoulder waiting for an attack and every time it came, she felt like she was losing sanity. Bayley felt like she couldn’t trust anyone, not even the person who had been there from the start of it all from the moment she joined the main Roster. Her girlfriend Y/n. Someone she cared for more than anyone else she worked with.

After Bayley had limped to the locker room and changed after another attack she came out and spotted Iyo and Dakota talking to y/n. Her heart broke and not thinking in her right mind Bayley knew she needed to watch herself, even if that meant pushing Y/n away.

“Have you seen Bayley?”

Y/n asked for the fifth time to one of her coworkers when her girlfriend hadn’t returned any of her texts or calls. She wanted to be sure the other woman was alright after what happened in the ring and still hadn’t been able to reach or find her.

“Zelina! Please have you seen Bayley? I’ve been looking all over for her, and I haven’t been able to find her.”

“Yeah, I saw her limping outside to an uber, I thought the two of you left together?”

“We were supposed too that’s why I drove the rental here, but she must have been hurting really badly and just didn’t bother to wait.”

“Possible she did look to be in a bit of pain medical probably told her to just take it easy and rest. Let me know if you need anything once you check in on her.”

“Thank you I appreciate that.”

After saying goodbye to her friend Y/n continued to the parking lot and got in her rental heading for the hotel. She was still a bit concerned about why Bayley hadn’t answered any of her attempts to reach her but chalked it up to her possibly being in the shower. Once y/n finally made it to the hotel and up to their shared room she swiped the key card and peeked her head inside expecting to see Bayley laying on the bed. Instead, the room was empty, looking around the room she spotted the area that their suitcases had sat and only hers was there. A heavy feeling began to grow in her stomach as she searched for a note, finally she spotted one on a piece of hotel paper.

Dear y/n, I know you’re probably freaking out right now wondering where I am and what’s going on. Don’t worry about me, I just need some space to think. I seen Dakota and Iyo talking to you after I got cleaned up and I just can’t risk another person I care about turning on me. I know it’s not fair to just assume you would, but I need to be careful. I’m sorry if this hurts you but I need to do what’s best to ease my mind until this whole thing with Iyo and Damage Control is over. I don’t have anyone at work to support me against the four of them and if I want to be able to beat Iyo at Wrestlemania I need to be focused. Don’t take it personally but this is what I have to do. I need to protect myself and I don’t think I could take it if they used you to get to me. It would just about end me.

Bayley

Reading the note for a third time y/n sunk onto the bed staring off as she tried to think. She knew the group turning on Bayley had really shaken her confidence. That and the attacks Damage Control did while together took away every possible ally she could have. Or so she assumed, Y/n had spoken to Naomi and she felt for Bayley knowing sometimes you let things just go to your head.

Iyo and Dakota had been talking to y/n that was true, but it was only to see how Bayley was handling the storyline, she didn’t realize until this moment that it was going harder for Bayley than she imagined. Setting the note to the side y/n made the decision to respect her girlfriend and give the space she was asking for even if it was hard. And the three weeks that followed were very hard, seeing Bayley struggling on tv despite having Naomi’s help. Hearing her backstage trying to make amends so someone could take care of the rest of Damage Control so she could deal with Iyo. It wasn’t easy for y/n to sit by and watch, seeing the dismay on her face at every rejection.

When Jade, Bianca and Naomi decided to team up and fight Damage Control at Mania you were relieved. Now she could hopefully have some peace of mind going into her match. Y/n still hadn’t received any more text messages from her apart from the occasional check in text. It made her feel a little better knowing she still cared enough to look in after her girlfriend. The bed was lonely at night and deep-down part of her was hurt that Bayley didn’t trust her enough to know she’d never turn on her.

So, it was much to her surprise when she got a knock on the hotel door at nearly eleven thirty after the first night of Wrestlemania. When y/n saw that it was Bayley on the other side she opened the door confused.

“Bayley? What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you, can I come in?”

“Yes of course come on.”

Stepping back, she let the other woman in the room and gently closed the door behind her, watching as Bayley looked around the room. Y/n couldn’t help noticing the dark circles under her eyes but remained silent.

“I’m so sorry y/n I’m so damn sorry.”

She said as tears sprung to her eyes and she covered her face, y/n frowned walking over and just as she started wrapping her arms around her. Bayley’s legs gave out, y/n quickly did her best to lift her and got them onto the bed where she held her girlfriend close.

“You’re okay, you’re just tired and you need to let it out you’ve been driving yourself crazy these last few weeks and you’re probably nervous about tomorrow.”

“I’m scared I’m not going to be able to do it, I think I can but I just part of me is scared I’m going to fail and lose this moment.”

“Don’t worry I’m right here and we can work it out together.”

Y/n said holding her still as they laid there her whispering soft words to Bayley as she did her best to console her.

[estebanbicon]

nat apologies for just sending a screenshot because i didn't feel like rewriting this after i put it in the tags of esteban's latest canal+ interview. but if you're willing and able i'd love to hear your thoughts.

because again i don't want to imply that any of the other renault/alpine drivers of the past shouldn't get as much sympathy and i'm most certainly biased af...but something about this current situation just feels so much worse...

the only recent example i can think of is how they fired kmag per mail on his bday.

other than that? carlos, daniel and alonso all left willingly on their own terms, and daniel and alonso got huge sendoffs by the team.

idk about how they treated carlos, but hulk also got a sendoff.

as far as i know, none of them had to give up a last race for testing for another team.

unsure about kmag, but the other four were not badmouthed to the press, and also not during the season.

and also not accusing them of driving for another team ... carlos switched to mclaren, daniel switched to mclaren, alonso switched to aston, and none of them got ever accused of trying to help the other team.

neither of them ever got the amount of hate este got, and no one in the team ever spoke up to defend him, and neither did any of his teammates, for that matter.

the post brazil celebration is just plain weird to me, bc it was seen as "punishment" for gasly bc he pissed people off by always being late, but i also do not see why they couldn't do it with both drivers? very odd.

i think what irks me the most is not just that they refuse him any closure and a resemblance of an ending, but also the fact they have mistreated him constantly throughout the years.

ignoring his input, deeming him the second driver and prioritizing the other, rarely getting upgrades first no matter if he is ahead or behind his teammate, his achievements getting talked down and contrasted with his teammates, the dnf-riddled 2023, how they talked about aus 23 compared to mon 24,,,,,,

it feels like they never truly fully wanted him there. when they offered him this long contract in 21, i was so so hopeful. i thought maybe he had found his home, a team to build on.

and then they just kept dismissing him, cast aside, and even ending up smearing him publically to everyone.

even if he does still have merc ties, there was never a doubt how loyal he was to the team.

he never lost a bad word about the team, and even now his critique is fairly tame, compared to what other drivers would say.

he gave this team his heart, and they drove a knife through it in return.

edit: oh yeah, jolyon palmer was definitely completely fucked over as well by them. which is why i will never get why people hold cyril in such high regards lol but i will keep quiet

[oldiesstationlover11607]

YOU WRITE FOR WATERPARKS NOW????!!

may i pleaseeee ask for an awsten fic where reader is geoff or otto's sister and they dont really get along but when awsten goes out somewhere and gets into a fight while theyre traveling (theyre staying at a hotel) he goes to readers room and she takes care of his injuries and they make out up and end up sharing a bed. maybe could turn into a secret dating thing but yeah.. hope this makes sense <3

ps. happy early/late birthday (depending on when you read this)

pps i will aboslutely FILL you inbox with parx requests. ive been foaming at the mouth for them. youre an angel !!! 🍊

Secrets - Awsten Knight x Geoff's sister!reader

Word Count: 1552

A/N: Sorry this took so long! please request more awsten pleaseeee bc i love waterparks hehe

I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. It was past midnight, the hotel hallway was eerily quiet, and Awsten, of all people, stood at my door with a split lip, bruised knuckles, and a sheepish look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice low but sharp enough to cut through his usual bravado.

“Good evening to you too,” he quipped, his words slurring slightly as if he’d been chewing on them before spitting them out. “Can I come in?”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Not until you explain why you look like you lost a fight with a garbage truck.”

Awsten’s hand went to his lip, dabbing at the dried blood as if he’d only just noticed it was there. “Some guy at the bar was being a jackass,” he muttered. “Said some stuff, shoved me. So, I… shoved him back.”

“And then?” I pressed, raising a skeptical brow.

“And then he punched me.”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. This wasn’t exactly out of character for Awsten, but it didn’t make it any less ridiculous. “You couldn’t go to Geoff? Or Otto? Why are you at my door?”

“Geoff’s asleep. Otto’s…” He gestured vaguely, like Otto’s absence was a problem too complicated to explain. “And, I don’t know, okay? You were just the first person I thought of.”

That surprised me more than it should have. Awsten and I weren’t exactly close. Sure, I was Geoff’s sister, and we saw each other plenty whenever I tagged along on tours, but our relationship mostly consisted of bickering, sarcastic jabs, and the occasional begrudging truce.

“Fine,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “But if you bleed on anything, I’m sending you the cleaning bill.”

“Noted,” he said, brushing past me into the small hotel room.

The room was cramped, with barely enough space for the bed, a tiny desk, and a chair shoved awkwardly into the corner. Awsten collapsed onto the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh, cradling his injured hand like a war hero nursing a battle wound.

I grabbed the first-aid kit from my suitcase, setting it on the nightstand. “Stay still,” I ordered, pulling out a cotton pad and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Yes, doctor,” he said with a smirk, though it faded the moment I pressed the cotton to his lip.

“God, that stings,” he hissed, jerking away.

“Stop being a baby,” I said, grabbing his chin to hold him still. Up close, I could see the faint shadow of a bruise blooming along his cheekbone. His eyes—usually sharp and mischievous—were softer now, a hint of vulnerability peeking through.

“What happened to the guy who hit you?” I asked, dabbing at the cut.

“Got kicked out,” Awsten muttered. “But not before landing a solid punch. Lucky me.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “You really are a magnet for trouble, aren’t you?”

He grinned, even as I pressed a fresh pad to his lip. “What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”

“Charm isn’t the word I’d use,” I muttered, though I couldn’t entirely suppress a smile.

We fell into a rhythm after that—me cleaning up his injuries, him cracking jokes to fill the silence. Despite my annoyance, there was something oddly comforting about the banter. It was familiar, easy in a way I didn’t expect.

“There,” I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “You’re semi-presentable again.”

“Thanks,” he said, flexing his fingers experimentally. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I’ve had practice,” I said. “Geoff isn’t exactly a stranger to dumb injuries.”

Awsten chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Guess it runs in the family, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, he shifted awkwardly on the bed. “Uh… actually, can I crash here? Just for tonight?”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“I just… I really don’t want to run into that guy again,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And, I don’t know, it feels safer here.”

The vulnerability in his tone was unexpected, almost disarming. I hesitated, my instinct to say no warring with a pang of sympathy. Finally, I sighed. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed.”

“Deal,” he said, already kicking off his shoes and flopping onto the mattress like he owned the place.

I shook my head, climbing in on the opposite side and pulling the blanket over myself. “No funny business, Knight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though there was a teasing lilt to his voice that made me wonder if he was lying.

I woke up to warmth.

At some point in the night, Awsten had shifted closer. His arm draped over my waist, his face nestled against my shoulder. My first instinct was to shove him off, but… I didn’t. There was something oddly comforting about the weight of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my back.

“Awsten,” I whispered, my voice groggy.

He stirred, mumbling something incoherent before his eyes fluttered open. When he realized where he was, his face went red, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Don’t start,” I said, though my cheeks burned.

“Too late.” He propped himself up on one elbow, his grin softening as his eyes met mine. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, but there was no bite to my words.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze flicked to my lips, and before I could overthink it, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, tentative, like he was waiting for me to shove him away. But I didn’t.

When we pulled apart, his grin was back, full force this time. “So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said, though I couldn’t hide my smile.

That should have been the end of it. A one-time thing, a weird blip in the universe that we’d both laugh about later. But it wasn’t.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur of stolen moments. Glances that lingered too long, hands brushing when no one was looking, whispered conversations in dark corners. It was maddening, infuriating, and completely intoxicating.

We didn’t tell anyone—not Geoff, not Otto, not anyone on the crew. Part of me liked the secrecy, the thrill of sneaking around. But another part of me knew it wasn’t sustainable.

One night, a week before the tour ended, Awsten showed up at my door again.

“This is becoming a habit,” I said, though I stepped aside to let him in.

“Can’t help it,” he said, grinning as he plopped onto the bed. “You’re just so beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart did a little flip anyway. “What do you want, Awsten?”

He hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. “I wanted to see you.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten. I sat down beside him, the bed dipping under our weight. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just… scared.”

“Of what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between us. “Whatever this is. It’s… different.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to agree, to admit that I was scared too. But another part of me—the part that had grown used to keeping people at arm’s length—wanted to push him away.

“I get it,” I said finally. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be so scary.”

Awsten looked at me, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give him. Then, without a word, he kissed me. This time, there was no hesitation, no waiting for permission. It was messy and desperate and perfect.

When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine. “You know this is gonna get complicated, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But maybe it’s worth it.”

The tour ended, and life went back to normal—well, as normal as it could be when you were secretly dating your brother’s bandmate.

Awsten and I fell into a rhythm, sneaking around whenever we could. It wasn’t easy, especially with Geoff constantly hovering, but somehow, we made it work.

One night, as we lay tangled in each other’s arms, Awsten turned to me, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We should tell him,” he said.

“Who?”

“Geoff,” he said. “I mean, he’s gonna find out eventually, right? Might as well rip the band-aid off.”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting into knots. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

Awsten shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to keep hiding, either.”

I sighed, resting my head against his chest. “Let’s wait a little longer. Just until things settle down.”

He nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t happy about it. “Okay. But promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t let this be a secret forever,” he said, his voice soft. “I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding you.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I promise,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself.

For now, the secret was ours. And for now, that was enough.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[keaganz]

I'm sorry, I lied.

For the @corrodedcoffinfest Birthday pop up event.

Rating; Teen and up| Promt; Birthday, 25, 30, ‘Seriously, age is just a number’| Ships; Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove/Chrissy Cunningham, Gareth Emmerson/OFC| CW; alluding to Domestic Violence| Tags; Famous Corroded Coffin, Eddie is a menace, age difference, Musician Steve Harrington,accidental baby acquisition, meet cute, speed running starting a family, Steve has hearing loss, Steve needs a hug and gets it, Original Child character

It still feels like a dream, standing on a stage with his best friends, his ride or die, his family. Looking out at the crowd of thousands of people, people that have specifically come out to see them, people that choose to watch them while waiting for other bands. While not headlining, they or the fourth to last band playing the mainstage. They had lost their collective shit when the timetable got announced and they got to basically open for Metallica. Only Electric Callboy and a tbn band between them. The other headlining band had dropped out the evening before due to health related reasons. That morning the festival organisers had tweeted about finding a replacement but had decided to keep it a secret. 

They only have a couple of songs from their set left. “ We are Corroded Coffin and want to thank you for taking the time to watch us! Are you all excited for Electric Callboy and the metal Gods METALLICA?!” He grins wildly at hearing the crowd screaming and whooping. “I want to thank everyone here for making this the best birthday I've ever had! A quarter of a century old! Can you believe it? I can't think of anything better to do than play for all of you beautiful freaks!!!” 

“ Oh I know one thing” He turns his head to look at Gareth, leaning awkwardly towards the microphone “Enlighten me Garebear, what could possibly be better than this?” Gareth grins like a lunatic “ Well Teddy, I'm so glad you asked. What would be the icing on this day would be for a doe eyed, and I quote ‘ most beautiful man alive, sculpted by Aphrodite herself, i want to lick and kiss every mole’ guy wearing a pale yellow oversized sweater, mom jeans and glasses to single and gay or bisexual. So if you fit that description of or know who does, Eddie Munson is horny for your ‘perfectly biteable ass’.” He and Jeff and Freak cackle along with the roaring laughter of the crowd. Eddie blushes and huffs “Yeah yeah, I hope you all chock!” 

The rest of their set goes off without a hitch. They take a selfie with the crowd before leaving the stage. They make it back to their designated dressing/green room, feeling on top of the world. “Find Eddie's mystery hottie is trending. Everyone and their mum is sending in pictures of people in yellow sweaters. It's insane! Gareth you made us go viral” Jeff says as he's scrolling on his phone.

“For once your sluttish ways have done more good than getting your dick wet” Freak comments as he flops down on the couch sighing in relief. Eddie glares at his friends as he grabs a bottle of water “ Why am I friends with you shitheads again?” Gareth slaps his back “Because you really love us?” Jeff hums loud “Oh god listen to this @HailMadMax, Jesus this guy sounds more full of him than you says ‘eeeww, I never want someone describing my Mom's ass like that again @CorrodedCoffinOfical’. 

”You sure he was a guy?” Eddie nods “yes! I'm absolutely sure ""Because I got a few other users saying something along the same lines.” Freak snorts “I think they are just having fun with it or are homophobic” 

Eddie spends the next hour and a half jus relaxing, smoking a joint and eating greasy festival food. He's on his way to catch the last part of Electric Callboy’s set when he bumps into a petite girl with Strawberry blonde hair wearing a hot pink hoodie and a black jeans. “I'm so sorry I wasn't……holy shit! You're… you're Chrissy Cunningham.” Eddie looks at her with wide, star struck eyes. 

Chrissy smiles “It's fine, I forgot how cramped it can be back here. Yeah I am. And you're Eddie. I'm a big fan! Much to Bill's chagrin on some days.” She looks down at her phone. “Speaking of the devil, look, I gotta go. But I'll see you in a bit, yeah?” She hugs him before speed walking away. He's left speechless as he watches her go. The Mind Flayers was the first ever band he got to see live at thirteen with Gareth and his uncle. Steve Harrington, their frontman and bass player was his bisexual awakening. And his first real crush. 

As a matter of fact, six years prior, The Mind Flayers were one of the four main headliners. They had gotten tickets to see them play, but as fate would have it they cancelled at the last minute, citing a medical emergency and had disappeared from the music scene until a few months ago when out of nowhere they not only dropped a single but a dubbele album. Listen it wasn't a best off, a remastered previous album or a live album. No, they were twenty-eight new songs. All of their social media channels suddenly started posting and interacting with comments and other people's posts. It was surreal and broke the metal corner of the internet. He had heard some chatter and theories about TMF being the mystery band but didn't give them much credit, but now. His mind was going into overdrive as he went looking for Gareth, completely forgoing watching EC. 

He finds Gareth facetiming with his girlfriend and their two year old son. “Hey Sammy, look it's Uncle Teddy, say Hi” Eddie narrowly avoids getting the phone smashed against his nose “ Hey Sammy, my favourite little Hobbit.” He talks for a few minutes with the toddler, and spends another fifteen minutes waiting for Gareth to hang up. He feels like he's vibrating out of his skin, patience was not his forte. he starts fidgeting with his rings before pulling out his phone and goes to check TMF's twitter to see if they tweeted before checking to see if they are trending and anyone has seen any other members somewhere backstage but he only finds one of two posts about people seeing Chrissy. “What's gotten into you? Please tell me you didn't snort something or take some sketchy pills from an even sketchier person” Gareth glares at him 

“No, I didn't take anything stronger than grass mom! I literally walked into Chrissy Cunningham from The Mind Flayers! Not only did she know who I am, but she's a fan!” Gareth scoffs “Yeah right Teddy”. “I swear! She's here, somewhere backstage. Look I found some pictures others took with her today” He shows Gareth his phone. “Holy shit! You're right! You think they are gonna play?” 

“Fuck I hope so!” He says. After EC's set every one that isn't a crew member or ready gets barred from going near the stage. They are sitting in their dressing room with the others watching the livestream of the mainstage and crowd. Eddie and Gareth had told Freak and Jeff about Chrissy being backstage and they speculate about the band that's going to play as they pass around a blunt. Eddie shushes the others as he notices the crowd going quite “ Shut up! I think it's starting!” They watch his laptop with baited breath. When the first guitar rift starts and the drum joins in, Eddie whoops loudly “Fuck!! I can't believe this!” As the black curtain falls, the crowd goes ape shit as the band appears. Eddie can hear others out side of their room yelling and whooping. He automatically zeros in on Steve. He can't believe how good he still looks while pushing 40, his signature death hawk with green streak looks flawless, all of his blood rushes to his cock when he sees he's wearing a black pleated skirt with a green & black asymmetrical tartan panel insert and a pastel green crew neck sweater. He groans, adjusting himself in his pants. “Really dude?!” Freak tries to shift away on the couch, not in the mood for Eddie being gross next him. 

The camera zooms in, giving them a close up of his face as he screams. His left eye looks to be drooping, while the side of his head has multiple scars littering his skin and what looks to be a Cochlear implant. Gareth is the first to say “I think that he got into an accident or something and that was their emergency.”

 After their forth song Billy, their lead guitarist steps up to the mic. “How are we feeling tonight, Download?” He smirks and licks his lip at hearing the crowd screaming. “We've been gone for a while, so introductions are in order. On the drums we have Robin Buckley, for a lesbian she knows her way around poles” the camera pans to a woman with a red shaggy mullet as she flips Billy off. “On rhythm guitar we have my beautiful and radiant wife Chrissy Cunningham” He blows her a kiss as the crowd goes wild. She catches it and makes a heart with her hands. “On bass and vocals we have, King Steve Harrington” Steve flips him off with both hands, and gives him a lopsided smile. “The asshole on lead guitar is Billy Hargrove” Eddie frowns when he hears him slurring his speech, it's a sharp contrast to his perfect singing, growling and screaming. Billy dramatically bows before reaching back for his mic. “We are The Mind Flayers!” They start playing again. “I think he lost his hearing guys” Jeff muses out loud. “I just looked it up and that's a Cochlear implant” “Damn that's rough” Gareth says “But he can still sing!” 

Forty-five minutes later Billy takes the mic again “We have two more songs we want to play for you but first, Birdy has a PSA” Robin grins at the camera before leaning to her mic “This Public Service Announcement is for one Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin. Dinges over there is convinced he's too old for you, but he's very single, very gay and very much horny for you too” Steve blushes brightly and bites his lip. Before effortlessly starting to play again. Jeff, Freak and Gareth stare at Eddie. Eddie's eyes have gone wide and his jaw drops open. “I'm dreaming right? I've got to be right? Please pinch me” He yelps loudly and glares at Freak. “I said pinch! Don't beat me!” He rubs his shoulder. 

“Jesus H. Christ! I can't believe I called out Steve Harrington! And called his ass biteable, fuck me!” Gareth hides his face in his hands. Jeff pets his back “ We will hold a vigil in your memory while looking for a new drummer, starting tomorrow"

 “Fuck off” He pushes Jeff away. Eddie tunes out his friends, he can't believe his childhood crush is gay, let alone interested in him.  

As they are packing up their stuff there's a knock on the door, he opens the door and there standing before him is Steve. His death hawk has been carefully combed and his hair lays perfectly styled, covering his shaved sides, scarring and implants. He's also wearing the same soft pale yellow sweater as early and smiles at him “Hi”

Eddie tries to hide his blush at getting caught staring and clears his throat. “Hi, oh wow. Um yeah, come in” He lets Steve into the room. The others greet him and ignore Eddie's glaring at them, gesturing wildly for them to get lost. “You guys were amazing! Totally caught us off guard. But damn was it a good set” Freak gushes as Gareth tries to apologise “ I'm so sorry for saying those things about you. It's all Munson over there. I don't have an opinion on your ass” 

Steve laughs “Don't worry people have said far worse and more graphic things about my ass” Jeff is the least tactful person on a good day so he goes straight for it when he sees Steve using his hands to sign As he talks. “ You've gone deaf right? That's why the slurred speech and implant?” 

Eddie hits him “What the hell dude! You don't just ask someone that” Steve looks between them and pats his hair down a little “A parting gift from my ex. But yes I have lost most of my hearing. It's why I sound drunk. Before you ask, singing uses a different part of the brain”

Eddie looks shocked as do the other three, but then it suddenly clicks, the first song they dropped was called DV. “It's so impressive sweetheart, you sound just as good as before” 

Steve blushes “Thank you, it's hard when you can't hear yourself properly” Gareth and Freak strong arm Jeff out of the room with them. “Teddy, be good, yeah? Man's a national treasure, he deserves to be wined and dined not get a quick fuck in a green room” Gareth cackles loudly at Eddie's sputtering as he closes the door behind him. 

“I'm really flattered you are, quote ‘ horny for my biteable ass’ but I'm fifteen years older than you. And I can't do situationships or casual flings. I want something real” Eddie closes the distance between them and strokes his cheek. “Not to sound cliche but, age is just a number, baby. I want a chance to wine and dine you. Adopt a mean old grouchy cat from a shelter that only likes you and uses me as their personal scratching pole. Buy a house together, sneak off to have some privacy on the road, adopt and raise some kid's together. The whole ass nine yards. I want it all” 

*Epilogue*

Eddie wakes up to quiet giggling and hushed voices. He fakes being asleep as he feels a small body climbing on top of him, small hands pat his face “Daddy wake up!” He quickly pulls the young boy into his arms and starts tickling him. He smiles at hearing the boy's happy squeals and please for him to stop. He hugs him tightly and kisses the top of his head. His eyes meet his husband's eyes as he stands leaning against the door frame, holding a tray of breakfast. 

The last five years had felt like badly dubbed novella. He and Steve had just been officially dating when CPS appeared at his door with a one year old baby boy. Turns out his father had not only been released from prison but he had gotten married and had gotten her pregnant. His half brother's mother had been found dead and his father in the wind. He was incredibly glad that Steve had been staying with him at the time. Like a Knight in shining armour he had swooped in and taken his brother from the frazzled social worker, along with a small bag of belongings and set about getting him cleaned up and fed. 

He doesn't hesitate to take his brother, Cedrick, in and become his legal guardian. He called Gareth right after the social worker left in a bit of a panic. His best friend came through and arrived hours later with his sons hand me downs, crib, toys and misaleniues baby items. All thought he had told Steve he wanted to have kids together, his fathers sudden presence in his life awakened his dormant abandonment issues. He's scared that Steve will break up with him, because of this. But as the days turn into weeks and into months, Steve stays and they slowly grow closer. 

He never misses an appointment with their assigned social worker, he stops smoking cold turkey, both kinds. He greatly cuts back on his drinking and starts taking parenting classes. He also breaks down crying on the phone to his Uncle Wayne, it's the first time he calls Wayne dad out loud. Wayne gets the first flight out and stays with them for the first month. Once the last leg of Corroded Coffin's tour comes up, and overlaps with a short Mind Flayers tour. He freaks out about what to do. Chrissy is the one that saves the day, by reminding Steve that Jane is in between jobs. He learns she is one of Steve's ‘kids’ he used to babysit, she studied child development and education and jumps at the chance to come on tour as live in nanny.

The next two years fly by with little to no drama or huge life events. Besides Cedrick starting to call him daddy and Steve, tee that evolves into papa tee. And of course him marrying the love of his life in a small private ceremony. Shit doesn't hit the fan until six months after them officially submitting the paperwork to adopt Cedrick as their son. He had already been given permanent custody by the courts but he wanted Cedrick to know that he was truly wanted by adopting him fully as his son. Unsure if he would be able to adopt him, Steve had his lawyer write Cedrick into his will, making sure to name him as his son. 

The proverbial shit comes in the form of his maternal grandparents suddenly appearing and suing for full custody and petitioning the adoption forms. And want an absolute shit show it turns out to be. Of course they turned out to be bible thumping homophobic zealots. They accuse them both of molesting Cedrick, abuse and neglect. It turns into a two year long legal battle with Cedrick being placed for a week in a foster home while the claims of sexual child abuse get investigated. That week was the worst of his life, he takes up smoking again to try and calm his nerves and to stay away from harder stuff. Steve struggles as well, the trauma of his previous abusive relationship giving him near constant panic attacks.

When they get their son back home he's traumatised and keeps apologising for being bad. They start family counselling on the advice of Cedrick’s case worker. As overworked as she is, she keeps on fighting with them. When the claims of abuse and neglect get dismissed they feel vindicated, but they celibate too soon before because the next work day new petitions are filed, claiming grandparental rights. All in all it takes two long years for every nonsensical petitions to get dismissed with prejudice. It helps that Cedrick's grandfather has three convictions of child abuse and neglect, the victim being his own daughter. First thing Eddie does is get a restraining and protection order against them.

It takes a lot of therapy and concealing for the family to start healing and repairing their bonds. Finally the paperwork for the adoption got finalised a few weeks ago, which brings them here to the present, his thirtieth birthday. He hugs his son tightly before letting him go and sitting up so that Steve can place the tray over his lap. “Ced’ helped me make breakfast for you. There may be more chocolate chips in your pancakes then batter” Steve says as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“That's exactly how I like them to be perfectly honest” He kisses his husband smiling as their son makes gagging noises. He gives Steve a very noisy kiss before pulling back and sticking his tongue out “It's my birthday today so that means I can kiss your papa as much as I want”. He ruffles his sons hair as they eat breakfast in bed, uncaring about crumbs or spills. “ I lied” 

Steve frowns looking at him, concerned about that statement “About what Teddy?” Cedrick chiming in to say that lying is bad. Eddie smiles wildly. “Five years ago I lied when I said that was the best birthday ever. I don't need tens of thousands of people screaming my name. I just need my family” 

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello how are you :3? I was wondering if you could write E.J., Hoodie, and Masky with a s/o that has a lot of scars? (Toby too but platonic for him) I’m not sure how many people we can request so if it’s too many just Hoodie? I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and thank you!

Various!Creepypastas w/ a scarred!reader

waaaah im so sorry for not seeing this sooner! i didnt recieve a notification for this ask!! really theres no limit to how many characters you can send in! i think my personal max varies from prompt to prompt!! mix of how they approach the concept of a scarred lover (friend in tobys case) with some hints of fluff! cause of scars will be vague as admittedly i didnt know if you meant general scars or SH! side note i hope this posts right! im writing this on my computer, im used to mobile!! + apologies for any weird wording or typos, im listening to music and im getting hyped!! not proof read we die like my spiderverse brainrot

Includes: Eyeless Jack, Hoodie, Masky and Platonic!Toby!

CWs: touch and go talk of potential past trauma, body image issues, vague mentions of SH(?) in EJs part + Toby's parts

admittedly admin doesnt know if its technically SH due to the nature and motiv but personally id still count it as such and tag it as such

Eyeless Jack;

he gets it, he really does. the basic run down of my hc/take on ej is that he wasnt always some flesh eating monster; just some dude who got caught up in some bad stuff

so naturally, he doesnt... really vibe well with the concept of eating human flesh, which can lead to a few... instances. from intentionally to accidentally harming himself while hes lost in his instincts

so hes no stranger to being a little roughed up around the edges

but hes a stranger to comforting; he'll likely approach it from a logical side before trying anything else. "you've been hurt," before going on a small tangent about the formation of scars. hes not the most... emotionally... good... available... person

so youre going to need to lay out the general basis for what you need for basic comfort, on days where your scars become an issue; be is needing comfort or a distraction. it may take him a while, but hell eventually start to pick up on cues and hints as your relationship develops

otherwise hes very neutral about them, again approaching them with a blunt view; seeing it as neither good nor bad. he doesnt draw attention to them, but he doesnt act like theyre gross

really just. vibing with it, doesnt make a huge deal of it since he feels he doesnt have any place to judge, nor does he feel its his business to pry for information

solid 6/10 imo, hell comfort you if you express that you need it but hell likely not go out of his way to do it

Hoodie;

Soft touches, he almost does it before he has your permission to touch you

naturally he has his own fair share of scars from various.. activities

really im still all jumbled up with how i wanna write him and masky; not sure if i want to make them like how they are in their MH source or lean into the proxy thing that was prominent in the early days of the fandom... lowkey leaning into the proxy thing for this post because im more... versed..? in that, but anyhow

hes more upfront and compassionate than eyeless jack, in fact hes probably the most caring out of the four in todays post... maybe thats because i read one (1) fic years back that changed my entire approach to his character but! yeah

subconsciously trails his hands on them when the two of you are holding one another; something gentle and intimate, not too obnoxious to make you self conscious, but not careful enough to go unnoticed

i view hoodie, and by extension brian if i end up considering him and tim fully seperate from their 'proxy' parts, as a very tactile person

true to the popular fanon interpretation, hoodie doesnt speak much. but that only makes him a better listener, so on days where things get hard, hell let you talk his ears off with anything thats bothering you. very rarely, hell speak up and offer some words of advice, most times hell inch closer to grasp you. though it does get awkward since most the time hes just. blankly staring at you silently without emoting or saying a word

overall? personally hes a 7/10 for me, i would rank him higher if he were more verbal, but thats just because admin has an easier time venting if its a two way convo; but overall hell make sure that your scars dont effect your worth

Masky;

very similarly to hoodie, masky also has his own set of scars for the same reasons

he probably starts pointing out his own scars to you and mumbles about where they came from if he knows their origins

this doesnt mean "oh hes invalidating your experiences and hes trying to make it about himself," but more so "hes showing that he really does get it and he doesnt mean to talk over you"

much like EJ he approaches scars with a very blunt and upfront mindset, but to a lesser extent. he admits that whatever led up to the tissue forming, it hurt. emotionally and physically, and hes not going to deny that simple fact. hell listen to you, have a conversation with you about it, and try to help you through whatever you may be currently going through regardless of if youre injury is relevant.

or at least, thats what hes trying to do.

hes still has his own personal issues regarding going about his own problems in a healthy manner but hey thats something for another post; maybe, if i remember

honestly this post doesnt have enough fluff imo, and i can kinda see masky doing this, but imagine he boops his mask against your scars in a mockery of a kiss (doesnt take off his mask often, in fact youll probably never ever see him without it on), i can see jack doing this too tbh

thoughts? 8/10, gets the bonus points for being less awkward to rant to imo, plus i think asides ej, i think i have a bias for masky for the simple fact i had the fattest crush on him when i was in middle school

Toby;

okay! this one is going to be interesting for one main reason! i actually havent touched tobys character in YEARS! so hes probably going to have the shorter list... obligatory i havent built any solid hcs for him past what was going on in the fandom in the 2010s, before toby briefly became a mild discomfort... but we're back in business baby!! (^^ dont feel bad for requesting for toby btw! hes no longer a discomfort, and if i didnt want to write for him i wouldnt be including him right here!!)

obviously we cant talk about his part without talking about his cheek. and other, similar hcs. while i dont think most of the self inflicted marks on his body were from a place of.. for lack of better words, darkness; it doesnt change the fact he still has them. i think a lot of them are from the fact he cant feel anything; accidental burns, gnawing through his cheek, digging his fingers deep into himself. really i could go into detail, but due to the aforementioned fact that my take on him isnt as developed as other characters + i really dont think its appropriate for this post (or really, anywhere on this account,), ill stop there

while he cant relate to the physical pain of what caused your scars, he can sympathize through your feelings. do you feel sorrow, or anger to whoever hurt you? hell be getting worked up right with you, because to him youre one of his closest friends

i feel like he doesnt talk much about his past, regarding his family. but hed tell you, and you can sure as hell bet that hell do his absolute damndest to grant you the same feeling of security.

hell probably touch and prod without truly meaning any harm, but thats because he can have problems with boundaries, but hell listen if you sit him down and tell him it makes you uncomfortable if it does

more so emotional than outwardly... supportive? idk the words, but hes very empathetic with you and tries to relate to you through emotion rather than feeling what you felt. honestly? kinda based for that, but maybe thats because i dont see feelings about this topic being touched on, usually its straight up about how the scar makes the person look or the physical trauma they had gone through, but idk, maybe thats just a me thing

he can be an asshole at times but hell usually backtrack and cool off somewhere else if you call him out on it imo

not sure if its because as im LITERALLY investigating his characteristics and interpretations as we speak, but i think im starting to relate to him so ER-OH!

anyways, i wish i could make his segment more... in tune with the characters above but its probably going to take me a while until im comfortable with how i portray this dude, which sucks because as a kid he was probably one of my favorites

i dont think im going to give toby a rating like the others; since i dont think i can accurate rate him due to the lack of proper concrete ideas outside of him being empathetic to your emotional pain since he cant relate on how much it hurt

im gonna end this here since im starting to sound like a broken record on tobys part so!

i hope you enjoyed this! characterization may be a little off but i blame that mostly on the fact that i kinda fell out of the loop in regards for writing for these guys (that damn spider movie! the brainrot threw me off my creepypasta grind!/j) but its good to be back writing for this fandom! it was a fun little brain exercise trying to figure out each character goes about this kind of thing without making them all the same!! with that being said, im going to go listen to an audio reading of tobys story so i can regrounded in his character and hopefully do him some justice in the future!

[blissfulalchemist]

Tuesday Tunes

Was tagged by @voidika for music monday but it is now tuesday. Anyway! I've just been rotating an au wherein Alma briefly becomes a Dominant and my ffxiv little guy Phobos. And while they are in vastly different places this piece from the ffxvi soundtrack, "Faith", just lends nicely to the thoughts about them.

But for Dominant!Alma au there are two endings to it, the good one and the bad one and I've been turning over the bad one. While Phobos was just revisiting something I had started and found out they only see themselves as being the bringer of the end, they will only ever be endings. But their hope to be a beginning stays with their soul that many versions of them through time and reflections fulfill that desire. So yeah. And have a little of both below the cut.

sending out no pressure tags to: @shellibisshe @statichvm @shallow-gravy @chyrstis @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @unholymilf @belorage @sorrybatman

Have the Phobos piece first. Spoilers for ShB and beyond for ffxiv

“Then why didn’t you tell them? Remind them of what was lost? You could have stopped this from ever happening to begin with! No one would have had to suffer this way if you had just told them. You say this as if it would come one way or another as if-.” She stays silent as the truth claws within my chest. There is a beginning and an end to all things, and I have only seen the latter, been the bringer of endings and nothing more in this short existence of mine. (...) “But it didn’t have to end like this….we could have changed it. Why did you not go to them for help before it was too late?” “I….do not have a good answer. I had hope that maybe new perspectives would come through and our way of thinking would be challenged. Feared that the more I spoke and asked for help the worse things would get. Unsure on what choices made in the time unknown to your future selves would be. I could not fathom a me that would have come to the choice I made of becoming more when I first heard such a tale, but now that it has come to pass I understand that woman described to me.” I have no reason to doubt her, she has always been honest with us. She’s also right in that those that could help are a stubborn bunch and would laugh at such a thought of golden days coming to an end. Things end though. Good things end, and it’s hard to see bigger when the only things that do are as simple as a dessert. Bad things end too, and hard to conceptualize when negative emotions, strong emotions in general, are seen as superfluous. But I can see it….I understand such concepts having only seen the end of good—how many towns did we try to save only to be met with destruction?—and only seen the end of bad—every monster I’ve slain and every deluge of tears Deimos would shed had a stopping point. An ending to all of us was and is inevitable. “I just wish we could have had a say in how we met our end,” I whisper, “but what’s done is done.”

------------------------- I know Hades can easily expand it, but he’s rendered still by the scene above, eyes searching for what the result of their fight would entail. I cannot save them all but I can save him. Save the man that ever led us forward, had a level head, listened to those around him, and had a compassion that, though silent, extended beyond those he just cared for. He could be the one to best make a way forward. “His grief will become his undoing”, A warning and risk I’m willing to take for I’m the unknown factor, maybe he did not see his brother before this moment, and maybe that makes all the difference in the world. I am not his brother, but we look nearly identical and maybe it will be enough. “Him and two others.”, Does it have to be? A stupid question. Yes, the burden of leadership should not be left on a single person’s shoulders, and who better than the two people Deimos put his most faith in. Two people he respected and that respected him in turn. Lahabrea who mentored us and gave us a chance, understood the potential beneath the surface, and was unfaltering in his strict teachings to bring it forth. The man that allowed himself to be hated by his own son because he was able to make and perform the toughest decision no one should ever have to make. There would be unrest and someone had to be willing to make such choices and put logic above compassion which at times could cloud one’s judgement. And should both parties have their judgements clouded, Elidibus could weigh and find the way forward, as was and ever has been his duty. Unbound by any strict loyalty he could, and rightfully should, go against them both if they were to lead the star to destruction. What made him the more favorable of an Elidibus to Deimos was the free-spirit just below the surface that held such high value in life continuing, one that reminded him of Hythlodaeus….someone the world needed. Inhaling deeply I draw my sword feeling the newly replenished aether flow into it as I make my way to that crack. Hades looks over with a bewildered face between mine, the crack, and the glowing purple sword I carry. The man reaches for me calling out his brother’s name. With gritted teeth and a yell do I swing my sword into the crack. It sticks and even with nearly half my aether and all that I could gather around me it doesn’t move. I channel more and slowly the sword begins to move down, opening the crack further. Enough for a single person to make their way through. I remove the sword bringing it back to the top, lungs burning with every breath I take, body shaking as I feel more of the aether leave me, but I just need it opened a little more, just enough for another to be pushed through at the same time.

And have some of the bad ending of the Dominant AU Spoilers for Rising Tide dlc of xvi

Joshua nods, holding back tears as he feels the one thing he can’t mend, “He’s okay. He’s going to live.” She smiles, nodding, “Good. Good I’m glad. He deserves to live….to finally know happiness.” She inhales shakily, feeling tears fall from her eyes as the pain begins inside her chest. “Joshua….,” she starts, “It’s okay. I knew the risks, even if I wasn’t in full control. I just wanted to keep him safe.” “I know but-.” He gasps, some tears leaving him silently, “Alma, please, don’t go. I love you.” She swallows back the lump in her throat, “I know and I love you too. I will always love you, my beautiful idiot.” She reaches up, cupping his cheek, wiping away his tears, “My Phoenix….don’t let this snuff out your light. Promise me, my love.” “Alma….,” he sobs, pulling her closer. “Promise me, Joshua….” He closes his eyes a moment, nodding, swallowing back the pain that would make it hard to speak. “I promise."

She begins to lift herself, Joshua meeting her halfway, their lips coming together. He begins to memorize the softness, the passion, her laughter, the way she’d light up when their eyes met. Sears memories of when he first saw her face, the moonlit nights where nothing existed but the two of them, and the way she felt laying with him, curled up under a tree in the golden afternoon sun, her hand pressed to his heart in bed, and her arms wrapped around him when the nightmares were too much. Flashes of memories when they’d run off from the Undying and explore the villages around them, how she’d laugh when he told stories of his childhood, the dance they shared just before coming here, and the moment he realized how much more she was to him than just a friend.  A small moment, a pristine image of her standing at a wooden table, hair loosely braided, eyes fixated on her notes as the mortar and pestle move deftly in her hands, her eyebrows concentrating while her pink lips still wore a ghost of a smile as she hummed what he would come to find out as a lullaby from her childhood. He had stood there mesmerized, holding onto books that felt unimportant in that moment, felt the way his heart skipped a beat, and the way he almost said “I love you” aloud when she glanced his way, blush forming when she tried to focus back on her work.  (....) When they finally part she whispers against his lips, “Be safe, my love….my dear Joshua.” Her hand grows limp and he can see the curse make its way to the surface above her heart stopping its spread when she takes her final breath. “Alma,” he asks with a cracking voice, sobs starting to take hold. “Alma.” He shakes her, pulling her closer to him, “Come back, Alma, please.” He holds her to him, sobs freeing themselves as he buries his face into her hair, “Don’t leave me.” 

He starts to rock back and forth, the movement catching Clídna’s eye. Her face falls, chest constricting, breathing out, “Oh no….” She nudges Clive, the other two women following as he turns to see where Clídna’s gaze lands.  He rushes over, heart falling at the sounds of his brother’s sobs and seeing her lifeless body in his arms. “Joshua….,” he starts, the women joining him, Jill pressing a hand over her mouth and Clídna hanging her head. “Joshua, I’m-. I’m so sorry.” “I couldn’t save her, Clive. I-. She-. H-her body couldn’t handle-.” His sobs overtake him once more, mumbling apologies and pleas for her to return to him in between. The rest of the group turns silent, heads hanging for a few minutes until Shula excuses herself to take Wajlas back and begin preparations. As his sobs begin to slow he pulls away, allowing them to see the crystal’s curse on her chest. He brings his hand up to her face, his fire briefly overtaking it to reveal one free of cuts and bruises. Clídna kneels down, gently taking her in her arms. “No!” He protests, pulling Alma closer. “I promise she’ll be okay, but we should be heading back.” He shakes his head at Clídna who breathes out, “Joshua….” Clive steps forward-.  “No! Leave us alone! Please, I’ll-. I’ll take care of her.”

“Joshua,” Jill says softly, hand gently touching his shoulder, “we should make her more comfortable. Let her lie in a soft bed. Can we at least help you with that?” He sniffs back the sobs that feel unending with each movement he makes, nodding. Clídna picks up Alma’s body before he can protest once more, turning to make her way back to Haven. Jill and Clive both help Joshua up from the ground, glinting silver catching his eye. He turns towards it, picking up a beaded belt turned makeshift necklace with blue beads and a Rosfield crest on a silver chain. He clutches it to his chest, the weight of it pulling him towards the ground. Jill and Clive hold him up, encouraging him to walk onward despite the intensifying sobs. The three make it back on land when he collapses crying out her name. Hunching over pushing the necklace ever closer to his heart, apologizing and crying out for her return, pleading and praying to the gods to let her live once again. Clive and Jill say nothing as they wrap their arms tightly around him, letting him scream and cry. Joshua clutches onto his brother, burying his face in his chest, “It’s not fair.” “I know,” Clive says softly. “She shouldn’t have had to-.” He cries, grip tightening, “I love her, Clive. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together when this was all over, but now-. What will I do without her?”

[gunsli-01]

I was tagged in this by @tired-and-unjellied @rainbowghostcat and @a-star-that-burns-brightly,

cute thing im coming up with this picrew of yourself and your current hyperfixation !!

Thank you all for tagging me I was happy to see it and it made me feel really included! I love being tagged in things generally. So, it really made my day to see these as I was going through my days!

I hope you're all enjoying yourselves and the new timeline information!

Oh, and Rainbow on a milgramblrgram note did you like the long greeting. It's getting great reviews-

How was the portrayal of Mikoto, I'd like to know your thoughts if you have time to read all that- that is. No pressure if you don't though. It's pretty long.

To be honest my current hyper is actually just me, myself, and fucking I. Yet, that's not a media and I did just write all that so ya already know I'M- (<- Accurate depiction of the fanbase falling into super hell trial three. I'll be fine though~ Because I was already in hell. So, I'm just going to be going, "Super!")

I've pretty much been embodying this song. To me selfcare is recognizing when I don't want to speak to anyone and not pushing myself to do so out of a misguided fear of missing the opportunity to, or misinterpreted my own feelings and ways of display care and consideration one-sidedly. Ultimately causing a lot of undue stress. That and generally recognizing that no one is ever entitled to the ability to access/communicate with someone else especially if someone is abusing that ability.

This may sound antisocial, maybe on some level it is. Yet, this is actually the most social I've been in a year. It's more just a reminder to myself to just not talk to people who make me feel bad about talking to anyone at all or about my hobbies. Something that some may be able to tell I've been really getting back into.

So another current hyper fixation has been my many ocs. Right now with a big focus on my little sweetie Daniel-

Who also fits that song quite a lot too I'm realizing,

Daniel: Yeah, it’s a real touristy place but a lot of students where I go hangout there due to it. Easy to get lost in a crowd. So, sometimes I just get a ride out there when invited or someone sends a ride to me if they really want me there. Nayo: Sounds fun- though it also sounds like the times you go there are very conditional. Have you ever been there without being invited Daniel: I mean yeah. Why else would I go there? Nayo: Was just curious- since you did just say that you tend to either pay for a ride when you’re invited out or someone sending one to you. For all I know, it could have been specifically to meet up with people. Daniel: Yeah, it was just to meet up with others. Not like that’s a crime though.

"I've gone outside and taken Ubers my friends have made me go."

I've been trying to to plot out the best way to finish his trial. I'm also really into Mugram (Mayumi and Masaru the oops we fucked up at work duo that is if Masaru is running a gambling scam to make quick cash.) and Tsumigram (mostly still really fixated on Toa) still. Plus, I'm interested in seeing a-star-that-burns-brightly opinion on the new timeline today. Sorry about that at first disjointed explaination on the pregnancy entrapment theory by the way I fuck up spelling a lot and sometimes forget connectors are necessary hope the edited version connected things in a more understandable way.

Also more proof for that pregnancy entrapment Yuno theory just dropped thanks to Nott sending me the graffart. Where staff just decides to highlight the red ribbon that's tied to the balloon reflected in Yuno's eyes within Umbilical the one she was aiming seeming just in case her first songs visuals were to subtle about it,

Since the graffart is directly referencing things in the prisoners first trial songs,

I messed up I found out- Is right!

Yuno as soon as she found out that was Yellow's baby,

"Oh, please! Gimme that baby and I'd yeet it off a tower."

The fanbase trial three are about to be out here like, "What?!"

Oh damn that's gonna be funny if it's actually the case.

So, yeah I've have a lot things that I've had my eyes on lately. Sorry for the more long response. I just didn't want to just slap all your tags together answer and say nothing else. So I brought up a few things I thought might interest all of you.

Also, go check out @apatchworkstar they put a theme on her blog for desktop that's very cute. Also on that note thanks for the all the help Tired-and-Unjellied I really hope it wasn't too much of a bother.

Oh also I'm tagging Star and @purgemarchlockdown for the tag game. Neither of you have to do it if you don't want to, though.

[saintqueer]

I'm sorry you got harassed again just from a simple post with a (imo pretty valid) opinion. If that person is the same that answered your post by reblogging and repplying on their blog with unnecessary hate (apparently queer but a solo louie) then it's the one I just blocked. I love to currate my experience in this fandom. Anyway I just wanted to say, I used to love your posts in this fandom! I lost track of your blog and thought you'd disappeard. I'm glad to see you're still on Tumblr and enjoying other fandoms. I'm well aware of how toxic this fandom can get (between the hets, the solos often queer themselves but hating on queer larries and more, to many groups to count tbh, louis' attitude on social media ect), especially when you dare to voice an opinion, which I'm mostly don't lol. I'm staying for the art, the fics, the great memes and ofc the music and the people. You're "y'all" made me think 'I Hope she still got good times and friends out if it. I made some great friends in the larries bunch myself. Anyway sorry for the rant, I lost track of what was my point here. Just was happy to see you pop on my dash through a mutual and wanted to say so I guess?? So once again thank you for the fun times I had reading your posts back in the days; have a great time out here, enjoying your favs fandoms, you do you! Sending love xx

so i was trying to avoid posting any anons regarding prev fandom discourse but i opened this one and read it through and it was just so amazing i had to respond, not just in tags 🥹🥹

of course, it's lovely to hear that you liked my posts on fandom back in the day etc but what really got me was when you wanted to make sure i still got good times and friends out of it, that nearly made me cry

because YEAH I FUCKING DID 🥺😩🥺🥹🥲

blue ( @wastelandbabyblue ) is literally one of the coolest people i've ever known while also being one of the kindest and funniest. id literally kill to meet her one day in person. i still keep up with brenda and several others i met in her og discord, some of which are the only remaining 1d fandom blogs i still follow here - they are so kind and funny and i still talk to them occasionally in a fandom discord i stayed in because i didn't want to lose touch with them.

and 🥹🥹🥹

i met 8 of who i would consider my closest friends in the whole world through fandom. through the most insane wild and unruly fandom discord drama, i literally located my found family: wedo, nino, iza, katja, olia, hanis, chloe, and su

we talk everyday still even though we live all over the world and we talk about nearly everything except fandom nowadays and they've helped me survive living day to day through some of the worst moments of my life. i don't know what i'd do if i didn't have them in my life

last night, i had a bit of a shame spiral thinking about all the time energy money i devoted to the 1d fandom. i felt embarrassed for being so loud about something that ended in so much disappointment. it wasn't fun and i know it was probably triggered by being involved in some discussions i hadn't been in so long

so when i opened this ask, anon, it reminded me so much that whatever was lost from that time, so much more was gained. the embarrassment of remembering dancing around like a fool with a rainbow flag for someone who couldn't even say something as simple as "look at all those colors" pales in comparison to the lifelong friendship i gained with these 8 beautiful women all across the globe

nothing will ever compare to the people i met and the way they feel closer to family than any of my blood ever felt

i'm glad that you found so much goodness as well and thank you for reminding me that it was all worth it for what i got

[underratedandoverit]

You Wanna Wish Away Your Sins (3/3)

After losing to Best Friends at Arcade Anarchy, Kip undergoes shoulder surgery. One person reaching out to him afterwards sends Kip spiraling, turning all the pain and suffering in him into… Flowers? Flowers growing in his lungs?

Kip Sabian/Chuck Taylor. Hanahaki disease. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Emotional hurt/comfort. One-sided attraction. Also tagged this from now on with manipulative Kip.

Marked Mature on AO3 for general content. Warnings for mentions of hospitals, surgery, medical stuff. Described feelings for choking and vomiting.

Other characters on-screen include Penelope Ford, Orange Cassidy. Rest of Best Friends are mentioned. Background ship of Penelope/Kris is heavily implied, but never specifically shown.

part 1 || part 2

On AO3

Finishing this took way longer than I intended. Oops. Mental illness and whatever be damned yada yada. But it's over now. And I am content. It's a whole fic and ended just as I wanted and had planned, surprisingly no surprises during writing lol. I hope it makes sense, there's a little bit there that doesn't get explained, but I have convinced myself that people can put the pieces together considering the mental state Kip is in and how the hanahaki disease works so. Yeah.

If you have read this far, thank you so much, I really appreciate you and your patience if you have waited for this to finish since I originally posted in early September. I see all the kudos and subs attached, they mean the world to me. Would love to hear your thoughts of this now that it's over, as there was a lot of time (obviously lol) and love put into this, so it would mean a lot ;; But I appreciate you all so much either way, thank you for sticking by and reading!! 💜💜

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate @ss-trashboat

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

Kip tried to keep his eyes on the television, but he wasn’t registering anything he saw on the screen. Even if he was technically interested in watching the game that was being played, Kip would have much rather been looking at something else. Or someone else. That someone being the man sitting on the couch next to him, being much more into the activity of playing a video game that he was partaking in that Kip was.

While he was glad that Chuck was coming over far more often these days, at the same time it did grind Kip’s mind that they had fallen into this false routine of a casual friendship. Chuck would appear on his doorstep, bring a movie or a game with him for them to busy themselves with that day, maybe some snacks and energy drinks, and the rest of the day they would just hang out, consume the media of the day, and that would be it.

Same talking points every single day. Sitting in the silently designated spots on the couch just far enough from one another that even by accident their hands wouldn’t brush against each other unless they were passing the food and drinks around. Eye contact was brief, almost uncomfortably so if it managed to exist in the first place, and only when one got up from the couch and asked if the other needed something or something similarly surprising happened. Maybe a laugh could gather a quick glance, maybe a sneeze, a cough. And even then it was more often Chuck doing that to Kip, while Kip was trying to steal looks into his direction any chance he could, hoping Chuck would catch a hint.

It had been days, weeks even, maybe. How many, Kip had lost a count somewhere after the first few days, partially because of the pain he was going through, partially because he still found the whole situation so absurd. But the thing he knew for sure, was that it had been too many for comfort.

Every time Kip watched Chuck walk out the door of his house again at the end of the day, his breathing became a little bit tighter, the stabbing pain in his chest more prominent, the sleep during that following night a little shorter.

He was so tired of it all, and with every day that passed him by, it was pushing Kip closer to the realization that he finally had to do something about things. Before the pain was too paralyzing, before the thoughts became too much. Before he just couldn’t do anything about it anymore, before it was all too late.

“…Hey? Kip?”

The Brit blinked blankly a few times, finally registering the voice calling out to him after the words had been repeated a few times. His eyes slowly dragged away from the television screen, facing the brunet sitting on the couch next to him, Chuck looking at him with worry and concern. It was almost adorable to Kip how his brows furrowed and eyes darted around his facial features in clear worry. Almost.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Chuck sighed, Kip trying to offer him an apologetic smile as he watched Chuck running a hand through his hair, eyes turning away from the other man again as he shook his head a little. Kip had been too deep in his own head, with his own thoughts to notice Chuck had even tried to talk to him, the guilt almost immediately gnawing on him at the mere thought. He was supposed to try to pay attention to him, to try to make Chuck realize the situation, how close they were, to understand his feelings, to close the gap, to --

“I just wanted to know if you were hungry. We could order something in, maybe. If you’d like.”

For once Kip was thankful that Chuck wasn’t looking straight at him, his cheeks flushing red for a brief moment as he registered the words. Ordering food? Together? At his place, like this, out of the blue? For the first time?

It almost sounded like a date night proposal in Kip’s ears.

He quickly shook the thought from his head, turning away from Chuck to make sure he didn’t even by accident catch a glimpse of the blush decorating his face, desperately trying to not have the words caught in his throat, only partially succeeding.

“Ye-yeah that would be great.”

Chuck was so sincere about this question, just like he always was about everything, he was probably just hungry himself, and Kip was overthinking it all. Once again. But also, what if…

“Great. What would you like to eat?” Chuck’s words cut Kip’s thought process off again, his eyes slowly returning to the other man, watching Chuck pull his phone out of his pocket, eyes landing onto it, seemingly to avoid eye contact with Kip, who just shrugged a little. “I don’t know. Whatever sounds good.”

Chuck’s brows furrowed, suddenly looking back at Kip, making the Brit jump a little. This wasn’t the kind of reaction Kip had expected to his words, swallowing a little surprise lump in his throat as all of a sudden he was very unsure again where this was going. He hated nothing more than the unpredictable nature of their relationship, not being able to read Chuck at moments like this, mostly due to his own emotions and thoughts clouding his judgment and understanding of what the situation called for from him.

“…Okay, I’m going to be fully honest with you.”

The suddenly rather serious tone of Chuck’s voice made Kip’s eyes widen a little, he could feel his whole body tensing up at the sudden shift. Chuck offered him a small smile, most likely in hopes of trying to calm down Kip’s very obviously surprised demeanor, but seeing that smile just made Kip’s whole mind skip another beat instead.

“I’ve been worried about you recently. I actually talked with Penelope yesterday after I left, and she feels much the same way as I do.”

Chuck? Worried? About him? Chuck? Kip’s head was spinning, but he just nodded his head, not even acknowledging the fact that Chuck was also talking about Penelope being involved in this. All Kip cared about was that Chuck was thinking about him, outside of this room, outside of this couch, when he wasn’t around.

Chuck was thinking, and talking, about him.

“You’ve been… Seemingly getting worse each day I see you. You lack sleep, you lack food, you lack energy. I understand you are in a lot of pain with the shoulder and all, but you need to take care of yourself, Kip. Mine and Penelope’s help will only get you so far.”

Kip just looked at him quietly, trying to process the statement in his head, but all his thoughts retracted back to the overall realization that Chuck was worried about him. Thinking about him. That Chuck at least seemed to care more than he led on directly to him, at least before this very moment at hand.

“If there’s something wrong that you need help with, other than what we have been providing so far, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask, you know?”

Kip felt his head nodding itself, despite not approving of the movement in his mind. He was running on a practiced autopilot, still afraid that one casual movement might fuck all this up for him, not being the kind of response that Chuck wanted. This seemed to be enough for the brunet for now though as Chuck nodded back at him, eyes slowly returning to the phone in his hand. Right, he was ordering food. Right.

“So, again: what do you want to eat today? You can get anything you want, as long as it makes you eat. We just want to make sure you take care of yourself.”

At the same time it was endearing that Chuck was doing this for him, but Kip also knew he had to put a stop to this, all of it. While yes his current and constantly worsening condition was making him neglect his own basic needs, both which directly as a result affected his appetite and energy levels, Kip knew that trying to eat some proper food one day wasn’t the answer to his problems. Above all else, his condition was making it not only difficult to breathe, but the pain in his chest and particularly in his lungs made eating at this point a near impossible task.

As the silence from the Brit continued, Chuck glanced towards him, spotting Kip just looking back at him. Whether he was deep in thought or just staring, Chuck wasn’t quite sure.

“Kip?”

“I’m not hungry.”

At least it wasn’t a lie in a sense. Chuck raised a brow at him, slowly lowering the hand holding his phone onto his lap, eyes narrowing a little. Chuck’s eyes lingered on him just a little bit too long, forcing Kip to look away, back towards the television with the frozen game pause screen on it.

“You need to eat something.”

“Food can’t fix this.”

Kip could feel the confusion radiating from Chuck’s face, probably his entire being at this point, but he just couldn’t look back at him. It was so much easier for Kip to process his thoughts if he wasn’t looking at what he was sure was a very worried expression on the brunet sitting on the couch a few feet away from him.

He heard Chuck sigh. Not a very good sign.

“If you eat something, you get energy. You feel better. I shouldn’t need to explain all this to you. Kip, please --”

“This isn’t about food.”

Chuck fell silent as Kip cut him off, probably a bit more aggressively than necessary, but he was tired of this. All of this. Both his inability to do anything about the situation even though he desperately, so very desperately needed it, and the way they both seemed to just dance around the topic and the issues at hand. To Kip, Chuck offering to order him food was nothing but a detour that he couldn’t afford to wait to take to where he eventually needed to be. Kip had suffered long enough, mostly due to his own faults, yes, but Chuck jumping in to push his buttons like this, while a step in the right direction, wasn’t a fast enough track to where they needed to be.

Where Kip needed to be if he wanted to make it through all of this, it seemed like.

“…Are you mad at me?”

Kip’s eyes narrowed a little, but he still didn’t turn to look towards Chuck. All he heard was another quiet sigh.

“I don’t know how many times I can apologize for what happened. You know it was an accident. I’m sorry --”

“I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t care about that.”

If something, it was supposed to be Kip who apologized for everything, and he knew that painfully well.

“Then what is it?”

Kip swallowed thickly, being absolutely certain that Chuck could not only see it but also hear him do it. Kip’s eyes slowly dragged back to him, watching the confusion all over the brunet’s face. If the situation wasn’t so dire and heavy, Kip would have found the look on him endearing. Right now though, seeing Chuck not put the pieces together so easily, filled him with dread instead, along with the knowledge that Kip knew exactly what he needed to do next and the can of worms that he needed to open if he ever wanted to have a shot at things getting better again.

“I need…” Kip stopped, the confusion on Chuck’s face slowly melting into a more expecting look. Both of them were still clearly hesitant, Chuck not knowing what to expect out of him and Kip not being so sure how he was going to phrase this so it made even some sort of sense.

Just say it.

“I… I need you to kiss me.”

The silence that fell into the room felt like it was knocking all the remaining air out of Kip. The longer he looked at Chuck and the unreadable look lingering on his face after the words slipped out of Kip’s mouth, the worse he felt about everything. For once he was being honest about this entire situation and what he wanted out of it, and yet it felt like a worse mistake than anything he had lied to Chuck about so far.

He wanted this. He needed this. This was the trigger Kip had been so afraid to pull for so long now, but he knew that if he didn’t finally say those words, no matter the reaction, it would have terrible consequences for him. He was already suffering, the roots of his problem crawling deeper into his lungs every single day he put it off without even trying to make anything out of it. Kip was tired of it, he was suffering immensely because of it, he just needed to do something. Anything.

After what felt like forever of Chuck just staring at him, Kip was snapped out of his thoughts as Chuck took in a sharp breath, the only way Kip was able to describe his expression being polite confusion.

“You, uh… You what?”

Not sure if Chuck was just making sure or if he really hadn’t understood the statement, Kip bit his lower lip as he turned away from the other man. He inhaled slowly, preparing himself to say those words again. Kip did it once, he could do it again. It was a necessary step forward.

“I-I need. To kiss you. You to kiss me. So-something like that.”

As Chuck didn’t reply for a while, Kip stole a quick glance towards him, trying to gather an overview of the situation. Much to his surprise, Chuck looked like he was in deep thought for a second, as if he was pondering over the request. At least he wasn’t outright denying it from Kip, which in turn as he realized it, made his heart jump back into his throat.

The burning as Kip nervously waited for an answer was worse than the thorns poking inside of his lungs at the moment.

“Would that help? Make you feel better?”

Kip nodded almost instantly, the motion almost frantic, something he couldn’t control. Still clearly in his thoughts, Chuck nodded as well.

“I mean,” he muttered, a hand slowly reaching closer to Kip, the Brit’s focus turning on it with slightly widening eyes, “If… If it helps. I guess.”

Kip watched his hand stopping to hover close to him, slowly his own hand reaching for it. He could feel Chuck’s fingers gently wrapping around his hand, giving it a little tuck, an invitation to come closer. Kip followed suit, shifting over on the couch to slowly make his way to sit down right next to Chuck. For the first time since they had started doing this, for the first time since Chuck had started to spend the days over to keep him company. There had always been a cold, untouched gap between the two of them on the couch, but this was the first time it had been broken, filled, fixed.

And all it took was a small request that Kip should have been able to do in the first place, but it took him weeks and actual concern from Chuck to get to this point.

But there he was now, Chuck still gently holding his hand, running this thumb over his knuckles. A soft, still kind of unsure smile crossing his lips as he was looking Kip straight in the eyes. Chuck clearly wasn’t budging back on this, honestly much to Kip’s surprise, as his free hand slowly crept up to the Brit’s face, palm pressing against his cheek. Chuck’s hand was surprisingly cold against his flushed skin.

“…You sure?”

It was almost as if Chuck was asking that from himself more than Kip, but he pushed the thought aside, just nodding his head again. Without another word, Chuck leaned closer, finally closing the gap that had been antagonizing Kip these past few weeks without remorse, locking their lips together.

The kiss was awkward and hesitant at first, but slowly it felt more natural as they both seemed to relax into it. Soft and homey, but Kip could taste his own desperation in it despite all of it. He knew how badly he not only wanted, but needed this. While he could have joked that it was the matter of life and death, to him it was actually no joke, but merely the cruel reality he barely understood himself at all. Feeling Chuck’s lips finally against his, after the excruciatingly long amount of time of craving and needing nothing more than to taste him so desperately he was suffering from the withdrawals more and more every day, Kip’s mind went blank. He could feel Chuck close, hear his breathing, slowly allowing himself to enjoy it, running a thumb over Kip’s cheek.

Kip had been waiting for this moment for so long, craving for this so badly, that he needed more now that he finally had it, pushing the boundaries first as he found himself without a single coherent thought giving a small bite on Chuck’s lower lip, a silent, desperate request for a deeper kiss. A deeper meaning.

A request that was granted to him, but was also almost immediately and far too fast ripped away from him as Chuck suddenly jolted away, as if he had suddenly in the midst of all of this realized what he was doing and thought better of it.

Eyes opening as Kip felt the hand disappear from his face, he leaned slightly back, watching in emotions swimming in disappointment and confusion as Chuck’s eyes were suddenly on his phone again, the piece of tech buzzing on his lap, suddenly demanding his attention. Almost as if it was mocking Kip and how close he had finally gotten.

“So-sorry, I have to take this.”

Kip just nodded, feeling the body heat of the other man disappearing from around him as Chuck’s hand left his, grabbing a hold of the phone before he stood up, answering the sudden call. He could still salvage this, it wasn’t all lost. Chuck hadn’t denied him this, by the way he was acting it was obvious to Kip that this wasn’t just all in his head. Maybe the kiss had been brief, but there was compassion behind it, he was very gentle about it, there --

“What do you mean that was today?”

Kip’s eyes slowly traveled up to Chuck, watching the brunet run a hand over his face as he sighed. “Yeah I know, I know you need me there for that, just… I was kinda in the middle of something…”

The silence that followed that statement and the way Chuck couldn’t look back at Kip made a familiar lump climb its way back in his throat. Kip tried to cough it out quietly, not to attract attention to himself, just watching as Chuck stepped a little bit further away from him.

“I can be there in twenty minutes, I guess. …Alright, I’ll see you then.”

As he hung up the call, Chuck didn’t even need to say anything. He was sure Kip had heard most of it, and the apologetic eyes and the small smile he offered to him as he finally turned back towards the Brit really didn’t help the case.

“Sorry, I completely forgot we had a photoshoot to do today, I… I gotta go.”

Kip nodded his head, but remained silent as he stood up from the couch. At least this was a start, they were going somewhere. He had put at least part of his desires out there, for Chuck to reach out and react to, if nothing else. This was a beginning, hopefully for the better. Kip wasn’t sure how fast he was supposed to be feeling the effects of his love and affections being returned to him, but so far he was blaming the sick feeling in his throat on the sudden change of pace in the room rather than Chuck not returning his feelings like before.

Maybe he had read all of this wrong. Maybe the sickness had caught up with him just because he didn’t know this was mutual. That had to be it, right?

Kip walked him to the door, Chuck turning back to him again as he rested his hand on the door handle.

“Look, I’m really sorry I have to go, I just completely forgot about this. You know, with having to worry about you and all.”

Kip could feel a smile tucking the corner of his lips, allowing at least a part of it to show. As sad as he was having to watch Chuck walk away yet again without a resolution to this whole problem, at least there was hope. Chuck smiled back at him, leaning closer to press a quick little peck on Kip’s lips, catching the Brit off guard, leaving him looking back at him with wide eyes as Chuck opened the door, stepping outside.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, alright?”

Kip could only nod before Chuck closed the door, leaving him standing there, heart racing and beating loudly between his ears. Kip leaned against the closed door, inhaling deeply before he sighed, the content smile on his lips only wiped away as he coughed softly, eyes shooting open to witness the handful of purple tinted rose petals he let out of his mouth.

No.

Chuck Taylor still didn’t love him.

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

“…Are you sure it’s him?”

Cassidy shrugged his shoulders a little. “I mean, who else could it be? Besides, he has photos of himself that he signs and hands out and a big board on the table with the name ‘Kip Sabian’ on it, so…”

Chuck sighed, running a hand over his face before rolling his eyes. “You could have led with that information, you know.”

Cassidy didn’t reply back to him, just observed the brunet on the couch through his sunglasses. “I thought you would have known. Aren’t you two friends or something?”

Chuck avoided looking directly back at him, trying to make it seem like the question didn’t sting. He hadn’t seen Kip since that day, he never opened the door when Chuck came over the following day or answered any of his calls or texts since. He had been living in complete darkness over what had actually happened with Kip, even Penelope refused to tell him anything apart from a general ‘he’s fine’ every time Chuck asked her something.

“I told you, that was months ago.”

Cassidy just nodded, stopping to observe Chuck as the other man just tried to focus back on lacing his boots. After a long, lingering silence the blond broke it as he spoke up again.

“Do you want to go see him?”

Chuck stopped, eyes slowly dragging up to Cassidy again. He seemed sincere in that question, and if Chuck was being honest, that had been the first thought in his mind since Cassidy had waltzed into the locker room with the news that Kip had been sighted inside the building. The premise seemed rather odd to him, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have put something like that past Kip. A silent man with a suit and a cardboard box on his head, doing a signing that hadn’t been advertised for anyone beforehand. Sounded like it was just down Kip’s alley, in some really weird way, to him.

“Is he still there?”

“Probably,” Cassidy shrugged again. “He seemed to be just setting up when we went into the cafeteria like twenty minutes ago. I doubt he has left yet.”

While he wasn’t quite sure how to take any of it, let alone how Kip was going to take it if he showed up, Chuck nodded a little, still a bit hesitant. Cassidy mirrored the movement, before nodding his head towards the locker room door, asking Chuck to follow him. Not that he didn’t know where the cafeteria was in the building, they had walked past it when they had entered earlier, but maybe his hesitance was on the surface enough that Cassidy thought taking the lead was going to make him regret this less. Make it easier for him.

Chuck followed Cassidy outside, tracking through the hallways for a moment before they arrived at their destination. It was extremely easy to spot the individual not belonging into the group of people in the big, bright, well-lit room, the man standing in the middle of it all by a large table messed up with multiple scattered photos around it, hands behind his suited back as he was observing the room through the eye holes poked on a box over his head.

Chuck swallowed thickly. It didn’t matter if he didn’t see his face, all that was enough for him to recognize him immediately, no matter how many months it had been since or how much things had changed between now and then.

He was so focused on reading the words on the front of the box that Chuck didn’t notice the eyes inside of it land on him. The distance made it a bit harder, sure, but the lights were bright enough and the dark circles surrounding the eyes made them pop for Cassidy to notice the stare at first, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Hey,” he muttered, carefully elbowing Chuck to the side to get his attention. “He sees you. I think you should at least go say hello.”

Blinking himself back to the situation, Chuck glanced at Cassidy on his side, the blond just shrugging at him a little. Maybe Chuck’s nervousness was obvious, maybe Cassidy quickly put two and two together from what Chuck had told him before about how their last meeting had ended, but he only sighed, once again leading the way towards the man in a suit and the box, Kip’s eyes never leaving Chuck as they approached. Chuck on the other hand tried to look at everything except him, until he was stopped to stand right in front of the other man he hadn’t seen in months until now.

Through the eye holes of the box Chuck could see his vacant stare just blankly staring back at him, saying it all without saying anything at the same time. Kip looked at him briefly, before providing a photo from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulling a marker seemingly out of nowhere along with it. He scribbled something quickly on the photo, handing it to Cassidy, and walked away without looking back or acknowledging either of them further.

Cassidy looked at the photo for a moment before handing it over to Chuck. It was an old promo picture of Kip, in his Superbad gear, with his face crossed over with a red marker and some messy text scribbled next to him.

‘Time changes us all. Embrace the change.’