#and i couldn’t stop myself from saying something

[saintjosie]

yesterday i had something of a personal revelation regarding my internalized ableism.

i have pretty bad vision and extreme audio processing disorder. i can see about six inches in front of my face clearly without glasses and i frequently have to ask people to repeat themselves or get really confused because i mishear things or just don’t understand the word that someone said.

yesterday i was talking to jessica who was across the room except i didn’t have my glasses on. and i stopped her and said “hold on baby pause, i can’t understand you because i don’t have my glasses on”.

and it took a bit of buffering time but i realized that a huge part of the reason that i couldn’t understand what she was saying was because i wasn’t able to see her mouth moving while she talked. and suddenly it dawned on me, that reading lips, something i’ve always been inexplicably good at, is actually a skill i developed as compensation for my disability.

and a new level of understanding regarding my various disabilities and internalized ableism unlocked in my brain. all of the times i have been told im bad at listening from my parents. all the times my teachers berated me for not paying attention. all of the times a friend of partner was upset with me because they assumed i wasn’t listening to them. i developed a skill just so that i wouldn’t disappoint them by pretending that i didn’t have a disability.

to my younger self, i’m sorry that i wasn’t kind to you. i’m sorry you didn’t get the support or understanding you needed as a child. i’m learning now and im beginning to forgive myself for it.

[edenfenixblogs]

This is truly art because it elicits an emotional reaction. It’s a good example of art, because the emotion it elicits from me is extremely complex.

It reminds me of people with whom I’ve drifted apart for a variety of reasons in recent and more distant seasons of my life. I feel sorrow and nostalgia but also hope and love. And in some cases, disgust, which is reflected well in somewhat rotted appearance of the center.

It reminds me of the fragility of human connection in its thin, papery dried petals.

It makes me laugh in its simplicity and meme-like format. The modernity of the presentation with the timelessness of flowers with the inescapable past-tense of the dried and dead aspect is genuinely a little heartbreaking and very thought provoking. It reminds me that the things I’m feeling when I look at this are as ancient as they are present.

I feel guilt about how it makes me miss some people I wish I’d kept in touch with more. I feel shame and rage at how it makes me think of people I miss, because my memory recalls how it felt when things were good with them, despite knowing how toxic things had become by the end. I’m envious of that bit of memory that gets to remain Peter Pan in Never Neverland—never having to confront its future which is now my past. That part gets to be oblivious of the things that eroded trust and love enough to make that person a stranger.

It reminds me of non-human creatures I miss and yearn for—childhood pets, a beautiful hummingbird that used to linger outside my window, the wild creatures I saw on my drive through the country in fourth grade but that aren’t native to my area or anywhere I have lived, the fly to whom my preschool classmate gave a name and insisted was now a part of our friend group because she loved every living thing… The fly is long gone. But our friendship remains between that classmate and I. She is now my oldest friend, and her children are the age we were when we met.

It reminds me of lifeless objects and ideas filled with nostalgia—the orange VHS tapes of 1990s Nickelodeon movies, the smell of the fake raspberries in a spoon I used to feed my baby doll, the intoxicating scent of sunscreen and wet chlorine on my skin during summer days at the community pool, and the golden gold ball bookmark I would purposefully steal from my great grandfather’s books, making him lose his place. He always made a great show of being annoyed, because he really did lose his place. But he couldn’t stop smiling because I was a mastermind and my giggles infected him. I’ve lost him long ago. Sometimes my bookmarks fall out of my books at the most inconvenient times, and in my soul I know he is behind it and cackling from heaven. I listen mostly to audiobooks now and sometimes I feel myself drifting off to sleep when I listen to them in bed. But I always catch myself and turn the audio off and switch to podcasts. And I send a small silent prayer upwards to him “Not today, Grandpa. But I love you, too.”

I’m a writer. I’m good with words. I think words can be art. But I love visual art. I love that I can look at this image and see all of that. And that someone else can see an entirely different essay of inner monologue when they look at it.

There is a lie that struggle makes good art. But that’s not true. People with something to say make good art. These next few years will be hard. And your priority must be to take care of yourself and survive. But if you have things to say, whether through words or other art, please know that taking the time to say them is important. It’s important you release those thoughts and ideas, even if you don’t know how to articulate them in words. And it’s important you know that people like me are listening.

I love you. Thanks for the art.

[sugarikiz]

MOOD SWINGS

୨ৎ ─── when the mood swings and cramps get too much, your down bad lover’s always there to help you deal with it…

&&엔하이픈니키 ✦ 𝑏𝑓. niki x 𝑓. reader ♡ l’avis . . . est. relationship fluff crying periods pda wc384

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mick’s 注記 ─── first day of my period and ive already cried once and rage quit on homework… (so annoying istg) im so annoyed with myself and everything and everybody else that I just can’t even anymore. so, to make me feel better, here I am presenting you with my man and how he would be when he makes you cry on accident!

NIKI NEVER EXPECTED TO MAKE YOU ACTUALLY CRY.

today did not have a wonderful start; you realised your period started as soon as you woke up in the morning, and called off your date with niki because of your crappy mood and cramps. him, being the sweetheart he is, insisted on coming over and cuddling with you, totally fine with helping you out if you needed it.

one moment, you were just debating on what was better — chinese food or korean — when suddenly tears welled up in your eyes for no reason. damn mood swings.

his eyes widened as a sudden panic set in, immediately taking a step closer and cupping your cheeks in his hands with a touch so gentle, one could think you were made of glass. ( read more below the cut >< )

he knew how bad your mood swings and cramps during your period were, sometimes making you a raging ball of fire and tears once a month, but he didn’t expect to make thick tears start to form in the corners of your eyes.

“baby… what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” his tone was soft — so soft it was barely above a whisper. you shook your head slightly, signalling that it wasn’t his fault.

he gently wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you let out a few, small sobs. his heart ached with each one, even knowing that he didn’t do anything to cause it.

even when your sobs stopped sounding, he continued to hold you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that he knew would somewhat help the relentless stabbing pain in your abdomen.

you pulled away from his chest, eyes still teary. “i’m sorry, I just couldn’t control it…” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed at having cried for absolutely no reason like this. “it’s not your fault, y/n. in fact, it’s good that you let it out,” he spoke, voice gentle as ever. “so, how about some of your beloved chinese takeout and a movie? and cuddles, of course.”

a smile room over your features in an instant, a stark contrast from the tears that were just beginning to dry on the apples of your cheeks.

“do you really think I’d say no to that, ki?”

thank you for reading !! likes + reblogs are really appreciated ><

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[hoonieyun]

this is where it ends ⋆˙⟡♡

days of dodging your boyfriend after your fight finally lead you to the answer you've been looking for (read part one here) heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: aaaaangsttttt!!! angst!! heartbreak.. OOF warnings: toxic relationship, bad coping mechanisms, profanity, mentions of drinking as an addiction, gaslighting, arguing, 18+

hoonieyun notes: WHEW... lowkey was like.. damn this shit is TOO angsty so sorry in advance but im obsessed with angst lately and watching xo kitty did not help because that show was a rollercoaster LMAO anyways i hope you guys enjoy this sad piece of work because i have more coming with my vday anthology and exes reunited series plus! i've just announced my 1k follower special!

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @heartheejake @cloud-lyy @heeweenie @jakesimfromstatefarm @lovelymelon @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@chvconn3 @heeheeyeoiizz01 @pjselee @malloryaloisia @alienqbrain @jooniesbears-blog @haeeeeefer @firstclassjaylee

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

it had been 3 days since you left heeseung standing in your apartment, dumbfounded and unsure of where you were. you really had hoped he would run after you that night but he didn’t and that seemed to put the nail in the coffin for you. 

were you ready to throw away your relationship all because of this? 

was it worth it to lose the person you love? 

you had pondered on so many questions since that night and each question felt like you were guilt tripping yourself into thinking that your own feelings weren’t valid, like you were trying to convince yourself that you were overreacting and that heeseung was right. 

why were you being so annoying?

but these questions only led to more questions instead of answers.

were you being annoying or were you just tired of not being heard? 

if you hadn’t been the one to constantly ask him to clean up after himself would he have done it on his own? 

why were you trying to come up with reasons to talk yourself back into his arms when you truly knew deep down the answer you were looking for…

you just weren’t ready to come to terms with it. 

so here you were, hurriedly packing what you could before heeseung could come home. and just to your luck, he had arrived much earlier than you anticipated. “yn?” heeseungs says, shock painted across his face as he sees you standing in the hallway with a box of your things. 

“wh- what are you doing?” he asks, eyes falling on the box in your hands. 

both of you knew the answer to that. 

“i think- i can’t do this anymore, hee… 

i did a lot of thinking these past fews days and everything i thought of i found myself trying to make excuses for you. trying to figure out why i was acting this way and why i was going out of my way to make it seem like i was the one causing these issues and stressing myself out and then i realized… 

why was i trying to compromise my own happiness and well being for someone who didn’t care about me? 

for someone who couldn’t simply understand where i was coming from and couldn’t even listen to me when all i would ask for was something so easy as to clean up after yourself. 

heeseung, you’re grown and so am i and i’m done acting like your words and actions don’t hurt solely for the fact that i don’t want to lose you. 

we’re over.” your eyes had tears pooling in them but you refused to let them fall in front of heeseung. 

“what?” heeseung asks, slipping his shoes off and running over to you in an attempt to stop you, reaching for the box but you move out of the way before he can. 

“yn.. can we please talk about this? don’t jump to conclusions just because you’re hurt. this isn’t what you want, what about us? 

are you willing to throw us away because of some petty fight?” and that’s when you knew that you and heeseung weren’t on the same page… at all. 

“that’s what you have to say?” and at this point you had lost the fight to stop the tears from falling. 

“you haven’t even apologized? and now you’re here trying to gaslight me into thinking that what i’m feeling is just the result of a petty fight? 

hee, you never listen to me. you dismissed my feelings and all i asked was you clean up our bedroom because i was tired. i’m sorry but if that was such a hard task then i don’t know what to tell you. 

i’m not jumping to conclusions. heeseung, we’re done.” you say, pushing passed him so you could leave and move on. start new and heal from this pain. 

“really? you’re just going to walk away?” heeseung asks, still refusing to take accountability for his actions. 

“i’m not walking away… you pushed me away.”

“bye, heeseung.”

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

jay hadn’t been able to pick up a bottle of alcohol since that night… 5 months ago. he hadn’t realized he developed a bad habit of drinking all because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his loving girlfriend, the one who took care of him, who loved him, who fought for him to make things right, was slowly becoming someone he didn’t love anymore. 

so why was it that now that you two were broken up, he wants nothing more to get back together with you? 

he thought about the day you finally came back. after you ran out in the middle of the night jay didn’t see you for a whole week and by the end of that week, you would be gone for good. 

“is this what you really want?” jay had asked you right before you left. 

“its not what i want… but it doesn’t seem like what i want would be something that could ever happen if i stayed with you. 

you hurt me, jay. all i ever did was care for you and love you and it made me realize i hadn’t felt care or love from you for a while now. 

i truly hope that you get help for your drinking problem but i’m sorry i’m not going to be the one to fix it for you.” and with that you were gone. out of jay’s life and although you had said that you weren’t going to be the one to fix his drinking problem, in a lot of ways; you did fix it. 

he hadn’t drank since that night and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t drink ever again and 5 months after, he’s kept that promise. 

jay wished that he did keep his promise to you. 

when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he had promised to hold your heart close to his and to never break it. only to find himself distancing his heart from yours and eventually shattering it into millions of pieces when you got into a fight that night. 

but he was now forced to face all of this all over again as you stood in front of him, mirroring the same shocked face he had as the two of you run into each other at a mutual friends party. 

you hadn’t seen jay since that night and although your heart ached for him, you had to choose yourself. you couldn’t stand being with someone who saw you as overbearing when all you did was care for and love them. 

you truly had been worried about jay ever since his drinking habits had gone worse and maybe you could’ve gone about it a better way and not made him feel attacked for his actions but he didn’t have the same consideration for you so why should you do the same… right? 

“h-hi.. yn. you look good.” jay stutters. 

“you do too, um.. i–” you begin to say but he cuts you off. “look, i know we didn’t end on the right foot and these past five months have been hard for me so i could only imagine how hard they’ve been on you. 

i wasn’t right to treat you that way and i’m sorry i’m only realizing it now. i miss you so much and i spend countless nights thinking about you. reminiscing on the good times and how i let myself ruin all of it. 

i’m sorry, yn.” it all comes out like word vomit and quite frankly, you weren’t prepared to hear any of it. you also hadn’t expected him to have this much of grasp on your relationship five months after, but it was all too late. 

“i’m sorry too, jay– but i can’t keep doing this. i think you need to move on. i know i will…” you muttered.

“for what it’s worth… you did help me… i’m five months sober.” he confesses and you give him a tight lipped smile. 

“take care of yourself, ok?” you say before turning around to leave and although jay wished that he could’ve said all of this five months sooner in hopes that it would’ve fixed your relationship, he respects your wishes and just hopes that the next guy who comes around would love you the way you deserved to be loved. 

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

in the time you’ve dated jake or quite frankly, anyone, they had never raised their voice and spoke to you in that way. jake seemed so angry and upset that it scared you. you knew that jake would never hurt you but his words pierced your heart in ways that caused you pain you had never felt before, especially from someone you love and was supposed to love you.

it always hurts more when it comes from someone you love right? 

you had come home the next day and found jake sleeping on the couch, hugging the plushy that he often said looked like you. 

you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make your heart hurt… but it did. 

it seemed like jake had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for you but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the feeling of being unwanted, unloved, undesirable, and not enough for someone who is supposed to love you. 

but if jake had loved you he wouldn’t have raised his voice at you.. let alone speak to you in that tone and used language that was meant to hurt someone. 

“yn? is that you?” he says, stretching on the couch and rubbing his eyes, causing you to snap out of it. you quickly wipe away the tears that had miraculously appeared. “um, yeah. i just came to grab some things. you can go back to sleeping..” you explained as you made your way to your shared bedroom. 

“baby? can we talk?” jake says, peering into the room as he sees you packing your things inside of duffel bag. “wait- what are you packing? are you leaving? baby, please don’t do this, can we talk this out?” he was now on his knees in front of you, clutching onto your sweater while he begged. 

“jake, get up.” you say, rolling your eyes at him. 

“its just for a few days, i need time to myself- i need to think, ok?” you said and even now, even when you’re still hurting because of him from the night before, you were here trying to comfort him. 

jake stands up with a sniffle and he attempts to link your hands together but you pull away to continue packing your bag. “when are we going to talk about this? i love you, i don’t want you to leave��� please stay.” he continues to beg and although its working, you needed to stay strong. 

“if you loved me you wouldn’t have spoken to me like that. people who love each other don’t speak to people they love that way. 

jake, you hurt me… and i don’t know what i did to deserve that treatment but i just wanted help. i spent all day running errands despite feeling like shit because of my period and you dismissed my feelings like it was nothing. 

that blanket meant so much to me, you knew that it was from my late grandmother yet you tossed it aside for your own accord because you didn’t have the same care for me and the things i love the way i do for you.” you said with a huff as you stuffed the last of your things into the bag. 

“when will you come back?” was all jake asked and all you could muster up was a shrug, because you weren’t entirely sure when you would be back. 

needless to say, a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks turned into a few months and at some point you found yourself not having the need to come back. 

you wished you could get the closure you wanted from jake and you were sure he also wanted that, but walking away was something you needed to do. even if it was just one instance where jake spoke to you that way, it was enough for you to leave because you weren’t going to allow yourself to be with someone who found it in themselves to speak that way to someone they supposedly loved. 

not then, not now, and not ever.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

sunghoon hadn’t known what he was doing, it was like his body was moving before his brain could think because he was running back inside and grabbing his car keys to drive after you. 

he wasn’t sure where you were headed off to but he had guessed that you were most likely going to stay with your mom. you were always close with your mom and she often was the person you went to when you were having troubles if you didn’t go to sunghoon. 

sunghoon knew he fucked up and he shouldn’t have treated you that way let alone let some strangers treat you that way. he didn’t know what let him get to the point where he was allowing these men to speak about you, the girl that he loved, in a way that made you feel small. demeaning and degrading you in a way that he hadn’t realized and even if he did, he chose to look away instead of defend you all because he was filled with the greed of wanting this promotion. 

was it even worth it anymore if it meant losing you? 

sunghoon was speeding at this point and although you hadn’t left much before he had went to follow you, there was no one else in the streets as he sped through to catch up to you. 

in a short amount of time, he’s turning into the street that your mom lives on and sure enough, he sees you just about to walk up to the front door. he hapazardly parks the car on the side of the street and stumbles out of his car to get to you. 

“yn, please. wait, lets talk about this!” he says and you’re startled at sunghoon suddenly appearing and you wipe the tears from your face and blink a few times to make sure he was actually there. 

“hoon? what are you doing here?” you ask, stepping down the small stairway that led to your mom’s home. “i couldn’t just let you leave like that, we need to talk-

look i’m sorry for the way i treated you and even more sorry that i let them treat you that way. i love you so much and i couldn’t imagine the amount of hurt i caused you for making it seem like i was okay with letting them say those things about you all because i wanted that promotion so damn bad. 

i was selfish and greedy but those are the things that make me want you more. i don’t want you to leave and walk away from me because i am selfish and greedy and i want you all to myself. 

i’m sorry that i didn’t defend you and i made you feel small…” he says and at this point sunghoon is crying. his voice breaks with every other word and you truly hadn’t seen sunghoon in this much distress, ever. 

you didn’t know how to respond but the longer you looked into sunghoon’s bloodshot eyes, the more confused you became. 

you could tell sunghoon was sincere but you didn’t think this was something that could be fixed right then and there. your sensitivity was always something you struggled with and sunghoon knew that yet he brushed off your feelings like it was nothing. 

“you shouldn’t have driven out all this way… 

because although i appreciate your apology i don’t know that i’m in the right place to accept it or to forgive you. 

sunghoon you hurt me and you let others hurt me. 

i’m selfish too, i want you all to myself too and i wouldn’t have stayed so long if i didn’t love you and want to be with you… but-

i don’t know if i can be with someone that doesn’t see me in the way i deserve. 

and i certainly know i don’t deserve any of that.” both of your attention is drawn to the sound of the front door as it opens, revealing your mother in her nightwear and arms crossed; a displeased expression on her face. 

“i’ll reach out to you when i’m ready.” you say and without another word you’re retreating into your mom’s home, hiding away from sunghoon and preparing yourself to have to face the inevitable one day. 

sunghoon on the other hand, drags himself to his car, head hanging low as he has to come to terms that his own selfishness and greed for the one he loved was also what caused him to lose the love of his life. 

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

[moomuzan]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Add Up My Love

or ( hyper- ) specific romance imagines with dazai, chuuya, ranpo, akutagawa, fyodor

You had never seen Dazai so quiet. The late evening light painted the room in shades of amber, casting a golden halo around him as he sat at his desk, pen gliding smoothly over paper. His expression was unguarded, almost vulnerable, lips moving faintly as though he were whispering the words he was writing to the empty air. There was a stillness to him, an absence of his usual dramatics, that made you pause in the doorway, hesitant to disturb the rare peace. But curiosity, that insistent pull, eventually dragged you closer. “Dazai?” you called softly.

His hand stilled mid-word, shoulders stiffening as if caught in a secret. Slowly, he turned to face you, his usual grin making an appearance, but it lacked its usual spark. “Ah, bella,” he drawled lightly, “what impeccable timing. Caught me in the middle of my dull, bureaucratic duties.” But your eyes had already fallen to the letter on the desk, its ink still glistening, the words “To my dearest, whenever you find this,” staring back at you. As your chest tightened, and realization dawned, you reached for the paper. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop you, only sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Just leaving something behind,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For you. In case there’s ever a day I can’t say these things myself.”

dt siyun xo

Chuuya’s boots echoed through the hallway as he entered your apartment, his gaze immediately snapping to you, barely standing on your own. As you swayed slightly, the wine still clouding your mind, his expression darkened. “You’re a mess,” he grumbled, his voice sharp but laced with something that wasn’t quite anger. Without waiting for you to respond, he was already at your side, his hand steadying your waist with surprising firmness, his other arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the bathroom. “C’mon, you’re not going to bed like this.”

You mumbled something incoherent, but he paid it no mind, already pulling a chair out in front of the mirror and gently sitting you down. His movements were surprisingly tender as he grabbed the makeup remover. There was no hurry in his hands as he carefully pressed the cotton pad to your skin, wiping away the smeared mascara with an attention to detail that caught you off guard. His eyes, though gruff, softened as they traced your face, erasing the evidence of your night out. “Can’t believe you let yourself get this bad,” he murmured, though there was no real bite behind the words. When Chuuya moved to your hair, his fingers slid through your tangles, gentle but insistent, working through each knot with a patience that felt almost reverent. “Don’t move.” With a touch softer than you had ever expected from him, he brushed your hair with careful strokes. “I’m staying with you until you have sobered up.”

Akutagawa lingered at the edge of the room, watching you with a quiet intensity. The dim glow of the streetlights outside bathed your form in a soft halo, your chest rising and falling in a gentle, almost hypnotic rhythm. Replaced by an unfamiliar stillness as he observed the delicate vulnerability you wore in your sleep, the cold edges of his usual demeanor melted away. Every line of tension in his body seemed to ease, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the world felt distant. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as they traced the curve of your face, the way your hair fell carelessly around you. He found himself held captive by the simplicity of the moment, as if your presence alone grounded him.

You shifted in your sleep, muttering something barely audible, and Akutagawa froze. The sound of your voice, though muffled by sleep, stirred something deep inside him—a pull he couldn’t resist. His heart thudded a little louder, and before he could stop himself, a quiet, gruff sound slipped from his lips. “Tch, idiot,” he murmured, his tone betraying an uncharacteristic tenderness. He quickly turned away, a faint flush rising to his cheeks, his pulse quickening in a way that both startled and unsettled him. Gripping the doorframe to steady himself, as if the weight of this strange emotion might overwhelm him, he retreated into the shadows while his mind raced with feelings tangled into something more profound than he’d ever expected.

Dim lights of the room flickered as soft piano notes drifted through the air, barely audible, as if the music itself were hesitant to interrupt the silence between you. Fyodor stood before you, his presence commanding, even in the stillness. His hands hovered near your waist, their tension palpable, a silent request for you to take control. There was no impatience in his gaze, only a quiet insistence, a rare vulnerability from the man who always held everything so tightly. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours, waiting—no words, just a soft, unspoken command that he would follow you, if only you dared. A test? Yeah, definitely.

As you took the first step, his hand settled against your back, fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes with surprising tenderness. The faintest tremor of control still lingered in his touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you lead with quiet confidence, as if testing the limits of his restraint. The stillness between your movements was thrilling, charged with an electricity neither of you dared to acknowledge. Steady yet barely noticeable, his breath became the only sound that mattered to you as you swayed together, the dance becoming something far more intimate, a shared language only the two of you understood. Although the tension in his body was almost imperceptible,you felt it—his willingness to surrender, if only for this moment.

The quiet morning wrapping you in a serene haze, you woke up slowly, but it was the weight of Ranpo’s arm around you that pulled you fully from sleep. Though, the moment he felt your gentle movements under his touch, he instinctively drew you closer, his form curling tighter against yours as though the intimacy was a need he couldn’t deny. Completely unaware of how tightly he was holding you, his lips buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady. He was deep in sleep, yet his grip continued to tighten, as though afraid of losing the radiating warmth of your presence. His legs were tangled with yours, and his hand rested possessively but gently on your waist, each little movement of his body a subconscious plea to stay as close as possible.

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he clung to you, his face peaceful and unaware of the vulnerability he was showing. It was a side of him you rarely saw—the brilliant, always composed detective reduced to nothing more than a boy seeking comfort in the quiet security of your arms. Even if he didn’t realize it, his soft sighs and the faint tugging at your shirt as he shifted closer made your heart swell. Before giving it much thought, you gently brushed his hair back, savoring the stillness, content to let him rest. For now, you simply stayed still, lost in the intimacy of that moment—where Ranpo, so often the one with all the answers, was nothing more than a quietly clinging soul seeking warmth.

dt dorothea

a/n: oh alright, need me a chuuya to brush my hair. can yall see the vision? it’s a physical need atp.

xoxo

[amxritt]

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

[rosinaparker]

Hi! Hope you’re doing okay :) I was wondering if I could request Izuku being a simp, bending over backwards for whatever his (future) girlfriend wants, (she doesn’t know that), and finally he gets a push (literally) from Bakugo and he confesses his love for reader and happy ending- thank youu

“You have me wrapped around your finger”

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Warnings: none

a/n: hii sorry that we're getting to yalls requests so late...this was one ended up being a bit sloppy excuse me for that😔🙏-Rose✩

Izuku Midoriya was known for a lot of things: being quirkless once upon a time, inheriting the power of the greatest hero in history, and muttering until his face turned red. But above all else, Izuku Midoriya was a certified simp. For you.

It wasn’t something you’d notice unless you paid close attention, which you didn’t. Not really. To you, Izuku was just your kind and reliable friend who always seemed to go above and beyond without you even asking. But to anyone else—like his classmates—it was blatantly obvious.

When you mentioned your favorite brand of tea during lunch one time? It magically appeared in his grocery bag later that week, tucked neatly next to his protein bars. If you complained about a sore shoulder after training, Izuku would “happen to have” a heating pad in his room and deliver it to you like some kind of awkward but adorable hero.

And when you asked him for little favors, he made them his entire personality.

“Midoriya, could you pick up my notebook from class? I left it on my desk.”

“Y-yeah! Of course!” he stammered, darting off at full speed like you’d just asked him to retrieve the Holy Grail.

You thought he was just sweet and thoughtful. Everyone else? They thought he was pathetic.

It wasn’t like Izuku wanted to be pathetic. It wasn’t like he woke up every morning thinking, How can I make myself look like more of a doormat today? No, he was just hopelessly in love with you and had no idea how to tell you without combusting on the spot. So instead, he did everything in his power to make your life easier—thinking maybe, just maybe, you’d notice one day.

today you had a grueling training session. You’d just finished sparring with Uraraka, looking exhausted but still smiling as you wiped sweat from your forehead. “Man, I’m wiped,” you said, turning to Izuku with a tired grin. “Think you could grab me a water bottle from the vending machine?”

“Yeah! Right away!” Izuku’s voice cracked as he sprinted off, already pulling out his wallet.

Bakugo stood nearby, watching the whole interaction with a look of pure disdain. When Izuku returned, practically tripping over himself to hand you the water bottle, Bakugo couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re pathetic, Deku,” he sneered, stomping up to them like a storm cloud.

Izuku blinked, confused and panicked. “K-Kacchan, what are you—”

“What the hell are you doing, huh?” Bakugo barked, shoving Izuku in the chest. “Carrying her bags, fetching her water, running around like her damn servant—what are you, her personal butler now?”

Your eyes widened. “Dude chill—”

“Shut up, I’m not talking to you!” Bakugo snapped, shooting you a sharp glare before turning back to Izuku. “When are you gonna grow a spine, huh? You think doing all this crap is gonna make her like you? That she’s just gonna magically figure out you’re in love with her? You’re so damn pathetic it’s embarrassing!”

“Kacchan, stop!” Izuku tried to protest, his face bright red and his hands shaking. “It’s not—” Bakugo didn’t let him finish. With one sharp shove to the chest, he sent Izuku stumbling forward—straight into you.

“Bakugo, what the hell—!” you shouted, barely catching Izuku before he toppled over. Your hands gripped his arms tightly, steadying him as he stared at you with wide, panicked eyes.

“Go on, say it!” Bakugo barked, ignoring you completely. “Tell her, or I’ll knock it out of you myself!”

Izuku froze, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. You frowned, your hands still on his arms. “Tell me what? What’s he talking about, Izuku?”

The green haired boy swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he stared into your curious, worried eyes. He couldn’t keep running, couldn’t keep hiding behind excuses and small gestures. Not anymore.

“I like you!” he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut as the words tumbled out of him. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and I know I probably don’t deserve someone like you, but I just wanted to make you happy, and—”

“Midoriya,” you interrupted softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. His eyes flew open, his breath hitching as he looked at you.

“You really like me?” you asked, your voice gentle but serious.

“I do,” he whispered. “So much.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “Good. Because I like you too.”

For a moment, Izuku forgot how to breathe. “Y-you do?”

You laughed, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. “Yes, you idiot.”

Behind you, Bakugo rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “Finally. You two are so sickening it makes me want to puke.”

Neither of you paid him any mind. For once, Izuku didn’t care what Bakugo thought. Because you liked him back—and that was all that mattered.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Coming Down;

Pairing; fem!reader x old lover!Nishimura Riki also fame hunger!Nishimura Riki Synopsis; You battle the lingering pain of your first love and heartbreak, only to face the unexpected return of the man who once shattered you. As past wounds resurface and kisses are shared, you are torn between the ghost of him and reality. Genre; Angst and slightly suggestive; Warnings; Mentions of smoking cigarettes; mention of God and the Devil; heartbreak; make-out session; Words; 1k — Based on the song "coming down" by Halsey. MASTERLIST;

A/N: I cant seem to write the fucking requests for some FUCKING reason. So here's something else while I make myself write them! I hope you enjoy getting your heart broken!

You find yourself reminiscing about him again, your eyes fixed on the star-filled sky as the night settles, its dark embrace comforting you better than anyone ever could—anyone but him, your first true love, your first true heartbreak.

As you take a long drag from the cigarette between your fingers, you close your eyes and imagine him beside you. His tall frame looms over yours, his addictive yet playful cologne wraps around you, and his deep voice urges you to put the cigarette down. And you would—if he asked.

Your heart aches at the thought of him, a pain so sharp and heavy it momentarily takes your breath away. You miss the way his cold fingers gently held your hand, the way his hair fell into his face, soft and wild. His blonde roots and brown tips made him recognizable no matter where he was.

You exhale a cloud of smoke as his name echoes in your mind, a name deeply tattooed on your heart: Nishimura Riki. The nice guy who grew shy in your presence, the nonchalant guy who couldn’t resist kissing you in front of everyone.

To you, he was almost God. His warm heart and endless patience made you want to surrender to him—not in a bad way. He was the good boy who made you want to be good too. You knew he hated that you smoked, so you tried to stop. He hated when you self-isolated, so you tried to share your feelings before you spiraled too far.

But he was also your Devil. His intoxicating lips left you craving him constantly, despite his aggressive words. His insatiable hunger for fame consumed everything. He knew your dreams were small—you only wanted to escape your abusive parents—yet he tried to push his need for something bigger into you.

You lay back against the roof, tears prick your eyes as you recall the last time you saw him. No more Oreo hair. No playful cologne. No love. The hotel room had felt like an endless corridor, and the closer you tried to get to him, the further away he seemed. The more you spoke, the more he avoided your gaze. The more the corridor stretched.

His sweet smile, the one that once absolved all your sins, was gone. Ni-ki didn’t even glance your way as he left, slamming the door behind him.

Your voice wouldn’t leave your throat as you screamed, clutching your shirt because the ache in your chest was unbearable, as if your heart was being torn in half. And it was. He took it with him, like a broken amulet, a reminder of you.

The cigarette burns down to its end and after that, you crush it against the rooftop and toss it away. He always comes to mind when you smoke. Maybe you should quit, so his ghost will finally leave you alone.

Climbing off the roof and into your tiny studio, your sanctuary offers solace once more, and Ni-ki fades away. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and take a deep breath. Today is the day you stop smoking.

You grab the last pack, step outside, and toss it into the bin by the staircase. A faint smile touches your lips as you imagine his lingering presence leaving with it. But the relief doesn’t last.

“I’m glad you’re quitting,” a familiar deep voice says behind you.

You freeze, closing your eyes and muttering a curse under your breath. Why does your mind insist on playing tricks? When you turn around, ready to see his image vanish, he doesn’t.

Riki stands before you, tall and real, with flushed cheeks and eyes stained red. Your hands tremble, your heart races, and you swear you’re imagining things. But then his strong, cold arms wrap around you, and his familiar cologne pulls you under, back to him.

“Ni-ki, what are you doing here?” you whisper, your voice fragile.  Your hands instinctively reach for his familiar face.

“I failed and came back to you,” he replies with indifference, before leaning in to capture your plump lips in a bittersweet kiss.

Your lips meet his reluctantly, but soon your hesitation fades away as you're completely consumed in his presence. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips mold perfectly against yours. Just like they used to.

With a stable hand on your lower back, Ni-ki guides you both inside your studio, taking slow steps, so your lips can remain connected. You briefly parted to close the door behind you, a small smile forming on your sore, wet lips while gazing at your handsome lover.

Ni-ki sits on your bed and pats his leg, inviting you to sit on his lap. Shyly, you avert your gaze as you walk toward him, settling yourself atop him. Your head is spinning as you do, your heart jumping eagerly to the sigh of your lover.

Riki wastes no time—his delicate lips chase yours, hungry and impatient. You let him devour you whole, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, evoking the touch you missed so much.

Your hands weave into his soft hair as Ni-ki breaks away, lowering his lips to your sweet neck. You tilt your head back, giving him access, and his skilled mouth begins to leave wet marks on your soft skin. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

You close your eyes and savor the moment. His delicate hands grip your waist tighter as your hips begin to move weakly against his, not being able to resist his tempting touch. When Ni-ki lifts his head from your neck to moan softly near your ear, he whispers, “I love you, Y/N…”

Suddenly, you wake up cold and alone in your empty roof. The night breeze brushes against your short hair as you sit up, disoriented.

The cigarette in your hand is almost finished, but extinguished and completely chilled. Did you just fall asleep on the roof? Did any of that really happen?

Quickly, you climb down and return to your small studio. The only light comes from the TV flickering in the living room. Your eyes scan the space, and you soon realize no one is there.

It was all a dream.

Tears well up in your eyes as you throw yourself onto the bed, taking a deep, shaky breath. It all comes down to you quickly; Ni-ki won't ever come back to you. It's too late now; you are paying the price for loving him.

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[gh0stly-mp3]

words aren’t always necessary

rin itoshi x gn!reader

synopsis: suddlently one day rin starts acting weird towards you, well, weirder than normal

tags: unspoken confession, rin is really trying, emotional affimation, kinda fluff, introverted rin x gentle reader

warnings: coldness, trust issues

a/n: requests are open! pls look here before sending a request :) enjoy!

Rin Itoshi was far from being an open book. Most people around him knew his coldness, his indifference. But in the past few days, something about him had changed. Something that made his heart beat faster than usual, something he preferred not to understand, and definitely didn’t want to show anyone, especially you.

You, the one who always stood by him without demanding anything, without trying to force him to open up. Your presence was like a constant in his otherwise controlled world, but it was also something he wasn’t sure how to handle. It left him uneasy, though he refused to admit it.

The training field was quiet, only the sound of distant kicks breaking the silence. The two of you were alone — Rin had made sure of that. He never liked distractions. Still, today, he felt strangely... restless.

He kept his distance, as usual, his sharp gaze cold, but something about the way his fingers drummed against the side of his leg suggested impatience. His body was tense. He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge you directly, but you knew something was off.

You took a few steps toward him. Rin didn’t move or acknowledge you immediately. He rarely did, but you knew he was aware of your presence.

"You’re acting strange today, Rin". - You said, your tone gentle. You weren’t pushing, just stating an observation. He was too silent, too on edge, more than usual.

Rin let out a small sigh, as if your words were a mild inconvenience, but his gaze shifted toward you for a brief moment, almost as if he was considering whether to respond.

"I’m not in the mood to talk." - His voice was flat, colder than usual, but you could hear a slight tremor in the last few words.

You didn’t flinch. You were used to him. To his walls, his coldness. You knew it wasn’t anger —just Rin, the way he always was. But still, something about today felt different.

"Is there something you want to say?" - You asked again, your voice calm and steady, trying not to pressure him, just letting him know you were there.

Rin’s eyes darkened a little, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to let anyone in. Not after everything with his brother... But right now, with you standing there, not judging, he almost felt like he could.

"Trust is... hard, okay?" - Rin muttered, looking at the ground for a moment, the words barely audible. - "I don’t trust anyone, especially not myself."

You tilted your head slightly, stepping a bit closer, but still giving him space. You understood, Rin’s relationship with his brother had torn apart the foundation of what it meant to trust, to believe.

"And me?" - You asked quietly, eyes searching his face for any sign of what he was really feeling.

Rin looked at you, the coldness still there, but his eyes flickered with something different for just a second. His fingers tightened around the ball he was holding. It was clear he was struggling, trying to suppress the emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.

"I... don’t know." - He finally admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It wasn’t a confession, not really. It was more of a reluctant admission, but it still hung in the air between you two.

There was silence. Rin’s usual mask was almost gone, but it was quickly replaced by a distant, calculating look. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable for long.

You didn’t push him further, just looked at him for a moment. Then, without warning, you reached out and placed your hand on his arm. A simple touch, but it was enough. You weren’t asking for answers; you were just offering your presence.

Rin froze, his gaze snapping to your hand, his body tense. But for once, he didn’t pull away. He didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t want to run from it either.

"I’m not asking for anything, Rin." - You said softly. - "I’m here, and I trust you."

Rin stared at you for a long time. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn’t come. In the end, all he could manage was a barely perceptible nod, his cold demeanor returning like a shield.

"Tch. Fine." - He muttered, his usual detached tone back in place, but there was something in the way his fingers lingered on yours for just a moment longer that told you more than words ever could.

It wasn’t the grandest confession, nor the most romantic. But it was Rin’s way of letting you in, even if he didn’t fully understand it himself yet. For him, it was a step. A cold, hesitant one, but a step nonetheless.

And you, in silence, just stayed by his side. Because sometimes, words aren’t necessary.

[linosaurus-ikuklk]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Bang Chan - I'm Yours, Always.

Summary: After a tiring season of continuous work loads, your best friend Changbin invites you to a 3-days vacation at a beachside villa. But dread follows you until then when you found out that your ex-situationship was coming too.

Genre: Romance

Trope: Ex-situationships (cuz what else would it be?), Second Chance, Fluff, Angst (if your mind wanders on its own about their backstory)

Word Count: 3.2k

Notes: This one is a oneshot because this came up in my head while listening to---obviously, "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz while I was in the middle of preparing myself for second semester. I had the song on repeat for about a week now and I'm not stopping any sooner. This is not 100% proofread too so... heh. This may not be a lot but I hope you like it~!

A week ago, you’ve been praying—begging even—to God to let you have a break from your exhausting, tedious job as an office worker. The job could get very demanding, especially with the loads and loads of paperwork you had to proofread and edit. If you could only crash out, like you would during elementary if you didn’t like the subject, you would’ve done it already. But without a doubt, that would cost you your only job and only source of income.

God is good and your prayers have been answered through the way of your tooth-rottingly sweet best friend, Seo Changbin. He didn’t have to aegyo his way in to convince you, one paragraph message was enough to get you to come with him and your other friends to a retreat at a beachside villa. 

“Tell me you’re already done preparing.”

You saw the notification that popped up on your screen, the nickname “Dwaekki” disappearing after a few seconds. You checked and read it with a scoff puffing out of you. 

“I think I’m the most excited about this. I’ve already packed two days ago.”

Glancing at your suitcase sized backpack, you smirked, knowing it’s not you who’s going to be carrying that. It was very intentional since all of those boys were getting their muscles ripped, why not give it something to do other than impressing the ladies?

What were you even carrying in that bag? A bunch of clothes? Dang, you have 5 dresses and 3 pairs of bikinis. Not only that, you have a lot of things to enjoy while you’re there. Food, board games, and a thick book you’ve been trying to read for the past year. 

“You should see Chan, he’s already in the villa.”

You frowned, immediately typing in a message. Your heart thumping a little harder. 

“I thought he’s not coming?”

To say things had been weird between you and Chan lately was an understatement. You’d been close once—the kind of close where he’d text you after a long day just to check in, where he’d look for you in the crowd during a performance and shoot you a small, private smile. But then life got busy. For him, at least. And for you? Well, you’d gotten used to not hearing from him anymore. Mostly.

“Idk what changed his mind.” “We’re outside, you need help with your bag?”

The ride to the villa wasn’t so bad. Aside from your legs being cramped up from all the other baggage the guys decided to bring, you enjoyed singing and playing games with the guys.

But your mind wandered to Chan every now and then. You wanted to be comfortable as much as you can in this vacation and you’re beginning to doubt it when you found out that he’s in too. Are you even going to be able to sit in the same room without hating yourself for staring at him even if you didn’t intend to? How are you even going to react when he’s sitting beside you? Are you going to scurry away and cringe or just sit there like you’re not affected by his mere presence, whatsoever?

Still, when you arrived at the villa and saw him standing by the front door, his hair tousled by the salty breeze, you couldn’t stop the way your stomach flipped. He spotted you instantly, his eyes lighting up with that familiar warmth.

“You came,” he said, stepping forward to grab one of your bags before you could protest. His dimpled smile was every bit as devastating as you remembered. You forced a small smile, your gaze fixed on the ground, only glancing up at him for a mere millisecond, showing him a slight—and unbearably awkward smile of gratitude before following Changbin and Minho inside. 

The night came in a few hours and when you finally came out of your room—after giving yourself enough time to focus on just enjoying your vacation—you saw that the boys had already set a campfire in the sand. You joined them by helping Minho and Yongbok with grilling the lamb chops. Seungmin sang in the background as Jisung played his guitar while the others did the finishing touches to the tents they were setting up.

Minho goes inside to get the other foods and Felix goes to get the utensils, leaving you with the responsibility of trying not to burn the precious meat. You were pretty focused, counting down the remaining minute it should stay on that side to cook when suddenly, someone takes the tongs from you. Looking up, you almost kicked the grill down when you saw Chan but seeing that it’s not rational, you only frowned at him before fixing your gaze back down to the lamb chops as he moved them around.

“What are you doing? Minho said that it should stay like that for one more minute,” you said but he only chuckles lightly at you, so light that it plays with the strings of your heart which makes you want to jump at him and straight up beat him for still doing this to you. For fluttering you with the barest minimum.

“It’s been more than a minute,” he turns the lamb chops to their other side to cook, glancing at you with a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t do anything to argue and let him do the job, he’s an expert anyway. You wiped your dirty hands on the back of your pants as you backed away quietly. “You cooked these well,” he comments, making you stop from escaping his excruciating presence. 

“No, Minho and Felix did most of the job…” you trailed off, glancing inside the house to see if any of the two were coming back. “I just helped with the seasoning.”

Your voice was quiet and had an obvious hint of unease in it, making Chan grit his jaw and just nod without looking. He lets you slip away and make your way to Hyunjin who was decorating the place with fairy lights. But even with the task at hand, his gaze was on you. 

Why did he let this happen? After all the things that happened between the both of you—if anything really did happen—why did he let it wear away with time?

Once everything was settled, all of you sat in a circle to eat. It was peaceful at first, just casually praising the chef—Minho and Chan—and remembering the time when Jisung and Yongbok had to cook for them. That was until Changbin brought up the ultimate debate: which is better, the pool or the ocean?

It was a one-on-eight argument, with Minho being the only one to side on the pool while he argued mostly with Hyunjin. “Why would I willingly swim somewhere I can’t see what’s underneath me? Something could just crawl up and—” He shuddered dramatically, cutting himself off.

“So dramatic,” Hyunjin snorted, letting the irony slide past himself, throwing a marshmallow at him. “The ocean is better. You can float and feel at one with nature.”

Minho caught the marshmallow mid-air. “Yeah, until a jellyfish shows up and ‘one with nature’ turns into ‘one with the ER.’” He shoves the treat in his mouth.

The conversation spiraled until Seungmin, who had been quietly observing the chaos, decided to end it. He leaned forward, his face neutral, and delivered his final verdict: “Doesn’t matter. Either way, there’s still a chance you’ll drown and die.”

The silence lasted two full beats before everyone burst out laughing. Even Minho couldn’t keep a straight face, muttering under his breath, “I hate how he’s not wrong.” 

And as the laughter kept on erupting while the others added more things to laugh at, your eyes caught Chan’s as they looked at you with the same softness he used to before he became distant and a smile that could bring vibrant colors to your eyes. It made you shudder, your smile faltering as you looked away.

What is he trying to do now? Dimple his way back to you like he did before? He left you hanging on something you thought that was there and it sure did take a lot from you to let go of it. Are you going to fall for the same thing that made you doubt yourself and even others in the end?

That night, while you were trying to sleep inside your tent, it occurred to you that maybe he was just trying to be civil. Maybe you were the one who gave all the wrong meanings to those things before. Maybe you’re just being too rough on him right now. So you decided to treat him with respect, without recoiling from his presence.

The next morning, you woke up before everyone else. You hadn’t planned to—but between the excitement of being here and the not-so-quiet snores coming from Jeongin’s tent, sleep had decided it wasn’t your friend. So, you grabbed a hoodie and wandered outside, where the early sun painted the sky in soft hues of pink and orange.

You made your way outside, the sand tickling the sole of your feet. You weren’t expecting to see anyone else. Which is why your heart nearly leapt out of your chest when you heard the gentle strum of a guitar. And there he was: Bang Chan, sitting cross-legged on the sand, barefoot and completely lost in his own world.

“You’re up early,” he said when he noticed you, his voice carrying that low, soothing tone you’d missed way too much. The slight adrenaline that was rushing through your body finally soothed when you saw how natural he looked. How his face is still slightly puffy from sleep and his hair tousled by the wind.

You let your walls come down just for a bit and let yourself be vulnerable around him in a way that was too subtle for him to feel. “I couldn’t miss this view,” you replied, gesturing vaguely at the ocean. You let your eyes be blessed with his beauty, the pinkish tips of his fingers gently strumming the chords as he looked back at you. You notice he was staring because you’re too busy admiring him, but he was looking at you with the same endearing, sparkling eyes. 

How you looked so beautiful with the sun kissing your skin. Your hair was being blown by the wind in directions that make you look like an angel, a blessing sent from heaven. And your eyes, how they stared down at him like they could make him do the most desperate things in the world—only to have them stay like that when you would meet his gaze.

Questions popped in his mind, those that he wondered for the past days. Questions he missed to ask you on a regular basis. How have you been? Are you resting well? Why are you letting yourself drown in too much work?

He grinned, tilting his head. “You mean the sunrise, or…?” You rolled your eyes, but your face heated up anyway. Typical Chan.

He started playing a soft, familiar melody—I’m Yours. And before you knew it, you were humming along, your voice blending with his as you sat a foot away from him. It was effortless, like no time had passed. Like you’d always been meant to find your way back to this moment. Find your way back to him.

And before either of you even knew it, the tangled strings were beginning to unravel. With every stolen glance, the tension melted through the sands and got carried away to the ocean, with each melody you sang, the uneasiness was carried by the wind. You knew you were going to give in and yet the walls still stood at the height of your chest.

Game night was chaos. Of course it was. You should’ve known better when Jeongin grabbed the charades cards with a gleeful smirk, practically vibrating with excitement as he announced the teams. “And for the ultimate duo…” He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes landing squarely on you and Chan. “You two. Obviously.”

Your protests fell on deaf ears. Before you could argue, Hyunjin swooped in, all flair and drama. He clutched his chest like he was auditioning for a period drama, his voice rising in exaggerated passion. “This is fate! Look at their chemistry! The sparks! The magic!”

“Hyunjin, sit down,” you muttered, trying to suppress your growing embarrassment as the rest of the boys howled with laughter.

Chan, standing beside you, chuckled softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous.” The casual warmth in his tone sent a ripple of warmth through your chest, and despite your best efforts, your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, forgetting whatever reason you were uneasy around him before.

The game started, and the chaos only escalated. Chan leaned in close as the two of you deciphered the clues, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt natural but electric all the same. You tried to focus, but his laughter was like a song you couldn’t ignore, each note low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Later that night, the bonfire lit up the shoreline, casting flickering shadows over the sand. The guys’ laughter and chatter filled the air, but your attention kept drifting to Chan, who seemed distracted—his gaze flickering to you every so often, like he was working up the courage to say something.

Eventually, he stood and gestured for you to follow. “Walk with me?”

You nodded, your heart thudding as you left the group behind. The waves lapped gently at your feet as you strolled along the water’s edge, the sound soothing and steady. But Chan’s presence next to you? It makes your heartbeat go crazy and you don’t even know if it’s from nervousness or something in the range of anger. It makes your hands and feet go cold without any particular reason. It was anything but calm. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I just… didn’t know how.”

You stopped, turning to face him. “What is it?”

He ran a hand through his curls, looking down at his feet before meeting your eyes. “I know I’ve been distant. I’ve been trying to balance everything—the group, the music… everything. But in doing that, I’ve been ignoring the one thing that matters most to me.”

Your breath caught. Was he…?

“I’ve always known where my heart belongs,” he continued, his voice trembling just slightly. “It’s with you. And I just didn’t know how to say it without scaring you away. But I can’t… I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words sinking in like waves crashing against the shore. His gaze at you as soft as the clouds in the skies, like it could sweep you off of your feet. Then, finally, you found your voice.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your throat tightening with unshed tears.

It wasn’t an illusion, it’s not you assuming things that weren’t actually there. It wasn’t him randomly being fixated on you or anything negative of the sorts.

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “What?”

You stepped closer, close enough to see the vulnerability in his expression. The proximity of it almost kills you from how much you longed for it. How you just wanted to jump into his arms and let him pull you in like you needed to be combined as one. “You’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t wait for you. I’ve been yours all along, Chan. And I always will be.”

Relief flooded Chan’s features, followed by a smile so radiant it could’ve outshone the stars. He pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were something precious, something he’d never let go of again. His hand on the back of your neck, keeping your cheek flush against his shoulder, his other hand on your waist that keeps you steady as you stand on your toes. 

It doesn’t matter how long you have been distant. It just shows how love can be so strong and get even stronger when two people are far from each other. And the fact that you came back in each other’s embrace proves that your love for each other was as true as you thought it was. Yours and his faith didn’t fail, but you did let fear hold you back.  

The next day, the two of you strolled along the beach hand in hand, the world slowly waking around you. Chan’s phone played I’m Yours softly, and before you could protest, he spun you around, pulling you into a slow, lazy dance.

“Chan,” you laughed, glancing around nervously, your hands secured your own balance as you held on to his biceps. “What if the others see?”

“Let them,” he said simply, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. His strong arms wrapped around your waist as he nestled his nose on the crown of your head, his eyes closing for a brief moment to let the scent of your shampoo to be burned on his mind. “I’m not hiding this anymore. Not hiding us.”

As he pulled you closer—chest to chest, your heart swelled, the tip of your noses brushing against each other. But then a distant voice shouted, “Ayo, Chan, save some of that sweetness for later!” followed by a chorus of howling and teasing laughs.

“Get a room, you two!” Felix shouted from a few yards away, his eyes squinting from the glaring sun and was followed by Hyunjin's dramatic, "Oh, the pain of witnessing such public displays of affection."

You looked over, your face turning a shade of red that could rival the sunset, and saw the other members standing in a small group, all grinning like idiots, giving you both thumbs-up. Changbin was hitting Seungmin as he squealed, Jisung shook Jeongin by his shoulder, and Minho squatted on the ground with the most endearing smile.

"Don’t mind them," Chan whispered with a playful smirk, noticing your embarrassment and making you turn your gaze to him again. "Just look at me." His voice was commanding but in a very gentle way that it would make you obey right away.

Jisung yelled from behind, “I’m not sure if I’m more jealous or grossed out!” He rested his hands on Minho’s shoulder and almost fell over when the older guy stumbled forward.

“See?” Chan said with a grin, “They’re jealous.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your face still flushed. “Maybe, but they’re definitely loud.”

“I’m sure they’ll get over it,” Chan teased, his arms tightening around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

You laughed, feeling a lightness spread through you. Chan spun you again, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the music and the sound of the waves.

And then, with that familiar spark in his eyes, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The teasing from the others faded into the background, but the warmth from their playful energy lingered.

"This is our fate," he whispered. “I’m yours… as you are mine.”

And as his lips found yours, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you, him, and the unshakable certainty that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

~~

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."

2 Timothy 1:7

Don't be shy to give me suggestions guysss~ I hope you enjoyed "I'm Yours, Always."! God bless you all!!

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (V)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt, fluff, shorter than the rest but that’s because it’s the end

Note: The story comes to a close! Thank you all so much for your support, I couldn’t have done it without you guys🫶🏻 If you have some ideas for other fics, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! (Part 1) (Part 4)

(You) About Diluc: Reflections

I’ve been thinking a lot about our fight. I don’t know if it was the heat of the moment or my own pride, but I said things I shouldn’t have. I called him stubborn, like his concern for me was some kind of flaw. He didn’t deserve that!

But when he called me reckless… it stung. I wanted to defend myself, to tell him I could handle it, but deep down, I knew he was right. I was reckless. I got hurt because I wasn’t careful, and instead of thanking him for worrying about me, I threw it back in his face.

I know he was just trying to protect me. That’s who he is—he takes on the weight of the world, and I made it even heavier with my words. I was so caught up in proving I didn’t need him hovering over me that I forgot how much he cares.

If I could go back, I’d say something different. Or maybe… I’d just listen. He didn’t deserve my anger. He deserved better.

(Diluc) About you: Reflections

My thoughts are quite repetitive when it comes to them, and maybe that’s how I drove them away—by caring more about their safety instead of them. I didn’t mean to hurt them, but seeing the scar on their arm reminds me of how much I could lose with one careless act. It was unbearable. And I let that fear dictate my words.

I know I can be overbearing. They’ve told me before that I control too much, and that I was… incredibly stubborn. Maybe they’re right. I wanted to protect them, but I didn’t stop to think about how they felt, what they needed from me in that moment. I acted as if I knew best, and in doing so, I ignored the trust we’ve built.

If I could go back, I’d handle it differently. I’d find the right words, words that wouldn’t hurt them. But now… all I can do is hope I haven’t broken something I can’t repair.

(You) About work

I’ve been trying to get back into the rhythm of working at Flora’s shop, but… it feels strange. The flowers are the same, the customers are the same, but something feels off. Maybe it’s me. Or maybe it’s the weight of everything that happened at the manor. I keep catching myself glancing toward the road leading to Angel’s Share, wondering if he’s okay, or if… he even cares.

*sigh* I need to focus. These asters aren’t going to arrange themselves.

(Diluc) About you: From afar

I passed by Flora’s shop today, and I saw them working as usual, but… quieter. Seeing them brought it all back—those quiet moments at the winery, their laughter, the way they always managed to surprise me. It’s unbearable, how much I miss them.

I almost stepped in, but quickly retreated. What would I even say? “I’m sorry”? Would that even matter by now? I’m sure they’re mad at me—maybe furious. And I’m sure… if I could change anything, I would change even the night I resigned from my position as Cavalry Captain if it meant bringing them back.

(You) About Diluc: Finally aware

I saw him today, you know. Well, not saw as in meet with—he just passed by. He didn’t come in; though strangely, I took a step in his direction. Out of habit, I suppose. I don’t think he noticed me… and why would he? After everything… Ugh! Why am I still dwelling on it? It’s not like I’m waiting for him or anything.

He’s just so… stuck. In my mind. I keep hoping to see him, even just for a moment. I miss eating with him, and trying to make him laugh. I miss the flowers that we took care of in the winery. I miss Adelinde.

I miss him…

And it’s infuriating, because I was the one who left. I needed space. I chose to leave the winery because it felt like too much. So why? Why does he linger like this? Why does every passing memory of him feel so sharp, so close, like it was yesterday?

I don’t know what this is. I thought leaving would bring me peace, but it’s only made me realize how deeply he’s rooted in me. I don’t know if I can ever let him go, even if I should.

…Could it be? Could this feeling—this aching pull—be love?

No… not could. It is. I love him.

(Diluc) About you: Finally aware

I need your thoughts on something. It’s… rather personal. For some time now, I’ve found myself increasingly distracted by them—always thinking about their safety, their well-being, even their smallest habits. Every little thing they do seems to pull at my attention. At first, I dismissed it as concern, but it’s different—stronger.

When I spoke to Adelinde about it, she said it sounded like love. Love. I… I don’t know what to make of that. But the more I think about it, the more everything starts to make sense—why I can’t stand the thought of them being hurt, why their smile lingers in my mind long after they’re gone.

I’ve even gone as far as to read about it in novels from Inazuma, though I’ll admit most of them are overly dramatic. Still… I couldn’t help but see myself in the pages. And now I can’t ignore it anymore.

This is love, isn’t it? I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. But… it’s oddly comforting, too, to finally understand why I feel this way. It all feels clearer now.

… I can’t let it end like this. I’ll speak to them, no matter what it takes.

(You and Diluc) Character story: Confessions

The day was drawing to a close, and the horizon burned with hues of amber and crimson as the sun dipped below the mountains. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

They didn’t know why they were running—only that their feet carried them forward. Wind gracing their hair, tugging at their clothes, and each breath coming quick and sharp with the patter of their feet. Were they running to the winery? They haven’t really thought about it. They were just chasing the closest thing that felt like home.

Inside the manor, Diluc sat at his desk, quill hovering over an unfinished report. He’d been staring at the same sentence for far too long, his mind elsewhere. His eyes kept straying to the lamp grass resting in a small vase—“For when nights are long, and the weight feels heavy—may these remind you that you’re not alone.”

In a breath, the quill laid flat on his desk, ink leaving a stain that may or may not come off. He didn’t care, though—he had other business to attend to. One that could change his life, for better or for worse.

As he ran, he thought of what to say. He’d gone over the words a dozen times in his head, but nothing ever seemed quite right. Every thought felt too small, too simple to convey the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

The crimson sky had turned to blue, stars slowly forming like the constellations they once had. They both remembered that night—their head on his shoulder with only nature to accompany them, silent, and sanctified.

The moon hung low in the sky by the time they crossed paths on the dirt road. Neither had planned for this exact moment, yet it felt inevitable, as if fate itself had intervened.

They stopped a few paces apart, both breathless—Diluc from his hurried strides, and them from their sprint. For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet hum of the wind wrapped around them, heavy with all the words they hadn’t yet said.

“I…” they muttered, but their voice caught. After a breath or two, they spoke again: “I didn’t think I’d run into you.”

“I could say the same.” Diluc’s eyes softened as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Though… perhaps I hoped for it.”

Their breath hitched at his words, and they looked away, unsure of what to say. They hadn’t expected this—hadn’t pictured him to be so calm, so open. The reality of seeing him here, in the flesh, was almost overwhelming.

“I don’t even know why I came,” they confessed, voice trembling. “I just… I missed—“ they hesitated admitting they missed him. It terrified them—how one word could strip away everything they’d worked so hard to hide, yet hold the power to give them everything they wanted.

They swallowed hard, the silence between them growing heavier, and tried again. “I missed… the winery. Adelinde. The flowers. The peace of it all.”

But the lie tasted bitter, and they knew he saw through it. Diluc waited, silent and patient, as though he knew the truth would come, in time.

“I missed you,” they finally whispered, their voice breaking. The confession escaped before they could stop it, leaving them vulnerable and exposed. Their heart raced, the fear of rejection and relief of honesty crashing into each other.

“I’m sorry…” they added, one reckless word after the other. “For being so careless, for not understanding that you were only trying to protect me—for everything.

“I thought I did the right thing, leaving the manor. I told myself I needed space. But since then, all I can think about was you. I couldn’t stop looking forward to our lunch dates, to the moments you’d pass by the flower shop, to even catching a glimpse of that slight smirk of yours.

“And it’s all so infuriating,” they continued, voice gaining strength, yet still trembling with frustration and longing. “Because I look at you with that unreadable expression of yours, and it’s like you don’t care. You’re always so calm, so distant, like nothing ever fazes you. It’s maddening!

“Even when we were together, it was the same. You always tried to shoulder everything alone, hiding behind that stoic exterior. I could never tell if you were trying to protect me or push me away. And now…” Their voice wavered, and they dropped their gaze, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions spilling out. “Now, I don’t even know if you missed me at all. Or if I was just someone you had to look after.”

They hadn’t noticed how Diluc closed the gap between them until they felt a gloved hand caress their hair. “I cared.” They looked up at him with a somber expression. “More than I should. And I still do.” Diluc’s eyes had changed. The unreadable mask they had always found so frustrating had slipped, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“I tried to convince myself it was better this way,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “That keeping my distance would protect you—from the burdens I carry, and the dangers that follow me. And though I wasn’t completely wrong,” he put attention to your scarred arm. “Pushing you away felt worse. For both of us.”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing against their cheek as if grounding himself. “You were never just someone I had to look after. You are… everything I’ve been too afraid to lose. I thought keeping my feelings buried would keep you safe, but all it did was drive you away.”

His voice softened further, but the intensity of his words only grew. “I can’t bury it anymore. I won’t.”

Their breath hitched, tears pooling in their eyes as he stepped closer, his other hand reaching to gently hold theirs. His grip was firm, steady, and yet full of care—just like him.

“You have undone me completely,” he said, his voice shaking with the weight of his emotions, “and I have no desire to be put back together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and profound, and the sincerity in his eyes left no room for doubt. In that moment, the barriers between them shattered, replaced by a warmth that enveloped them both.

Tears slipped down their cheeks, but they smiled through them, their heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve been undone, too,” they whispered, fragile yet filled with hope. “And I don’t want to be whole without you.”

The stars above, as well as the wind, bore witness as they stood there, hands entwined, finally allowing their hearts to speak what had been unsaid for far too long.

—end—

[onebadassunicorn]

The Spy Who Loved Me

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: light smut, angst

word count: 5.5K

Taglist: @motheroffae @rosecobollway @tele86

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please leave me a comment!

Image owned by Foxy Art.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

********

Chapter 7

The warmth of the Autumn Court's golden light greeted you as you arrived back at Eris’s estate, the sprawling grounds surrounded by fiery hues of red, orange, and gold. The air was crisp, carrying the familiar scents of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Eris appeared, his amber eyes blazing with hunger and determination.

He didn’t say much as he approached you, his long strides eating the distance between you. His hand reached out, curling around your waist as he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both possessive and unrelenting. “I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. “A week without you felt like a century.”

Before you could respond, Eris scooped you into his arms, his grip firm as he carried you through the estate and up the winding stairs to his chambers. The moment the door closed behind you, his mouth was on yours again, his hands roaming your body with a fervor that left no room for words.

He made love to you with a desperation that bordered on obsession, his body pressing you into the soft sheets of his bed as he claimed you over and over. His touch was skilled and confident, his kisses devouring, but as you lay beneath him, your mind wandered.

You thought of Azriel. The way his hands had traced your skin with reverence, as though you were something sacred. The way his kisses had been tender yet consuming, filled with a longing that left you breathless. You remembered the quiet moments you’d shared, the way he’d opened up to you, trusted you with pieces of himself he rarely showed to others.

Eris’s voice broke through your thoughts, his whispers of praise and possession grounding you in the moment, but your heart ached with the weight of your deception. You forced yourself to respond to him, to meet his passion with your own, but it felt like you were wearing a mask—a facade you couldn’t take off.

By the time the sun rose, the fire in Eris’s touch had dimmed, replaced by a softer, almost affectionate warmth as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I have to leave for the day,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “My father has a task for me.”

You nodded, keeping your voice light as you replied, “I’ll keep myself entertained.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he left, leaving you alone in the quiet of his chambers. The silence felt heavier than usual, the ache in your chest growing as you rose from the bed and dressed.

********

Later that morning, you wandered into the Autumn Court woods, drawn by Eris’s tales of a secluded spring hidden not far from the estate grounds. The forest was breathtaking, the trees ablaze with hues of orange and red, their leaves crunching softly beneath your boots. The crisp air filled your lungs, the faint scent of moss and earth grounding you as you followed the winding path through the woods.

When you reached the spring, you stopped, your breath catching at the sight. The crystal-clear water reflected the fiery colors of the surrounding trees, the surface rippling gently in the cool breeze. A soft carpet of fallen leaves surrounded the bank, their golden hues blending with the sunlight that filtered through the canopy above. It was quiet, serene, the perfect escape from the chaos of your mission.

You sank onto the bank, your knees pulled to your chest as you gazed at the water. For a while, you simply sat there, letting the peace of the moment wash over you. But even in the stillness, your thoughts refused to quiet.

Your fingers idly played with the hem of your cloak as you stared at the rippling surface of the spring. The reflection of the vibrant trees danced across the water, shifting and changing with each ripple, and you couldn’t help but draw the parallel to your own life. Carefully crafted, constantly shifting, and no longer fully recognizable.

Azriel’s face appeared in your mind, unbidden but persistent. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his hazel eyes seemed to see straight through you, the rough edge to his voice when he whispered your name—every memory of him hit you like a tidal wave. You could still feel the warmth of his touch, the reverence in the way he’d traced your skin, like you were something sacred. The way he had kissed you as if he were starving and you were the only thing that could sustain him.

You wished he were here.

The thought struck you like a blow, and you closed your eyes, your chest tightening.

You wished he were beside you, his hand in yours, his calm presence grounding you as it had so many times before.

But you were alone, the weight of your choices pressing down on you as the truth lingered just out of reach.

And you realized, with a heaviness that settled deep in your chest, that it wasn’t just desire you felt for Azriel. It wasn’t just physical attraction, or even the thrill of a dangerous connection.

It was something deeper.

Something you hadn’t planned for.

You were in love with him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The plan had been simple: infiltrate the Autumn Court, gain Eris’s trust, and gather the information Tarquin needed to secure his position and counter Beron’s threats.

There had been no room for distractions, no room for feelings, and certainly no room for love.

But Azriel had slipped past your defenses so effortlessly, so completely, that you hadn’t even noticed it happening. He wasn’t part of the plan, and yet he had become central to your thoughts, your emotions, your very being.

You hated how he had unraveled you, how he had made you question everything you thought you wanted.

You hated how he had opened himself up to you, shared pieces of his soul that made your chest ache with the weight of his vulnerability.

But most of all, you hated how much you wanted him—wanted to be with him, to lose yourself in the safety of his arms, to tell him everything.

The guilt weighed heavily on you as you thought of Eris. His possessive touch, his fiery kisses, the way he looked at you as though you were the most valuable prize he’d ever won—it should have thrilled you.

It should have made the mission feel like progress.

But all it did was make you feel hollow, as though you were playing a part in a story you no longer wanted to tell.

Eris was the key to completing your mission, the reason you were here in the first place. But with every moment you spent with him, your thoughts drifted back to Azriel, to the way he had made you feel not like a pawn in a game but like a person who mattered. You buried your face in your hands, the weight of your emotions nearly overwhelming. You couldn’t afford this, couldn’t let yourself feel this way for Azriel. It was dangerous—dangerous for him, for you, for the delicate balance you were trying to maintain. And yet, no matter how much you told yourself to let him go, you couldn’t. He had become a part of you, a part you couldn’t imagine losing.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees brought you back to the present, and you lifted your head, taking a deep breath as you forced yourself to focus on the mission. You had a job to do, a role to play, and no amount of longing or guilt could change that.

But as you stared out at the rippling water, the ache in your chest lingered, a quiet reminder that no matter how much you tried to deny it, the truth remained.

You were in love with Azriel.

And it wasn’t part of the plan.

********

The shadows of Velaris greeted Azriel as he stepped into the warmth of the Night Court. The air here felt different—lighter, calmer—but it did little to settle the storm inside him. His wings were tight against his back, his shadows curling and twisting restlessly around him as he made his way to Rhysand’s study. The week he’d spent with you still clung to him, vivid and unrelenting, and the sharp edge of longing mixed with frustration made every step feel heavier.

When he entered the study, Rhysand was already seated at his desk, a glass of wine in hand. The High Lord’s violet eyes gleamed as he looked up, his expression a mix of curiosity and expectation. “You’re back,” he said smoothly, gesturing for Azriel to sit. “And from the look on your face, I’d say you have something to report.”

Azriel didn’t sit. Instead, he stood near the edge of the desk, his hands resting on the carved wood as he leaned forward slightly. “I’m gaining her confidence,” he said, his voice low and measured. “She’s starting to crack.”

Rhys raised a brow, his interest clearly piqued. “And what makes you think that?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter as he spoke. “Because she’s responding to me. The week I spent with her—sharing personal details, letting her see parts of me—it worked. She thinks I’m invested, that I want more from her.”

Rhysand tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “And do you?”

Azriel hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced away. “That’s irrelevant,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.

“Is it?” Rhys asked, his tone light but laced with the sharpness of his insight. “Because you don’t look like a male who’s keeping this strictly professional.”

Azriel exhaled sharply, his wings shifting behind him as he straightened. “I know what I’m doing. She’s starting to trust me. I can see it in the way she looks at me, the way she lets her guard down when we’re alone. It’s only a matter of time before she confesses.”

“Confesses to what?” Rhys pressed, his violet eyes gleaming. “What exactly do you think she’s hiding?”

“That she’s not who she says she is,” Azriel replied firmly. “That she’s not working for Tarquin—not really. I’ve been watching her closely, and the lies are starting to unravel. She’s playing a game, and I’m close to figuring out what it is.”

Rhysand was silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he studied Azriel. Finally, he asked, “And you’re sure you can maintain this… ruse? Spending a week with her, getting closer to her—it hasn’t made things complicated for you?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows flickering as he looked away. “It hasn’t,” he said, though the words felt like a lie even to him. The truth was far messier than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t intended to let himself get so entangled with you, but the week he’d spent with you had been unlike anything he’d experienced before.

You had unraveled him, piece by piece, with your laughter, your wit, the way you looked at him as though he was more than just the spymaster of the Night Court. And the nights—the nights spent tangled in the sheets, your body pressed against his, your moans filling the air—those were burned into his memory, haunting him with a hunger that refused to be sated.

The thought of you with Eris made his blood boil. He could barely stand the idea of another male touching you, let alone making love to you. Azriel clenched his fists, his wings flaring slightly as he tried to push the thought away. It didn’t matter how much he wanted you, how much his body and mind craved you. What mattered was the mission.

“She’s close to breaking,” Azriel said, his voice hardening as he forced himself to focus. “I can see it. She’s starting to feel comfortable with me, to trust me. If I keep this up, she’ll confess everything.”

“And what about Eris?” Rhys asked, his tone sharp. “She’s still with him, isn’t she?”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his shadows darkening around him. “She is,” he admitted, his voice tight. “But it doesn’t matter. I know her body now—how it responds to me, how it won’t respond to him the same way. Whatever she’s doing with Eris, it’s part of her game. I’m the one she’s letting in.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he regarded Azriel. “Just make sure you’re not the one being played, Az. I’ve seen the way you look when you talk about her, and I don’t need to remind you how dangerous it is to get emotionally involved with someone we don’t trust.”

“I’m not emotionally involved,” Azriel said quickly, though the lie felt hollow.

Rhys didn’t press the point, but his gaze lingered on Azriel for a moment longer before he spoke. “Keep pressing her, then. If you think she’s close to confessing, stay the course. But remember, Az—this isn’t about what you want. This is about the Night Court and keeping our alliances intact.”

Azriel nodded, though his chest felt heavy as he left the study. Rhysand’s words echoed in his mind, a stark reminder of the line he was already dangerously close to crossing.

He told himself he was in control, that he was using his time with you to further the mission.

But deep down, he knew the truth: you had already unraveled him, and no amount of lies or logic could change the way you’d embedded yourself in his heart.

And as much as he hated it, as much as he knew it could destroy him, he couldn’t stay away.

********

The warmth of the Autumn Court sun filtered through the tall windows of Eris’s chambers, bathing the room in a golden glow. The scent of cedar and smoke lingered in the air as you stood by the fireplace, watching the flames dance while you waited for his return. It had been a week since you last saw him, and though the mission demanded your focus, your thoughts had been elsewhere.

But when Eris finally walked through the door, his amber eyes finding yours immediately, the tension in your body shifted. He crossed the room in a few swift strides, his confidence and presence filling the space as he pulled you into his arms. “You’re still here,” he murmured against your temple, his tone a mixture of relief and possession.

“Where else would I be?” you replied lightly, though the words felt like a lie.

He kissed you then, his touch hungry, his hands roaming your body as though he couldn’t bear to waste a moment. The rest of the day passed in a blur—laughter over a shared meal in the estate’s grand dining hall, a walk through the fiery woods where he pointed out the trees he remembered climbing as a boy, and stolen kisses that grew increasingly heated with each passing hour.

By the time night fell, you were back in his chambers, tangled in the sheets of his bed. The air was heavy with the lingering scent of sweat and cedar, your bodies slick and warm as you lay entwined. Eris’s hand lazily traced patterns along your bare arm, his golden-red hair mussed, his chest still rising and falling with the remnants of exertion.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said softly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him. His amber eyes flicked to yours, their usual sharpness dulled by something deeper—thoughtfulness, perhaps, or hesitation.

“I’ve been thinking,” he admitted, his voice low. He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before letting his hand rest on your cheek. “About the future.”

You raised a brow, curiosity mingling with caution. “What about it?”

He sighed, his gaze dropping to where his fingers idly played with the edge of the sheet. “My father’s alliances are growing stronger, more dangerous. If I wait much longer to act, he’ll solidify his position, and it will be nearly impossible to remove him.”

“You’ve known this for a while,” you said carefully, watching his expression. “What’s changed?”

“I can’t do it alone,” Eris said, his voice quiet but firm. “If I’m going to take the throne, I need support. Real support—from other courts. It’s not enough to have discontent within Autumn. I need allies.”

Your chest tightened at his words, your mind racing. This was what you had been waiting for—what Tarquin had sent you here to uncover. But the implications of his plan, of what it would mean for the other courts, for the Night Court, loomed large.

“Which courts are you considering?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you shifted closer to him.

He hesitated for a moment, his amber eyes narrowing slightly as though weighing how much to share. “The Day Court could be an option,” he said slowly. “Helion and my father have never been on good terms. Spring is out of the question—Tamlin’s too much of a liability. And Summer…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Summer what?” you prompted, feigning innocence.

“I don’t trust Tarquin,” Eris said bluntly. “He’s too shrewd. And he’s likely to side with whoever offers the most benefit to him directly. It would be a risk.”

You nodded thoughtfully, though your heart raced. “And what about the Night Court?”

Eris stilled, his expression tightening. “The Night Court is… complicated. Their alliances are unpredictable, and Rhysand is as ruthless as he is cunning. If he chose to support me, it would be a significant advantage. But if he sided with my father…” His jaw clenched, the firelight catching the sharp planes of his face. “It would be disastrous.”

Your pulse quickened as you realized the depth of his uncertainty. Eris was positioning himself to make a move, to challenge Beron’s rule and claim the Autumn Court for himself. And while his hesitation about the Night Court was understandable, it also presented an opportunity—one that could change the trajectory of your mission entirely.

“What will you do?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his chest.

He exhaled, his hand coming up to cover yours. “I’m not sure yet. I need more information—about where the courts stand, about who I can trust. But I’m not going to sit idly by while my father drags this court into ruin.”

The conviction in his voice was undeniable, and for a moment, you almost believed in his cause. But the weight of your own secrets, of the lies you’d spun to stay by his side, pressed heavily on your chest.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it would distract him from the questions you couldn’t yet answer. “Whatever you decide,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the storm inside you, “I’m here.”

Eris’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “I know.”

But as the two of you lay tangled together, the firelight flickering across the room, your mind drifted to Azriel. To the way he had looked at you, touched you, made you feel as though you were more than just a pawn in someone else’s game. The memory of him lingered, and as you closed your eyes, you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest.

********

The Autumn Court was bathed in golden light as the sun set over the sprawling estate, painting the skies in hues of orange and crimson. You stood on the balcony of Eris’s chambers, wrapped in one of his shirts that hung loosely around your frame. The cool evening breeze played with your hair as you leaned against the railing, the fiery forest below swaying gently in the wind.

Behind you, Eris appeared, his steps unhurried yet purposeful. His amber eyes softened as they found you, a rare vulnerability flickering across his face. He wore nothing but his trousers, his chest bare and still glistening from the exertion of the night. The intimacy of the moment was unspoken, but it carried a weight that settled heavily in the air.

He stepped closer, his hands sliding around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “About us.”

You tilted your head slightly, glancing back at him. “Oh?”

Eris nodded, his grip tightening slightly as he turned you to face him. “The other courts are watching,” he said, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. “They see me as my father’s heir, as someone who might take his place—but they also see me as unpredictable. Dangerous. Alone.”

You frowned, your gaze searching his. “And what are you saying?”

He exhaled, stepping back slightly to reach into the pocket of his trousers. When he withdrew his hand, a small, intricate ring sat in his palm. The band was gold, set with a single fiery gem that seemed to glow in the fading light.

“If the other courts see me as someone settled, someone building a future—someone with an heir to offer—they might be more willing to support me,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I want to overthrow my father before he ruins this court, before he drags all the courts into chaos with Hybern. But I can’t do it alone.”

Your breath hitched as he dropped to one knee, his amber eyes locking with yours. “Marry me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Be my partner in this. Together, we could change everything.”

Your chest tightened as the weight of his proposal settled over you. The mission—the delicate web of lies you’d spun—demanded that you say yes. This was the ultimate step, the key to solidifying your position at Eris’s side and gaining the trust necessary to uncover the secrets you sought.

But as you looked at him, a flicker of guilt twisted in your stomach.

Still, you forced a soft smile, nodding. “Yes,” you said quietly.

Eris’s expression lit up with a rare joy as he stood, sliding the ring onto your finger. He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you with a passion that left you breathless. The next moments were a blur as he swept you into his arms, carrying you back to the bed and laying you down with a reverence that made your chest ache.

He made love to you again, his touch both tender and possessive, as though the proposal had claimed you in a way that nothing else could. And when it was over, when you lay tangled together in the aftermath, he whispered promises of a future that felt impossibly distant, yet dangerously close.

And yet, you felt so completely empty.

********

Later, after Eris had been called away for courtly duties, you found yourself back on the balcony. The ring on your finger caught the moonlight, the fiery gem glinting as you turned it over, lost in thought. The cool night breeze chilled your skin, but the ache in your chest was deeper, sharper, as your thoughts strayed to Azriel.

And then, as if summoned by your guilt, he appeared.

Azriel’s shadows swirled violently around him, dark tendrils that mirrored the storm raging within. As he stepped closer, his gaze locked onto the ring glinting on your finger, the fiery gem catching the moonlight. His hazel eyes, usually so controlled, widened as though something deep inside him had shattered.

The bond snapped.

It hit him like a physical blow, the realization slamming into his chest and stealing the air from his lungs.

You were his mate.

The bond sang in his veins, undeniable and irrevocable, and the sight of that ring on your finger—his mate wearing another male’s claim—made his entire body tremble with rage, anguish, and confusion.

“No,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “No, this isn’t happening.”

You froze, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. “Azriel—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice rough as his wings flared behind him. He paced a few steps away, his hands raking through his hair as if trying to ground himself. “You—” His voice broke, and he turned back to you, his hazel eyes wild with emotion. “You’re my mate.”

The words left you stunned, your breath catching as they echoed in the stillness of the night. You had heard of the bond, the sacred connection that tied souls together, but you never imagined it would happen to you—much less with him.

“Azriel,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “I didn’t know.”

He laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and pained. “Neither did I. Not until now. Not until I saw that,” he gestured to the ring on your finger, his hands trembling with restrained fury.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You froze, your hand instinctively moving to your chest as though to shield the ring. “Azriel—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, cutting you off. His gaze flicked to the ring, his jaw tightening. “Is that what I think it is?”

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you replied, “Eris proposed.”

“And you—how could you say yes? How could you let him touch you, claim you, when you’re mine?” he growled, stepping closer. “Why? Why the hell are you doing this? Why are you sleeping with him when you’ve been mine all last week?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, guilt clawing at your chest as you whispered, “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit,” Azriel snarled, his voice breaking as he stepped closer, his shadows curling tighter around him. “You always have a choice. Tell me, why? Why are you doing this?”

The raw jealousy and hurt in his voice made your chest tighten, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Azriel, it’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “I know your body, I know how you respond to me. Don’t tell me you’re giving him what we had.”

You flinched at his words, the guilt clawing at you as you struggled to find the right response. “I had to,” you said finally, your voice quieter now.

You hesitated, the weight of your secrets threatening to crush you. But as you looked at him—at the raw pain etched into his face, at the male who had opened himself to you in ways you hadn’t expected—you couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

You loved him and it was killing you.

“It’s a mission,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was sent here to gather information about Beron and his alliances, to find out if he’s aligning with Hybern and planning something against the other courts.”

Azriel stilled, his wings twitching as he processed your words. “Who sent you?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

“Tarquin,” you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m working for him. He needed someone to get close to Eris, to gain his trust and uncover the truth. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I said yes.”

Azriel exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. The conflict in his eyes was unbearable—rage, betrayal, and something softer, something breaking beneath the weight of it all. “So this is all a lie,” he said bitterly, his voice shaking. “Everything we shared—everything I thought you felt—it was all a lie.”

“No,” you said quickly, your voice cracking as you stepped toward him. “It wasn’t. I didn’t plan for this, Azriel. I didn’t plan for you.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said bitterly, gesturing to the ring on your finger. “Standing on this balcony, wearing his ring, playing his lover, when you’re mine.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you whispered, “I don’t have a choice, Azriel. This mission—it’s too important. Beron is aligning with Hybern. If we don’t stop him—”

“I don’t care about Beron or Hybern right now,” Azriel snapped, his voice filled with fury and anguish. “I care about you. About the fact that you’re my mate and you’re standing here, wearing his ring.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice, at the way he looked at you as though you’d ripped his soul apart. “Azriel, please,” you said, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you did,” he said softly, his tone filled with a raw vulnerability that cut deeper than any blade. “You’ve torn me apart.”

The silence that followed was unbearable, the weight of the bond, of your betrayal, pressing down on both of you. Azriel’s wings twitched as he took a step back, his shadows curling protectively around him.

His hands trembled at his sides, clenched into fists as though trying to ground himself.

“I didn’t want this,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. “I didn’t ask for this bond with you.”

His words hit you like a blow, the sharp edge of his confession slicing through the already fragile thread of your resolve. You opened your mouth to respond, but he spun back toward you, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“But now that it’s here,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly, “I can’t walk away from it. From you.”

The pain in his voice, the weight of his admission, made your chest tighten. He stepped closer, his shadows pulling back slightly as though they, too, were trying to contain the chaos. “Do you know what this bond means?” he asked, his tone quieter now, though no less strained. “It’s not just some connection. It’s everything. It’s my soul tied to yours, my instincts screaming to claim you, to protect you, to be with you.”

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for him.

He took a step back, shaking his head. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now,” he said hoarsely, his wings twitching as though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you in further. “Because if you do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said, the desperation in your voice evident. “This mission—what I’m doing—it’s too important. Beron is aligning with Hybern. If we don’t stop him—”

Azriel cut you off, his voice sharp and filled with anguish. “I don’t care about Beron or Hybern right now. I care about the fact that my mate—the person I’m bound to—is willingly putting herself in another male’s bed.”

You flinched at his words, the truth in them cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “It’s not like that,” you said, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want this either, Azriel. But I had to do it. To get close to Eris, to find out the truth.”

“You’re lying to him,” Azriel said, his tone harsh. “To Eris, and to me. How long are you going to keep this up? How long are you going to keep tearing yourself apart for this mission?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks. “But I don’t have another choice.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his hazel eyes glinting with frustration and hurt. “There’s always a choice,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “And right now, you’re choosing him. You’re choosing the mission. You’re choosing anything and everything but me.”

The silence that followed was unbearable, the weight of your choices pressing down on you like a physical force. Azriel turned away, his wings spreading slightly as though preparing to leave, but he stopped, his voice trembling as he said, “I didn’t want this bond, but now that it’s here, I can’t ignore it. I can’t walk away from it. From you.”

He turned back, his gaze locking onto yours with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “But I can’t stay here, watching you with him, knowing what you’re doing.”

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you standing alone on the balcony. The night air was cold against your skin, the weight of the ring on your finger heavier than ever.

You looked down at it, the fiery gem catching the moonlight, and your heart twisted painfully.

Azriel was your mate.

The bond was real, undeniable, and now, so was the choice you had to make.

But as you stood there, the echoes of his words lingering in the silence, you weren’t sure if you could ever untangle the web you had woven—between your duty, your lies, your love for him.

Chapter 8

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟒

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The move to New York happened faster than you expected. Drew wrapped up his commitments on the film and, true to his word, took some time off to figure things out with you. You found a small apartment in Brooklyn—tiny by any standard but perfect for two people who couldn’t bear to be apart anymore.

At first, it felt like a dream. Drew was there when you woke up, his sleepy smile the first thing you saw every morning. He walked you to the subway on your way to work, insisting on carrying your coffee and kissing you goodbye on the platform.

You introduced him to your favorite haunts—the bagel shop on the corner, the used bookstore where you’d spent countless weekends, the rooftop garden where you went to think. And he brought his world into yours, sharing stories about life on set, showing you his favorite films, and even letting you read an early script he was considering.

But as the weeks passed, the cracks began to show.

Drew had always been confident, charming, and self-assured. But in New York, where you had your own life and your own circle of friends, he sometimes seemed… lost. He wasn’t used to slowing down, to having days without a packed schedule or a clear direction.

One night, you found him sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel… useless. You’re out there working, doing what you love, and I’m here trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

You placed a hand on his knee, your heart aching for him. “Drew, you don’t have to figure it all out right now. This time is about us—about being together. You’ve been working nonstop for years. Maybe it’s okay to take a break.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, but what if I’m not good at this? At being still?”

“You’re not ‘being still,’” you said firmly. “You’re building something here, with me. That matters, too.”

He smiled then, pulling you into his lap. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“I don’t,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “But I know you. And I know you’ll figure this out.”

❥❥❥❥

The next few months were a mix of highs and lows. Drew started auditioning for theater roles, drawn to the idea of performing live, but the rejections stung more than he let on. Meanwhile, your job became more demanding, with long hours and late nights that left little time for the two of you.

One night, you came home to find Drew in the kitchen, a half-burnt dinner on the stove and a guilty look on his face.

“I was trying to make lasagna,” he admitted, gesturing to the mess.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s the thought that counts.”

But as you cleaned up together, the stress of the past few weeks bubbled to the surface.

“I miss you,” Drew said suddenly, setting a plate in the sink.

You turned to him, surprised. “I’m right here.”

“Not really,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re always at work, and when you’re home, you’re exhausted. I get it—it’s not your fault. But I didn’t come here to feel like I’m losing you again.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Drew, I’m doing this for us. To build a life together.”

“I know,” he said, his hands running through his hair. “But what’s the point if we don’t have time to actually live it?”

Silence hung between you, the weight of his words sinking in.

Finally, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want to lose us, either. Maybe I need to figure out how to balance this better.”

“And maybe I need to stop putting all this pressure on myself to figure out my next big move,” he admitted. “I think… I just got scared. Scared that if I’m not enough, you’ll realize you don’t need me.”

Your heart broke at his honesty, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. “You are enough, Drew. Always. This isn’t about what you do—it’s about who you are. And I love who you are.”

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a lifeline. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

That night, you stayed up talking, making promises to each other to try harder, to communicate better, to always put you two first.

❥❥❥❥

In the months that followed, you found your rhythm. Drew started working on an off-Broadway production, throwing himself into the challenge with his trademark dedication. You scaled back your hours at work, carving out more time for the two of you.

There were still tough days, moments when the city felt too loud or the pressure felt too heavy. But you faced them together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.

And as you sat in the audience on opening night, watching Drew deliver a performance that left the entire theater breathless, you sat there admiring him, falling in love more than ever before.

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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Mexican GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

Waking up this morning was awful. Sure, I felt fine physically—no soreness or stiffness from yesterday’s qualifying session—but mentally, I was dragging myself through the motions. Dreading the moment I’d step into that paddock, knowing Henry would be glued to my side, invading my space, throwing his condescending comments, and forcing his "help" where it wasn’t wanted. The only bright spot ahead was the cockpit. The second I climbed into my car, I knew I’d find some peace, if only for a while.

I forced myself to get out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water work its way over me as I planned my day. My mind, as usual, wandered back to Henry’s endless pestering and inappropriate comments. The "compliments" that weren’t compliments at all, the subtle digs at my abilities, the way he always seemed to loom over me with his too-familiar tone.

It wasn’t just infuriating anymore—it was exhausting. And it wasn’t stopping.

As I wrapped myself in a towel and headed back into the main room, I grabbed my phone and stared at it for a moment. There was no way I could go to management without proof. What if they didn’t believe me? Or worse, what if they dismissed it and I ended up with an even bigger target on my back?

I opened the voice recorder app and stared at it for a long moment, hesitating. Could I really do this? Was it even worth the risk?

Yes, I told myself firmly. If I wanted this to stop, if I wanted a shot at feeling like a human being again, I had to do something.

I tested the app, slipping my phone into my pocket to make sure the microphone still picked up audio clearly. Satisfied, I turned it off for now and finished getting ready, pulling on my team polo and jeans and brushing my hair into a sleek ponytail. If I looked the part of a calm, confident professional, maybe I’d feel it, too.

A knock at my door startled me, and I frowned, wondering who it could be. Opening it, I found Fernando Alonso standing there, dressed and ready for the day, looking as collected as ever.

“Morning,” he said casually, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe.

“Uh, morning?” I replied, still confused.

He held up his hands in mock surrender at my skeptical tone. “Relax. I just thought I’d ride to the paddock with you today. Of course if that is fine with you?”

I raised an eyebrow. Fernando wasn’t exactly known for hanging out with his teammates outside of the track. Sure, we got along, but this was out of character for him. Still, I couldn’t exactly say no.

“Fine,” I said, grabbing my keys from the counter. “But don’t touch my music. Driver’s picks only.”

He grinned. “Fair enough.”

As we rode down in the elevator, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this than a simple carpool. Fernando wasn’t exactly the type to go out of his way for casual company.

When we reached the parking lot and I unlocked the car, he slid into the passenger seat without a word, letting me set up my playlist before we pulled out.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked after a few minutes on the road.

“Just thinking,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road.

He hummed in acknowledgment, not pressing me further. It was a relief, really. Having someone like Fernando with me—someone who commanded respect just by existing—gave me a small hope that maybe Henry wouldn’t be quite so unbearable this morning.

I parked in the paddock lot, and as we walked in together, I couldn’t help but glance sideways at Fernando. His presence felt like a protective barrier, and I clung to that feeling, telling myself I could handle whatever the day threw at me.

At least for now.

As I entered the paddock with Fernando, the buzz of the pre-race atmosphere filled the air—engines humming, team personnel rushing around, fans lining the barriers hoping for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. It was a world I loved, but today, it felt more like a battlefield.

I spotted Henry almost immediately. He was standing near the garage, arms crossed, already looking irritated. His eyes locked onto me and then flicked to Fernando beside me, his jaw tightening. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wasn’t thrilled about my choice of company this morning.

Good.

I kept my expression neutral, refusing to let him see the satisfaction bubbling under the surface. If Fernando noticed Henry’s sour look, he didn’t say anything, though I caught the slightest smirk tugging at his lips.

“See you out there,” Fernando said casually as we parted ways, heading toward our respective garages.

I made my way through the paddock, greeting a few drivers as I went. Lando gave me a bright smile and a quick thumbs-up, and Charles paused to ask how I was feeling about the race. Even Max gave me an approving nod as he walked by. Their small gestures of support were like tiny sparks of warmth in the cold shadow Henry had cast over my week.

Finally, I reached my driver’s room and closed the door behind me, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. For the first time all morning, I felt like I could breathe freely. This was my space, my sanctuary, and Henry couldn’t touch it.

I started to change into my racing gear, the familiar ritual grounding me as I pulled on the fireproof layers and zipped up my suit. But as I worked through the motions, my mind started to churn.

Henry’s voice echoed in my head, his cutting remarks replaying like a broken record. “Don’t screw this up.” “You’re lucky to even be here.” “Do you even understand how this car works?”

Anger began to simmer in my chest. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was done letting his words define me.

For too long, I’d let Henry make me feel small, like my achievements didn’t matter, like I wasn’t worthy of the seat I’d fought so hard to earn. But not today. Today, I was going to prove to myself—and to everyone else—that I belonged here.

My jaw tightened as I secured my helmet bag and gloves. This race wasn’t just about points or podiums anymore. It was about taking back what was mine. The joy of racing, the confidence in my abilities, the pride in knowing I deserved to be here.

I grabbed my radio and earpieces, shoving them into the bag with a determined glare. Henry might think he had control over me, but he didn’t. Not where it mattered. Not out on the track.

By the time I left my room and headed toward the garage, the fire in my chest had turned into a roaring blaze. I was ready for this. Henry could glare all he wanted, but today, I wasn’t racing for him, or the team, or anyone else.

I was racing for me.

The moment I made my way to the car, Henry was there, as usual, lingering far too close for comfort. He had that smug, self-satisfied look on his face, like he knew exactly how much he got under my skin. He always seemed to find a way to insert himself into my space, to make himself the center of my attention, even when I didn’t want it.

As I settled into the cockpit, the tight fit of the car around me should’ve been comforting. I was in my element, surrounded by the familiar hum of the engine, the feel of the steering wheel under my hands. But Henry was there, too close, and his presence made everything feel suffocating.

I could feel his eyes on me as I prepared for the race, the way he loitered just out of my line of sight, hovering like a cloud that wouldn’t go away. As if sensing my discomfort, he leaned in even closer, his breath brushing against the side of my neck, sending a wave of unease through me.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a touch of arrogance that made my skin crawl, “if you do well today, I’ll make sure to give you a well-deserved... congratulations.”

The words were veiled in that same suggestive tone, a tone that twisted something as simple as praise into something gross, like he was offering more than just acknowledgement. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to react, but the moment the words left his mouth, I felt the bile rise in my throat. I had been dealing with his crap for days now—weeks, really—and it was getting harder to just ignore it.

I didn’t want to show him that he was getting under my skin, that his comments were starting to break through my tough exterior. But the truth was, they were. Every time he opened his mouth, every time he made some inappropriate remark, it felt like a little piece of me was eroding, like I was losing my place here, losing the confidence that I had worked so damn hard to build.

With a final, disgusted breath, I shoved the thoughts out of my head as I snapped myself into focus. I could hear the pit crew’s final adjustments happening all around me, the last checks before I was cleared to go. The buzz of the radio crackled to life, but my focus remained on the track. Henry wasn’t worth the energy, not right now.

But I swore to myself that I’d get the proof I needed. He wasn’t going to walk all over me anymore. I just had to bide my time, hold on long enough until I could catch him in the act, and when I did, I would expose him for what he was.

The lights on the grid flashed brightly, one by one, signaling the start of the race. The tension in my chest, the frustration, the anger—it all collided into a single burst of adrenaline, and suddenly, the only thing that mattered was the car in front of me, the track stretching out ahead like a challenge I was ready to conquer.

I felt the revs of the engine rumble under me, the anticipation thick in the air as the lights blinked out one by one. And when they finally turned off completely, the sound of roaring engines filled the air, and everything else—the pressure, the weight of Henry’s words, the lingering disgust—vanished in an instant.

The car launched forward, and my foot slammed down on the accelerator, the wheels spinning as I surged ahead, cutting through the noise of the paddock and the nerves like a knife. Every turn, every shift in gear, every decision was sharper now. The anger wasn’t just a distraction—it was fuel.

Henry thought he could break me. He thought he could manipulate me into doubting myself, into questioning my worth. But instead, I was going to prove him wrong. I was going to show him that no matter what he said, no matter how much he tried to push me down, I was still a force to be reckoned with.

As I tore through the track, dodging rivals and pushing myself to the limit, his words twisted and reshaped in my mind. If you do well today, I’ll make sure to give you a well-deserved congratulations.

I laughed bitterly inside my helmet. Henry had no idea. No idea what it was like to truly race. To feel the rush of adrenaline, the power in the car, and the pride in your heart when you know you’ve earned every single second of it.

The first few laps were a blur, my focus entirely on the track, on the cars around me. I was sliding through corners, making precise adjustments, trusting myself in a way I hadn’t been able to in days. For the first time all weekend, I felt in control. I felt like me again.

But every time I passed a monitor, or saw a glimpse of Henry on the pit wall, I remembered what he had said, and I channeled that anger. Every corner, every straight, every ounce of speed—this was my victory.

As I crossed the finish line and the car slowed down, the reality of what I had just done began to sink in. P3. It wasn’t a win, but it was something significant. A solid performance, a breakthrough after everything I’d been dealing with. I hadn’t just survived the weekend—I had fought through the pressure, the frustration, and come out stronger.

As I pulled into the parc ferme, the pit crew's cheers and the roar of the crowd in the distance became distant background noise, replaced by a familiar and comforting feeling. Lando and Carlos were waiting for me, grinning from ear to ear as I climbed out of the car.

“P3! That was amazing!” Lando exclaimed, his bright smile infectious as he pulled me into a quick hug.

Carlos clapped me on the back, his smile wide. “You’ve come so far. We knew you had it in you!”

I laughed, my chest full of pride, feeling lighter than I had in days. “Thanks, guys,” I said, genuinely grateful. The camaraderie was exactly what I needed after everything.

We stood there for a moment, the friendly banter between us filling the air, until I noticed my team was waiting for me by the barriers. My heart skipped a beat when I saw them, and a rush of warmth spread through me. They had been with me every step of the way, working tirelessly to make sure I was at my best.

I gave a final wave to Lando and Carlos before heading towards my team, a smile stretching across my face. But as I approached the barriers, I spotted him—Henry. He was standing front and center, a smug look on his face like he had somehow been a big part of this victory. The sight of him made my stomach twist, but I pushed down the anger and disgust that had been building all weekend. I had worked so hard for this, and nothing—not even him—was going to ruin it.

I reached my team, and they crowded around me, clapping me on the back, cheering, and congratulating me. The warmth of their genuine support wrapped around me like a shield, and for a moment, I was able to forget about the tension I had been carrying. That was, until Henry made his move.

He came over to me, his hands too quick, too sure, as he wrapped me in a hug. His touch was supposed to be comforting, but the way his hands lingered, moving lower than they should have, sent a chill down my spine. My heart raced, and the urge to push him away flooded through me, but I couldn’t do it—not with the rest of the team surrounding me.

His hands traced over my ass, too slow, too deliberate. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from reacting, from slapping him right there in front of everyone. But I couldn’t make a scene—not here, not now. Not with my team standing around, celebrating this moment with me.

“You know,” Henry’s voice dropped, low enough that only I could hear it, “you’re looking damn good today. You earned that P3, but I’m sure you’ll be ready for more soon. I might have a little reward for you if you keep it up.”

The words made my skin crawl, and I felt the heat of fury rise in my chest. But there was nothing I could do—not with my team so close, not with everyone watching. All I could do was force a smile, nod as he released me, and try to push the disgust back down into the pit of my stomach.

The team started to break apart, their congratulations fading into background noise as I tried to focus, trying to remind myself that I had earned this moment. I hadn’t let Henry’s words get the best of me before, and I wasn’t going to let them now.

As I walked away from my team, heading towards the cooldown room, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Henry’s hands lingering, his words echoing in my mind. I clenched my fists, frustration and disgust boiling over, but I forced myself to breathe.

The cool air in the cooldown room did little to calm the racing thoughts that flooded my mind. I slumped down against the cold concrete floor, instinctively grabbing my water bottle but hardly registering it. The headphones I’d put on were more of a shield than anything else—something to block out the noise of my spiraling thoughts, the feeling that my chest was going to tighten and crush me under the weight of it all.

What had happened in parc ferme… Henry’s hands, his words. It had all happened so quickly. It had been so blatant, so blatant that it felt impossible to ignore. And the worst part? No one said a thing. No one even reacted. My team, the same people I trusted with my career, had just stood there. It was as if his actions had become so normal to them that they didn’t even bat an eye. And that terrified me.

The panic started to claw at me again, pushing its way up from the pit of my stomach, but I fought it down. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t break down, not here, not now. Not in front of the cameras.

The sound of the door opening snapped me out of my spiral, and I felt my body tense immediately. The last thing I needed right now was more attention. But when I looked up, I saw Carlos and Lando walking in. Neither of them said a word as they approached, not wanting to make it obvious they were aware of my presence, and they didn’t push me. They just quietly sat a little farther away, pretending everything was normal for the cameras, as if this was part of the routine.

But I could tell they were concerned. It was in the way Carlos kept glancing at me, his eyes flicking to my headphones, to my stillness, to the way I was avoiding everyone. Lando was just as quiet, but I could feel the worry radiating off him too, even if he was trying to hide it behind a calm façade.

I didn’t want to acknowledge them, didn’t want to give in to the thoughts swirling around inside my head. The cold concrete floor under me felt grounding, like it could somehow anchor me in the moment, but it wasn’t enough to push away the feeling of suffocating pressure.

I let the seconds stretch out, forcing myself to breathe in deeply, slowly, to remind myself that I was still in control. Eventually, when I felt the weight of the panic lift just enough, I pulled myself together. The cameras weren’t far off, and I knew I had to put on the mask again.

I pushed the headphones off and stood up, quickly wiping my face as if it would erase the emotions from earlier. My legs were shaky as I adjusted my racing suit and straightened my hair.

Carlos was the first to speak, his voice carefully neutral. “You alright?”

I plastered a smile on my face, the same one I’d learned to wear so well over the years. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired, you know?” I shrugged, trying to make it sound convincing.

Lando nodded, not entirely buying it but not pressing me either. “You did great out there today,” he said, a small smile on his face.

“Thanks,” I replied, my smile faltering slightly. I couldn’t bring myself to really believe it, not when everything felt so hollow inside.

They both seemed to sense the shift, the subtle way I was trying to bury everything beneath the surface, but neither of them pushed. They just kept their distance, respecting my space without letting on that they were paying more attention than they’d like to admit.

As the cameras finally moved out, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The moment they were gone, I found myself alone in the room again, the quiet stretching out before me.

I glanced back at Carlos and Lando, who had already started to leave, and I realized they hadn’t pressed me for the truth. They knew something was wrong, but they were waiting for me to say it first.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell them what was really going on—not without risking everything. The team, my career, everything I had fought for. I couldn’t let them see me as weak. I couldn’t let them see me as someone who needed help for such a pathetic problem. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” I muttered under my breath as I walked out of the room, past the lingering shadows of my own fears. And for now, that was all I could hold onto.

The walk to the podium felt like a blur, a strange mix of pride and dread swirling inside me. The crowd’s cheers reached my ears, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was being observed. I had the weight of a thousand eyes on me—both the crowd’s and the team’s, and of course, Henry’s. I could feel his presence even though he wasn’t standing right next to me. His words from earlier still rang in my ears. But for the moment, I was determined to shut it all out and focus on the victory, no matter how hollow it felt.

As the podium ceremony started, I climbed the steps to third place, the media-trained smile sliding onto my face with practiced ease. Lando was already grinning from the second spot, and Carlos gave me a brief but genuine nod as he stood on the top step. 

The national anthem played, the flags waving around me, and I stood tall—making sure to appear every bit the champion I was supposed to be. The smile never faltered, not even when the champagne was passed to me. I knew the drill by heart.

“Alright, time to have some fun,” I muttered under my breath, already feeling a little bit lighter. A quick spray of champagne hit Carlos first, and he let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. Lando was next, taking the spray like a champ, both of them laughing and trying to spray me along with each other. There was an almost childlike thrill to the chaos of it all. The champagne dripped down our suits, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to forget about everything else.

Lando, ever the joker. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he teased. Carlos joined in, throwing his arm around me and pulling me into a half-hug. The laughter, the camaraderie, it felt good. For those few seconds, I felt good, like Henry was a whisper in the wind and everything would go back to normal. 

But even as I grinned, holding up the third-place trophy, a small voice in the back of my mind kept reminding me of the danger lurking behind the scenes. Henry. The way he had touched me earlier, the things he had said. It was all eating away at me, just under the surface.

As we made our way off the podium and back into the hustle of the paddock, I kept my distance from Henry, knowing his eyes were on me, even if I couldn’t see him. The adrenaline of the podium was wearing off, replaced by the gnawing worry that would follow me until I had proof of his behavior.

Carlos gave me a pat on the back as we walked toward the waiting cars. “You did great today,” he said quietly, his voice a little softer than usual. I could tell he meant it, even if we all knew the race had its ups and downs.

“Thanks,” I replied, forcing another smile. “It’s been a crazy weekend.”

Lando, noticing the change in my tone, shot me a look, but said nothing. He just gave me a small nudge, and we continued walking, the sound of our footsteps mixing with the fading cheers from the crowd.

But Henry’s shadow loomed over me, and the thought of him trying to undermine my every move made my blood boil. I had to make him pay. I had to get that proof. Whatever it took, no matter how long that took.

[distant-velleity]

LMAO i lied im answering all these at once. woohoo!

(warning for VERY unreliable narration in certain questions)

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it? Well, good thing you asked me, the most normal person here. Kidding, kidding.”

Yuhua lives with his parents right now. His sister, an alumnus of the school, is away at university. They are a perfectly happy family. There is nothing wrong. Nothing. 

(Yuhua lives with an emotionally manipulative mother and conservative father, and returns to a dysfunctional household that is filled with silence, phone calls, or arguments every day. Of course, he would never admit any of this to anyone but his friends, and even then nothing more than a slight hint or complaint that tells nothing of the bigger picture. Yuhua himself is not in the best mental state as a result, due to placing pressure on himself to perform well so his parents don’t get on his case, and he maintains a thin thread of control on his demeanor.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

“She looks kind of lonely… I feel bad. No wonder she’s so into… Oops! That’s not my thing to tell. But I do think she could benefit from some friends.”

The quote is probably self-explanatory of what he thinks (assuming he hasn’t caught her doing anything suspicious, and has only ever seen her pretend to fawn over Azul). He recognizes that she’s always alone, but he’s also like. World’s worst introvert trying to masquerade as world’s worst extrovert, so… he hasn’t (yet) taken any steps to make the first move and interact with her. It probably doesn’t help that it looks like neither of them bother with more than small talk with others.

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

“That guy? …Doesn’t it seem like he’s suddenly got a lot of admirers nowadays? I mean, I can see the appeal—hardworking, intelligent… But I don’t think I could ever date anyone on the student council. Guess those guys can shoot their shots if they want.”

If you couldn’t tell from the quote, he… thinks middlingly of Azul, and has like 0 romantic interest in him at all lol. Of course, Yuhua respects anyone with good grades and good conduct, of which Azul meets all the criteria, but that’s it. I wouldn’t say he ever met Azul so much as he’s heard of him (what with being in the same year and Azul being on the student council), and seen him around. 

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

About Floyd:

“...That guy. There’s no point in associating myself with him.”

(if this is okay) They’ve been in the same class for two years in a row now, purely by chance. Yuhua knows him as the careless, genius lackey of Azul. His disorderly and sometimes disrespectful conduct only grates Yuhua when there’s something that needs to be done, but otherwise Yuhua would be content to let him live his life and let their paths never cross. Even that one time he went into the gym after club activities to practice his lines and saw Floyd practicing his basketball skills non-stop—Even when Floyd puts in the work to pass a test almost effortlessly, then decides the next one isn’t worth the nonexistent effort—Even when Floyd is free to do whatever he wants, his actions and comments constantly broadening Yuhua’s restricted worldview—Even… when…

…even when Yuhua’s nursing something of a hopeless, helpless crush on him. And that’s it. It’s no fairytale love, it’s no novel-worthy romance. It’ll never take flight—Yuhua will take this secret with him to the grave because of that. He knows he’s not enough to catch and keep Floyd’s attention; at most he’s just a classmate who Floyd thinks it’s funny to talk to and annoy sometimes because he tries to look like a goody-two-shoes in a less angry way than Riddle.

“It’s not a crush, because I won’t get that crushing disappointment when he finds out and is disgusted by my very existence.”

About Vizzie ( @twistedwonderlandshenanigans ):

“...She’s got a good heart.”

They’re… friends. Acquaintances. Something. Does he really know how to define it? Now that Vizzie doesn’t care as much about her grades and Yuhua’s just went on to prioritize himself, or something, what was probably a friendship has… not stayed a friendship. He goes on with his reputation-building act, while she does her own thing. Yeah. Yeah—He’s fine with it. It’s what they both want, and he’s not going to interfere with her choices. It’s fine. Right? (He doesn’t want to think about it.)

It definitely doesn’t bother him that now that she’s “fallen off” and protected herself with a poor reputation, she seems… more free. It ABSOLUTELY does not bother him that she’s such easy “friends” with Floyd. It doesn’t bother him that unlike with Floyd, everything about Vizzie’s day-to-day existence and circumstances proves that something is inherently wrong with Yuhua himself. It doesn’t bother him that her everything proves that everything about him, from personality to looks to grades, is inferior and unlikeable. It doesn’t bother him that, because she’s so closed-off now, the unspoken truth is that he wasn’t enough for something like an actual friendship. It. Doesn’t. Bother. Him. 

About Riddle:

“...Oh, that guy.”

Sure, he can respect someone like Riddle. Someone who’s at the top of their class, is on the student council—Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s because of people like him that Yuhua doesn’t try too hard, anyway. It just isn’t fun. It’s not worth his time, to be constantly outclassed. And his attitude, too—part of the reason Yuhua would never run for student council. If he was aware of Riddle’s situation, he’d be more sympathetic, but as things are he just can’t quite stand Riddle’s attitude. 

Let overachievers have their fun, is Yuhua’s opinion. He’s fine to be a middling fish in a small pond while people like Riddle try to be big fish. They’re fellow second-years, but that doesn’t mean they have to care about each other. They probably don’t interact much on a meaningful level because of Riddle’s duties and Yuhua’s opinions, and if they do—it’s Yuhua being polite and saying all the things Riddle wants to hear.

(if you’re willing to establish OC dynamics, let me know and I can add Yuhua’s thoughts here! I just don’t like to add/conceptualize dynamics with canon characters because I’m scared of stepping on toes abkjsdkfgjskfd)

5. What grade/year is your OC?

“I’m part of the worst year, in case you’re wondering. Hehe. Just kidding.”

Aging him up by just one year for this AU— He’s 17, a second-year. 

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

“Goals? Eh… Passing this year with the best grades I can get.”

He doesn’t have any true goals, and it makes him anxious. His main objective is just… passing the school year, staying on good terms with everyone… That’s it. It’s all very short-term, school-related. He doesn’t have enough faith in himself to actually achieve a long-term life goal.

“As for life? Ask me again in, like… a year.” 

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

“...What? This is ridiculous. Do you just accept any kind of evidence nowadays? …No. Don’t answer that. Sorry. But I know I’m innocent.”

Yuhua is counting on others to vouch for him, both for an alibi and for his character; it’s situations like these that are the reason why he’s so intent on networking and maintaining good relationships with everyone. Knowing that his future and record are on the line, he’s absolutely going to plead his case however he can, trying to argue about the evidence, et cetera…

“Isn’t there anyone else who could have been responsible? In fact…”

If he’s ever caught Quartz doing something suspicious, he’s definitely throwing her under the bus now. If people grill him for not reporting it right away, well…

“I was just—scared at the time, you know? I didn’t know what she was going to do to me if I tattled… I’m really sorry, but what matters is that I’m the one telling the truth now.”

This might be one of the rare situations where people see him genuinely lose the easygoing act.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

“Huh? Pockets? What pockets? I didn’t see anything.”

He’ll turn a blind eye, unless there’s a situation wherein he can actually benefit from reporting her. 

“In any case… It’s not my business right now. Let people do what people want as long as it doesn’t affect me, yeah?”

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

“Come on, don’t ask me questions like that. I’m only ever where I should be.”

Yuhua always goes to class, and always shows up on time. He has people he can’t disappoint, even himself. When he’s not in class, he’s (usually) in the drama club room; before classes start for the day, at lunch, and so on.  

10. How are your OC's grades?

“Passable.”

He gets pretty good grades. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily competitive, nor at the very top of his class, but he tries to stay above “average.” He’s got a natural edge to memorizing and regurgitating information, so getting good grades isn’t hard for him, but… you know. If he tried a little harder…

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Between the lines - part 5

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle

A/N : hope you guys like it!

The next day, you found yourself alone with Vi in an empty classroom, the quiet hum of the school hallway muffled behind the closed door. The two of you sat apart, tension hanging thick in the air. Vi perched on the teacher’s desk, her arms crossed, while you leaned against a student desk, your hands gripping the edge as if it might ground you.

“I need to tell you something…” you whispered, your voice trembling. You couldn’t look at her, your eyes fixed on the scuffed tile floor.

Vi’s brow furrowed, her posture straightening. “What’s going on?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out before fear could silence you. “...I slept with Sevika.” Your voice broke as you finally met her gaze, the guilt threatening to swallow you whole.

Her face froze, the emotion flickering in her eyes unreadable. She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if trying to find the right words but coming up empty. “...I…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” you said, your voice cracking as you leaned harder against the desk, needing something to hold you up.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint ticking of the classroom clock. Then, finally, she spoke.

“...I knew,” she said quietly, her words cutting through the tension like a blade.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she avoided your gaze. “I had a feeling. The way you’ve been acting, the way Sevika looks at you. I just… I knew something wasn’t right.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you sleeping with someone else?’” She let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t want to believe it, so I told myself I was just imagining things.”

“Vi, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “I—I don’t even know why I did it. I was confused, and stupid, and—”

“Stop,” she said firmly, cutting you off. She looked at you then, her blue eyes piercing through you. “I don’t want excuses. I just… I just need to know. Do you love her?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. “I…” you hesitated, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s not like that.”

She studied your face for a long moment, her expression softening just slightly. “Okay,” she said finally. “I believe you.”

“You do?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi nodded, standing up from the desk. “Yeah. People make mistakes. And as much as this hurts… I still love you. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

Her words felt like a lifeline, but they also left a strange hollowness in your chest. You wanted to feel relieved, but something about the way she said it—calm, almost detached—made you uneasy.

“You’re forgiving me… just like that?” you asked cautiously, watching her closely.

“Just like that,” she said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But this? This can’t happen again. Ever.”

You nodded quickly. “It won’t. I promise.”

She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around you in a hug that should’ve felt comforting. But as you rested your head on her shoulder, that uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away.

Sevika was lounging in the student lounge, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her laptop balanced on her knees as she worked on her college essay. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of conversation and the occasional clink of vending machines dispensing snacks. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she typed, the glowing screen her only focus.

Then she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate. She glanced up briefly, her neutral expression hardening when she saw Violet standing there.

“Oh hey, Violet…” Sevika drawled sarcastically, her lips curling into a slight smirk. She sighed dramatically, her eyes flicking back to the screen. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Vi didn’t respond immediately. She just stood there, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes fixed on Sevika like she was trying to bore a hole through her.

“You’ve been busy,” Vi said finally, her voice calm but laced with an edge that made Sevika pause.

Sevika tilted her head, her smirk deepening as she finally looked up from her laptop. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vi stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Her shadow loomed over Sevika, but the taller girl didn’t flinch. “I’m not an idiot,” Vi said coldly, her voice dropping lower. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

Vi’s jaw clenched, and she leaned down, her hands gripping the edge of the bean bag Sevika was sitting against. “You’ve been sniffing around someone who doesn’t belong to you.”

There it was. The air grew heavier as Sevika closed her laptop, setting it aside. She leaned back against the bean bag, her expression calm but her eyes sharp. “She doesn’t ‘belong’ to anyone, Violet. She’s not a piece of property.”

Vi’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Sliding in, playing the misunderstood bad girl. But here’s the thing, Sevika—you’re not her type. You’re just a distraction.”

Sevika’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. “If I’m just a distraction, why are you so pressed about it?” she shot back, her tone cool and steady.

Vi straightened up, towering over Sevika now. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Stay away from her,” she warned, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re gonna ruin everything for her. She’s got a future, and you’re not part of it.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t let Vi see how her words stung. “Funny,” she said, standing up slowly to meet Vi’s gaze. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Sevika stood up, she was a bit taller then violet, but both of there presences crashed between eachother. 

“You don’t scare me,” Sevika said evenly, her voice steady as her eyes bore into Vi’s. “And if she wants me in her life, that’s not your call to make.”

Vi leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “If you don’t back off, I’ll make your life hell. I don’t care how tough you think you are—you don’t want to mess with me.”

Sevika’s eyes narrowed, her smirk returning as she stepped even closer, their faces inches apart now. “Is that a threat, Violet?”

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but before either of them could say anything else, the sound of the lounge door opening broke the moment. A group of students walked in, laughing and chatting, oblivious to the standoff happening in the corner of the room.

Vi took a step back, her eyes still locked on Sevika. “This isn’t over,” she said quietly, her voice a low growl.

Sevika crossed her arms, her smirk unwavering. “Looking forward to it.”

Vi shot her one last glare before turning on her heel and walking out of the lounge.

Sevika sat back down, picking up her laptop and opening it again. But as she stared at the screen, her hands hovered over the keyboard, her mind replaying the confrontation.

“Not her type, huh?” she muttered under her breath, a flicker of doubt crossing her face before she shook it off and returned to her essay.

You sat on the (THE LID IS CLOSED) toilet, your heart heavy as you stared down at the burn marks on your thighs. The mottled skin was angry and red, one mark looking far worse than the others. It throbbed slightly, a sharp reminder of the punishment you'd inflicted on yourself. You frowned, biting your lip as you thought, I need to ice this after school before it gets infected. The thought filled you with both dread and shame.

The sound of someone banging loudly on the bathroom door jolted you from your thoughts. “Jesus Christ!” you gasped, hurriedly pulling your jeans back on, wincing as the fabric brushed against the raw marks.

“You’re not spending the whole lunch period in there!” a familiar voice barked from outside the stall.

You sighed, recognizing the voice immediately. “Alright, I’m coming!” you called back, your voice laced with irritation.

Opening the stall door, you were met with Jinx leaning casually against it, arms crossed and an exaggerated pout on her face. Her wild blue hair framed her mischievous grin as she tilted her head at you. “Took you long enough,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

You moved past her to the sink, keeping your head low as you washed your hands. Jinx watched you for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not gonna believe this, but I skipped a whole line at the taco truck to come find your mopey ass. So... you’re buying.”

You chuckled softly despite yourself, shaking your head. “You want tacos that badly, huh?”

“I need tacos that badly,” Jinx corrected, her tone serious as she stepped closer, her reflection joining yours in the mirror. She tilted her head, her gaze flicking over your face. “But what’s your deal, anyway? You look... weird.”

You avoided her eyes, focusing instead on drying your hands with a paper towel. “I’m fine,” you muttered.

Jinx wasn’t buying it. She moved to block your way, her playful demeanor slipping just enough for concern to creep in. “You’re not fine,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “I know you better than that.”

You forced a small smile, brushing past her as you headed for the door. “I just didn’t feel like dealing with people today,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jinx followed close behind, her boots clunking noisily against the tiled floor. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not ‘people.’ and I don’t take no for an answer. Tacos. Now.”

Despite the ache in your legs and the storm in your mind, you found yourself laughing quietly at her persistence. “Alright, alright. Tacos it is.”

Jinx grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you both stepped out into the hallway. “That’s the spirit! Now let’s get out of here before someone realizes we’re ditching half the lunch period.”

You let her chatter fill the silence, grateful for the distraction, even as the burning sensation on your thighs reminded you of the pain you were trying so hard to hide.

You both sat in your car, parked in a quiet corner of the lot, sharing takeout from the bag on the seat between you. The faint smell of tacos filled the air, but your appetite was nowhere to be found. Jinx, on the other hand, was devouring her food like it was her last meal, oblivious to your inner turmoil—or so you thought.

“I don’t know what to do,” you muttered, staring down at the uneaten taco in your hand.

Jinx paused mid-bite, glancing at you with raised eyebrows. “Wait,” she said through a mouthful of food, “she showed up at your place, and you two smoked? And she admitted Vi tried to ruin her life over hockey?” She tilted her head, her voice heavy with disbelief.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding her gaze.

Jinx chewed quickly and swallowed, her eyes narrowing as realization dawned on her. “Wait. What happened after that?”

Her tone made your stomach twist. You didn’t respond, your silence speaking louder than any words could.

She blinked, her eyes widening in shock. “You had sex?!” she yelled, the words practically echoing in the car.

You yelped, panic flooding your system as you reached over to cover her mouth. “Shhh!” you hissed, your eyes darting around as though someone might have been listening through the tinted windows.

Jinx pulled your hand away, a smirk creeping across her face. “Oh my god, you did. You slept with Sevika.” She leaned forward, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “You know you just admitted to cheating on my sister, right?”

You groaned, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. “I know,” you mumbled, your voice muffled.

Jinx leaned back against the seat, popping the last bit of her taco into her mouth. “It’s fine,” she said casually, brushing crumbs off her hands. “My sister doesn’t talk to me anyway unless Vander makes her.”

Her words caught you off guard, and you looked up, guilt and curiosity mixing in your expression. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaning her head against the window. “Vi’s always been... Vi. Perfect big sister to everyone except me. She acts like she has to keep me at arm’s length or something, like I’m some kind of liability.” Jinx’s tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness she couldn’t quite hide.

You frowned, your guilt doubling. “Jinx... I’m sorry.”

She waved you off, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it. But you...” She poked your arm, her grin morphing into a teasing smirk. “You’ve got some real problems now, huh?”

You sighed, your head falling back against the seat. “Yeah. And I have no idea what to do.”

Jinx tapped her chin thoughtfully before leaning in closer, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You could always just date Sevika. I mean, she’s tall, hot, and has a bike. That’s like... three wins already.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “This isn’t funny, Jinx.”

“No, it’s hilarious.” She grinned, pulling another taco from the bag. “But hey, if you want my advice—which you probably don’t—figure out who you actually want. And if it’s not Vi...” She took a bite, chewing for a moment before finishing, “...then don’t waste her time.”

Her bluntness stung, but you knew she was right. As she went back to her tacos, you stared out the window, the weight of your choices pressing down on you. For the first time, you weren’t sure if you had the strength to make the right one. 

“So..whatd it feel like?” she smirked “jinx!” you laugh

You were nestled against the pillows on your bed, a book for English class resting in your lap. The words were starting to blur together as your mind drifted, but the sharp knock at your door yanked you back into focus.

“Come in,” you called, your voice tinged with distraction.

The door creaked open, and your mom leaned against the doorframe, her expression a mix of hesitation and concern. She traced the edge of the door with her finger before stepping inside.

“Your dad called,” she said softly.

Your heart plummeted at her words, your chest tightening as you forced a smile. “Oh yeah? Did you tell him to go fuck himself?” you quipped, your tone light but dripping with bitterness.

Your mom sighed, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “Listen, honey, he’s trying,” she said, her voice calm but pleading.

“Yeah, well, why wasn’t he trying when I needed him to?” you shot back, the words leaving your mouth almost automatically.

Your mom rested her hand on your knee, her expression pained but understanding. “I’m not going to make you talk to him, okay? It’s your choice.”

You nodded but stayed silent, staring down at the book in your lap. The familiar ache of resentment twisted in your chest.

After a moment, she leaned in, resting her head gently on your shoulder. The weight of her presence was comforting, even if the topic wasn’t.

“I just don’t want you to carry this anger forever,” she murmured.

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “It’s not anger, Mom. It’s disappointment. I stopped expecting anything from him a long time ago.”

She didn’t respond right away, and the two of you sat there in silence. The quiet was heavy but not unbearable. She rubbed your knee absentmindedly, her small way of letting you know she was there, even if she couldn’t fix everything.

“I know he hurt you,” she said after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. “And you have every right to feel how you feel. Just... promise me you’ll let yourself heal, too.”

You glanced at her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and nodded. “I’ll try,” you said, the words not entirely truthful but enough to ease the tension.

She smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before standing up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading,” she said, smoothing out her clothes as she headed for the door.

“Thanks, Mom,” you said quietly, your voice softer now.

She paused at the doorway, looking back at you. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied, offering a small smile as she left the room.

As the door clicked shut, you leaned back into the pillows, your mind far from the pages of your book. The emotions swirled inside you—anger, sadness, confusion—mixing into a storm you weren’t sure how to calm.

Your phone went off and you look down at it, a message from jinx? you raise an eyebrow as you unlock your phone to read it 

“S.O.S meet me at the cafe downtown.” 

taglist:

@vyvvycg @drinkdawudda @jiungmcvv @half-of-a-gay