#and this arrange has been in my head recently idk why

[jennapancake]

I want you to want me...

Sirius Black x Reader

Description: Sirius and you have an agreement of friends with benefits but this is how you end it after realizing he'll never feel the same way you feel for him.

Warnings: Curse Words, Angst, Heartbreak, Friends with Benefits, Unrequited love?, Hurt no comfort kinda?

A/n: Honestly I don't know what this is but I wanted to write a Sirius fic so here ya go. I may write a part 2?? Lmk if you want one cause idk.

The tears flowed freely now no matter how much you willed them to stop as you quickly made your way through the empty corridors of Hogwarts. How could you ever be so stupid. The memories of him making out with her in the room of requirements. Your secret spot. But I suppose it's your own fault for ever thinking thee Sirius Black could ever think of you as more than a side hookup. It all was just pure meaningless sex to him.

You don't know when you caught feelings during this little agreement of yours but I suppose it wasn't his fault. Feelings and loyalty were never stated in the agreement you two had and you knew they were both things the boy lacked. You just wish it didn't hurt so much.

“Y/n! Wait please!” You heard the shouting coming from the same boy whom you caught a mere minute ago, deep inside of Marlene McKinnon. “Hold on!” the boy stumbled after you, still fixing his white button up shirt.

But you didn't wait, you kept your quick pace while continuously wiping your tears on the sleeves of your quidditch sweater, pleading with yourself to stop crying in case the boy did catch up to you. Which of course he did and of course he could tell from your puffy eyes that something was wrong.

“Hey, hey, hey why are you crying?” The boy looked at you with gentle eyes and a worried expression, taking in your unusual appearance.

You never cried. Not when you tell off your broom in first year flying lessons and broke your arm. Not when the boys from Ravenclaw made fun of you for blowing up your potion after rejecting one of their friends. Not even when James Potter, your best friend in the whole world told you he didn't want to be friends anymore. So why now? All because the boy you've been sleeping with- No fallen in love with, doesn't see you the same way you see him? The boy who has no obligation to you besides a few make out sessions behind closed doors? Fuck this was stupid.

“Nothing, Sirius. It's just been a long day.” You replied, a defeated look in your eyes as you stared down the hallway, not having the ability to look the boy in the eyes without breaking down again.

“Tell me about it? I'm here for you. We were friends before our arrangement, you know! And if seeing me with Marlene has anything to do with it you should know-” The boy spoke quickly, concern coating his words in a sticky sweetness you were more recently used to. He knew something must be wrong for you to openly cry in the hallway but you cut him off quickly.

“I do not care about Marlene! I just want to be left alone, Sirius. You owe me nothing and can sleep with whomever you want. I was on my way to tell you I do not wish to continue this arrangement between us any longer anyways.” You didn't mean that. But you were hurt and it was your own fault. You should have never let it go on this long so it's best to cut your losses and move on. Distance yourself as always, maybe even find new friends. I'm sure James would be happy about that.

“What- but- why?” Sirius asked, gently grabbing your hand before you headed down the hall and away from him, knowing your tendency to run off. “I thought we were fine?”

“You speak like this was an actual relationship, Sirius. We were friends with benefits, nothing more, correct? I mean you were just balls deep in my best friend.” You retorted.

“So this does have to do with Marlene and me?”

“There's a two of you now?”

“Godrich no-”

“Then why-”

“No, you tell me why you're acting this way. Why are you so ready to end what we have?!”

“Because we don't have anything, Sirius!” You shouted “and that's the problem” you whispered under your breath and yet the boy still heard.

“What do you mean?” The boy asked, a wrinkle of confusion contorting his forehead as he tried to piece your words together.

“I don't know when it started or how but I've grown to want you more than whatever this is.” You gestured between you before taking a deep breath as you looked at the ceiling to stop the tears that gathered on your waterline once more “and you being with MY best friend in OUR spot just proves that you will never feel how I feel for you, Sirius.”

“Y/n…” the boy began, sympathy coating his features as he reached out for you once more, except this time you pulled away from his grasp with a shake of your head.

“No Sirius. Do not look at me with such pity. Its best we end this arrangement here. I can move on and you can fuck all the girls you'd like.”

“But that's not what I want-”

“Sounds like an amazing deal to me.”

“But what about us?”

“There is no us, Sirius Black. I love you. You don't love me. That's all! That's all it will ever be, all we'll ever be! Eventually we'll be friends again but until then I'll hangout with Pandora and the others as I used to do and you can keep your group of friends. James will be pleased to not have to see me more and not have us faux flirt in front of him.”

“I don't want that and James may act all grumpy but he enjoys your company I know he does and I lo-”

“No Sirius. He ended our friendship a long time ago and I should've stayed away from him and his friends just as he told me to all those years ago.” You shook your head already taking small steps away from the boy.

“Darling please” Sirius frowned, reaching out once more “Just listen to me.”

“No and now I must go.” You said, backing up slowly down the hallway and out of his reach “Don't want to fall behind on my study time over a silly little hookup.” You almost sobbed as you spoke, turning around so you didn't have to watch as Sirius' eyes followed you down the hallway, the same sadness coaxing his features and so that same boy didn't see how his absence was going to shatter your heart into a million more pieces. “I'll see you around, black.” You shouted as confidently as possible, hoping he didn't note the crack in your voice as a tear slipped down your cheek.

And as you rounded the corner, you failed to notice the tear slipping past his own water line and down his flushed cheeks as he mumbled “But I want you too..."

[jenosbigtoe]

nct dream mtl likely to be fwb? recently fwb jisung has been making me feel some type of way 😭😭 especially like the way u wrote him in ur fic where he goes from shy to cocky ITS SO GOOD

okay this was kinda hard. i didn’t know whether i should rate them on how likely they would to be in a fwb situationship or who would be least likely to catch feelings or what so i just kinda did a mix of both. DISCLAIMER THIS IS JUST MY OPINION AND YOU MIGHT DISAGREE BUT OH WELL

next fic idea after catgirl x jaemin might be fwb!haechan brrr

MOST

chenle. i feel like he’d also be the least likely to catch feelings if you entered a fwb arrangement with him. you two would be those friends that everyone is like “oh you guys aren’t dating yet?” and eventually the sexual tension between you two got too much and yall started fucking on the dl.

haechan. okay this is like an obvious answer but hear me out. hes literally just as delusional over you as you for him and any opportunity he gets to jump your bones, hes taking. hes been down bad for you since day 1 and isn’t afraid of hiding it. literally would just look at you and you already know he wants to fuck the shit outta you in that moment.

renjun. i feel like it could go either way with him. he’s down for whatever makes you happiest, whether that mean being fwb or bf/gf.

jaemin. i feel like he wouldn’t want to play with your feelings like that but he also wouldn’t be able to resist being able to fuck you anytime anywhere. yall would end up dating after like 2 weeks max

jeno. this is such a surprising answer for me bc i would literally commit crimes in 87 different countries to be his fwb but i don’t think jeno would be very likely to have a relationship like that. like just date him already damn he’s such a sweet boy why would you play with his feelings like that

mark. bitch stop playing with his heart like that😭when he really likes someone, his heart would not be able to handle all that uncertainty and back and forth. he needs to have you as his girl and not just some situationship or he will lose his mind and kill himself or something. he will carry your babies idk

jisung. okay jisung would definitely think yall are dating if yall start fucking 😭 like wdym youre not his girlfriend when he knows what you taste like? when you’ve literally had your face shoved down his cock n balls? when you introduce yourself as just his girl best friend to someone, he would whip his head around so fast and look at you so betrayed. would he be down to be fwb with you? sure. but good luck trying to convince him that doesn’t mean he’s your actual boyfriend. so really the answer is No

LEAST

[yulgurr]

shoutout to the person who reblogged half of my good oc posts one by one but said they don't know lore of any of my guys, this one is for you. i hope you see this. i love you

i've been inactive recently but my brain cooker is always cooking, so i will do a small(a lie) recap of my stupid funy 3 houses main trio

look at these guys. war criminals

i will yap about them from left to right.. under the cut! because i yap a lot and it takes too much space!

Camille Adeline Gautier - her dominant color is red, so she is obviously from blue lions house. She's Sylvain's twin, she also has a minor crest of Gautier and she also likes girls, but her distinct difference is that she is a loser but gets super jacked post-timeskip (still remains a loser). She holds a grudge against Miklan but is also scared of him to death, but also wants him dead, it's complicated and she needs therapy. AND SHE GETS ONE and is able to live freely and happily despite still being a loser. She also has a suspicious magic tome with weird spells in a different language.. and her kit is agarthan spells only.. huh! weird!

Theodore von Menja - his main color is yellow, so he is, of course, a black eagles student. He is an illegitimate son of viscount Menja of the empire... except that HE ISN'T he is an impersonator and he is SO.BAD AT HIS ONLY.JOB of impersonating. He doesn't know nobles' etiquette, he can't write like a noble, he doesn't talk like a noble, he doesn't wear his clothes like a noble (they're a bit too big) AND his recruitment condition is you giving him 50k gold. He's good at killing though and his steps are silent. He is awfully observant and is pretty good at keeping his emotions and feelings in check, showing people a side of himself he wants them to see. Post-timeskip Theo is drinking a bit too much and often talks how "it's been 10 years" and he "just wants to go home".

Sienna Crane - her signature color is blue so she is from golden deer. She is the youngest child of Crane Guild of the Alliance, who are one of the biggest merchant guilds in all of Fodlan, and also have connections outside its borders. Sienna's biological father left early on, then immediately got married and became the best polo player in the Adrestian Empire, never to be seen by his former family ever again. Sienna's mother later remarried, and the guy turned out to be a head of the Crane Guild. Sienna then grew up without any financial problems, she was always provided for and always got what she wanted. She's not a spoiled brat in the academy phase though, she is just dumb (no better way to put it) and doesn't get the value of money, but she means well and wants to help everyone. Post-timeskip things get difficult for her, and she actively tries to find a partner. During these 5 years she fucked around and found out, lost her eye, got smarter and realized the most terrifying thing a girl can realize. Her parents have arranged a marriage for her with their friend from Morfis, who is more than twice older than Sienna, and they agreed on this arrangement when she was 13! Insane! Crazy! So she does her best to escape this fate, her parents and the guild that has eyes everywhere. And she fails.

hope this cleared things up! thumbs up emoji

In three hopes their stories are altered, obviously, but Sienna basically escapes from her wedding in a wedding dress and fights in it. why wouldn't she change? idk

[wyked-ao3]

PJO Equinox-Solstice exchange

@soaking-wet-cat-punk here is the fic :) @hallsoffandom

Request something Frank-related please!! minimal angst, he has had enough. Something about him having a nice day?? a picnic with Hazel?? taking a break from praetorian stuff? idk let my man rest

Pair hazel/frank

Tags: day off,fluff,cute, proposal

A/N first time writing for this fandom and I don't know either of them that well but I hope you enjoy it :)

Around 3k word count

Let me know if you want it cross posted on ao3 @soaking-wet-cat-punk

Tagging @stars-forever who I know enjoys pjo content, and another pjo fan @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

Hazel arranged for a day off with her commander then scheduled one for Frank as well, a few coins did the trick on Frank's commanding officer. She had already made arrangements for a picnic; she just needed to tell Frank about the surprise…she hoped he liked it. She had noticed that Frank had been a little stressed recently and was a little worried that his new unit was picking on him over something again…she knew some of the fellow demigods could be cruel when it came to Someone of a mixed heritage. Like her and Frank they both had dealt with more than their fair share of bullies over the years and she was just hoping it was not related to that once again. If it was well then she wanted a list so she could have a little chat with them about it..

Hazel walked to the house and knocked, not surprised to see Frank open the door. She smiled and said, “I have a day out planned for us.”

Frank paled and said, “That's nice but I have work?” Wondering why she had not mentioned it sooner. He felt bad that he would miss it.

Hazel chuckled and said, “I cleared it with your boss.” Handing the letter over. She knew she probably should have told him that upfront but she liked to see him squirm sometimes. She enjoyed seeing his narrow brown eyes widened just a little…it was adorable..and it was not like he didn't occasionally pull similar stunts.

Frank smiled and said, “Then it sounds like fun.” Setting the letter down because he trusted that hazel had it all straightened out if she said she did. He knew she wouldn't betray him over something so simple. He looked into her big golden eyes that glimmered in the light in a way that made his heart speed up just a little. He asked, “What all should I grab?” not knowing exactly what she had planned for them.

Hazel tilted her head as she thought about the answer and said, “Yourself and a weapon of course.”

Frank laughed and replied, “Any preator worth their drachma would not be caught dead without a weapon.”

Hazel snorted, “Actually they would be caught dead if they did not have one.” really it was a bad idea to leave your weapons behind especially with the things that hunted half-bloods.

Frank raised an eyebrow and said, “Someone's feeling dark today.” 

Hazel replied, “I'm not feeling dark, however I was wondering what has made you upset the last couple days?” relaxing as they talked.

Frank started fidgeting and said, “Nothing really.” He really didn't want to say what was bothering him. He needed to figure out a few things on his own first. He wanted everything to be perfect.

Hazel raised an eyebrow and said, “You only fidget when you're nervous or lying…so which is it?” She was not impressed he was trying to hide something although she could understand not wanting to talk about something yet.

Frank glanced down and said “Well, I have been nervous but it's nothing bad.”Hazel looked into his eyes before nodding. She would give him space for now. She was still curious but she could respect the boundaries he was requesting.

They continued to walk until they got to the clearing that hazel had set up for them to have a picnic in. Frank looked at the baskets and the plaid blanket with a fond look, he was a little surprised she had gone through the trouble of all this to surprise him because she thought he was down. It made it a little easier to find peace in his decision. He said softly “Thank you for this.”

Hazel smiled at him and said, “It was no problem I always enjoy spending time with you.” She pulled him over to the blanket and down to the ground to sit with her, fighting against the urge to fan her face. She was a little embarrassed right now.

Frank smiled as he sat. He watched her hair frizz up just a little more than usual due to the high humidity in the air. He said, “You are too sweet sometimes you know that.”

Hazel rolled her eyes at Frank and replied, “I'm not all that sweet, let's get to the ice cream before it melts. I found a non lactose coconut ice cream I thought we could try.”

Frank scrunched his nose up before saying, “I suppose it won't kill me to take a bite.”

Hazel said, “Who knows you might even enjoy it.” holding out a spoon and a half pint container towards him

Frank grabbed them and said, “Thank you.” Because even if it sucked he still appreciated the thought behind it. He took a bite and was surprised that it didn't taste horrible…it was not necessarily ice cream but it was very similar and he kind of liked it.

Hazel took a bite and said, “Well that's not ice cream but it wouldn't be bad on some coconut cake or something like that.” It was not what she had been expecting.

Frank laughed and said, “It's not that bad, I actually kinda like it.” Taking another bite to prove his point.

Hazel smirked and said, “Was that a challenge?” Taking another bite of the coconut flavored weirdness that was claiming to be an ice cream.

Frank laughed and said, “No I was not challenging you, i know you are far too competitive for that to be a good idea.” he paused before adding, “I was just saying I like the flavor and the thought you put into it to find something for us to try together.”

Hazel smiled and said, “I also brought your favorite breakfast food.”

Frank said, “ice cream and my favorite food you're spoiling me.”

Hazel said, “You deserve it.” Pulling out the Poached eggs & bacon on toast with an orange juice box.

Frank wondered what she had brought for herself since he knew she didn't eat a lot of bacon. He took it from hazel and smiled when she pulled out a container of shrimp gumbo that could probably melt the insides of a normal person. He asked, “How can you eat that stuff?”

Hazel replied ,“The more it burns the better it tastes.”

Frank raised an eyebrow because he was fairly certain that was not how that was supposed to work but he was not going to argue with her about it..he had something else to worry about right now..he wanted to do it but he was not sure how she would react. He was a little nervous about what he planned to ask her because he wanted it to be perfect. He watched as the sun rays reflected off of her curly cinnamon brown hair that glimmered a little when the light hit it just right.

Hazel said, “Earth to Frank.”

Frank said, “I'm listening.”

Hazel asked him, “What has you so distracted?”

Frank honestly replied, “You.” He was not afraid to admit that she could be distracting usually when she was not trying to be. He enjoyed seeing her relaxed as it was not something he got to see everyday.

Hazel darkened with a blush as she fanned her face. slightly embarrassed by that. She said, “I'm not that distracting.”

Frank took her hand in his and said, “You are unaware of how you affect others Hazel, you are distracting in several ways, you are kind, you are loyal, you never give up on a friend and you have a beautiful soul to match your exterior.”

Hazel was flustered; she didn't really know how to respond to that as she was not really used to anyone saying something like that about her. She softly said, “It is but a shadow in the light of your soul, you are loyal to a fault and never give up on anyone, you are kind even to those who would hurt you. You are brave enough to follow Percy and his band of misfits into the heart of danger..you are perfect Frank.”

Frank laughed and said, “I still think you outshine me but thank you.” He nibbled on the ice cream as they watched the trees sway in the wind.

Hazel looked to the sky and said, “Looks like we will be getting a storm soon.”

Frank said, “Hopefully Zeus is not in a bad mood.”

Hazel said, “Well he did get his daughter back so perhaps he will lighten up on us.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and said ,“For some reason, I highly doubt that is going to be the case.” He didn't think that was going to be enough to bring Zeus back around to liking half-bloods.

Hazel said, “So do I.” She didn't know what it was exactly but something was whispering to her that trouble would be in the air soon…but not yet, not today.

Time skip

A week or so later, Frank was the one to set up a day off for them to go out..he was planning everything out when he realized he had forgotten to tell Hazel that she didn't have work today. He ran to her place and caught her as she was stepping out of the door.

Hazel said, “I'm surprised to see you so early, is something wrong?” The alarms were not going off and she had not gotten any kind of message that there was a problem or that she was needed.

Frank said, “Nope, you have the day off …I arranged it for us.” Rubbing the back of his neck as he talked.

Hazel raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why is that?”

Frank said, “I want to surprise you with a day out…I just forgot to mention it…I was a little too busy planning it.”

Hazel chuckled and said, “Well, I think we can make the time for it.” Winking at him.

Frank laughed and said, “Yep, it's our day off after all.” he enjoyed the way Hazel just rolled with things…even when he was a little forgetful.

Hazel asked, “So what do you have planned?” Curious if she needed to grab anything for the trip out.

Frank said, “It's a surprise…but I am starting it out with some horseback riding.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow and said, “You on a horse?”

Frank shrugged, he was not exactly keen on it but he wanted to make the day special for Hazel. He wanted everything to go smoothly tonight…he was a little nervous about what he planned to do. He trusted her but was not sure what her reaction to his proposal would be.

Hazel said, “Just be careful, I wouldn't want to see you get hurt.” Frank thought that was fair considering the way animals reacted to him sometimes. He was just hoping since the horse didn't react too badly to him that this would go smoothly for them.

A few hours later

Frank was on the saddle and trying to hide the fact he was nervous about this. His horse followed Hazel and her horse up the oath to the top of the hill where he had set up a picnic..he had brought water and apples for the horses so they would be happy as well. He was surprised he had not been tossed off of the horse yet.

Hazel said, “Thank you, it's been ages since the last time I have been on the saddle.” she smiled at the memories it brought back, she missed her family but that was in the past and she was here now..so she would focus on the here and now.

Frank smiled and said, “No problem.” His horse moved to walk beside Hazel when the path widened enough to allow it. He watched Hazel glide with the horse it was hypnotizing in a way, especially seeing her so relaxed and unguarded. He would treasure this memory forever even if it did not go the way he hoped it would.

Hazel said, “We are almost to the top of the hill, are we turning back or stopping at the top?” not wanting to ruin whatever it was that he had planned, he seemed a little more nervous than usual and that concerned her. She didn't like to see him fidget so much; she liked it when he felt safe and was unguarded but that didn't happen often, especially in public settings.

Frank was happy when they finally hit the top of the hill, he looked at the view of the old trails that led down the hill in other directions, he knew he would be taking Hazel to the oak Grove if he built up enough courage to ask the question. He hopped off his tan horse and tied the reins so it wouldn't run off. He glanced at Hazel to see her getting off of the horse.

Hazel hopped down and did the same with her white horse. She was surprised to see a picnic setup for them..but she supposed that she shouldn't have been. She walked over to the basket Frank had brought and sat on the ground next to it. She teasingly said, “Nice touch, I wonder what inspired it.”

Frank sat across from her and said, “Hmm, perhaps I got the idea from my amazing girlfriend.”

Hazel laughed and said, “Well then she has good taste.” opening the basket.

Frank said, “I made some gumbo, I hope you like it.” He had asked one of the other preators for a recipe who had grown up in New Orleans. He had followed it exactly so hopefully it turned out good…he had not tried it because he couldn't really stomach spicy foods.

Hazel smiled and said, “It means a lot to me that you made it, and planned all of this. Thank you”

Frank watched as her brown eyes reflected the sun..it was beautiful, she was beautiful. He softly said, “You would do the same for me.”

Hazel's laugh had a musical quality as she said, “You're right about that frank.” Taking a bite of the gumbo she groaned and said, “I think this is the best gumbo I have ever had.” Her face darkened from the heat of the seasonings used in the shrimp gumbo. She added, “Just the right amount of burn.” Taking a sip of milk, not that it would help much. She was impressed with the effort he had placed into this.

Frank grabbed the sandwich he had brought for himself since he didn't want a stomach ulcer from the gumbo…he really didn't enjoy spicy foods. He started nibbling on it as he watched the sun rise higher in the sky.

Hazel finished up her serving of gumbo and said, “That was delicious, thank you.”

Frank smiled and nervously asked, “Would you like to go for a walk?” He was trying to build up the courage to ask the question that was burning inside of him.

Hazel replied, “Well I didn't bring my hiking boots for nothing.” In a teasing manner.

Frank laughed, he could always count on Hazel to have something to say and sometimes he was surprised when it was not sarcastic..she had a spine made of iron that he respected. Sometimes he wished that he was a little less nervous and a little more courageous. He helped her to her feet even if she didn't need the help.

Hazel tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear and said, “Thank you.” walking alongside him.

Frank led them through a crepe myrtles grove that had probably been a place of worship for Aphrodite but he continued until they hit the grove of oaks…he didn't particularly want to be cursed for proposing in a place of worship for one of the gods.

Hazel watched the forest semi alert Incase they ran into trouble but she didn't Sense any out around. She loved the way the old man's beard/Spanish moss was dangling from the giant and ancient oak trees. It was breathtaking to see she could feel the energy of nature here; it was like it had been untouched for years. She relaxed as she saw Frank pull them over to a clearing in the grove that had a small waterfall. She said, “This place is beautiful and it feels almost magical.” But not in the sense of magic from the gods, perhaps the magic of the planet itself.

Frank smiled and said, “I'm glad you like the spot.” Rubbing at the back of his neck he said, “Perhaps we should sit.”

Hazel tilted her head before complying, she sat on a log and waited for Frank to sit. She was surprised when he got down on his knees.

Frank nervously pulled out the sack that had the stick that if burnt would kill him and held it out to Hazel, he asked “Would you do me the honor of guarding my life and my heart?” he shifted around nervously as he waited for her reply.

Hazel tilted her head and said, “You know I would guard it anytime. So what exactly are you asking me?” Not wanting a miscommunication and she was not certain he was asking her what she thought he was.

Frank turned red and quickly said, “I'm asking you to marry me.” getting more nervous than before that she would say no.

Hazel pulled Frank into a kiss. Melting into the kiss before she pulled away.

Frank nervously said, “That's not really an answer.” he was not sure if that was a yes or not. His heart was screaming it was a yes but his brain was saying that she might still say no.

Hazel said, “Well, I would disagree on that.” Watching as Frank gulped she added, “I think it was an agreement..but since you seem to need a verbal answer ... .Yes, I will marry you and guard your life and heart.” she paused before adding, “Thank you for trusting me with it, you will never regret this.” holding the bag tenderly.

Frank looked lovingly into her eyes and said, “I know, I won't.” no matter what others thought he knew that his life was safe in her hands.. he would not change a thing about how their Lives had gone because it always led them back to each other.

[apopcornkernel]

11, 19, 23, 39 !! sending u kisses back MWAH !!!

from these writing asks

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

e,, ene,,, enemies-to-lovers (audience gasps) YES i know i cannot believe I'm saying this as one of the most ardent lovers of etl. but likeee i don't think it suits some ships at all (and kinda kills what i love about said ships) AND I've been feeling super let down by recent portrayals of it that has actually just been straight ass

other than that, i guess fake dating and arranged marriage 😭 i do still enjoy those tropes done well! but lately I've been wanting more canon-based fics & quieter tension but tension all the same. like yes give me 20k of them running this country together, i don't even want a confession at the end or any sort of kiss, just show me their chemistry and their deep trust!!!!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

I LOVE U FOR THIS

When she woke, her head was clearer, the haze of drink all but burned through. It was not yet light. Yukong turned, and in the darkness Caiyi’s eyes were like that of a cat’s, fixed pinpricks of direct brightness.

No. Not Caiyi.

Ruan Mei blinked back at her, still watching. The memory of everything that had transpired, the touching, the kissing—

Yukong uttered a low, fierce curse.

23. Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

it depends, but usually its dialogue :( i am really bad at writing very very colloquial characters and when it's for more formal (?) characters its slightly easier if only bc i know the rules better? but its still hard, like... like this for example, I'm still unsure how to rephrase this 😭:

The Seer Strategist had on a look of such put-on innocence that it only missed an affronted hand to the chest. “Why, Diviner Fu, I’d never. ☰ ☲ Besides, it’s not good for us to have infighting among ourselves rephrase.”

yeah, that rephrase is my note to self 😭 it's why writing stuff like jingfu takes doubly long.

description can also be hard for me bc i forget that people need them haha. like i just want to skip ahead and go to the good stuff (interaction! talking!) but then im like. shit. the readers don't even know where they are rn 😭 it's a little tiring to describe too, like idk how yall are writing multiple paragraphs when one alone is a struggle for me

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

it's STILL jingfu propaganda movement au where i made jing yuan a chinese mestizo and fu xuan a newly arrived chinese immigrant who lived in binondo during the philippine propaganda movement and the ensuing revolution 🥰

[theinfinitedivides]

six recent song favorites.

i was tagged by @chameli and i had to try so hard to narrow it down bc this sh*t was all over the place originally—also offering a shameless Spotify plug if you would like to see me obsess over these in real time but that's not the point here

vainko & basti bounce, brodha v | 2022-2023 — i'm going to cheat on the song total with at least two of these entries so let me start with this one, sfjsfdnkjsdnj. got into him bc he showed up on the Spotify radio recommendations for songs like the Gully Boy OST but tbh he unironically slaps and as a bonus BB is the sequel to Vainko both lyrically and visually. personally Vainko slaps a bit harder bc the pre-chorus makes contact with a certain part of my brain that very few songs have before and after it, could just be the way i operate tho

kana yaari, coke studio | 2022 — k i may have cried to The Quick Style's official choreo MV for this (not the wedding choreo. that sh*t was the sh*t) but. the beat drop after the first verse. Eva B coming in in the second with that hijab and spitting bars like no one's f*cking business. ma'am

waterfall, b.i | 2021 — i will never shut up about this song. never, it is physically impossible for me to do so bc Hanbin??? the man that you are Hanbin??? 'waterfall 춤을 추는 waterfall / 하늘 위를 나는 듯이 떨어져' Hanbin??? f*cking '떨어짐과 동시에 새롭게 시작하는 폭포' Hanbin??? on God this and BTBT (2022) have been on loop since they dropped

god's latte, epik high | 2023 — sometimes Tablo writes about things and talking to God and not getting the answers you want and having to answer it yourself in the vein of Ilya Kaminsky's 'at the trial of God...' and you have to sit down and think about it for a while. it's fine. everything is fine. (head in hands head in hands head in my f*cking hands this is Amor Fati's long lost twin and it hurts just as much)

besharam rang & jhoome jo pathaan | 2023 — the second cheat but i have no remorse over this bc it's SRK-Deepika!!! Shilpa and Arijit what better voices could you choose for such absolute bangers, honestly. BR gives off Ghungroo vibes which might have been the intent but the lyrics themselves are very 90s Bollywood? idk idk i think i've said this before but my Spotify mutuals probably think there's something wrong with me when they see i've had this playing for six hours with no status change and they have no context as to why

way it is, way it could be, the weather station | 2015 — this song and Chammak Challo fought each other for this spot as the oldest song here but i needed at least one English song in this list and a sacrifice had to be made. i apologize profusely to the many impromptu dance sessions i had with the latter, pls know you were not spurned; it's hard to put a finger on exactly what it about this that has had me in a chokehold. is it the guitar? the sparseness of arrangement? 'the way it is and the way it could be, both are / we got back in the car'? highly recommend bc whatever it is there's something in the song and i go feral for it

tagging: @toiletpotato @i-got-the-feels @lastofthe20thcenturygirls @goblinsbriide @itsfookingloosah and @eremin0109, but pls don't participate if you feel pressured <333

[silverfoxlou]

that’s actually so absurd that he’d basically be ‘on tour’ with louis for the rest of this… like he really has absolutely nothing else happening for him and his sugarbaby gf be able to hang on to louis while he tours. i’m much more upset than i feel i should be because even regardless of mayas book and recent interview i’m just baffled as to why liam is even doing this and why louis supports it. my view for a couple years now has been that louis is a crutch for liam and he leans on him but it never seems to be mutual. something about him following on tour is doing my head in… like why? it also just sucks that these big shows are happening but people are going to care and talk all about lilo and i swear if he brings him out it’s just nasty.. louis is essentially just supporting him while his ex opens about how awful he was to her. louis is either stupid atp or just shitty as well idk yet. loyalty shouldn’t mean u enable ur shitty friends but it really seems like that’s what he does for liam but maybe i’m thinking too much

We don’t know if Louis supports it… there’s nothing he can do if Liam makes his own travel arrangements. He didn’t even acknowledge him at the show at all so hopefully that continues.

[touhoutunes]

Title: カリスマ煉獄天神 (The Charismatic Purgatory Goddess)

Arrangement: kaztora & Hedonist

Vocals: あよ & あやぽんず＊

Album: カリスマ煉獄天神

Circle: 森羅万象

Original: Tortoise Dragon ~ Fortune and Misfortune

[frog-writes-for-fun]

Hello! So, I’m new here, and not exactly sure if you’re up to it (saw that request are open, but you can decide if you want to do it or not) but can I request platonic hermitcraft x reader? Like, reader is pretty honest, but if they’re asked if they did something nice for them, they would lie and say it was probably someone else, out of habit? (Like they give gifts to the hermits, or get something the hermits said they needed?) Idk if you want to do this, it’s just a silly idea. You can choose who you want to write for.

…Have you been watching me? This is exactly what I do- If they ask me outright, I’ll answer that it was me but I don’t generally tell people that gifts are from me.

All Too Kind

c!Hermits x gn!Reader

Summary: Some overnight gifts quickly become a serverwide mystery. You, however, are content to remain anonymous.

Notes: None! It's just a fluffy little thing!

You packed the cakes into the chest carefully. Even stacks, spread into rows on the bottom of the chest. Smiling, you stepped back, closing the lid with a soft and satisfying thunk.

Grian will love this.

Kneeling to the ground, you dug in your pack for the worn map of the server and a fresh stack of rockets to keep you in the air.

Next target: False Symmetry.

“Did you hear the news, dude? Someone’s been leaving gifts of cake everywhere!” As you walked through the shopping district, Ren’s voice carried from where he stood talking to Doc. “At this rate no one’s going to need my pies or Scar’s cookies, we’ll all be too full of cake!”

“Tell me about it. I found three shulkers full of cake near where I’ve been doing my redstone.”

“Three shulkers! You’re lucky, my dude.”

Doc shook his head. “I’m more curious about who’s been giving out all this cake. It’s not exactly the cheapest food source…”

Their voices drifted off as you continued your stroll.

“I’m going to catch the Cake Bandit in the act!”

Grian was happily explaining his grand plan to you, though you were caught off-guard by his name for the mysterious gift-giver.

“Cake Bandit? That makes it sound like they steal cakes, not deliver them!” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Well, they sneak in here in the middle of the night, like a bandit. And Cake Deliverer doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Grian’s face was serious. “Cake Bandit is a much better name.” His expression flipped to a wide grin faster than you could blink. “And I’m going to catch them when they come tonight! That’s why I’ve come to you- would you like to help me set up the trap?”

Gem held a clipboard, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She wore a white lab coat- perhaps Cub had lent it to her?

“Now, would you consider yourself to be a tricky person?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I know how to sneak around, but I wouldn’t use that ability to trick people.”

She tapped the clipboard with her pencil. “I see. And you’re sure you don’t have any information on this infamous Cake Bandit, as they’ve been named?”

“No, I don’t.” You shook your head. “Maybe Scar would have some idea? He has the cookie factory, maybe he or Ren branched out to another sweet treat.”

Gem lit up. “That’s a great idea! Ahem. I mean, thank you for your information. It will be taken into consideration for this study.”

Xisuma sighed. “No, Grian. I don’t know who the Cake Bandit is. And even if I did, they obviously want it to remain a secret.”

Doc nodded. “It has been a month. If they wanted us to know who they were, we’d know by now.”

You fidgeted slightly. The Cake Bandit had come up at all of the recent Hermit meetings. 

Xisuma stood from his seat at the table. “I would like to say, whoever it is, you are all too kind. I’m sure everyone here feels the same.”

There were nods and noises of agreement all around. Ren called out “Hear hear!” to a smattering of laughter.

You could feel your face grow a bit warmer. Even if they didn’t know who you were, it felt nice to be appreciated.

You finished packing the last chest. 

A few redstone components, some coal blocks, arranged in a mustache, and some potatoes, of course. 

Closing the lid, you grinned. The click of the latch shutting was your signal, and you quickly lit a firework, taking off into the night sky. The Cake Bandit had struck again.

[julemmaes]

Robyn

Rowaelin Month, Day Ten

A/N: I'd planned on posting them in order, but you get what you get. Idk when the other prompts will come tbf. I hope soon. Anyway, I managed to write over 6k words today and I'm pretty fucking proud.

This is just fluff over fluff, so yep enjoy!!

Word count: 3,047

Rowan was unbelievably late as he sped through the streets of Orynth.

So late that the school had called not only him, but also the front desk of the place where he worked when he hadn't answered the call on his personal phone. Sorscha, his assistant, had entered his office with an embarrassed smile on her lips, as if she didn't want to tell him that he had forgotten for the umpteenth time to pick up his daughter from school.

Lorcan had joined him, for some strange reason, but Rowan had stopped bothering when it came to his best friend. He'd been trying to figure out how he reasoned for years and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical sense in the actions of the man sitting next to him, who was currently singing at the top of his lungs to one of the songs on the Frozen CD - which much to the chagrin of both of them, had gotten stuck in his car radio months before, forcing them into hours of torture.

He would never deny that the songs were all quite catchy, but after the sixteenth time Rowan had had to listen to Let It Go at maximum volume, his positive opinion of the film had begun to waver.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Rowan noticed with deep regret that the only cars still there were those of the teachers and school staff.

They both got out of the car, Rowan walking quickly towards the entrance while Lorcan dragged behind him.

He greeted the caretakers sitting at the entrance, who returned a big smile. A smile that grew even wider when his large, imposing friend entered a few moments later. He stopped to talk to the old ladies and Rowan walked down the corridor he knew led to Robyn's classroom.

He could hear muffled voices from inside the teachers' room on the left and the one he knew belonged to Miss Galathynius coming from the right. He looked out over the classroom, spotting the two people sitting at a desk.

As soon as his daughter saw him, her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed across her face.

No words. No "hello, daddy!" or "I missed you!" from the little girl.

Her teacher turned as she leapt out of her chair and ran towards him, hugging his legs and looking up at him. Rowan smiled at her in turn, running a hand over her hair that was shot in every direction.

"Hello, little bird," he murmured to her. The child's smile widened even more if that was possible.

The woman a few feet away from them pulled herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and offering a sincere smile to the child, who hid behind his thighs.

Rowan was about to tell her that Robyn was shy with everyone like this, ready to defend his daughter's behaviour as he was used to doing in front of every adult, but he was beaten to the punch.

"It's good to see you, Mr Whitethorn," she said, extending a hand. Rowan shook it without hesitation. "Actually, I just wanted to write you a letter regarding Robyn," she continued, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "Nothing serious," she hastened to reassure him when Rowan grimaced, "quite the contrary. Robyn is remarkably good. One of the best in the class, though I shouldn't offer that information so bluntly."

Miss Galathynius winked at him, but he couldn't process what he'd just been told.

"Sorry, could you-"

The little hands clamped around his trousers tightened a fraction more and Rowan looked down, trying to figure out what was bothering his daughter, but then something happened that he hadn't even dared to dream about in recent times.

"You're here!"

The little girl broke off and ran away from him in less than the blink of an eye.

Rowan turned just in time to see Lorcan grab Robyn in mid-air, spinning her around as he brought her to his chest and showered her with kisses. The loud, incessant laughter that erupted from her seemed too much coming from that fragile little body, but he never tired of hearing it.

"Why hello baby!" said Lorcan laughing in turn, starting to tickle her until she begun to rebel and he was forced to let her slide to the floor. Robyn was still laughing at the top of her lungs and nearly fell to the ground as she squealed left and right, letting herself be pushed around by the closest thing to an uncle she had ever had.

When Rowan turned back to the woman, she was wide-eyed and her lips slightly parted as she watched the massive man dressed completely in black and the menacing face turn into a completely different person the second he had seen Robyn.

He chuckled, "I know, it's not every day you get to see a little girl be so comfortable with a brute like that."

Lorcan, who was listening to everything, looked him straight in the eye and without stopping smiling and playing with the little girl, mouthed to him to fuck off.

"Well, yeah. You caught me a little off guard." she confessed, still shocked to hear how Robyn was having a full conversation with Lorcan. They couldn't hear anything of what she was actually saying, but even just the fact she was talking to someone seemed to have Aelin unsettled.

She returned her attention to Rowan and let out a breath that sounded more like a giggle, "I've never heard her laugh before."

He nodded, blushing a little at the teacher's surprised but relieved tone.

"I'm sure the dean warned you about the problem she has," he said in a low voice. He grimaced at her poor choice of words, "I mean, not problem, but the difficulty she finds in interacting with people she doesn't know."

Liar, he told himself. Robyn hadn't spoken to anyone but him and Lorcan since the day Lyria had died. It wasn't a difficulty, but a response to the trauma that prevented her from speaking to anyone who wasn't part of her immediate family.

"I know, I know. We've been looking for solutions together." she informed him. "I give her a white board every morning. Come on, I'll show you." she turned to the desk they were sitting at earlier and raised the magnetic board, on which a few words were scribbled on. "I'll write here what she might need. Yes. No. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry." she read, listing the various options. Rowan gaped. "We've only just started going over the alphabet for a second time, so she can't really read or write yet, as I imagine you know, but the little drawings next to each sentence help her."

She continued talking, but he couldn't quite follow.

The woman in front of him - aside from being breathtakingly beautiful - had done as much as she could to help her child with communication.

"Mr. Whitethorn-"

"Rowan. Please, call me Rowan." he said, clearing his throat once he realized how hoarse it sounded to his ears. Lorcan walked up to them at that point, still holding Robyn in his arms and positioned himself next to him, letting their shoulders touch in a comforting way.

"Call me Aelin, then," she smiled at them both. Then she made a small grimace, turning to Rowan, "I wanted to ask if it bothered you, that I sought a solution like that. Maybe I put her in distress, embarrassed her. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted to solve this on my own. I really wanted to discuss it with you, with your husband too, to avoid misunderstandings. Maybe we could arrange a meeting."

He was about to tell her that she had given him the exact opposite of annoyance, that he had been more than pleased that she had helped Robyn this way, when her words finally registered.

Lorcan, beside him, had opened his mouth wide and his lips were slowly bending into a mischievous smile.

Rowan furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, what?"

Aelin's smile seemed to falter. "A meeting? With you? To talk about how to handle the situation," then she shifted her gaze to Lorcan, "You're more than welcome to join as well. I didn't know Robyn had two dads, I apologise for assuming Robyn had a mum and dad. That was very rude of me-"

"I love this," Lorcan whispered, laughing in shock. He turned to Rowan with eyes that sparkled with amusement, "I would definitely be the top."

Rowan looked at him with an expression of complete shock on his face, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Robyn gasped, opening her eyes wide and bringing a hand to her mouth, pointing then to Rowan's.

"Yeah, sorry, love. I shouldn't have said the bad word." he apologised, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He turned back to Miss Galathynius, "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but we're not married."

"No need to lie, sweetie. I'm sure Aelin," he gave her a knowing look, "doesn't mind at all about our relationship status."

Aelin nodded, "Well, yes. That doesn't change anything. Mr..." she turned to Lorcan, searching for a name.

"Salvaterre."

"Mr. Salvaterre can still attend. The fact that you are not yet married is no reason why you cannot both be present at the meeting. You don't have to worry, we are a very tolerant school and if anyone bothers you, you can come directly to me."

A sound of sheer glee escaped Lorcan.

Aelin continued, "I mean it. I was pleased to see both of you today. I was also pleased to see Robyn smiling so much." she concluded, looking the little one in the face.

Rowan took a deep breath, bracing himself, "No, I meant, we're not a couple. We're not gay. He's her uncle."

The woman's blonde eyebrows shot up and a second later she turned almost as red as the dress Robyn was wearing as Lorcan shook his head muttering something very much like 'you're no fun', which made Robyn giggle.

"Why did you even get off the car?" he asked him exasperated.

Lorcan shrugged, "Because I missed my little bean, you monster." he replied, clutching Robyn to his chest. The little girl clutched Lorcan's shirt in her chubby little hands and Rowan huffed, shaking his head.

Aelin brought her hands to her face, leaning against the desk behind her. She shook her head, her face still hidden, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Lorcan let out a dry laugh, "Don't worry about it. It was fun while it lasted." then he turned to Rowan again, who was still trying to recover from the idea of being involved in a relationship with his friend, "You're really no fun."

"Yeah, no fun dad." repeated Robyn.

Silence fell over the class. Rowan looked at her with wide eyes and blinked once, twice. Robyn was staring at him with a sweet scowl that mimicked so much that of the man who was still holding her, but Rowan couldn't get over the fact that his daughter had spoken while Aelin was still beside them.

He was about to talk, noticing how Robyn had started squirming in Lorcan's arms, when there was a knock at the door.

They both turned, Aelin peering over Rowan's shoulder, and saw the figure of a petite girl with black hair and eyes standing in the doorway, watching them with her head slightly bent to the side. She had a tag on her t-shirt that was too colourful to belong to someone who didn't work in a school with children, so he guessed she was a teacher herself. Besides, Rowan felt like he'd seen her elsewhere. Probably every day when he picked Robyn up from school, he said to himself.

"I know you're not supposed to eavesdrop but I stopped by earlier and heard you were a couple of dads," she said by way of introduction. "I just wanted to reassure you that the school is an extremely safe place. I'm the one who did most of the interviews with the parents," that's where they had met then, "and one of the questions that is asked is just about the tolerance of the people who will be attending the school."

Aelin watched her, remaining silent the whole time and putting on an amused smile, nodded, "That's what I was telling them. How tolerant the school is. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Elide?"

Rowan turned to her, arching an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was doing. The woman, as if she could truly understand what he was trying to convey to her, nodded her head towards Lorcan, who Rowan only then noticed was standing weirdly, his eyes fixed on the woman in the doorway.

He grinned, deciding to take his revenge right away. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the reassurance," Rowan began to play along as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lorcan turn towards him, dropping Robyn to the floor, who made a disapproving noise at being dumped so suddenly. "We are happy to know that this school is a safe place for our daughter. And for us."

Elide offered him a blinding smile, "Good. I'm happy to hear that you are pleased so far. And I am happy that Aelin is the one who is taking your daughter's class. She's the best one here."

Rowan didn't know her yet, but he knew the thing Elide had just said could only be true.

"Well," she said again, giving them an apologetic smile, "I really must go now, but if you need anything, you can find all my contact details on the website. Have a nice day!"

Aelin and Rowan said their goodbyes, thanking her. Lorcan took a while to recover, but when he realised he was staring into empty space he ran towards the door, almost stepping on little Robyn, who was moved by Aelin.

"We are very much not gay, miss!" he shouted into the hallway. Aelin, now beside him and with a hand on Robyn's shoulder, cackled. With Lorcan's infinite luck, someone walked by just then and gave him a stern look. "Oh, shut up ma'am. I'm an ally. The best ally."

Rowan shook his head as Lorcan launched himself in pursuit of the poor teacher and burst out laughing when he heard him shout, "I'm not homophobic! I'm willing to suck someone's cock if I have to prove it to you!"

Aelin opened her mouth wide before bursting out laughing in turn.

Robyn, seeing both adults so happy, giggled too and Rowan bent down to pick her up. The little girl laid her full head of white-light hair on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She was tired and Rowan really needed to get her home to sleep.

He glanced at Aelin and reduced his lips to a thin line, "I'm sorry about the commotion, I'll try not to bring him into the building again. Even if it means tying him to the seat."

The soft laugh she gave made something tighten in his chest. He frowned.

Aelin didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, "Don't worry, Elide is crazy about fools like him. If he says the right things, we might start seeing each other outside of school too."

Rowan nodded, now too caught up in the thought of having to take Robyn home to focus on anything else.

They agreed on when to hold the parent-teacher meeting and then he grabbed Robyn's backpack, walking towards the exit.

He was thoughtless as he reached into his pocket for his keys and balanced everything else - including the girl - on his other arm, but when Robyn's hand brushed his cheek, he looked down and his eyes met their twins. Green against green.

"What is it?"

The little girl's voice never stopped making him smile. Each time was like the first time she had said dada.

"I really like her."

Rowan frowned, "Who?"

"Miss Aelin." she whispered, almost as if she was afraid they might hear her.

He smiled at her, "Yeah? You like her?"

"She's nice to me."

Rowan had to put her down as he opened the door and let her get into the back seats by herself.

"I'm glad she's treating you well, love," he let her know, buckling her in.

He hoped she'd tell him more about her new teacher, but like any kid her age, the topic of conversation couldn't last for more than four lines apiece, "Where's Uncle Lorcan?"

Rowan snorted, "No idea, little bird."

Robyn nodded, "Elide is pretty too."

And as if those words had summoned him, Lorcan appeared beside the car, making them both scream. He entered the car in a heartbeat and turned to his daughter, who was still settling into the seat. "Do you know Miss Lochan?"

But before she could answer him, Rowan had entered the car in turn and smacked the back of his head, which made the Robyn giggle, "You're not using my daughter as your wingman. Now stop it and buckle up."

Lorcan gave him a gentle push, before doing as he was told and for once he was happy he'd convinced him to do something.

Or at least, Rowan thought he had convinced him.

"What if I left you a note to deliver to Miss Lochan, Rob? Would you be up for it?"

Rowan knew, even without looking at her, that she was nodding emphatically.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he murmured, "Could you stop calling my daughter Rob, please? You'll give her an existential crisis."

Lorcan clicked his tongue against his palate, "Rowan, I'm not giving her a damn thing. We live in this new world, okay? Your daughter could be called Simon and still be a beautiful princess. Grow up and educate yourself before you talk shit."

"Aaaah!" shouted Robyn, "Bad word!"

Rowan sighed and shook his head, but still he was smiling.

This was his life. Had been for the past two years.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @tanvee1231

[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

[blueprint-han]

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay​ skznta event, written for @stayndays​ !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it!  ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started  is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”. 

 “Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them. 

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock. 

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.” 

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose. 

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date. 

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too. 

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter. 

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it. 

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion? 

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own? 

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it. 

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous. 

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long. 

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now. 

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was  neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across. 

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all. 

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.” 

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.” 

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned. 

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon.  You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have  the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door. 

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod. 

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

 It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up. 

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days. 

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly. 

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it. 

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly. 

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.” 

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?” 

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.” 

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course. 

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

taglist: @inkidz​ @stayverse​ @districtninewriters​ @kpopscape​ @skzwritersclub​ + @sunoo-luvs​ @sleepylixie​ @rae-blogging​ @happiestgirlontheeastcoast @guerillrah​ @p2q3r4​ @baby-innie​ (Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!) *oh holy lord pls let this show up in the tags*

[libraryofloveletters]

The Boy Next Door

Eddie Diaz x Reader 

Warnings: mentions of divorce, step-parents, a little bit of arguing, alcohol and consumption of, like one swear word, mentions of sickness

Category: fluff 

Word Count: 2.3K

Author’s Note: ahhh okay hi! this is my first 911 fic, idk it’s mostly self indulgent because I can’t get this idea out of my head, so here we are :) also for the purpose of this, Eddie never got married nor did he have Christopher 

Italics are flashbacks 

----

To say you were average was the understatement of your life, you weren't special nor were you awkward or shy, you were just average. You had always been the average person, in an average neighbourhood with an average life. 

But the boy next door, there was nothing average about him. 

The first time you met the boy next door was when you were 14, you had just moved into the neighbourhood with your father and his new wife. There was still lots to be done, the air conditioning was broken and your father seemed to misplace his toolkit during the move. He left you in the smouldering heat and ventured off to find a toolkit. Not only did he return with a toolkit but visitors as well.

“y/n!” your father shouted from the bottom on the staircase, “what?!” you shouted back. “Come down here!” you groaned as he called for you again, what could he possibly want now? 

Your father stood there with a man and a boy who you could only assume was his son. “Y/n, this is Ramon and his son, Eddie. They live next door and Ramon was kind enough to loan his tools and help me out.” you smiled at them from the top of the stairs. 

“Come down and get Eddie something to drink” your father said, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and made your way down the stairs. 

“Would you like some lemonade ?” you asked, walking past him to the kitchen, he followed you. “Please” he leaned against the wall watching you move around the kitchen. 

“So, I hear you have a step mom?” he asks, you could feel his eyes burning into your back as you got the lemonade from the fridge. “Unfortunately” you mumble and pour some of the liquid into a glass, Eddie made his way over to the counter, he leaned up against it. 

“Do you know how to stand straight ?” you glance at him up and down, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Why is it unfortunate that you have a stepmother ?” taking a sip of the lemonade, his eyes fixed on you. “Have you ever seen Cinderella ?” you asked, hopping up on the counter and picking up the other glass, Eddie nods. 

“Imagine living with Cinderella’s stepmother but times 100″ you groan, Eddie had a smile on his face. 

“You’re joking”

“Wish I was” 

“Well that sucks” he gave you an apologetic look

“Big time” your eyes are on your legs which were swinging back and forth. Eddie grabs your leg suddenly, “what the hell!” you jump, he laughs again. 

God he has such a cute laugh, wait what ? Stop he’s your neighbour, you barely know him.

“How’d you get that?” his thumb rubs over a scar on your leg by your ankle. “Bike accident when I was younger. It just didn’t heal right and left a scar, also because there was a giant gash there for a few weeks” you shrug. The two of you were in the kitchen for a few minutes, Eddie’s hand was still wrapped around your leg, neither of you saying a word to each other. 

“Eddie! Time to go!” Ramon shouted for Eddie, he let go of your leg. “See you around ?” he asked, you nodded, “yeah, see ya” Eddie smiled at you and you smiled back. 

You rarely saw Eddie after that day, he had been helping his father at his shop all summer so you never got a chance to hang out. When school started, you had a few classes with him, he occasionally asked for the answers to the homework after his practices ran long, which you gave to him. 

Somewhere deep down, you had a soft spot for the boy next door. 

Your friendship, if you could even call it that, was built solely on the fact that he lives next door and went to the same classes, if it weren't for that, you’d never speak to him. He wasn't a popular kid per se but he had a solid friend group and played sports, so in his own way, he was a popular kid. You were the kid that had your head down, did what you were told to do and left. 

High school flew by and you were glad. The whole “your high school years are the best years of your life” was bullshit, if anything, you ended up coming out more confused than you went in. 

The second time you spent time with Eddie was at your graduation party. The graduating class had arranged a grad party for yourselves in the neighbourhood. It consisted of loud drunk teenagers and their tipsy parents. By midnight, the street began clearing out, you hung back simply because you didn’t want to go home and deal with your stepmother and your father. 

Sitting on the curb at the end of the street, you could see the entire street. There  were still a few kids, a group of boys playing football terribly, a couple making out in the corner and some girls posing for pictures by some car. 

Eddie’s shouting broke your thoughts, “Papi I'm going!” It sounded like something had shattered, perhaps a bottle. You got up and slowly made your way over. “You want to throw away your life? Stay here, get a job Eddie, I won’t allow you to do this!” his father shouted back at him. Eddie began walking away from his father, Ramon grabbed his hand. “Do not walk away from me!” he shouted again. 

“You made up your mind and so did I. I'm going.” Eddie said sternly and walked away. He walked past you on his way to wherever he was going. He didn’t stop, he didn't talk, he just pushed past you and left. 

Eddie left home a few weeks later. You kept up with his parents, stopping by for dinner every once in a while. His father didn’t talk much about him, just that he was good and that’s all. Once his father left, his mother told you about what actually was going on, how Eddie felt as if he had found a purpose there. She shows you letters that he had sent and a picture he had sent her in his uniform.

“Doesn't he look handsome ?” she smiled, showing you the picture of Eddie. “Yeah, very handsome, Mrs. Diaz” you smiled back. 

“Do you know when he’s coming back?” 

The smile dropped from her face. “He- uh, reenlisted” she mumbled. “Ramon doesn't know” 

You nodded, “I won’t tell” 

“Who’s not telling what?” his father came back in for a moment, you smiled at him while Mrs. Diaz turned her attention to the sink. “Oh just that Mrs. Diaz is helping me with dinner for my grandparents tomorrow” you pick up the bowls on the counter, “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you guys around ?” 

“of course, thank you for coming over. it’s nice to have you around” his mother gave you a hug. 

You spent a lot of afternoons with his mom, just helping her out around the house. It wasn't until 4 years after that night that you saw him again. A few bruises and bumps, a couple scars and broken bones you were sure of, but he was back in one piece. In true Diaz fashion, his parents insisted on throwing a party for him. It was supposed to be a small party, just a few neighbours and family. By the time Mrs. Diaz was done inviting people, there was triple the amount of people coming. 

You headed over with your father, he had gotten sick recently and required a bit more help now. Truthfully by 25, you had planned to be living on your own but with your father getting sick and your step mother bailing, you stuck around. Once you got him situated, you found Mrs. Diaz in the kitchen. 

“Hey” you smiled at her, taking the bowl from her hands. “Hi mi amor, how are you ?” She smiled at you, you rested the bowl on the table across from the two of you, “I’m okay for now.” 

Eddie’s laughter filled your ears, that was a sound you didn't hear often but one you loved nonetheless “It’s good to have him home” his mother smiled, watching her son from the window. Mrs. Diaz gets pulled off by someone leaving you alone in the kitchen, turning to the fridge, you look through for a beer. “hey, pass me one too” his voice called as he watched through the backdoor. You pulled two out and handed on to him. 

“Thanks” Eddie leaned against the counter, you couldn't help but chuckle. “What?” taking a sip of the beer, his eyes meet yours. “Nothing, just noticing your habit of leaning on things” you stood across from him. 

“Sorry, but do I know you from somewhere ? You seem so familiar” his brows furrowed, tongue running across his lip. “I’m y/n, we’re neighbours” you told him, his eyes flickered up and down you, your name leaving his lips. 

God, your name never sounded so good. 

“Y/n...” his eyes ran over your body once more, his eyes locking on your foot. “Ankle Scar” he smiled, you nodded as your lips curled into a smile. “God, I'm so sorry I didn’t rememb-” “don’t worry ‘bout it, I'm not really anyone worth remembering” 

Eddie’s smile dropped, a pout visibly on his face. “Don’t say that, I'm sure you are.” 

“Is that why you didn't remember me ?” you teased

“We went to high school together” he took another sip, you nodded in agreement. “We’ve also lived next door to each other since we were 14”  you smiled at him. Again, the smile vanished from his face, “okay, now I really feel like shit. God, I'm sorry” “It’s cool really” you gave a smile once more. 

“Don’t you have a party to get back too ?” 

“Eh, not to fussy about parties to tell you the truth. I might take a walk around the block, care to join me ?” 

“Actually, yeah, I’d like that” 

Eddie opened the front door for you, letting you step out first. The two of you headed through the front to avoid everyone in the back, you walked down the street together, the dull streetlights lit the sidewalks, beer in your hand. 

“What have you been up to?” Eddie asked you, “Well, I'm a nurse but only part time. My dad needs me around.. now that he’s sick” 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, your dad’s a cool guy” 

Scoffing, you take a sip of your beer, “yeah, you’re the only one that’s ever thought that” your statement making Eddie chuckled. “If you don't mind me asking, what happened to the wicked step mother of the west?”  he looked over at you as he walked along the curb of the sidewalk, his arms out to balance himself. 

“She bailed when he found out he was sick.” 

Eddie stopped walking, “seriously ? that’s a bitch move” “yeah, tell me about it” 

Taking a seat on the curb, Eddie sat down too. The street was quiet for the most part, the only noise coming from down the street at Diaz’s place. Your fingers tapped against the beer bottle in your hand, aimlessly trying to keep up with the beat of the music. Eddie’s hand on your ankle startled you, causing you to drop the bottle. “Seriously ?! Again?” you shout, Eddie put his finger over your lips. “Shh! you’ll wake up the neighbours” he muttered, you rolled your eyes at his statement. “Tell me nurse y/n, how does one not ‘heal right’” he laughed, his thumb rubbing against the scar and causing you to roll your eyes again. “surely you can tell me that, Sergeant Diaz” 

Eddie looked shocked, “how did-” “your mom, she never stopped talking about her son, the army sergeant medic” you teased, he shook his head, laughing. “I know you’ve only been back for a few weeks, but what’s next ? Are you going to stay ?” 

“If I have a reason too, I will but I- I don't know what’s next” Eddie sighed. 

“Perhaps a change in scenery ?” you asked, he looked over at you with a questionable expression on his face. “I'm moving, to California in a few months” you told him. 

“Oh? What for?” 

“A change in scenery” you laughed and he smiled at you. 

“I haven't thought about moving, maybe it would be nice. A break away from here, not that I don't love it here, I love my parents too but-” he stopped talking, he realized the more he went on, the deeper a hole he dug. 

“You know, I hear the LAFD is always looking for recruits. I’m sure they wouldn't mind having an army medic on the team” you glance over at him, there’s a pause in the conversation. 

Eddie looks over at you, “that’s not a bad idea” his arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, your arm his rested on top of his knee, 

“What do you say to a road trip and a roommate ?” he looks down at you. 

You look up at him, “I think I'd like that”  

---

tagging: @ssa-volturi​ @geeky-son-dr-reid

[loversamongus]

Controlled Emotions | Zuko x Reader

a/n: all these fics end up being the reader as an advisor, I have zero creativity. anyways this is inspired by the song “every single night” by computer games because I was listening to it one day and the first lyric just screamed zuko to me idk so here it is. also i didnt proofread this oops

word count: 1.5k

fic taglist:

Advisor meetings have been tense lately. While a mixture of advisors in age, gender, and political leanings was ideal for gaining multiple perspectives on an issue, it also led to frequent arguments about what was best for the Fire Nation and deadlines being pushed back until the majority of advisors have come to an agreement. Though rewarding at times, the job was certainly frustrating. But all that paled in comparison to the most recent audiences with the young Fire Lord. 

Frustrated by another deadline requested to be pushed back, the Fire Lord’s temper had surged throughout the throne room. You didn’t disagree with him either. People in a small fishing village were becoming seriously ill and many signs seemed to point to the mutations and disease in some of the fish from the river as a result of years of pollution from war efforts. 

“It is not your fault the regime before yours was so ignorant of the people’s needs and other environmental factors.”

“In all honesty, who in their right mind would eat a fish with two heads anyways?”

“The river had been supposedly cleaned by the Avatar and his friends shortly before the end of the war, shouldn’t the responsibility lie with them?”

One after another, an advisor countered the Fire Lord’s efforts to financially back abundant medical aid for the fishing village. One after another, flames grew higher and higher nearly scorching the ceiling as the Fire Lord sat quietly. You noticed his scrunched up expression and knew it was only a matter of time before--

“Am I not, as Fire Lord, responsible for everyone living in the Fire Nation? Am I not, having been Prince of the Fire Nation during the war, responsible for how the war had affected our people? How can we sit here and deny help to our own people who are suffering?!”

After an uncomfortable silence, only one advisor stood up to speak. “And what, Fire Lord Zuko, do you plan to do about those injured in the fights breaking out in the colonies? Or the troops returning home from war injured and jobless? Or the villages in the Earth Kingdom burned down by our nation’s doing? There are many responsibilities this nation bears but solving these problems must be done with appropriate organization and objectiveness, not youthful bullheadedness.”

And with that, the audience was dismissed. 

With no clear resolution in sight, you had made your way to the advisors’ chambers to work on new proposals despite the late night. Getting down the business is usually easy but the otherwise empty and quiet workspace was not as calming and focused as you had hoped. It may have been well past sundown, but bright bursts of light kept erupting and peeking through the windows of the chambers, distracting you every time you went to read or write a new sentence. Having been an advisor for some time now and becoming familiar with the layout of the palace, you knew exactly where the light was coming from.

Abandoning your work, you walked the grounds until you reached the gates of the training space. Sure enough, your suspicions had been correct as you eyed Zuko in the center of the pitch running through different firebending forms. It was a surprise however that only the fire blasting from his fists and feet was what distracted you from your work. You hadn’t heard the angry grunts and yells from the advisors’ chambers.

The sound of the gate closing behind you was enough to make Zuko stop and look up at you. But he simply acknowledged your presence with a nod before continuing into the next set of firebending forms. You took a seat to watch on the sidelines. The silence did not bother you. In fact, it gave you time to relax from your role as advisor to the Fire Lord into friend. Or something more. The details of your relationship with Zuko have not really been sorted out or discussed but either way, you knew your role right now was to be supportive yet honest.

“He was right, you know.”

Zuko let out a low grunt as his response before letting more fire blast from his fist.

“It’s not that the other advisors don’t want to help the village. It’s that we have to divide our resources and aid equally. If we send all our healers to the village, none will be left to take care of the returning troops or the colonies or the elderly in the capital city.”

There was no grunt this time but more flames spat from his fist as he punched it forward through the air.

“And it’s incredibly admirable to see you so compassionate about your people but it would be nice to get through one meeting this week without scorching the ceiling tiles.”

“So am I supposed to rule without a conscience?” he asked coldly without looking at you, the anger he was restraining palpable in his voice.

“No,” you replied levelly. “You heard what Ji said. Objectively does not necessarily mean without a conscience. Actually,” a bit of laughter bubbled up into your conversation. “He suggested you talk more with Katara. ‘Now that’s someone who can keep their emotions in check,’ he said.”

“Having been on the receiving end of her wrath, I beg to differ,” Zuko sighed and released his fists before joining you in the stands. “And I have talked to her. She just laughed at me. She said, ‘Now you know what it’s like not to be taken seriously because you’re too emotional.”

You shifted your body when he sat down beside you so that you could still face him. He did not face you, however, and continued to stare forward at the training grounds and into the night sky. “No one is telling you not to feel or have emotions, Zuko. Just that they shouldn’t control you so much, or cloud your judgment.”

“You sound like Uncle,” he groaned before flopping backwards onto his back. In moments like this, you really realized how young the Fire Lord was. He was still mature and doing his best with such a large responsibility, but despite being five years into his reign, that moody teenager still presented himself at times. 

Leaning onto one arm so that you were closer to Zuko, you laughed softly, “I’m wondering if I should find that flattering.”

Zuko ignored your lightheartedness and continued. “People are always telling me, ‘don’t let your emotions control you.’ But why? Without them, I never could know you.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes remained fixed on him as you tried to sort out your confusion.

“Do you remember one of the first advisor meetings you were a part of?”

“The one where we were discussing having the Kyoshi Warriors acting as your bodyguards over well-trained firebenders much more familiar with the palace and the land? Absolutely. That was when we discovered your throne wasn’t fireproof.”

“Right. And I came here to blow off some steam and you followed me to say that you were on my side and would work on getting the other advisors to agree to letting the Kyoshi Warriors be my security.”

“I didn’t follow you...”

For the first time that evening, Zuko looked at you with a knowing and pointed grin. You rolled your eyes and urged him to continue making his point. “Anyways, go on.”

“If I hadn’t been feeling so angry, I wouldn’t have come here and you wouldn’t have followed me and we wouldn’t be... I don’t know... us.” He sat up and was so close now that your shoulders brushed against each other.

“It’s not just through anger that I’ve gotten to know you either,” he continued. “When I was anxious about a speech, you were the one who volunteered to work on it with me.”

“You made fun of the way I clapped and said people don’t clap that enthusiastically for common budget updates,” you drawled.

“When I was excited about Uncle coming back to visit, you helped to make sure everything was arranged to his liking.”

“You told me never to tell your uncle that my taste in tea may be superior to his,” you proudly added.

“And when I was sad that you had to leave on a trip to the Earth Kingdom, your letters made me smile because I thought at last someone who has worse handwriting than I do.”

“You take that back!” you gasped, pointing your finger menacingly at Zuko. 

“My point is,” he grabbed your hand in his. “If I was cold and stoic as some of these advisors seem to want me to be, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you. So I’m not going to change the way I feel.”

You smiled softly, happy to see this side of Zuko. The nature of your relationship still felt undefined and you were sure the two of you would figure it out. Eventually. It was a discussion to be had, but one for another day, as this day was nearly over.

“That’s nice,” you playfully patted his hand. “But the next time you decide to feel something, maybe you could do so without destroying the ceiling. Or distracting me with your firebending while I’m trying to do my job.”

You stood up and began to walk away from the stands and out of the training grounds, leaving a smiling Zuko behind you.

“You’re the one who followed me!” he called out.

[shorkbrian]

Give in to Love

so I have several thots about this. Like with Kiri, he would be like, relieved you’re being submissive but then he’d become like super depressed that you aren’t like idk seeming to live in your body, like you’re just a husk and he’d get so worried and sad and pamper you with so much love.

Yeah so aside from Kiri, a yan that I imagine this type of scenario is with someone like Victor Nikiforov from YOI 

yes. This Bitch right here.

So first fucking off, he’s rich. Money is no problem for him.

Second off, he’s so confident that he would not hesitate to do whatever he wanted.

Third, he’s actually pretty kind (especially to pretty, vulnerable little things like you)

It’d probably start out with the man spilling coffee all over you or something SUPER cliche like that. 

(Warnings - not much. NSFW but only the teeniest tiniest bit. barely even a mention. but obvs Yandere, dub con, dark content.)

He’s in a rush, he was bursting out of the coffee-shop, you just so happened to be walking by and in the direct path of the door and so smacks into you, knocking you onto your butt.

Immediately, you’re being helped up by a silver haired man, he’s apologizing heavily, patting your clothes into place, smoothing your hair, steadying you onto your feet. He’s so sorry, he didn’t even see you! And then the man stops, looks at you, smiles blindingly and blurts out that you’re pretty.

You’re understandably stunned. but you quickly just brush it off, his accent is foreign, it’s probably just a cultural thing. 

Then he’s offering to buy you something to make up for him trying to give you a concussion, asking if you like coffee, sweets, maybe a sweater? You look cold.

And you’re just so tired, life is exhausting, you don’t really even care anymore what happens to you. You don’t protest as the man doesn’t wait for an answer, immediately grabbing your hand and marching you into the coffee shop he had just burst out of.

“Pick anything you’d like, my treat! An apology for not paying attention to such a beautiful thing.” He smiles, gesturing at the menu.

You study it for a second, but there’s too many choices, and it’d just be easier if you didn’t have to, and you’re so used to people telling you what to do and making decisions for you and you’re lost. Where do you even start?

After a few moments of silence, the man (who's been not-so-subtly watching you as you deliberate) speaks up. “Can I pick? I LOVE their raspberry cheesecake! So good!”

It sounds fine, and you’re somewhat relieved that he was going to choose, take the burden of responsibility off of your shoulders.

He buys one of the giant slices, ushers you to table, sits you down. The man watches you take a bite, his face lighting up and giving a little clap when you give a thumbs up. He has his own fork, and he takes bits and pieces here and there from the slice. While you eat, he talks.

His name is Victor, he’s from Russia, are you from around here? What’s your name? 

“That’s such a pretty name!” He says your name once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth like it’s something to savor. 

Victor is a ball of energy, confident, full of life. He’s frankly an intimidating man, with how attractive he is, the obviously expensive suit he wears, the way he dominates the conversation and expertly handles your awkward silences and uncomfortable pauses.

By the time you leave, he’s entered his number into your phone, quickly scrolling to find your own number (even though he was only supposed to put in his own - but you really didn’t care) and note it down.

You’re pretty sure he won’t actually be texting or calling you - he was just being polite, feigning interest in someone as boring and pathetic as yourself.

Lo-and-behold, that evening you get a notification that “Vitya! (:” has texted you.

Hello! Is your body feeling alright?

Immediately confused, you send out a reply

Who is this?

It’s Victor!!! From the coffeeshop, haha. 

Oh, hi (: your contact name says “Vitya” lol what a typo

Not a typo, I like it when pretty girls call me Vitya (;

Baffled, you don’t reply, and no further messages are exchanged.

A few days go by, Victor texts you on the fifth day, asking if you wouldn’t mind recommending some fun local activities. You have to apologize - you don’t get out much, you’re sure there’s info online though.

Victor asks why you don’t go out, you decide to be blunt and succinctly explain the fatigue, you’re anxious, this is your first time being out on your own and you’re so used to other people dictating your life that it feels uncomfortable and wrong to be able to make decisions. 

The man asks if you would go to that coffeeshop again with him. The switch of topic relieves you, but at the same time you’re frowning. You probably word-vomited all over him, complaining about your problems. 

For some reason, you agree.

He meets you at the coffeeshop again, this time not even bothering to ask what you’d like to order. Victor just gets a few cookies, leads you to a table and plops down, spreading them in front of the two of you 

“In case you don’t like one of them. And if you have allergies!”

You smile at his explanation.

Victor slowly becomes a constant in your life.

The texts turn into quick calls, inviting you places, begging you to come sit with him in the park, feed some pigeons. Go to the grocery store with him? He’s lonely, don’t make him go by himself!

Even if you refuse, you’re gently bullied into doing virtually everything he says. It’s not like you mind though, you’re used to it.

He starts showing up at your apartment, you aren’t even sure when you gave him your address, but now he invites himself inside.

The first time he had shown up, completely unannounced, you had protested only once before letting him in. You could tell he was scrutinizing your home, but what did it matter? Victor was wealthy, everything you owned seemed shabby and poor.

He came over most nights, sometimes bringing food, making you sit with him at your table and eat. Sometimes he brought a book, or his laptop, and quietly sat on your couch while you puttered around. He’d always get distracted from what he was reading though, chattering towards you about this or that or the other.

Victor was nice.

He made decisions for you, he made you eat, he quickly picked up on when you were too tired to function, when all you could do was collapse somewhere and fall asleep.

But Victor was also threatening.

If you tried refusing him too many times, or if you mentioned your coworker telling a funny joke (It’s not like he wasn’t funny, the joke was hilarious - Victor just didn’t seem to like it) Victor’s face would sour, eyebrows drawing low, a deep frown etched onto his face. HIs voice would take on a commanding tone, low, as if he was going to do something that neither of you would enjoy if he had to ask again. 

It was scary sometimes.

But he had invaded your life, and you had stood by and idly watched. It’s not like you had put up a fight. You didn’t even know why he hung around you so, with the way you were constantly tired, moving through life like a zombie, sad and sleepy all the time.

Months passed and like every other year of your life, you could barely remember them slipping by. When had Victor become so comfortable in your apartment? It made you uncomfortable, but you were used to discomfort.

It came to a head when you retreated to your room for a nap, body sore and fatigued from merely existing. Victor followed you, nagging about wearing something cooler, to drink some water, how he heard about this new thing recently-

He followed you into your bed.

Like it was normal. Crawling under the covers with you, still maintaining a respectful distance, still talking. You were so tired, you didn’t care about how it made you uncomfortable.

When you woke up, he was curled around you, holding you tight. When you shifted, he had perked up, peeking around your shoulder to see your face. He had been awake the whole time, just chilling.

It was weird.

You were too tired to fight it.

Victor started paying for too much.

Of course it started small, as everything concerning Victor did. Sweets, small little gifts, occasionally a week’s worth of groceries. 

Then it escalated. He was paying for your medications, for your therapies, for your health aids. He started trailing after you to doctor’s appointments, introducing himself as a concerned friend.

You knew this wasn’t good, wasn’t healthy. Something was wrong about this, but you just didn’t care. Something was always wrong, you were always being directed and pushed towards this or that. You just had to accept it.

Then Victor was paying your rent, buying you clothes (since when did friends buy each other underwear?) surprising you with bigger and more expensive gifts until you tried to put your foot down.

You had gotten a stern talking-to, treated like an ungrateful child. And maybe you were? Victor was doing so much for you, shouldn’t you just accept his care?

Victor suggested that you move into his house, since he practically lives at your little apartment anyways. 

“My place is so much cozier! I have a fireplace, I miss it! I want to spend time with you but we could hang out in a more-” He looked around at your apartment “-comfortable place?”

You tried to argue, you did. But it took one disapproving glance from Victor and you were subdued, meekly agreeing to do whatever he wanted.

He called your landlord to terminate your lease. He helped you pack your clothes (that he had bought) into boxes (that he had bought) and arranged for your furniture (that he had bought, always complaining that your couch was bad for his back) to be sold.

Once moving in with him, he got more and more affectionate.

Right from the start, you quickly realized that Victor was very tactile-oriented. He wasn’t shy about physical touch, always wanting to hold hands or giving super long hugs, or begging to cuddle. He didn’t think it was weird, so you tried not to think so either.

Now that you were in his house, his gigantic, expensive house, Victor became even more physical. He showered you with kisses on the cheek, pressed to your forehead, on your shoulder, your neck when he curled around you at night (because of course you slept in the same bed. Victor had just laughed when you asked where your bedroom was)

Eventually, he kissed you on the mouth.

You were surprised, but you didn’t fight it. Why would you?

A heartfelt confession followed - how he had fallen in love with you at first sight, and how every day he fell more and more in love with you. You were his everything, the light of his life, he would die for you.

Don’t you feel the same?

You did, because that’s what Victor wanted to hear.

So now the two of you were dating, sharing kisses and intimate touches and eventually sharing bodies, letting him touch you even though it made your flesh crawl, touching him because he asked you to.

He provided everything, it was simpler just to do what he asked, what he desired. You didn’t even really mind being told what to do, what to wear, what and when to eat - it gave you a sense of comfort, knowing that you didn’t have to make decisions for yourself like that.

Victor would take care of you.

Even when you didn’t want him to

After all, it was simply easier to give in to love

[phoenixyfriend]

The IzuTobi Prequel

Prequel to this post, which I’ve taken to calling the “Red Eyes = Spouse Material” AU.

WARNING: contains a reference to worries/fears of sexual coercion.

Like, okay, they did not know that Tobirama had red eyes at first. They weren't close enough on the river for Izuna to see, since he didn't have Sharingan yet, while Tajima and Madara were looking at their respective opponents, not Tobirama.

Then, once they were in their early teens, and Izuna already had his Sharingan, they met on the battlefield for the first time, and Izuna saw Tobirama's eyes. Sure, Tobirama wouldn't meet his gaze, but Izuna could still see him.

And Izuna, as is only natural, went to Madara to ask 'hey uhhhhhhhhh one of our enemies is actually Amaterasu-blessed, what do.'

And Madara's just like '!!!!!' because hey actually this is great news everybody knows that the first step upon meeting an unmarried stranger with red eyes is to figure out who the best person to court them is, they can get a marriage alliance out of this to end the bloodshed and child death! Even the Elders can't argue against having a clan marriage to an Amaterasu-blessed indivi--

They object.

Well, Tajima objects.

Madara and Izuna bring the issue to him, both pretty excited about doing the whole "arranged engagement in the early teens, actual marriage at twenty or so" thing as a way to stop killing kids but Nope! For a variety of reasons, most of which boil down on Tajima's side to "the Senju have killed three of my children, I have no interest in taking in one of their own," the plan is shot down.

Madara and Izuna are naturally devastated but keep an eye out for like. A chance. To slip the info to Tobirama or Hashirama so they're at least aware of the possibility for when Tajima dies, in case Butsuma is more open to it?

I can't decide if they actually manage to set up a Secret Meeting prior to their dads' deaths, but I'm leaning towards 'no.'

(In this plot, Izuna is still wary of the Senju, but much more open to the idea of peace on account of Auspicious Omens Are Here.)

Anyway, Tajima dies first, I think, and Madara's first act as Clan Head is to send Hashirama a request by hawk for a private meeting. Hashirama is still only heir, not Clan Head, but Butsuma is ill (infected wound, I think), so Hashirama has the option of accepting this.

They meet, and Madara explains that he can sway most of the clan into an alliance--not just an armistice, but an actual alliance, possibly even establish that village they talked about as kids--if they can marry Tobirama into the Uchiha.

"Does it have to be Tobirama?" Hashirama asks, because he's not the best brother, but he's good enough to know that Tobirama hates the idea of getting married.

"Yes," Madara says, and then explains that it's all in the eyes, that this is a deeply spiritual thing to the clan and while some of the more militant elders may object, most of the clan will take the red eyes as a sign that this is intended to happen.

And Hashirama is quiet, and then asks if a marriage would require Tobirama to sire any children.

"We're not going to try to steal a kekkei genkai."

"That's not it."

"...wait, does he prefer men? We can--we can make that happen. If it's... hell, in that case it might work better, he could marry me or Izuna, direct connection to the main house, skip the issue of heirs and--"

"No, that's not... not it. But it makes me feel better to know that. I'll have to run it past him."

Tobirama is VERY ace and Hashirama had strict plans to respect that so he's trying to feel out if consummation would be required, or if a kiss for the wedding and then cohabitation would be enough.

Internal logic is "I want peace but not at the expense of handing my brother over for coerced marital rape where he thinks he can't say no without restarting the war."

He manages to get the agreement that the Uchiha weren't looking to pressure Tobirama into any sex-related things, though Madara still thinks it's a matter of Bloodline Protection and that Hashirama is worried about, like, someone trying to steal surplus semen or something.

Hashirama goes home and outlines it to Tobirama, who is very ??? about the whole thing but willing to at least consider it after Hashirama explains the basic requirements and how he confirmed that sexual relations aren't necessary. Hashirama floats it past Butsuma as a Theoretical Exercise, and is shot down.

So, Hashirama sends Madara a letter to the effect of "Our esteemed Clan Head says no, but we'll keep it in mind [insert veiled implication that Butsuma's dying anyway here]."

Madara and Hashirama have always kinda held back against each other, but now Tobirama and Izuna are also holding back the teensiest bit, just enough that nobody can be sure (and tell Butsuma or and Elder about it).

Well, Touka notices, but her first resort is "ask Tobirama to his face" and second resort is "bother Hashirama about it" so she gets the rundown on how Madara and Izuna are angling to get a political marriage with Tobirama since his eyes are Apparently a spiritual matter to the Uchiha as a whole.

Obviously, Butsuma dies, and Hashirama then immediately sends Madara a letter like "HEY so I'm Clan Head now, here's a nice inn located in neutral territory, bring your brother and an advisor, I'll do the same, let's hammer out a contract ASAP."

So it's Hashirama, Tobirama, and Touka on one side, Madara, Izuna, and Hikaku on the other.

Tobirama explains that he refuses to engage in sexual relations with anyone he marries (internally he's thinking that he might eventually take interest if he gets comfortable enough, but overall the entire concept is a little disgusting to him, and he doesn't want anyone to think they can convince him to do it, so he takes a hardline stance during the marriage contract negotiation process), but is open to his marriage partner engaging in an extramarital affair for a period of time in order to secure an heir.

"I promise we're not trying to steal your--" "Madara. Look at me. I do not like sex, and have never had any intention to engage in the activity with anyone, Uchiha or Senju or any clan at all. I had no plans for marriage, ever. The only reason I am opening myself to this one is because I value the opportunity for peace." "...oh."

So, you know, that's out in the open now, but it actually makes it easier to negotiate because they now know why he's uncomfortable with the idea of marriage, so other things (like the cohabitation and dowry and whatnot) can be discussed without people getting resentful about the other party not trusting them with genetic material. Hashirama and Madara get really excited about the whole village idea again, in part because Hashirama wants his brother to be able to visit Really Easily.

At one point they ask Tobirama who he wants to marry, if there's anyone he's interested in? Male or female? What ages is he comfortable with? Main line would be most politically expedient, but--

And he's just like "I know Izuna best, as my rival, and I've taken note of enough recently to know he's not a terrible person, at least as far as any shinobi can be 'good.' If Izuna is open to it, then I would like to discuss what cohabitation would look like between us. Should our expectations of daily life line up well enough, then I imagine that would be optimal."

Izuna's torn, because Amaterasu-blessed, but also he'd kind of been hoping for a Real Marriage with Affection and Children. Touka loudly suggests they take a recess and let Tobirama and Izuna talk in private for a bit.

Izuna manages to get across his personal worries, and Tobirama laughs and says that he actually loves children and was planning to take on plenty of students. "If you don't like the option of the extramarital affair for a child, we could always adopt. As for affection... I've been told I cling like an eel in my sleep, if that suggests anything."

"So if I grew enough feelings that I wanted, like... a good morning kiss or something..." "Quite frankly, my feelings on kissing in general are pretty neutral. It's a little strange, but I could engage with it, once a rapport is built. Heavy petting is distasteful, however, and anything past that..."

And Izuna listens to all that like "Oh. Okay, I will be able to Acquire Cuddles."

Then they discuss the whole 'what do we anticipate out of cohabitation' thing, like pets and cleanliness standards and what spare rooms are for and what goes on in the basement and allergies. It matches up... not perfectly, really, but close enough that they can make it work. They shake hands like the nerds they are and call their families back in and say they've decided it'll work so let's get that paperwork drawn up and start planning a wedding.

Aaaaaaaaaaand then Zetsu kills Izuna and convinces Madara that it was Tobirama's fault so he loses the plot (or, well, finds the canon plot, really).

I'm happy to imagine Tobirama and Izuna on a couch in their house, Izuna halfway asleep and leaning his head on Tobirama's shoulder, while Tobirama's got on a pair of glasses and is reading a book.

Just. Really domestic.

Cutesy.

IDK I feel like they just end up as pleasant roommates who don't necessarily ignore each other, but are well aware of the fact that they entered into this arrangement with non-romance expectations, and they're both okay with that.

They take dinner together, talk shop, try to engage with each other's hobbies, go to events as each other's default plus-one...

It’s Nice