#because hes making sure that the girl understands whats going on and that hes not interested

[scoupsakakitty]

Please Don‘t Leave Me | idol!Mingyu x Reader | angst

The sound of the rain pelting against the windows filled the silent apartment, each drop echoing the turmoil in y/n’s heart. Her hands trembled as she shoved another piece of clothing into her suitcase, her vision blurred by unshed tears.

"Don’t leave me. Please. I’m begging you y/n." Mingyu’s voice cracked as he stood behind her, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His eyes, glossy with desperation, fixated on her every movement as if he could will her to stop.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain in his voice. "Mingyu, I can’t… I can’t do this anymore." Her voice cracked, the weight of her words sinking in as soon as they left her lips. "I love you, but this… this isn’t a life. It’s a secret. A painful, exhausting secret."

"Then let’s change it. Let’s fix it. Just—just don’t go." He reached out, grabbing her wrist as she tried to zip up the suitcase. His hand was warm, shaking. “I’ll talk to the company. I swear, y/n, I will. I’ll make it public. I’ll—”

“You think it’s just about that?” She pulled away, stepping back as her heart shattered at the sight of his tear-streaked face. “It’s not just about hiding, Mingyu. It’s the sasaengs, the threats, the way they call me, show up at my university. The way I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m being watched.”

His grip on her wrist tightened, his tears falling freely now. “I know it’s hard, I know it’s unfair, but please—don’t walk away from us.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You don’t understand, do you? It kills me when I have to pretend I don’t know you in public. When we’re at a restaurant and the second a fan walks in, I have to act like you’re a stranger. When we walk down the street and I can’t even hold your hand, when I have to watch you suffer alone because if I even look at you too long, someone will notice."

Her lips quivered, her entire body trembling. "I can't even go out without wearing a cap, a mask, sunglasses—always looking over my shoulder, always afraid someone will recognize me as the girl who’s been seen too close to Kim Mingyu. I can't even call you when I need you because you're always gone. Always busy. Always traveling. I understand that it’s your dream, and I never wanted to take that from you. But what about me, Mingyu? What about my life?"

Mingyu ran a hand through his damp hair, his chest heaving. "I never wanted this to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like this."

She turned away from him, trying to steady herself. "I know that. But knowing it doesn’t make it hurt any less."

The rain outside grew stronger, wind howling through the city, but inside, the only sound was Mingyu’s broken sobs.

He fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her hands and pressing them against his chest. His heart was racing, pounding beneath her touch. “Feel that?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes searching hers frantically. “This beats for you. It always has, and it always will.”

Her tears finally fell, hot and relentless. “Mingyu…”

“I will do anything,” he whispered, his grip tightening as if he could physically stop her from slipping away. “I’ll leave the industry if I have to. I’ll disappear from the spotlight. I just need you, y/n. I can’t—” his breath hitched, a strangled sob escaping, “I can’t be without you.”

She was crying too hard to respond. Her chest ached with every breath, her entire body screaming at her to stay, to believe his words, to hold onto him like he was holding onto her.

But the exhaustion weighed too heavy.

She reached out, cupping his face, her fingers brushing against his tear-streaked cheeks. "You’ll be okay," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying it for him or herself.

Mingyu shook his head violently, pressing a desperate kiss against her palm. "No, I won’t. Not without you."

She inhaled shakily, forcing herself to take a step back. Then another. And another.

As she reached the door, her hand barely touching the handle, she heard him move. Fast. Within seconds, he was behind her, his presence overwhelming. With one swift motion, he pushed the door closed, his palm flat against the wood as he trapped her between him and the exit.

"Please don’t leave me," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, shaking with emotion. "You are the only person who treats me well and brings me genuine happiness. You're breaking my heart right now. Be mean to me, treat me like shit—I don’t care, as long as you stay with me. I'll lose myself if you leave me. I love you more than anything. Please, y/n I need you."

His forehead pressed against her shoulder, his sobs racking through his body. He was holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat.

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart breaking for the both of them. Slowly, she turned to face him, her fingers ghosting over his trembling ones.

"I love you, Mingyu," she whispered, watching as a flicker of hope flashed through his devastated expression. "But I already lost myself. I'm not happy, please try to understand me. I need to find myself to keep loving you. See it as a break, not a break-up. Give me time."

His lips parted, his breath shaky. “No please, y/n…”

She cupped his cheek one last time, her thumb wiping away a tear that immediately got replaced by another. Then, with every ounce of strength she had left, she turned, opened the door, and stepped into the night.

The last thing she heard before the door fell shut behind her was a broken, shattered "I love you" and the sound of Mingyu crying, his sobs blending into the relentless storm outside.

And just like that, she was gone.

[alaia777]

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SPECIFY IF I WANTED FLUFF OR ANGST😓😓 I want fluff😋

I requested rin (bllk) for "you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?" OR "we should just run away."

i hope you like it! :’)

you’ve been dating rin for almost two years now, but you’ve known him for much longer—ever since kindergarten, when you told him football was stupid, and he immediately shot back that you were stupid. one “fight” later, your teacher forced you to spend recess together for a week, and somehow, you’ve been stuck with each other ever since.

so by now, it’s routine—annoying him, getting on his nerves, and watching him act like your presence is a burden when you both know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you were the one who made the first move, mostly because you had a slight suspicion he liked you. you’d had feelings for him for a while, and the more you noticed the little things, the more convinced you became.

and when you finally told him, he had the straightest face ever—completely unreadable. except for his red ears. and the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

…yeah. you were right.

the only thing he told you after that was a simple “same,” and the rest is history.

it might not look like it to anyone else, but to you, rin is the sweetest guy. sure, he has a hard time verbalizing his feelings, but you know he cares. it’s in the small things—like when he picks up your favorite beverage from the coffee shop, paired with whatever pastry obsession you’re into that week. or when he sets aside time every week to watch rom-coms with you, even if there’s a football match on tv.

and then, there are the little gifts. he never calls them sentimental, but you know better. every time he comes back from a city he was playing in, there’s always something small he picked up for you—sometimes a keychain from a place you both visited together, or a notebook from a city you’d talked about visiting but never had the chance to. each one of them has a connection to a memory between the two of you, something only the two of you would understand, and that’s what makes them so special.

but verbalizing it? he’s just not the best at it. rin’s pretty cutthroat with everyone, and even though he used to be like that with you when you were just friends, now that you’re more than that, he doesn’t want to risk it. he keeps his words to himself, always cautious.

so, when you’re getting ready for your date with him, it catches you off guard when he says:

“that is a dress.”

“yes. it is,” you reply, still not quite understanding his reaction.

“you’re wearing it.”

“yes, i am.”

you’ve worn dresses around him before, so his reaction is a bit confusing. “rin, what’s going on?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact, though you can tell he’s trying to say more.

“it fits you,” he adds, almost reluctantly, before quickly looking away, clearly not used to expressing compliments.

when you finally understood what was going on, you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles, but the more you tried, the more it looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“that movie we were watching the other day, the girl said women like to be complimented by their boyfriends. i thought..” he trailed off, his gaze darting away. “i thought you might want that too.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “oh, so now you’re using rom-coms for relationship advice, huh?”

he scowled, clearly irritated, but there was no mistaking the faint blush creeping up his neck. “shut up. don’t make this a big deal.”

you laughed again, unable to resist. “too late, rinnie. you’ve already made it a thing.”

rin let out a long sigh, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “can we just go already?” he grumbled, glancing at you quickly before looking away.

you raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “what’s the matter, rin? never complimented someone before?”

he scowled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “i don’t do that.”

“right, you’re too cool for that.” you teased, arms crossed.

“i’m not, just, it’s stupid, okay?” rin muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“so what was that about rom-coms then?” you pressed, enjoying his flustered state.

“i don’t need your sarcasm right now,” he shot back, clearly embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

you chuckled, stepping closer to him. “fine, let’s just go, rinnie. but you know, maybe you should try complimenting me more often. you’re not so bad at it.”

rin grumbled under his breath but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, just enough to know he wasn’t really as annoyed as he was letting on.

“let’s go,” he repeated, his tone still blunt, but you could tell he was less annoyed than before.

you grinned, following him out, because even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, you knew he cared.

[codnasties]

https://x.com/chokinghzard/status/1869586208567042105?t=y5IIt7WNHVRXsL1siiSCiA&s=19

gaz being so into his girl's pleasure that she's writhing in his hold while his cock is plunging into them while his mouth is sucking on her boobs, AND he's holding her hand?? gaz fr fr

gaz sucking your tits as he fucks you 🧢 (🌽 link)

my pretty boy gaz. such a charming man. the type of man that a lot of people would start wars over. i'm talking small little details, flowers, supporting, listens to your problems, competence,... he just knows how to love you, he understands what you want.

in that same not, he also understands his missus pleasure. definitely a man that know where the clit is. so into your pleasure. he may be fucking you, trying to get off and relishing on the feeling of your walls wrapped around him and the way your walls flutter every once in a while.

but that isn't going to from getting you off, because that's his top priority. making sure that you get some sweet release, specifically making you cum repeatedly. and he makes sure of it by playing with your sensitive pussy, rubbing your clit as he fucks you.

and the way he loves to worship your pretty tits, kissing the soft skin and alway having one of your nipples in your mouth. his tongue swirling around the pebbled nip when he's not sucking it as he keeps thrusting his aching hard cock into your pussy. the mix of stimulation making you cum hard, walls spasming and fully milking gaz.

the way this man just holds your hands though the whole thing...

[just-some-random-blogger]

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

Honestly. If I lost my book, my favorite book,my favorite book gifted to me by my father, my favorite book gifted to me by my father because he said I was the only child of his who could inherit it, I would fucking crash out and be inconsolable for life

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent. 

Your pride will be the death of you. Unfortunately I feel you. I'm going to write a song about this

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak. 

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book? 

Girl

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing? 

GIRL STOP YOURE JUMPING INTO LAVA FOR NO FUCKING REASON?????

[...] to love is to be humbled, it seems. 

Stealing this. it's so fucking stupid of her what the fuck

“You always may, wife.”

THE WAY I SCREAMMMMMMMED

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you. 

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say.

NRJDSJSNN RIZZLER ALERT

Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week.

Not be. Me at cregan after this

This is my cats kitten btw.

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.” 

I would simply cry too. Bestie....

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” [...] “I took your book.” 

🧍‍♀️ he fucking what? I don't... I don't know how I feel... I'm upset ????

While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first. 

Let's be broken together

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs? 

HAHAHHAAHAHHHAHA FALSE GODS IS SO FUNNY GOES HARD

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever. 

SKKSJSNSJ SARA GIVE IN TO YOUR PLOT STOP STRESSING UR BROTHER

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days. 

HALA MY STARKS ARE LOVING EACH OTHER I

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him. 

HE SIMPLY APPEARSSSSS JWKKSKSKSKA I WANT HIM I WANT HIMMMM DKKDKDMS

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands. 

BESTIEEEEEE HE WAHHHHAT

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.  

.... I know that she's emotional and in disbelief but

???? NO BESTIE HE DID IT FOR HIS UNCLE WOULD YOU FUCKING BELIEVE???? GIGGGGILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 DAEMON BEING A GOOD DAD BLUEPRINT MAKES ME SO SOFT DAEMON MY SHAYLAAAAAAA

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

MR DARCYYYYYY?????

IM GLAD THAT SHES FINALLY SPOKEN TO JACEEEE

CRISTIII THIS WAS INCREDIBLE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEE????? IM SO HAPPY SO PROUD OF YOU FOR FINISHING YOUR SERIES. ME SOON TORMENTED SPIRIT PLEASE END FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD SHE STILL GOING

I lovveeee cregan so much I love the surprise so much I LOVE HOW YOU ENDED IT. IM SO SATISFIED. MY PETTY ASS ALL FIGHTS TO HAVE AN ANGST ENDING WHEN THERES ANGST BUT YOU SWAYED ME AND I WANT THEM ONLY TO HAVE FLUFF FOREVER AND EVER AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BECAUSE WHO ELSE COULD DO THAT BUT YOU. AM I SO VERY GREEDY TO ASK MORE? ANYWAY TAG ME NEXT FIC OK OK I LOVE YOU BYE AHHHH

Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead. 

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere. 

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there. 

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent. 

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak. 

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book. 

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book? 

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing? 

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door. 

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems. 

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer. 

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door. 

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you. 

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance. 

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze. 

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods. 

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.” 

“The dress?” 

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s…  Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat. 

“Um. I was… I lost my book.” 

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?” 

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.” 

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.” 

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around. 

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book. 

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous. 

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?” 

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.” 

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him. 

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.” 

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.  

“What?” 

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound.  “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.” 

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.” 

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap. 

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad. 

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first. 

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side. 

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working. 

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull. 

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery. 

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts. 

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs? 

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever. 

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop. 

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement. 

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son. 

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down. 

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head. 

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum. 

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”  

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure. 

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule. 

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it? 

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own. 

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days. 

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault. 

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery. 

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling. 

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!” 

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.” 

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars. 

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens. 

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day. 

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.” 

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him. 

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news. 

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried. 

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well. 

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either. 

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door. 

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches. 

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands. 

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms. 

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune. 

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers. 

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests. 

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf. 

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it. 

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears. 

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…” 

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.” 

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.  

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet.  You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak. 

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.” 

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.” 

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other. 

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows: 

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I hope your week has started off well! I have a request if you don’t mind. Friday I have to go to the hospital early and spend most of the day there getting a bunch of testing done because I keep having these weird episodes and we don’t know what’s going on and I’m verrrrryyy nervous about it. So anyway I was thinking poly!wolfstar (or any of them) accompanying reader and comforting reader to the hospital/during/after. Maybe reader wants to cancel it all (because I kind of do) and they gently but firmly make her stick to it.

Hope your appointment went well lovely!

cw: mention of hospitals, general anxiety around that

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 744 words

This time of year, the kitchen is dark before dinnertime. Remus has turned on the light above the stove, but neither you nor Sirius move to flick on any others, leaving your home mostly in shadow and dim, amber glow. Sirius is illuminated by his laptop on the couch while you sit on a stool watching Remus cook. The low rumbling of his boiling water is the only sound. It’s a tranquil sort of quiet. You’re reading all the tension into it, probably. 

Sirius certainly thinks so. He sneaks up behind you, arms winding around your middle and fingers prodding playfully at your sides. “Baby. Relax.”

“I’m relaxed.” 

“Sure you are.” 

“I am.” 

Remus looks up from the stove to give you a look that isn’t quite chiding. Fond, perhaps. Knowing, definitely. “Dove, you’re rattling your stool.” 

You hear it then, and still the bouncing of your knee with some effort. 

He smiles, at once wry and kind. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he says. 

Sirius makes a dubious humming noise. “I don’t know about that.” His face finds its way into the crook of your neck, meandering, his nose cool against your skin. “I think our girl should only have nice, blissful thoughts, and leave the nervousness for when it’s due. No sense in getting all worked up early.” 

“Pads.” Remus’ tone is love-weary. “She’s allowed to be nervous.” 

Your boyfriends make light of it, but this is one stark difference between them. Sirius and Remus have both known intense discomfort—to put it lightly—over their lives, and yet they react to witnessing it differently. Sirius can’t stand to think of anyone he cares for being less than perfectly happy; it makes him twitchy and near frantic. Remus doesn't like it either, of course, but he understands better than most that some things simply need to be borne. Rather than avoiding it, he offers a quiet, steady support. 

Sirius, you think, is likely as nervous for your hospital visit as you are. It’s why he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“I could still cancel,” you say, softly enough that maybe you’re hoping not to be heard. 

Both of your boyfriends seem not to have considered this possibility. Remus looks at you, brow tensing, and Sirius’ face stills on your shoulder. 

Your voice smalls. “They said I could do it up until twelve hours before.” 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius squeezes your middle, gently. “Don’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well, because then you’ll only have to be nervous all over again when you do go.” 

“But what if I…” You find yourself sinking into his touch, letting him hold you up despite the fact that you’re sitting and he’s not. “...don’t?” 

“You’ll have to go at some point.” 

“I don’t have to.” 

“You should, though.” Remus’ eyes capture yours, calm and dark brown in the low light. His expression is melded by sympathy and entirely too reasonable for your liking. “You can go on the way you have been, that’s your choice, but we know you’ve not been liking that.” 

“I’ve not been very fond of it either,” Sirius mumbles. 

“This is something you can do for a chance at getting better,” Remus goes on gently. “Nothing is going to change if you don’t.” 

You take a long inhale. When you let it out, Sirius kisses your shoulder like a reward. 

“I really don’t want to,” you say. 

“I know, lovely.” Remus steps closer, reaching for your hand. You don’t realize until you give it to him that you’d been picking at your nailbeds. He pulls your fingers apart from each other with methodical caring. “It’s only one day. We’ll be there with you.” 

You press your lips together solemnly. “I’m going to need a lot of hugs, I think.” 

“Oh, god,” Sirius moans, arms still firmly around your waist. “What ever will we do?” 

“You really do dole out the most unfair burdens, dove.” Remus goes from doting to dry in an instant, amusement flickering in his gaze. 

“I mean, how are we expected to cope? I don’t know if I can handle all these demands, sweetness, I really don’t. You’ve made tomorrow a true hardship for us.” 

“You’re the ones who want me to go.” You shrug. “Figure it out.” 

“I suppose we’ll have to, won’t we?” Sirius gives you another squeeze, firmer this time to coax a smile from you. “Alright, then. Needs must. You worry about your portion, and we’ll worry about ours.” 

[belliexpog]

heyy i was wondering if you Could do Sae byeok x fem reader and reader is pregnant. Like Maybe headcanons on the things she would do While you are pregnant like making sure you ate Well (you two would go to her moms house a lot and her mom would say to you, to eat more While Sae byeok is just adoring you) makes sure that you are comfortable when cuddleing, never lets you lift a finger, is there when you are feeling really sick in the morning, tries the thing Where she is behind you and she gently lifts your tummy releaving All the pain in your back and tailbone. (She adores the way you dip your head back on her shoulder and close your eyes, humming How Good it feels as she lift your tummy) and more.

thank you and have a wonderful Day or Night.

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Two babies in one- Sae-Byeok

(headcanons in points + writing)

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The discovery:

Her jaw would drop in shock that the insemination actually worked

"BABY, WE'RE PREGNET!"

She would certainly cry with joy.

Headcanons:

With confusion on her face, she holds up the small, light wooden box, opening it slightly. You shift your position on the bed, sitting up better to see her reaction, with an anxious smile. And She gives you a suspicious look and opens the box. The box was lined with gray crepe paper, but she didn't pay any attention to it, seeing a gray baby bodysuit and the pregnancy test on top. "Baby...Is this...?" She asks, looking at you fearfully with a gleam of hope in her eyes. Your smile widened, and you placed your hand on your stomach, nodding. The girl opens her mouth in shock and puts the box aside, throwing herself on top of you on the bed, kissing you all over. "Baby, we're pregnant! Oh my god..." You let out a laugh, nodding and wrapping your arms around the girl's neck. Her expression suddenly changes, becoming worried. She rolls over, now lying next to you, and places her hand on your belly. "I can't crush the baby..." She murmurs, worried. You He let out a loud laugh and pushed her hand away. "The child is still a seed. There is nothing to crush here."

Telling the mother-in-law and Cheol:

Her mother was super happy, as it was her dream to be a grandmother.

Cheol smiled and said, "A new friend!"

Sae's mother gave you several tips on what to do, what not to do, what you can eat and what you can't eat, everything you needed to know, and Sae listened very carefully, taking mental notes.

Your mother-in-law was the most helpful person ever, often coming to your house to help with things while Sae worked, taking Cheol with her so he could distract you.

Her mother-in-law also makes a point of filling your plate with food, now with less fat and more nutrients, because "it's a mother and her baby who were eating"

First Trimester (Weeks 1-12):

Even though the girl (Sae) HATES reading, she bought pregnancy books to help her to better understand your mood changes or physical disposition.

She bought a new mattress just so you could sleep better, since, according to her, "the book said that in the first trimester of pregnancy, pregnant women could spend a lot of time sleeping."

She doesn't get irritated by your mood swings, just confused. But she takes a deep breath, nods her head and just goes with the flow, not wanting to disagree with you.

Headcanons:

You were exchanging kisses lying in bed, when suddenly, you get up and run to the bathroom. The girl quickly got up, sitting on the bed, seeing you going to the bathroom. As soon as she heard vomiting sounds, she quickly He got up and went to the bathroom, kneeling beside her and grabbing her hair, pulling it away from her face. "Oh baby..." she murmurs, mostly to herself, looking at you with concern. She didn't get up from the floor until you were completely okay. She helped you getting up and washing your face. She made you lie down while she went to get you food.

Second Trimester (Weeks 13-26)

She is SO happy to see your belly growing.

Believe me, she started to become a thousand times more affectionate. Kissing your belly, talking to the baby and helping you to sit.

She drools when she sees you in maternity dresses, or just in your underwear. She simply thinks you look magnificent with your huge belly.

She massages your feet every night, and this gave her the opportunity to buy several body creams thanks to your influence.

Headcanons:

You walked around the store, actually you walked and Sae carried the cart with the groceries, eventually asking you what else was on the list. She didn't really like the idea of you going out and making some kind of effort, but since she knew that it wasn't healthy to spend all your time sitting or lying down every day, she made an exception. Sae crouched down, looking at the section of shower creams and gels. "You like vanilla, don't you?" She asked, picking up a vanilla shower gel and looking at the label. The older woman gave you a quick glance, as you stood with your legs slightly apart, one hand on your back and the other on your belly, lightly patting your face as you looked at a moisturizing cream. "Mhm...Vanilla is perfect" You mumbled, picking up the moisturizer and opening it to smell it. Sae nodded and smiled, standing up and putting it in the cart, seeing the cream you had put on She raised an eyebrow and looked at you. "Me and the baby have to have our skin moisturized... And smelling good." You say, running your hand over your belly and smiling slightly. Sae shrugged, turning to walk again. “That makes sense.”

Third Trimester (Weeks 27-40):

She started to be more careful with you, as she knew that the birth was near.

She would always go with you to the bathroom and help you if you needed it.

At night she would NOT sleep until she was sure you were asleep, because she knew you were having trouble falling asleep.

Every time you woke up to go to the bathroom, she would sit on the bed, watching, and only go back to sleep if you were also asleep.

She started to prepare the delivery bag: With the baby's clothes, your clothes, some hygiene items, diapers for you and the baby, a blanket for you and another for the baby.

You also decorated the baby's room, but it was Sae who did everything, you just gave orders and opinions.

She always got scared when you had contractions.

Headcanons:

"But why paint the colors pink or blue? Use a light gray. When the child is born, the kid will decide. We don't even know if the child will like pink or blue!" You said, leaning against the doorframe, with Sae in the middle of the room, with her hands on her hips, looking at the walls. She nodded, and then looked at you "You're right, princess. Gray it will be!" She said, and smiled looking at you. "And put an armchair or small sofa on that wall, it will look nice. Now I'm going to the bathroom, I'm worried." You said and turned around, walking quickly with difficulty,with her legs spread and her hands behind her back. Sae held back her laughter and followed you to the bathroom.

Labor & Delivery:

Headcanons:

As usual, at 9:30 pm you were already asleep - or trying to -. It was then that one night in January, at 11:00 pm, some strong contractions woke you up. You woke up, moaning in pain.It stopped for a few seconds, but not even a minute later the contractions started again, moving up your back and into your belly too. Sae woke up to the groaning, and immediately said, "You wet the bed..." She mumbled, sitting up in bed, but when she saw that it was too much to be pee, all her senses awakened. "Oh, fuck!" She stood up and walked over to your side of the bed, helping you up. "Shower... Let me take a shower..." You moaned, leaning against her. "No fucking way, honey! You're going straight from the car to the hospital!" Luckily, the delivery bag was already in the car. She reached into her bag, put your cell phones in there, and grabbed the car keys. "Can you walk?" You looked at her, leaning on the bedroom vanity, with your hand on your belly and shook your head. She nodded and walked over to you, picking you up. "I'm training for the future," she jokes, leaving the room, making you laugh in the midst of so much pain. You chose to have a natural birth, aware of the pain, but wanting to feel it. The birth, besides being painful, was at the same time wonderful, because as soon as your little figure arrived in your arms, you immediately stopped crying, you felt as if you were falling in love again, cause you really were. You looked at the face of that tiny being, seeing your features in it. How did such a thing come out of you? Was that cutie less than 50cm tall that would one day come out of your wings? Tears rolled down your face, Sae's hand brushed away the hair stuck to your forehead and smiled. "Hold on, you're the mother too." You said, lightly lifting the baby in your arms. Sae shook her head and smiled. "Let the doctors take the baby and take care of him/her. I have to take care of another baby." You smiled, and the doctor came closer, wanting to take the baby. With a little pity you handed the child into the doctor's arms, and watched him leave. You turned your head to Sae and smiled. "It's so tiny..." The girl let out a laugh and pulled the chair behind her to sit closer to you. She sighed, sitting down and took your hand, stroking it, while the other stroked your forehead. "It's true, princess... It's very tiny..."

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taglist: @vigilxntesht @wtvlmaosstuff

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MAN THIS IS SOSOSOSOSO CUTE

I love you anon for this idea 🙌🏽

Hope you liked it babies!

Xoxo!

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ RAFAYEL | breakfast (valentine's day)

── ◜rafayel x fem!reader — ◜short special | specials from the rest of the LIs soon on my profile

She had been so tired the last week because of work. She spent all day out, only coming home at night to cuddle up to her boyfriend and sleep until the next day. When she woke up Rafayel was already doing something related to his work. The only moments they had together throughout the day were that hour in the mornings before she had to leave again.

The previous night had been no different. When she woke up that morning she was sure it was much later than usual and she had slept longer than she was supposed to. Rafayel was next to her in bed but unlike her he was dressed and staring at her.

"What time is it?" she asked, still somewhat sleepy, but Rafayel didn't answer.

"Do you know what day it is?" She shook her head as she rubbed her eyes. She certainly didn't know what day it was. "It's Valentine's Day." Rafayel got out of bed and walked to the other side of the room.

She couldn't see what he was doing as she shifted in bed and sat down before rubbing her eyes again. She was tired, she needed to sleep a couple more hours but she had work to do. Rafayel still hadn't answered her question about what time it was.

The weight of something on her lap distracted her. When she stopped rubbing her eyes and her vision cleared seconds later she noticed a tray on her lap with breakfast already made. She looked at Rafayel again without understanding, she would love to stay in bed and have breakfast but she still had work to do for her bad luck.

"did you make breakfast for me?" He nodded, pressing his lips against her forehead. "Is this a Valentine's Day celebration?"

Rafayel laughed and shook his head. "Well, I thought I could spoil my girlfriend and it turns out Valentine's Day got in the way," he answered in that carefree tone. Clearly what he was saying was a lie, at least the last part.

"But… I have to work. I can't stay in bed all day." She felt guilty at the thought of not spending Valentine's Day with him. She took a strawberry from the small plate of fruit, she wasn't going to waste breakfast, especially if her boyfriend had prepared it for her.

"About that… I talked to that girl who's always sending you more work and told her to go to hell." She almost felt the strawberry stuck in her throat. "I was joking. I just talked to her."

Rafayel slid back into bed until he was beside her. She still didn't know if she believed him completely. "How did you do that?"

"Well… let's just say an invitation to my next exhibition works pretty well as a bribe." She smiled when she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

"Oh… My famous boyfriend did it again."

He laughed as he moved closer to her, wanting to feel her body pressing against his. "You're mine for the whole day," he murmured, brushing the strands of hair from her face to kiss her cheek. Maybe it didn't sound that bad to spend the rest of the day in bed.

[tinylilacbun]

School Fights

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x teen!sister!reader

Warnings: reader getting into fights, arguing, angst, set in s4, mentions of ward being dead, fluff at the end

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝ ͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ 𝅄

Rafe's on his way towards your school, again, this is the third time this month that the principal has called him because you got into another fight.

Ever since Ward died, Rafe took it upon himself to take care of you since you didn't want to stay with Rose and leave the island you grew up on behind but boy, he really didn't expect that taking care of a teenager would be this exhausting.

You kind of remember him of himself when he was around your age, which scares him sometimes, because he made stupid decisions and even more reckless stuff.

He couldn't say no when you somehow managed to come back to Kildare all on your own from Guadaloupe, standing in front of him sobbing and begging him to let you stay with him, saying that you miss him and everything.

Now it's been a while and things have gone smoothly, all until the calls from your principal became more frequent and worse every time.

Arriving in front of the school building he takes a deep breath before climbing out of his car, making his way inside and towards the principal office, the way all too familiar for him by now.

As he opens the door to the office he sighs at seeing you sitting in the seat in front of Miss Tinks desk, your arms crossed over your chest and a faint bruise forming on the corner of your mouth together with a cut on your eyebrow that the school nurse already patched up.

"Mr. Cameron, please take a seat." She greets him, a small professional smile on her face to ease the already growing tension in the room.

"What happened now?" Rafe asks, taking a seat right next to you, reaching out to tuck your hair away to get a proper look at your face but you just turn your head from his reach.

"Well, there's been a little altercation between Y/N and some other students during lunch break." Your principal starts to explain everything, that you lashed out at two other girls for reasons you wouldn't tell her yet as you knew it wouldn't change a thing.

"A'ight, we'll- I'll talk with her. It won't happen again, I'm sure of it." Rafe says, knowing there's no way in hell that things would change but he has to say something to assure that he's capable to take care of his sister.

"Mr. Cameron, with all due respect. I've been patient for a while now, and I can't let these things slide anymore. Y/N will be suspended for the coming three days. Should things not work out soon I'm forced to take more drastic measures to ensure a healthy learning environment for my students." Miss Tinks states calmly, sliding the paper with your suspension towards your brother.

Rafe clenches his jaw, rubbing a hand over his face before glancing at you, who seems completely unbothered by this whole situation.

"Okay. I'll handle it from here, I apologize on her behalf." Rafe musters up a forced smile as he stands up, shaking your principal's hand goodbye, turning to face you. "Let's go."

You grab your bag and stand up to catch up with your brother, walking silently beside him as you both make your way outside and to his car.

After he slams his door shut he starts the engine, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he wheels onto the road, staring ahead but he's visibly upset, rightfully so.

"What happened?" He asks through gritted teeth and when you don't reply he breathes deeply through his nose.

"Y/N, I'm trying to help here but- but when you don't give me a reasonable explanation I'll ground your ass for a damn month and take away your phone, if that's what you want instead be my guest." He waves his hand.

Again, just silence. He's about to start scolding you again when you mumble something under your breath. "Speak up, kid. I can't understand gibberish."

"You wouldn't understand..." You mutter again, trying not to cry as you feel your eyes well up.

"Then help me. At least try to explain what the hell is going on. I can't change things when you don't talk with me, you know that." He runs a hand over his buzzed head, not used to talks like this with you.

"They all pick on me...e-everyone whispers when I walk past them, saying how Dad's a murderer and that he deserved what happened, t-that you're psychopathic, that Sarah turned into a dirty pogue, telling me that I'll just end up like all of you." You finally ramble out, starting to sniffle as the tears roll down your cheeks.

"I just- I couldn't stand it anymore, hearing all that shit and just snapped. Bitches had it coming ever since I started school again..."

Rafe doesn't say anything for a moment, taking everything in you just said, already preparing himself for the phone call he's gonna have with your principal when he gets home.

How can shit like this just slip past all those teachers? Hell, he's pretty sure he can press charges for the fact his sister gets suspended after getting harassed by fellow students. A healthy learning environment, my ass.

"I...I get it." He finally responds, starting to calm down now that he knows why you've been acting so strange lately. "You just wanted to defend your family name. Guess we got more in common than I thought, huh?"

"You- You're not mad?" You question, wiping the tears from your cheeks subtly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm actually proud of you for not only standing up for yourself but also for dad. He wouldn't get it, but I do...hell I understand you more than anyone ever could."

There's some silence after that, both of you processing the depth of the conversation you just had, there's never really been a chance to talk about what's bothering you since you're still partly grieving your father's deaths.

He wasn't the best dad of the world. Everyone knows that, but still, he tried everything to protect all of you and make sure you'll never have to worry about anything in the future 'til his last breath.

"I miss him..." You whisper suddenly, looking down at your bruised knuckles.

"Yeah, me too." Rafe replies with a low voice.

You furrow your brows when you notice that he doesn't turn into the next street towards his house but keeps driving straight ahead.

"Where are we going?"

He simply shrugs, a smirk forming on his face. "I think we both deserve some McDonald's, don't you think?"

You finally start to smile again, a sight that Rafe hasn't been able to witness for a while now. He should have paid more attention to you, having deep talks like this, he's all you got now after all.

[transmcytshowdown]

Joel Smallishbeans^4:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

Joel Smallishbeans^4:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Her willing sacrifice”

This theory that Ellen sacrifices herself to save Thomas is debunked by the film itself. Orlok, like your regular vampire, has to be invited in. And this is very well established in the narrative, with all the windows and the dialogue:

At the prologue, Orlok shows up at Ellen’s window: asking for entrance;

The Nuns tell Thomas “remain here. His evil cannot enter this house of God” (it has nothing to do with God, but with Orlok not be giving entrance);

Ellen opens a window at Hardings household for Orlok to enter (she also gives him entrance into the city);

Thomas tells Ellen at the carriage scene (when she asks to go with them): “Of course not, Ellen. You must be kept safe away.”

After finding Harding dead, Dr. Sievers says to Von Franz and Thomas: “But Orlok... Will he not have already risen? Should we not return to our homes?” (where he can’t enter and they are safe)

Ellen opens the window of her own house at the end, asking Orlok to come to her and giving him entrance.

Thomas only needed to stay at his own home, and Orlok couldn’t do anything to him, without being giving entrance. It’s that simple. And after Anna and the children’s funerals, all of these characters already know that Orlok has to be invited (which is why Thomas believes Ellen is safe at home). And Von Franz, being the only character who understands the depth of Ellen and Orlok’s connection and conjures both angels and daemons, already put two and two together.

Why was Ellen so upset at Friedrich Harding sending her and Thomas to their own home? He’s actually saving Thomas without realizing it. Because Orlok does have entrance into the Harding household (thanks to Ellen herself, and he’ll kill Anna and the children, like the little girls foreshadowed at the beginning of the film, she fed them to the monster), but he does not have entrance to their apartment. The moment they are home, they are safe from Orlok.

But that’s not what happens, because Ellen pulls off the “possession scene” and says she must go to Orlok otherwise he will kill Thomas… expect he can’t? He does not have entrance into their home, Ellen only gives it to him at the end. And the narrative clearly establishes this throughout the whole film.

Do you expect me to believe that Ellen doesn’t know that Orlok needs to be invited in or just realizes this towards the end, when she’s about to sacrifice herself to “save her husband”? Please. Not only she has been communicating with him since she was 15 years old, but the “carriage scene” reveals that all these characters know this.

She’s perfectly aware that Thomas is not in any danger, now. Unless he happens to be wandering around the city at night, but if he stays home, Orlok can’t touch him. At all. By revealing to Thomas, Orlok wants to kill him and their whole connection (and how torturous it is), obviously Thomas will want to protect her. Was she expecting anything different? What was her plan here? Was she already planning on accepting Orlok? Probably. And she wants him out of the house, and that’s why she wants to walk Von Franz to his door, to make sure it happens.

And her “fiery reckoning” and victory at dawn is because the vampire hunters managed to stay away for her to break the curse of Nosferatu (which is the whole point of her willing sacrifice, as the instructions in the Şolomonari codex of secrets dictate; a book which according to Romanian folklore, was written by Orlok himself). They didn’t show up in time to stop her or kill Orlok with a spike of cold iron like their plan. She won. And she embraces Orlok to parallel him saying “you are mine.”

“You promise you shan't return to me 'til he is no more? Promise you won't return.”

Her “vengeance” is related to the missing bit on all of this; the social commentary (always a part of Robert Eggers endings): Victorian society, which always oppressed Ellen because of her nature, but it’s by embracing it and liberating herself, that she’s saving them all.

So when Thomas arrives home at dawn, what he sees it’s that Ellen chose Orlok.

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 19/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012) FOURTEEN (2013) FIFTEEN (2014) SIXTEEN (2015) SEVENTEEN (2016) EIGHTEEN (2017)

CHAPTER NINETEEN – 2018

            Pete makes sure he’s home for it, wants to watch SpaceX launch its Falcon Heavy rocket with Ice, because while he loves flying he’s always been fascinated with space. Not that he ever wants to go there, but he definitely still wants to watch. Tamsin makes the trek home as well, is spouting off something about the coding and he exchanges a look with Ice, that moment of shared understanding that they’ve managed to raise three amazing people into adulthood. He knows Melissa and Sarah did most of the work, but he can’t help feeling honored just to have been included in the support network. To have his girls call him Papa and give him shit, for them both and Bradley join him in teasing Ice.

            Tamsin passes up sitting with them on the sofa, instead insisting on the large single chair that Ducati and Ceccato tend to favor curling up on. Pete snorts, because sure enough they’re being passed over in favor of a couple of cats, one of whom curls up on Tamsin’s lap and the other which drapes itself over her shoulder like a type of scarf. He takes a picture and sends it to Petra, knows it will wind her up because her and Tamsin bicker over being the cats’ favorite human like it isn’t him. They all know it.

            He knows Tom has been feeling more settled, the acquiring of the dog last year along with the kittens is something he’s taken in stride happily, rather than with a look of pinched resignation or tired acceptance. Pete’s also noticed that somedays his wedding ring is missing from the bowl, like Ice has either forgotten to take it off, which is unlikely, or he’s deliberately left it on and worn his wedding ring to the office for everyone to see. It sends a thrill of possessiveness through him at the idea, but it’s mixed with a healthy dose of anxiety over potential reprisals. Not for him, but for Ice and his career.

            However, he’s certain Tom knows what he’s doing.

…         …         …

            He ends up deployed and in the same squad as Jake. Makes a vow to himself to treat him like… well. He’s not quite sure. But between a skittish kitten and a friend. He keeps a tight rein on his temper and tongue, careful that any teasing words are purely superficial and don’t cut too deep or imply anything that could be taken the wrong way. He forces himself to not react when Jake is an asshole, makes cutting comments at his expense. The others in their squad raise eyebrows and Bradley simply shrugs. Water off a ducks back. They don’t ruffle his feathers. Of course it makes Jake look like even more of an asshole, but he can’t help that.

            One liberty leave, a period so short there’s less than a day, the squad decide to stick together. Despite the uneasy truce that Bradley has declared in his own mind Jake watches him exactly like a wary cat would and Bradley can’t blame him. He continues trying his best to be friendly and polite. Like Jake is simply another squad member and someone he gets along with. Or a stranger he’s just met. Of course it’s not that simple, not with their history but still, he tries his best and the others can tell that the animosity is on Jake’s side, which also isn’t fair, but again, he can’t help that.

            They all end up going to see Infinity War and he grabs an extra packet of peanut MnMs, presses them into Jake’s hand and then steps away. Doesn’t want to give him the wrong idea. He’d like them to at least be friendly with one another.

            “What the fuck Bradshaw?”

            “Just… know they’re your favorite,” Bradley shrugs.

            “Keep your fucking candy to yourself Bradshaw…”

            As Jake shoves the bag of MnMs against his chest with far more force than necessary he gets more than one what the fuck look aimed his way and he just shakes his head minutely. Doesn’t want to cause drama, despite the fact that he seems to be doing that without even trying.

            He’s thirty-five.

            He feels like he should have more of his shit sorted out by now.

…         …         …

            He hears about the U.S. fighter jets intercepting Russian TU-95 bombers in Alaskan airspace and rubs at his temples, knows that is where Bradley currently is. The political climate causes him ongoing tension headaches and Melissa orders him in for a full medical, which show he’s developed stomach ulcers of all things. He’s given strict orders to reduce stress and he laughs without humor, because it’s part of the job. Then he finds out he’s being promoted and while his voice is cool and calm as he expresses his thanks for the honor his hands are shaking. He’s pretty sure this is going to be the opposite of reducing stress. He doesn’t particularly want to move to Pearl Harbor either.

            As he watches the world political climate change, and news about the planet’s actual climate he wonders how other people cope. He’s glad he can talk aloud to Harley and pretend he’s simply talking to the dog as he expresses his concerns about his husband and his kids, Sarah and Melissa, the world in general because it’s fucking depressing and he’s not even allowed a drink because it’ll make his stomach ulcer flare up.

            Great.

…         …         …

            When he gets the call that Petra is in hospital his world comes to a standstill. Ice has already organized transport for him, because as much as he would like to just get on his bike and drive it’s a bit far to fucking Daytona from North Island.

            A roller coaster.

            Of all things he imagined getting called about, a roller coaster never made the list. She’s in Daytona for a fucking driving course and racing experience and instead she’s a victim in a rogue roller coaster derailment. She wasn’t even on the damned thing, simply a bystander and as Pete sits on the plane, leg jiggling with nerves, he tries to tell himself that she’s fine. Ice, Melissa and Sarah wouldn’t have let him come alone if she wasn’t. That’s what he repeats to himself while he waits for a ride to the hospital. He hasn’t even stopped to pack a bag.

            He asks for directions and finds her room easily enough, pauses on the threshold as he takes her in, looking beaten up and a little pale, but otherwise whole. He lets out the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding, thinks about the other times she’s hurt herself and fuck, he really needs to tell Ice how much he loves him. Knows he causes Ice this type of worry and stress too often and he should really try and cut back on that. He steps into the room and Petra’s eyes open to meet his and she gives him a weak smile.

            “Hi sweetheart…”

            “Hi Papa… thanks for coming.”

            “Nothing could keep me away. Your mom is coming as well, but I don’t think Melissa has quite the same pull as Ice does when it comes to booking tickets.”

            It’s not a funny joke, but it makes Petra laugh, although she immediately winces in pain and he flits from one side of the bed to the other, wonders if she should have more painkillers, or fluffed up pillows or… fuck. Melissa should be here. She’s the fucking doctor.

            “How is everyone else?”

            “What?”

            “There were others there. Is everyone okay?”

            “I… I don’t know. I’ll find out though okay. You just… worry about yourself right now okay?”

            “Papa, I’m fine. Stop… stop worrying.”

            “I… Petra. It’s literally in the job description.”

            “Captain Mitchell?”

            “Yes?”

            “I… I’m sorry Captain. You don’t have authority to be in here. It’s next of kin only.”

            “He’s my father…”

            “I’m… your father is listed as being Tom Kazansky.”

            “Yeah. My dad. But this is my papa.”

            “Tom Kazansky is my husband,” Pete offers.

            “Oh,” the nurse says, lips twisting and Pete isn’t sure how to take it, is used to years of homophobia, of hiding his relationship. The fact that he’s not even wearing his wedding ring even now makes him feel vulnerable in a weird way, that he’s somehow lying.

            “I’m over eighteen and can decide on my own visitors and care. And he’s my papa, he’s allowed to know everything,” Petra says, and Pete ducks his head at the jut of her jaw, the stubborn flare of anger in her eyes and her immediate defense of where he stands in her life. The nurse leaves and Pete guesses he’ll never know quite what they were thinking. Instead, he settles in the chair beside Petra to listen to her complain about hospital food and he guesses she must be feeling okay if that’s the worst thing she wants to complain about. He goes looking for news about the Sand Blaster roller coaster accident and is incredibly glad that he isn’t going to have to tell Petra that any of her friends have died. There are injuries, some bad, but no fatalities and he’s grateful for the fact.

            “Love you kid.”

            “Love you too Papa.”

…         …         …

            Tom hates that his thoughts jump immediately to Maverick when he’s alerted to the Horizon Air Bombardier being stolen from Seattle–Tacoma International Airport. He quickly dismisses the thought, knows Pete is in China Lake so it can’t be him. There are no passengers on board, so he makes the call to have some F15 fighter jets intercept. When the plane crashes and kills the 29-year-old male pilot he really wishes he could have a drink.

…         …         …

            Tamsin has an internship at NASA and her lips only twitch a little when she talks about the ICESAT-2. Bradley is the one to ask, because there’s clearly something funny she’s holding back. She’s announcing it with glee, that ICESAT-2 is the agency's most technologically advanced ice-monitoring spacecraft to date, and of course it makes the others laugh. Ice is less amused;

            “Tell me when they develop one to monitor Maverick…”

            Pete kicks him under the table.

…         …         …

            “You’re wearing your wedding ring…” Bradley blurts out, noticing it as Ice reaches into the box of popcorn.

            “Mmm,” Ice hums, staring at the ring on his finger and Bradley chews on his bottom lip, wants to ask why now because after thirty years surely it’s just a symbol.

            Oh fuck.

            Of course it is and symbols are powerful and have meaning and not being able to wear it must have been… difficult. Painful. It’s never just been anything.

            “Figured with my promotion there’s no reason to not wear it. I used to worry about making others uncomfortable. Now my rank makes people uncomfortable so I might as well give them another reason. It’s not my job to make people comfortable.”

            Bradley snorts, because he’s seen the impact Ice has on a room full of people, even when he’s in civvies and going to the movies he walks as if he’s in command.

            “Yeah, you scare most people shitless.”

            “So does Maverick,” Ice offers.

            “For different reasons,” Bradley says with a laugh and Ice laughs with him. They quieten down as the trailers start playing and he knows Ice has already seen it with Mav when it came out a couple of weeks ago, but when he’d said he was going to the movies to watch it, happy to go alone, Ice had offered to come with him. He knows Ice prefers company, the house too quiet when they’re all away even with the cats and dog. He doesn’t stay with them anymore unless he’s drunk. His own place, his parents’ old house, is all set up to his liking, with two guest bedrooms that both Tamsin and Petra use regularly enough for him to bitch about their hair and toiletries clogging up the bathroom. Natasha also uses it frequently, and Bradley likes them all treating it as theirs.

            The exit the movie and Bradley can understand why Ice was happy to go and see it again, he was already a fan of Queen, and knows creative licenses have probably been taken, but it was still damned entertaining, which he feels like is a good legacy of a movie.

            “Bradley… you’re being careful right?”

            “What?”

            “You’re being careful?”

            “Yeah, I heard you. I just don’t know what you mean…”

            “With sex. You aren’t… taking risks.”

            “Oh. Fuck. No. Hell no. I mean… if I was in a committed relationship, but no, I’m careful. Also I don’t know if you missed it, but I’m thirty-five, I’m not exactly out every night getting my dick wet even when I’m not deployed.”

            Ice looks a little pained, but he knows why Ice is asking, the movie didn’t shy away from the topic of AIDS or HIV but also he wonders if Ice is aware just how many sex talks he’s had to endure growing up with four parents. Melissa’s go-to has always been scare tactics.

            “Ice… you know Melissa has given me the safe sex talk right? And Sarah?”

            “Oh. Good. I know you’re sensible, but it’s easy to get complacent…”

            “You don’t want to know about Mav’s sex talk?”

            “I… do I?”

            “He shoved a bag filled with condoms and lube at me and told me he expected me to use them.”

            “Oh god…”

            “Yep. Between you, Melissa and Natasha’s cousin I got all my answers and then some. I’m good. You guys did good.”

            “We tried.”

(Next chapter - actual events of TGM! FINALLY!)

[thelonestarinthesky]

I saw requests are open! Is it possibly for you to do a Senku x reader oneshot? Senku is totally pining after the reader (who also has a massive crush on him) and Gen has to shove Senku out of his comfort zone to get him to say anything to the reader!

OR (give you some options because I saw you have writers block)

A Senku x Reader oneshot where they are finally about to reunite after Senku wins the Stone war against Tsukasa! Fluffy and cute!

I hope giving you two ideas isn’t too much! You definitely don’t need to do both but I thought giving you a choice would help!

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ

⁺₊✦₊　　

pairing: senku x f!reader

a/n: I've decided to merge the two ideas together! Thank you for requesting!! I hope it's to your liking!

⁺₊✦₊　　

Senku couldn't sleep, for countless nights, he would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling silently, thinking.

Ever since Gen had arrived back during the Grand Bout, he revealed something to him.

Tsukasa had taken [Name] as a hostage, purposely reviving her when he had no choice but to bury her statue when they fled the small camp he and Taiju made at the beginning and keeping her close.

"Poor [Name] is scared to death." Gen's words echo in his mind. "Save her Senku~"

He sighs, closing his eyes. "Wait for me, okay?" Mumbling quietly, he says.

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

After the war with Tsukasa was over, the first thing Senku did was go over to the Tsukasa empire. On his search to look for the [H/C] haired girl, he walked among the place before stopping.

He looked up to see a figure poking their head out from the prison-like cave, like how Chrome said they held him in.

"....senku?" The voice called out quietly.

A shiver ran down his spine.

[Name] teared up upon seeing him running up the mountain to where she was being held.

Watching as he pants heavily, he quickly helps trying to get the prison open, sitting on a rock, sat [Name], nothing had changed. Seeing her like this reminds him of their life in the modern world.

"You're okay." Her calm expression is the same; the way she sits with her legs together, ladylike, and the gentle smile on her lips are all the same. "I'm happy."

[Name] is caught off guard as Senku walks over and stands in front of her, then suddenly, the two fall back from the rock, trapping the girl underneath him, his arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, face buried in her neck.

She's stunned before even saying a word; she feels his shoulders tremble slightly and then understands.

Without a word, she slowly hugs him back, smiling against his hair. "... I missed you too." She mumbles for his ears alone.

⁺₊✦₊　　

It's been a couple of weeks since [Name] returned to his side; Gen had noticed the way Senku would be around her. Asking for her opinions on his latest work, when they made bread, he made sure she was the last one to get it, giving her the larger portion left.

Upon seeing how happy she was eating it, he gave her his piece, claiming he wasn't that hungry and claimed they would make more now that they had a chief.

Gen had managed to catch [Name] alone, Senku, surprisingly not by her side. "Say, [Name], I've been meaning to ask. What is Senku to you?" He sat down beside her as she sewed up Senku's winter coat since winter was coming up.

She looks up at him before going back to work. "We grew up together." Gen hums at this. "My best friend." Her answer was....too vague for him, so he decided to push.

"Oh? Is that all? I thought you two were more than that." He thinks out loud, peeking over to see her reaction.

"Gen." The girl says, "I know what you're trying to do." She smiles. "If you're looking for a specific answer, all you had to do was ask. I have loved Senku for many years."

His mouth drops, and he expected her to deny or simply not answer.

"So straightforward." She just smiles at him before going back to work.

It took days for Gen to plan his next move; he saw the way Senku looked at [Name], so maybe he could ask Senku if he would think of the [H/C] haired girl.

Yeah, he'll ask and try to play matchmaking-

"Oh, [Name]? Yeah, I'm aware of her feelings for me." Senku says bluntly, picking his ear.

Gen is shell-shocked, staring at Senku like he has grown another head.

"What?" The green-white-haired boy says, clueless.

"You haven't done anything?" Senku blinks at Gen's words. "Done what?" The scientist says.

"Oh, I don't know—accepting her feelings, obviously!?! Gen shouts clearly annoyed at how blunt Senku was towards the girl's feelings in the first place.

"[Name] knows how I feel," Senku says like it's normal, very blunty.

Gen groans. "Senku, I don't think any girl would know what the boy she's in love with feels about her when you give her science rants."

"Can't you give her flowers or maybe something normal?"

Senku scoffs at this. "Back in the modern world, I would give her a lot of things." He says it like it's nothing, almost proud.

"Name one." Gen challenges him.

"I named a spaceship after her."

"Next."

"I took her to Africa to study Ebola with me."

"No, something more romantic." Gen looked like he wanted to just give up. None of this seemed like normal things to give to a girl.

Senku thinks a bit. "...I made a lipstick for her." He remembers that the brand she was using was running out, but they had discontinued it. She was sad about it and often went to the mall with her as she searched for an alternative.

So when she didn't like any of them nor did it suit her. He managed to sneak a sample of the remaining bit and spent a week trying to perfect it.

Seeing her so happy was worth it in the end.

"Anything else?" Gen asked him. "Surely that can't be the only 'normal' gift to her." The man sighs.

Senku stands with his arms crossed, the work he was working on, forgotten. His face deadpans as soon as he realizes what Gen means. Maybe he hadn't given enough to [Name], or maybe she thinks the feelings are one-sided.

"See what I mean." Gen sighs at Senku's dejected face.

"Don't worry, the great mentalist will help you," Gen says grinning.

⁺₊✦₊　　

Senku glanced over at [Name], who was sitting. He made up an excuse to bring her here alone, and he wasn't sure where to go from there.

In his hand, a hairclip, one he'd made the day before. Gen had suggested it to him upon seeing how [Name] often moved the strands of hair from her face.

Gen watches from afar. He can't hear anything, but he sees Senku sitting down beside the [H/C] haired girl. His lips opened as he spoke to her before showing the hairclip.

[Name] smiles as she reaches for the item before Senku leans in and puts it in her hair, catching her off guard as her face heats up slightly, but she smiles at Senku.

More words are spoken, but Gen sees this as a sign to give them privacy.

[Name] goes to lean in the water to see her reflection, but Senku stops her; he brings out a small item and hands it to her. Flipping it around, the girl sees that it is a mirror; smiling, she checks where he puts the hairclip and smiles even more , thanking him.

She looks surprised at his words, seeing him bashful as he confesses, giggling at this. She rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, "That's not true; I like when you go on about what you're passionate about; I love seeing that sparkle in your eyes." She confesses. "So don't think your actions are any less."

Senku wraps his arm around her as they sit there. No more words are needed between them since they both know the depths of their feelings.

The next day, Gen goes over to see how things went, going over to Senku, only to stop when he sees the two closer than ever.

Matchmaker Gen's job is over.

[impala124]

Theory of love Episode 1: I hate myself for loving you

Well well well, what do we have here? Could it be my half-baked thoughts on Dear Dakanda, a movie I was supposed to have finished watching 3 days ago, but couldn't get through in a single sitting because I was too busy face-palming myself the whole time, and how it relates to episode 1 of Theory of love? Yes, it is.

The film is about a shy art student, who's in love with his bestfriend but is unwilling to confess because he's scared of losing their friendship.

Third in his review of the film:

I was practically cheering for Khaiyoi. I felt relieved for him.

Even though the film is told from Mhoo's perspective, we know very little about the man himself, other than his unrequited love, which made it really hard for me to root for him. So, Third was definitely projecting onto Mhoo.

As @lurkingshan has already pointed out, Third sees himself in Mhoo and has chosen to out do him in his pining for his bestfriend. It makes me wonder when Third saw Dear Dakanda for the first time, whether it was before meeting Khai or after. He and Khai had a meet-cute which is similar to that of Mhoo and Dakanda, atleast that's how Mhoo views it.

If he had watched the movie prior to meeting Khai, then he was just setting himself up for failure by comparing Khai to Dakanda. Now, if it were the latter, I wonder why he couldn't see himself in Nui rather than Mhoo. Maybe Nui was too honest about her feelings for Third to relate to her. I'm pretty sure that one of the reasons Third likes Khai is because Khai isn't afraid of confrontation, unlike him. Khai goes to the film sceening of a guy his ex chose over him, just to publicly humilate the guy. Third can't even himself to show Khai the concert tickets he bought for them to go together.

Side note about their meet-cute: It's a reference to the characters from My girl, which credits the director of Dear Dakanda as one of its screenwriters. If I'm remembering it right, My girl is also on the list.

@neuroticbookworm made a note about the romanticisation of pining in the movie and I'm pretty sure Third caught that because he was embodying it. As harsh as it might sound, the suffering of both Third and Mhoo is self-inflicted.

At no point were they given any indication that their feelings might be reciprocated and yet, they continue to resent the other person for treating them 'only' as a friend. I understand yearning, I love it, but give me some insight into the character before showing them as a pathetic loser (my favorite genre of men, if I may say so myself).

@bengiyo made an interesting note about the overtly heterosexual bubble Third lives in. This gave me a whiplash because in 2025, I'm kinda used to bls where queerness is the norm. We don't know anything about Third's past experiences and how long he's known that he's attracted to men to make any judgements here, but let me just note that Third is not some wallflower, he's part of a clique that is rather popular. Now that Two saw Third crying in the dark over Khai, maybe he'll find an ally, because Third definitely needs someone in his corner.

Something I'm interested in knowing more about is what Khai brings to his friendship with Third. Third repeatedly says that being friends with Khai is better than nothing, so he can't be a friend that flakes on him constantly, as he did in this episode. Hope you're not that much of a masochist, Third!!

Mini-rant:

Having Dakanda mention that she broke up with her boyfriend in her letter to Mhoo was definitely a choice and I wonder how much of that factored into Mhoo mailing her the postcards in return. Also, Mhoo writing I'm happy that, in the end, the thing that lasts the longest and can't easily be ruined is our friendship and ending the postcard by stating that this will be his last correspondence with her doesn't sit right with me.

Of course, one can outgrow a friendship, but, was Mhoo only friends with Dakanda in the hope that she might wake up one day and see him in a romantic light? That would be rather disingenuous now, wouldn't it?Is a female friend worth having only if she's a potential romantic partner? Is the narrative punishing Dakanda for not recognising Mhoo's quiet pining and replying with Why did you confess now?after he let her know about his feelings for her by having her break up with her boyfriend? This whole sequence reeks of valourization of Mhoo's unrequited love over Dakanda getting herself a boyfriend and Third definitely feels the same way about his pining and Khai's flings. Told y'all, I can't look at het romantic relationships objectively because biases start kicking in.

(OR)

Maybe it's about Mhoo choosing to move forward in his life instead of trying to see what can become of his relationship with Dakanda, now that she's aware of his feelings towards her.

We can't know for sure, but I feel like it's a bit of both.

[emmaaxomarie]

Hello my lovely i hope you are well 💞

Could i request something cute and fluffy? I'm thinking with 90's Nikki and 21 year old female reader? You can do whatever you feel like I'm just in the mood for something adorable hehe! 😚 Much love gorgeous 🫶

hello hello gorgeous <3 anything for you!

lets go down the rabbit hole and get more delusional together!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚cutie pie⋆. 𐙚 ˚

nikki sixx x female reader

i can't think of a single plot so i'm going to give you different scenarios that run through my mind 24/7 🧸ྀི

nikki would 100% call you every single pet name under the sun. i personality feel his favorites are "baby girl" "princess" "baby" "babe" and on special occasions, "little girl" ❥

he is an extremely jealous guy, and especially because of the age gap between the two of you, it only fuels him ten times more. even though nikki wouldn't let you out of his sight, almost follow you like a lost puppy, he is very clingy but with his clinginess comes sweetness!

baby girl, you are just the cutest, you're my girl right? yeah you are!

god i can't get enough of you baby.

hey! where are you going? did i say you can leave me?

he can not and will not keep his hands off of you, finding any excuse just to have his grip on you, let everyone know you are his.

many people find it shocking but nikki is very much the romantic type, he would treat you like an absolute queen! leave you little notes around the house, making sure he's on your mind while he's out working on music in the studio.

ah how can i forget! without hesitation, during every single one of his breaks, he would pick up the phone and call you. he needs to hear the sound of your voice or he will die, well not literally, but it would feel as though he is, you are the answer to all of his prayers.

hey sweetheart, i have some time to spare right now, how is my good girl doing?

you miss me? hahaha i miss you way more!

i don't understand how you do it, your voice gets me so hard, please keep talking to me. (whoops couldn't help myself.)

────୨ৎ────

when it comes to nikki having some free time, he always dedicates those days for you.

as soon as he comes home from working his ass off, dealing with nonsense and all the bullshit that comes with making music, he runs, not walks, runs to you!

guess who has the next few days off! i'm taking you out tonight, i was thinking maybe 7ish, does that sound good to you baby?

oh! wear that black sexy dress i got you the other day, you look so fucking good in it!

🎀🫶🏻💌💓

before my mind goes into overdrive, ill stop here for now BHAHA! hope you enjoyed what i wrote for you beautiful <3 my inbox is always open, please feel free to send me more requests!

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

19 promise. where a new promise is forged in place of broken ones.

<< 18 hiraeth. | >> 20 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 3.1k warnings: angst, what's new :)

there is an indescribable feeling welling within your chest, a sensation that prickles at the edges of your frozen heart, as if it had weathered a long winter, as if spring has finally arrived, the sun smiling warmly upon you and welcoming you into its comforting embrace.

a mixture of nostalgia, melancholy and regret that seems to have seeped into your bones, unable to shake it off. 

semi and his now fiancée are making their way through the crowd of friends and family who have gathered tonight to celebrate their engagement, and you feel immensely… happy for them. 

they are good for each other, anyone who sees them knows it, with the way they complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses, facing the world together fearlessly with the other by their side. 

though, the thought of that makes your eyes wander the crowd, searching for the warm chocolate eyes you still think of as home. 

this might have been you—if you were not so quick to jump to conclusions, if he had trusted in you. maybe, maybe it would have broken you in the end, like he guessed. maybe he was right not to trust in you.

but the past remains there, in the past, and even now, you are not sure what would have been the right thing to do. it’s easy to recognize rights and wrongs in hindsight, but there was never a clear way forward, never a right way forward for a present that was not so broken and mended at the same time. 

off balance. 

like a violin that was tuned to an old orchestra’s lower frequency trying to fit in with the new one. even a single hertz of frequency makes all the difference, singling you out from the others because you are out of tune. 

the more you get along with ushijima, the more this… feeling grows in your chest, this unshakeable nostalgia to return to what once was, to stay there and never grow up. 

you had forgiven him, and he had forgiven you, both of you having made mistakes that led to where things are now. semi and tendo were the more excitable pair between you about this development, as though they are dead set on the two of you getting together. 

but it is all too late, too much history, too much hurt between you to go back to what once was. 

you could never go back. 

the understanding should not pain you as much as it does now, as if a claw is gouged into your chest and dragged down and down.

it should not hurt so much when he smiles at you across the room, and you feel the warmth radiating from him even with the distance, reading the touch of melancholy from the way he carries himself, the lines in his face, the eyes that you fell in love with. 

enough time has passed for you to move on, so why does he still make your heart race like a teenage girl? how can you still be in love with him when neither of you are the same people you used to be?

he is not the same boy you loved in high school. still quiet and stern, sure, but he is also more open with those close to him, like tendo and semi. more relaxed and more communicative with the people he cared about, more willing to share about himself than he used to. 

as if he had taken his mistakes with you as a lesson to learn from. 

you don’t know how to feel about that realization. 

on the other hand, you are not sure if you have grown as a person as much as he has. you were still quick tempered, jumping to conclusions like your life depended on it.

and if you were being frank, you could be blamed for most of this mess, from being stubborn enough to cut him off for years. 

and still he waited. 

“hey,” he sidles up to your side, cocking his head as you turn away from him, blinking rapidly, wishing the sudden welled up tears away, scratching your eyebrow and swiping at your eyes discreetly, you hope. 

“hey yourself.” you smile back at him, hoping he does not see through your shit act immediately. you know he does though, because your cheeks are hot and red from the sudden rush of regret. 

“it feels unreal that semi is engaged, doesn’t it? he always seemed like he would be the last one to settle down among us.” he remarks.

and we thought we would have been among the first. how the tables have turned.

you chuckle in response, focusing on anything but the heat radiating from his arm to yours as you stand side by side against the far wall away from most guests. like two wallflowers avoiding the party.

you guess some things never change. 

“i think the universe had a different plan in mind for all of us.” one we never saw coming.

”perhaps. but we are the ones who dictate our future, aren’t we?” his eyes are on you keenly, and you choose to ignore it. 

“maybe some things are written in the stars, long before you and i were brought into it.” it is no longer about semi, but about you, about this half wilted, half revived twisted thing between you. 

”we have a say in it, in our choices. you don’t think so?” you think you hear a hint of desperation in his voice, for you to give in—say it’s not too late, you could go back to what you were before. but it’s too fucking late. 

you thought he knew this, so why is he being insistent, even all this time?  

all this time you had been gifted with, a mere three weeks in your homeland, busy with the orchestral competition and then the showcase performances afterwards, squeezing in what time you could with your friends, including him. 

every conversation you shared with him after that first one in years had been friendly, inquiring, mindful. the mutual understanding you thought you also shared showing in his eyes, tinged with sadness and regret, reflected in yours.

”you know we can’t go back, toshi.” you curl your free hand into a fist to hide the trembling in your fingers. 

“then look forward to the future. if it hurts, don’t look back, let it stay where it belongs.” he circles your wrist, gently and firmly, stilling your shaking. he knew, he always knows.

he knows you too well, that you are choosing to stay in the known where it is safe, afraid to risk your heart, to trust once more. he is right, you would rather it stay broken than be disappointed again. 

if you dared, you could tune your violin to the higher frequency, risk the worn strings snapping as you turn the peg tighter. you could always just replace it with a new string.

though unlike violin strings, you only have one heart, worn and tired. you are not sure how much more it could take before the point of no return, and there is no replacing it. 

but it does not have any sense of self preservation when it comes to wakatoshi, yearning for you to say yes, yearning to be home again. you don’t blame it, your rationality seems to go out the window on matters concerning him. 

“why? why did you wait? i left you high and dry for years, and then i come back with little to no warning, and you are being nice to me.” you face him, wringing your hands, breathing heavily, stuck with the countless thoughts flying through your head, each and every last of them devastating. “why?”

“because you are the only one for me. you always have been.” he tugs your hands apart, holding each hand gently, rubbing circles on the back of your palms. 

“i am nothing short of irrational and horrible.” you whisper, feeling particularly awful about your past decisions, your stubbornness that stopped you from hearing him or even semi out.

“sure, but i fucked up first.” gods, why is he so good? it would be so much easier if he isn’t. “you are blaming yourself for something i had a part in. that’s not quite fair, is it?”

he tugs at your fingers for you to look at him again. “i tried to respect your wishes, really. i thought maybe you don’t feel the same way anymore, and the first few times i saw the look in your eyes, i thought i was going mad from desperation, that i was imagining it.” wakatoshi tightens his hold on you ever so slightly at his memory, but continues, “you still have that look in your eyes, the same one i do when i look at you, and it didn’t make sense to me why this should be our ending.”

“there’s too much between us, toshi.” the sounds fall from your mouth like a plea for him to let go, to move on, to stop looking back. 

“two people who still love each other belong together, don’t they?” his words make you curl your fingers around his thick digits, a sharp feeling brewing in your belly. 

anger, you recognize. it is anger that strikes you, taking hold of you as your lips curl and you scowl at the man before you. “you are being unreasonable. how could you just pretend like everything never happened? that it did not hurt for months, years? and to make things worse, i went years not speaking to you out of sheer hurt and stubbornness, only to find out that i was wrong. i should have given you a chance to explain– hear your side of the story out, something.” 

you lick your lips, trying to gather your thoughts, communicate them coherently. “but i didn’t. and you’re acting like it didn’t hurt you. like i didn’t hurt you. for years. you say you feel the same, and yet you look unfazed by my actions that should have carved your heart out of your chest. you are acting like my mistakes are so easily forgiven, like it was nothing, but you are pretending. i know it hurts.”

your neatly trimmed nails are pressing crescents into his palm even as your shoulders shake, feeling the absolute guilt heavy and crushing. because you don’t deserve him. he should be glad that he is free of you, not trying to get you to change your mind. 

“that day i saw you at the apartment. you were speaking to me as if nothing happened, trying to talk to me the way you used to. but you should have yelled at me for being stupid. threw me out on the streets. slammed the door in my face and never looked back. you should never have let me back into your life. i fucked everything up so badly and you are standing here trying to convince me to give us a second chance. do you hear yourself? are you insane?”

this is pathetic, you think. you are shaking, salty tears flowing freely down your cheeks, and sometime during your little confession of truth he had guided you to an empty corner of the room for more privacy. or to keep people from seeing you fall apart. 

but he is gaping at you, as if you just told him something he didn’t know, and you look away, ashamed of yourself. 

“no, no, look at me,” his fingers chase after your turned face, fitting in the curve of your jawbone as he firmly tilts your head to look at him. try to resist as you may, you end up giving in to him, as you always does. “that is what you are torn apart over? that you might have hurt me with your actions? not that i kept my arranged marriage a secret from you?”

his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, leaving you frustrated “but i did hurt you from my actions, didn’t i? unless you don’t love me. which i am assuming is not the case since you are trying to convince me to give us a chance. of course i was hurt you kept that a secret from me. what was i supposed to think when i heard about it from your mother and not you? but it pales in comparison to my– how unreasonable i was, dragging this easily solved issue over years. how could you say that?”

“and your reaction was perfectly reasonable, why can’t you see that?” 

“why can’t you let me go?” 

wakatoshi almost drops his hand from your words, feeling them pierce the thick layers he kept over his own heart to shield its injuries from the world. he feels the nonchalant charade he kept up crack and slip, no longer able to ignore the hurt that coursing through his veins.

“because now you’re being stupid. are you actually saying that you won’t give us a chance because you hurt me after being hurt by me and you think that the hurt you caused me is worse than the hurt i caused you? why do you feel the need to atone for your mistakes by denying yourself a shot at happiness?”

“because you have not given yourself a chance to live in a world without me.” gods— 

“i don’t follow.” he says flatly, hands dropping to his sides, visibly deflated at your repeated attempts to move on. 

“you still live in our apartment. you never let me go, never allowed yourself to experience a world without me in it,” you swallow, though the lump in your throat remains at the thought of what you are about to do—what you are about to ask of him. you so desperately want to keep silent, want to jump into his arms, but you would also never forgive yourself if you kept him from a better life. “i want you to go and live in that world, let yourself experience the happiness and joy i once brought you with someone else. someone with whom you don’t share a tainted past with. i want you to give this chance to someone else.”

“what about what i want? have you thought about that? of the possibility that i only want you, not anyone else, even if they are perfect.”

“how do you know that? you haven’t given anyone else a chance!” you surmised as much from your observations, a conclusion that you arrived at after learning that he is still living at your shared apartment, which tendo confirmed.

“because i don’t need to! gods, you are killing me.” he exclaims as loud as he could without drawing anyone’s attention, staring at you intensely. 

“i know.”

he lets out a heavy exhale, rubbing his hand over his face. “so what then?”

“go live a life without me. date someone. move out of that apartment, for the love of god.” fall in love with someone good for you, like semi did. not me. 

“and then what?” he quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“and then what?” you repeat his words back to him in disbelief. 

“what if i still want us?” his stare pierces through your defense, forcing you to take a step back before you could pull him in. 

a brittle, fragile bridge of trust stretches between you, and you are sure that it is bound to break if either of you were to take a step towards the other. 

“you haven’t even given it a shot yet.” you retort, hands crossed over your chest. this stubborn man…

“i already know so.” he states firmly, leaving no room for argument. it makes you want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, if it were not for the plethora of reasons that would cause it all to fall apart stopping you from doing so. 

“you are so fucking stubborn.” you grit your teeth. a pair of waving arms catches your attention, as the man himself makes his way to the two of you. you roll your eyes at the glint of interest appearing in his mischievous eyes. 

“i could say the same about you.” he replies. 

you look away, pointedly avoiding his gaze as your red-haired friend approaches. tendo would never let you live it down if he hears about this conversation. 

“i suppose so.” you murmur before tendo pulls you towards the circle of people forming around the newly engaged couple who are starting their toast, leaving wakatoshi to follow. 

their beautiful story brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. your lower lip is wobbling as you dab at the corner of your eyes with a napkin that tendo offered. 

pure bliss radiates from the pair as they glance at each other lovingly, so much so that one could mistake them as newlyweds. it makes you falter in your decision, just enough that you allow yourself to think of a future where everything goes right. 

enough that you slip out from the party as wakatoshi excuses himself for an early night. 

enough that you call out after the man you who is both a stranger and your home. 

“wakatoshi!” his name leaves your lips, carrying on a life of its own. it reminds you of the boy who took flight in the gymnasium one summer day. .

“vienna.” you repress the smile that threatens to break at the sight of surprise in his warm honeyed eyes, his half-turned body with his hand still on the door. “i will meet you in vienna in a year. i–if you still feel the same way. if i could leave the past behind us.”

“just tell me where and when.” there is a tremble in his voice laced with disbelief. 

“that’s up to you to figure out.” find me, you seem to say, like this is a test of his belief and knowledge in you, and of fate. 

“see you in a year then.” a muscle in his jaw twitches as his lips part, but he presses them shut with visible turmoil shortly after, as though he had more to say but decided against it. 

you swallow with your fist grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt above where your heart lays, wishing it to calm, begging for hope to delay its flight. 

there are many things that could go awry in this plan that hinges on him getting the time and place right, including the fact that it requires you to trust him again. because trust is the foundation of any relationship—without trust, there is nothing. 

not to mention, it also depends on him not changing his mind. 

it is tricky because he might just meet someone who changes his mind in between now and the next year. tricky because you might not be able to trust him again for the decision is the hardest first step. tricky because—

“time changes all.”

no one is impervious to the passage of time, not you, not even ushijima wakatoshi. 

so why is hope still beating its wings with all its might in the confines of your ribcage?

a/n: i had a hard time figuring out how to phrase the promise, but had a breakthrough today and could not wait to post <333 enjoy y'all, lightly edited! only one more chapter to go, i am gonna cry thinking about osd ending :') (also spy the title reference in the chapter :3 i love y'all thank you for being on this wild ride with me tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenbraveakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon @wrimaira

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[bellamoooon]

Childhood best friends to lovers, i love this concept a little too much and got carried away lol <33

She’d never know, at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

She’d never know that she was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for hours, that she was like the first bit of light rising up in the morning, that she was like the feeling of warmth when getting praised, that talking to her was like hearing his favorite song for the first time again, that her laugh was engraved in his brain and he could hear it even when she wasn’t around, that her presence radiated light that seeped right into his bones, that seeing her was like a shot of espresso immediately waking every nerve in his system, that her smile gleamed with such brightness it could light up the whole world in an eternal darkness, that her eyes said so much more than anything she had ever said, that she was a perfectly aligned harmony when everything else was out of tune.

She’d never know, but he did.

She lived within him; His whole life had been reduced to her.

“Wow Art, this is really good!” his literature teacher spoke as she read his paper, “y’know, if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out, you could be the next big writer, I mean it.”

For his literature class, as a “creative exploration exercise”—his teacher calls it—they had been assigned to write a paper on someone of something which they could understand as unrequited love, of course he had chosen you, because what better example than you and Art.

You and Art have known each other since diapers due to your parents being best friends from their college days up to the present day, which sort of brought the two of you together one way or another, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would art.

Growing you with you might’ve been one of the best things he has ever been able to experience, he wishes people could actually get to feel what its like to be shined on by your light, for him, it truly is unearthly every time.

Sure, you two had distance shoved in your faces when he went to MRTA, but when he returned home for breaks, it was like nothing changed, it was just you and Art.

And of course as cliché as it may be, the inevitable happened, Art began to fall in love with you.

At first, he tried to convince himself that it was just the affection he had for his best friend, but he had no way to deny it. From the second he stopped just seeing you, but when he started seeing you.

He could try to blame it on his hormones and being a teenager, but everything else contradicted that.

In the summer, seeing you in your two-piece swimsuit didn’t seem the same, especially since you had started to grow into your big girl body, as his nana said.

At Christmas when he saw you walk into the living room dressed as Cindy Lou who from shoes to hair, with a goofy smile, but why did it make him blush? You seemed the same, you did this every year.

Patrick mocked him for having a small picture of the two of you in his wallet, but he didn’t care, whenever he was having a bad day, or missed home, he’d look at the picture, instantly erasing anything that disturbed his thoughts.

But you’d never know that. And he was okay with that. For the most part.

A couple of weeks he went back home for spring break, he was feeing at ease, he’d see his parents, his nana, and…you.

“Artie! My sweet boy!” his grandmother called out as he walked out of the car to the front porch with a suitcase in his hand, and a wide smile. His grandmother ran up to him wrapping her arms around him, her warmth immediately transferring to his skin, he was home.

“Nana, hey, how’ve you been?” he spoke with a sweet tone as he hugged her back. Sure, tennis was his whole life, but coming back home felt like a weight was lifted off his back, he doesn’t have to be THE Art Donaldson, he was just…Art.

“You look so tired baby boy, let me take your bags, go take a shower” his nana said as she shut the door behind her.

“Nana, seriously don’t worry—“

“Will you just let me take care of you while you’re here? You’ve gotta do all this yourself at school, but not here Artie” and well, there isn’t much arguing with nana Donaldson, it’s just how it’s been his whole life.

After his shower, Art walked in his room with a calm breath and loose muscles, how he needed that warm shower, as he walked over to his bag, which was placed next to the window he began to look for some clothes.

He wasn’t one to feel prying eyes on him but by reflex, Art lifted his head as he looked through the window, it was you.

You covered your mouth clearly giggling as he looked down at himself completely naked only covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, “fuck me” he muttered as he looked up once again but now face completely flushed and the tips of his ears burning red.

He waved awkwardly as he pulled the curtains closed feeling flustered, he wanted to get his mind off of her, so he said, how’s that going? Not great.

His nana looked up as he came downstairs with a puzzled expression, your name left his lips.

“What about her?” She asked as she left a plated grilled cheese in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was home for the break?” She laughed, why is she laughing?

“Sweetie, I thought it was obvious, she always come back home for breaks” she shook her head as she smiled playfully, “though, I think there’s something about her being here that bothers you”

“What— no, no, it doesn’t bother me, I just— would’ve expected something else, I don’t know”

“You sure?” She slid the paper across the counter with delicacy, “are you absolutely sure baby?”

“Nana! I told you to stop snooping, come on!” He said taking the paper as quickly as possible, could this day get any worse?

“One, I wasn’t snooping, it fell out of your backpack, and two, Artie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowered his head ever so slightly as he grabbed the sandwich to then take a bite.

“I know.” He said once he swallowed, she leaned against the counter with curious eyes.

“She’s good, she’s smart, and really talented, did you hear she put out a song?” He lifted his brows in surprise, you really had picked music, over psychology, huh…

“Huh…well that’s great, I’m sure she’ll do great with all that” his nana scoffed as she muttered a small “art…” with a warning tone, “what? I mean it”

“You gotta give me more than that after that thing you wrote, Art, I taught you better than this.”

“I just—! I don’t know what to say, Nana, that’s the problem. Not to you, not to Patrick and most definitely not to her” he spilled, fiddling nervously with his hands, “I’d screw our friendship, one sided feelings aren’t worth risking years of trust.”

“Well you never know Artie, sometimes holding onto those feelings is painful, even if something is on the line, it isn’t worth it if you’re hurting” she was right, but Art would never say that out loud, this was all too much for him.

“It’s just…it’s not easy”

“Well my boy, no one said love was easy, and sometimes, just sometimes, the most complicated loves, are the most beautiful ones” he listened intently as he finished off the grilled cheese, she was right, maybe all he needed to do was tell her.

You had to know.

So there he was at 2:34 a.m throwing small pebbles at your window, just like he did years ago to then go the skate park at midnight and sit at the top of the ramps while you talked till sunrise.

“Stop throwing rocks Donaldson, you’ll wake the dog” you came out the door in pjs but wrapped in a jacket, he turned with a confused expression “I came running down when I felt the first two rocks” you laughed softly as you blushed slightly, God you missed this.

It’s like being kids all over again.

“So how’s tennis and all, Mr. Stanford?” You asked as you swung your hanging feet off the ramp.

“Y’know tennis is the same always, trust me, you don’t care” he laughed as he shook his head, “but Stanford is nice, just not the same without you and Patrick on my ass all the time”

“Ah, of course, because that’s the biggest change you’ve had since we were kids up to today” you rolled your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah…” he chuckled dryly as he looked away, could he be more obvious, goddamn.

“What?”

“No— no, it’s nothing” he insisted.

“Art I know you, it’s not nothing, what’s up?” You pushed as he looked up at the sky biting his lip while humming, “Art?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at you again, you lifted a brow silently asking once again, “ah…I— I love you” he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

“I have since the summer you turned fifteen, you just— you kinda started to seem different to me, and I— I fell in love with you.” He sighed, “and I know timing sucks and it’s gonna make things weird, but if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive, y’know it’s been so long—“ his rambling got cut off as your lips crashed onto his almost immediately.

His body tensed up completely, the feeling of your lips foreign to his, but so familiar at the same time, the reality was better than any dream he had ever managed to build up in his mind, your plump lips tasting faintly like cherry lip gloss, he was most likely dreaming, he thought, cause there is no way he had told you how he felt, and even less probabilities of him kissing you.

As you pulled away, he found himself instinctively following you with parted lips and eyes shut, he was so high with your mere presence, a soft giggle from you snapped him back to reality as his eyes opened up slowly, pupils blown, he looked as if he had just seen God.

“…Did you just—“

“Kiss you?” You ask slightly tilting your head with a giddy smile, “seems like it”

You shrugged as you snorted softly.

“Oh.” Oh was the only thing his brain could process for him to say still stunned.

“Okay— so you tell me you love me, but I kiss you and all you say is ‘oh’, I mean—“ you said as you licked your lips as you thought.

“I just— I didn’t think you’d— like…you…like…” he fumbled as he tried to pull a thought out of the back of his brain.

“Art, you’re telling me you didn’t expect me to kiss you, when I’ve literally had this…I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I’ve been as subtle as a marching band” you tell him as a blush creeps up your face while you chuckle nervously.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head with a small grin, he scoffs as he covers his face with his hands, “am I just that dense?”

“Not dense, more like…oblivious” you laugh as he glares back playfully.

Then there’s beat of silence, that moment where suddenly everything had fallen into place, he’s been pining over you for years, and you’ve waited for the right moment for as long as you can remember, but then the question settles in, what now?

“Uhm…art…?” You turn to him with hesitation, he hums in response “what now? I mean, you’re going back to cali after break and I’m going back to New York…”

“Hm…I hadn’t really thought that far into it” he said softly turning to look at you with gentle eyes, “what now?” He asks back softly.

“I— I like you, Art, I’m in it for the long game.” You spoke honestly as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I’ll play the long game. You’re out there, I’m out there too, we’ll see each other in summer, thanksgiving, and Christmas…I mean it, I— don’t just like you.” He confessed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I can do that” you said softly, smiling back at him, letting out a small breath, “long game…?”

Your hand cupped his cheek making him face you, he smiled as he nodded, looking down at your lips and back at your eyes “long game.” He muttered as he leaned in kissing you once again, holding you gently in a fear of breaking you.

That right there. That was it, you were the living proof of unrequited love for him.