#but chances are other people who love it are going to be devastated when it's gone

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Now I'm itching to know which one you voted for (on the Deleting Fics You Have Bookmarked poll) but from the tags I can sense I know the answer already 🤣 (please don't ever delete your fics my sanity would implode)

i'm torn between the last two options if i'm being honest lmao

listen as a person who's written over two hundred fanfics and who reads fanfiction every day i am a diehard believer in orphaning fics over deleting them. there are of course exceptions to this rule (another fic was plagiarized, account got deleted, the story is offensive, etc) but for the most part, if you want to delete your fic just because you don't like it anymore and you assume no one else does either, chances are that statistically at least a few people out there who LOVE the fic will go back to read it one day and be devastated to find out it's not there anymore.

just orphan your fics babes!! throw it in the dumpster and let the rats have it!! everyone will be happier that way!!

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part one

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

Word Count: 5030

Warnings: Unrequited love & reader crying. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.

A/N 💌 I am so excited about the first part of this series—it's been in my head for weeks! Big thank you to @moonpascal for reading and editing! I'm so excited to hear your thoughts!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

Against your better judgment, you’d fallen hard for Mattheo Riddle. And yet, you were fully aware that nothing would ever come of it. 

You’d grown up in the same circles, your families often crossing paths at dinners and parties, but you were never particularly close—barely acknowledging each other in those polished, formal settings. It wasn’t until you both started at Hogwarts that any real connection formed. Being eleven and navigating the overwhelming experience of a new school was daunting for anyone. When you both were sorted into Slytherin, the shared familiarity in an unfamiliar place naturally drew you together.

Over time, you’d been there for him more times than you could count. You were the one cleaning his cuts after a fight, always telling him it was the last time because you couldn’t bear to see him get hurt. Yet, each time he showed up, you let him in with an exasperated huff, carefully tending to his wounds. When he’d appear at your door late at night, eyes dark with whatever was haunting him, you’d silently walk with him, sitting together in the quiet of the common room until the tension in his shoulders finally eased. You’d pretend to be annoyed when he asked to copy your coursework, but in truth, you savored every moment he sat close to you—the way his arm would brush against yours as he scribbled down your notes, the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air—leaving you longing for him to stay close just a little longer, even though you knew he never would.

He moved from one fling to the next, a string of one-night stands that never seemed to reach his heart. While you’d never been one of them, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were. A stubborn, hopeless part of you clung to the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, he’d one day let you be the one he trusted with more than just a night tangled in the sheets.

Your friends always joked that if Mattheo ever got serious about a girl, it would be you—but you knew the chances of that were painfully slim.

So you were caught off guard when you walked into the common room and saw a girl you barely recognized sitting with your friends. Cozied up in the same armchair as Mattheo. Your steps faltered as you approached, trying to piece together who she was and why she was sitting with your friends. It wasn’t that you were opposed to meeting new people, but your group had never once welcomed anyone new.

“Hey, love.” Enzo murmured, patting the cushion beside him on the couch. He’s the only one who’s noticed you so far; the rest are absorbed in their heated discussion about the latest Quidditch match. You slide onto the couch next to him, your gaze briefly flicking to the girl sitting directly across from you, trying to place her.

“Hey, Enz.” You say with a soft smile, setting your bag down as you settle onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” You tilt your head toward the girl, and Enzo glances in her direction. She’s not paying attention, her gaze fixed on Mattheo with a lovesick expression.

“I’m not sure,” Enzo replies quietly, ensuring his voice doesn’t carry. “Mattheo just introduced us, and we’re all a bit confused about it too I think.”

“Oh.” You murmur and Enzo watches you carefully. He knows about your feelings for Mattheo; he’d have to be blind not to notice.

Enzo leans in closer, and you shift your gaze to him. “Listen, love—”

Enzo doesn’t get to finish before a soft gasp of your name catches your attention. You look over, surprised to see the girl leaning forward with her hand extended. You notice that her other hand still has a grip on Mattheo.

“I’m Veronica,” she says warmly, her smile never wavering. “Mattheo’s girlfriend.”

The word hits you like a punch to the gut. You’re at a loss for words, unsure if you can even find any.

Girlfriend. Since when does Mattheo Riddle have a girlfriend? And why wasn’t he introducing her himself?

You want to question her about it, to find out when this happened and how she managed to get past his walls. Because you had been trying for years. Instead, you sit there in stunned silence, your eyes darting between her hand and her face. Your mind is racing, trying to process the truth you’ve been blindsided by. You’d known he’d never be yours, not in the way you wanted, but hearing it, seeing it so plainly in front of you, feels like a cruel twist of fate.

Forcing a smile, you finally take her hand, the gesture automatic and devoid of real warmth. “Nice to meet you.” You manage to say, though the words feel foreign on your tongue.

Her smile widens, and she shifts closer to Mattheo as if silently asserting her place by his side. Your eyes flicker to Mattheo, whose attention is pulled to Veronica as she presses closer into him. You study his face intently, searching for any hint of his feelings toward her, hoping to find anything that might betray his feelings.

But when you see the way he looks at her—eyes soft, filled with a tenderness you’ve never seen from him before—your stomach churns with a sickening mix of jealousy and heartache. 

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Can’t wait for my two favorite girls to get to know each other better,” he says, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten.

You glance at Veronica as she nods enthusiastically. “Me too, Matty,” she says, her voice dripping with sweetness. “I’m already so excited for the girls’ nights we’re going to have.”

You can’t tell if she’s genuinely that nice or just putting on a show for Mattheo. “Oh yeah. Can’t wait,” you say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. Neither of them notices the unease behind it—they’re too wrapped up in each other, their attention locked in a gaze that makes you feel invisible.

You tear your gaze away, the sight of them together too painful to endure, and instead turn to Enzo. “What the hell?” you mutter, barely managing to keep your voice steady.

“I’m sorry, love, I wanted to tell you before they did,” Enzo whispers, wincing as he gives your hand a quick squeeze. You murmur a soft “It’s okay,” but inside, you’re far from feeling that way.

Desperately, you try to compose yourself, but the effort feels pointless. As your eyes wander, they lock with Theo's. He’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You muster a soft smile, hoping to mask the heartbreak inside, but he doesn’t return it; he just keeps watching, his gaze heavy with something you can't quite place.

You manage to stay for half an hour, offering the occasional nod and murmured agreement to feign interest in the conversation. But your mind is elsewhere, detached from the words being exchanged. No one seems to notice your distraction; they’re all too absorbed in their own banter to catch the distant look in your eyes.

Without realizing it, your gaze keeps drifting back to the couple. Veronica rests her head on Mattheo’s shoulder, and his hand is gently resting on her knee, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. You can’t help but notice how at ease he seems with this physical intimacy—something you’re surprised he’d be so comfortable with.

When Pansy casually asked how Mattheo and Veronica had met, you felt a surge of restless energy. Without thinking, you abruptly stood up, the couch creaking loudly at the force. The sudden noise drew the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes shifted to you, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity as they awaited your next move.

“Um,” you winced as the room's gaze fixed on you, feeling the heat of their attention. “I’m afraid I'm coming down with a migraine. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

Your friends’ voices fade into the background as they shout their goodnights, the words scarcely reaching your ears. You speed through the common room and down the cold, empty hallway, desperate for the seclusion of your dorm. Just as you’ve made it halfway to your room, a firm grip catches your hand. Startled, you spin around to find Theo standing there, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and hesitation.

“Dolcezza,” he says softly, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet hallway. His eyes follow the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you watch through blurry vision as he takes a tentative step closer. “What’s going on?”

You open your mouth to respond but find yourself unable to form the words. The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. Instead, you just shake your head slightly, your tears continuing to fall unchecked.

He releases a quiet sigh and says, “Come here.” Without a second thought, you step closer, encircling his waist with your arms while resting your head against his chest. His arms come up to settle around your shoulders, and he gently rests his head against yours. As you press your face into his chest, sniffling softly, he whispers soothing words in Italian, his voice a comforting murmur. 

You must have been standing in the cold corridor for fifteen minutes before the distant murmur of approaching students prompts Theo to gently pull himself from you. He takes your hand, his touch warm against the chill, guiding you away from the freezing corridor.

“It’s just you and Pansy, right?” He asks, using his hand to guide you in front of him to let you go ahead and enter your room first.

“Yeah, but she’ll probably stay with Blaise.” You say softly, the strain in your voice revealing that you’ve been crying. ​​Theo doesn’t say anything; he’s long since lost count of the times he’s told them off for leaving the curtains open or forgetting to cast a silencing spell. Instead, he follows you into your dorm, the door clicking softly behind him.

The walls are lined with polaroids of the group, and Theo’s gaze lingers on the numerous pictures of you and Mattheo. Your dark wood desk is topped with a silver lamp and a few textbooks, its surface cluttered with quills and scattered notes. Mattheo’s jersey is draped over the back of your chair, and Theo recalls all the times seeing you wear it at each game. Your teddy, a well-worn bear that Theo recognizes as the same one you bring every year, sits at the top of your desk. 

The room feels markedly warmer than the corridor outside, though it might just be because it’s your room.

“You can sit.” You offer. Theo’s eyes move to where you’re perched on the edge of your bed watching him.

You’ve kicked off your shoes and tossed your robes over your trunk. He swallows, his gaze lingering on you. Despite the tear stains on your cheeks, he finds it hard to look away, thinking how pretty you look.

It’s rare for him to spend time with you alone. Usually, when you’re together, it’s with the rest of your friends. Over the years, you’ve been paired up in classes a few times, but neither of you has ever gone out of your way to be alone together.

He sits down next to you on the bed, deliberately leaving some space between you. For a while, neither of you speaks. When Theo finally glances at you out of the corner of his eye, he notices you staring at a polaroid of you and Mattheo. It was taken at a party celebrating Slytherin’s win. In the photo, you’re perched on his lap, one arm casually draped around his shoulder, the other holding up a cup of whatever you were drinking. Your smile is bright, full of life, while Mattheo’s is more subdued, but there’s no mistaking the way he’s looking at you—content, almost in awe, as you laugh above him.

He was sure you two were going to get together that night.

“Dolcezza,” He murmurs. You hum to show you’re listening, but don’t look away from the picture. “You know I’m here for you. In any way you need me.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the picture at first, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you stare at it. Finally, you let out a sigh and turn to him, “I appreciate that. But how fair would it be for me to vent about your best friend to you?”

It’s the first time he’s ever heard you say anything that hints at your feelings for Mattheo.

“I don’t care about him right now. I care about you.” He says, and you look a tad surprised at his words.

There’s a moment of quiet as you process Theo’s words. He’s always been Mattheo’s best friend, so hearing him dismiss Mattheo like that catches you off guard. You hesitate, not wanting to unload all your feelings onto him, especially since the mere thought of talking about Mattheo and Veronica makes your stomach turn.

“Theo,” you sigh, your voice tinged with vulnerability, on the verge of breaking. He can hear how close you are to tears. “Will you lie with me? If that’s weird, I understand—”

But before you can finish, Theo gently takes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring, leaving no room for doubt. He gives a small nod, silently gesturing for you to lie down, and you follow his lead. 

“Where do you want me, dolcezza?” he asks, his voice soft. You feel a momentary hesitation, your heart stuttering at the tenderness in his tone.

“Um,” you murmur, turning onto your side, feeling the vulnerability settling in your stomach. “Will you face me?”

Theo doesn’t hesitate. He moves effortlessly, sliding into place beside you. You watch as he slips off his shoes and sets them aside, then settles himself on the bed, positioning his body so he’s facing you. You find yourself holding your breath, acutely aware of how close he is—how you’re sharing the same pillow and could study every detail of his face if you wanted to.

“Thank you.” You say, and you cringe inwardly at the way your voice wavers. It’s as if your sadness is laid bare, impossible to mask.

His eyes gently trace your features, a soft concern evident in his expression as he takes in the sight of you, “For?”

“Laying with me. Coming to check on me,” Your voice drops to a whisper and your eyes well up in tears when you think about why you were upset in the first place. “It means a lot.”

Theo lets out a soft hum, his gaze tender as he lifts his hand to gently brush away a tear that slips from your eye. His touch lingers, the pad of his thumb making slow, deliberate strokes against your skin, as if taking his time. His eyes meet yours, and you watch him with your lips slightly parted, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness of his touch. The softness of his fingers against your face feels soothing; you’ve never had anyone touch you like this before.

You shift closer to Theo, and for a moment, he tenses, as if unsure of your proximity. The hesitation makes you wonder if this closeness is too much, but then he wraps his arm around you and draws you in, holding you firmly against him. You let your eyes flutter shut, inhaling his cologne—surprisingly more comforting to you than Mattheo’s—and feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt.

As his fingers move gently over your hair, a calming touch, you rest your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat becomes a soothing reminder that you aren’t alone, and soon you find yourself drifting off, wrapped in his quiet of your dorm.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When you wake up, Theo is gone, and you’re not sure if you’re more disappointed or relieved. Given how you feel, you’re leaning toward the latter. Your head throbs with a sharp, relentless ache, and your puffy eyes serve as a reminder of the tears you shed last night.

You’re nearly done getting ready when Pansy slips into the dorm, her brows knitting in surprise as she takes in the sight of you. 

Her gaze lingers on the dark circles under your eyes and the slight tremor in your hands as you fix your tie, “I didn’t think you’d be leaving the dorm today.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snap and Pansy raises an amused brow at the agitation in your voice.

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to see them.” She heads to her trunk, her current clothes rumpled and clearly in need of a fresh uniform. You don’t need her to spell it out—you know exactly who she’s talking about.

“I left because I had a migraine.” You grit out and she glances over her shoulder, obviously amused and doubtful at your answer.

“Really? A migraine after seeing those two?” Pansy hums, rummaging through her trunk with deliberate slowness, her eyes flicking to you as if gauging your reaction. “They were all over each other last night. Who’s to say they won’t be again today?”

You stiffen at the mention of Mattheo and his girlfriend, your fingers pausing on your tie. The events of last night rush back—Veronica’s hand on Mattheo, the way he looked at her. You feel a fresh wave of nausea but push it down, not wanting to give Pansy the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“It doesn’t bother me.” You mutter, trying to sound indifferent, though your voice wavers slightly. You force your hands to finish with your tie, pulling it tighter than necessary.

Pansy glances over at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes, as she drops the amused smirk, “You know you can tell me, right? About how you feel about him.”

You study Pansy, debating whether to finally say what you’ve kept to yourself for so long. It’s only been hours since you basically admitted it to Theo, and now telling Pansy feels like too much—though you’re sure they’d suspected for a while. But voicing it out loud feels like stepping into territory you’re not ready to face.

“What difference does it make, Pans? He’s got a girlfriend now.” You sigh, the sadness from last night seeping into your words. She abandons her trunk, standing up to fully face you, her expression unreadable.

“If it helps, we were all surprised.” She says, her voice unexpectedly gentle. “None of us had a clue he was sleeping with anyone more than once.”

Your stomach churns further, “I don’t think that really helps, Pans.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of comfort. “I could make her life a nightmare if you want. Perhaps then she’d decide it’s not worth it.”

“No,” you say, wincing as you stare at the wall, feeling the heaviness of the room. “I want him to be happy, and if she makes him happy, then I need to accept it. Even if it hurts.”

Pansy narrows her eyes, disbelief crossing her face. “Are you joking? You’d make him happy—”

“Pansy,” you cut her off, frustration making your voice sharper. “I don’t need you to fix this. I just need to figure out how to deal with it myself.”

Pansy falls silent, her gaze shifting as she takes in the raw pain on your face, a flicker of guilt passing over her expression. She heads off to change, leaving you on your bed, the weight of her offer hanging in the air. You sit there, lost in thought, waiting for her to finish getting ready. Despite her nights spent with Blaise, you both always made a point to walk to breakfast together.

When Pansy finally emerges, you both make your way to the Great Hall in quiet unison. The hum of conversation and the steady flow of students around you create a backdrop of normalcy.

“What did you do after you left last night?” Pansy asks, her gaze shifting from the bustling corridor to you.

“Had a good cry.” You reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the heaviness you feel.

Pansy’s brow furrows. “Darling, you shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.” You say, almost reluctantly.

“What do you mean?”

“Theo came back to the dorm with me,” you explain, your voice softer now. “He stayed with me, just… holding me, until I fell asleep.”

Pansy’s eyes widen slightly, and she falls quiet for a moment, “He did?”

You let out a soft hum, and Pansy grips at your hand, her touch both firm and reassuring. Her eyes reflect a mix of concern and guilt as she looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softening with sincerity. “I should’ve come to check on you instead of leaving it to Theo. I didn’t realize your feelings for Mattheo were this strong.”

You shake your head slightly, your gaze dropping to where her fingers clasp yours. “It’s okay,” you murmur, trying to steady your voice. “Theo being there helped more than I thought it would. I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”

Pansy nods, her expression softening. “I wish I’d known,” she says quietly. “I would’ve gone with you immediately. I just thought you needed some space.”

You offer a small, appreciative smile, grateful for her concern. “Thanks, Pansy. It means a lot.”

Pansy pulls you into a warm hug, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but chuckle at the unexpected show of affection. When she finally lets go, she takes your hand and leads you toward the Great Hall. 

As you make your way to the Slytherin table, your spirits, momentarily lifted by Pansy’s support, are quickly deflated when you see who’s occupying your usual spot.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you spot Veronica nestled against Mattheo’s side, her head tilted as she whispers something into his ear. His laughter, genuine and warm, makes your appetite vanish. You decide that you’re not very hungry anymore.

You swallow hard, struggling to keep your emotions in check. Pansy gives your hand a comforting squeeze and gestures toward an empty seat beside Theo. Usually, Theo would be across from Mattheo, but today he’s positioned next to Draco. You hesitate, not wanting to assume he saved the spot for you, but then Theo turns and offers you a gentle smile���a smile you’ve never seen him give anyone else. As you stand there, he reaches out with that soft smile, his hand extended to gently guide you into the seat beside him.

You settle into the seat beside Theo, and with a resigned sigh, you reach for some food to add to your plate. Even though your appetite is all but gone, you know it’s important to eat.

Theo leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur as he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he says quietly. “I had something I needed to take care of.” “That’s alright,” You murmur, sending him a quick, soft smile. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

Theo hesitates, unsure whether to tell you that it was the best sleep he’s had in a while or simply agree. He settles for a nod, “Uh yeah. I slept pretty good. Did you?”

“As well as I could,” You shrug, “But it was nice having you there.” He can see how flustered you are to utter those words, your gaze fixed on the tea you're stirring, and he struggles to resist the urge to offer to stay the night with you again.

“I meant what I said. I’m here for you in anyway that you need me.” You turn towards him, your expression softening as you take in the genuine look on his face. Your lips part, but you can’t manage to get anything past them. The way he’s looking at you makes you nervous.

“Oi! What are you two whispering about?” Theo’s head snaps toward Draco, who is watching you both with a look of clear distaste at the way you were leaning into each other, gazing at one another so intently.

“Nothing.” Theo snaps out, and Draco raises an eyebrow at the sharpness in his tone. A sly grin begins to form on Draco’s face as he opens his mouth to speak, but Theo interrupts with a low murmur that you can’t quite make out. Draco doesn’t say anything, but faces his breakfast with a disgruntled look on his face.

Theo engages in a lively conversation with Enzo and Draco, leaving you content to eat in quiet. However, it’s not long before Veronica's giggles start to cut through the silence, growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally look up, your heart sinks. Mattheo’s arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he murmurs something into her ear. She glances up at him, still laughing, and Mattheo leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Overwhelmed, you instinctively reach for Theo’s thigh, your hand gripping it tightly as you try to steady yourself. Theo looks at you, startled by your sudden reaction, but you’re not meeting his gaze. Instead, he follows your line of sight to where Mattheo and Veronica are entwined, lost in their own world. 

He drops his fork with a sigh, his hand immediately reaching out to grasp yours with a firm, reassuring grip. His touch is warm and steady as he gently pulls your focus from the scene before you. Theo's gaze lingers on the tear-brimmed edges of your eyes, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination. He glances at your friends, still lost in their animated conversation, and feels a pang of relief that they’re oblivious to the devastation written across your face.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, rising from his seat while maintaining a firm hold on your hand. With a quick, reassuring glance, he leans down to grab your bag. “I’ll walk you to class a bit early.”

Without a word, you follow him, casting a glance back at Pansy. You silently mouth ‘class’ to her as she watches you with curiosity from over your shoulder. If your friends notice the way Theo’s hand is intertwined with yours, they make no sign of it.

The moment you're out in the hall, it feels like you can finally breathe again. A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you cling tightly to Theo’s hand as you walk, finding some comfort in the steady warmth of his touch. You appreciate how he doesn’t push you to talk or ask any questions, just quietly staying by your side. There's a comfort in knowing he’s there if you need him, without the pressure to say a word.

After a couple minutes of walking, you squeeze his hand and Theo glances over at you, “I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.”

He squeezes your hand back, “What do you mean?”

“Seeing them together,” You mumble. “It really hurts.”

“I’m sorry, dolcezza.” He speaks softly, wishing he had the right words to offer, some way to tell you how to get over someone. But the truth is, he’s still trying to figure it out himself.

“Will you help me get over him?” Theo's steps falter slightly at your question, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. He swallows, the weight of your words sinking in. 

He glances at you, unease settling in his stomach, “How exactly?” He briefly considers the fact that whatever you ask of him could make him fall for you more. But as long as it meant you were happy.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the floor as you search for the right words. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… be there, I guess. Help me forget about him. Distract me.”

Theo nods slowly, his mind racing. He wants to say something, to offer more than just his presence, but he knows that pushing too hard might make things worse. Instead, he gently squeezes your hand again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm.

“I can do that,” he murmurs, his voice steady despite the nerves inside him. “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

You offer him a small, grateful smile, and he can see the hint of sadness still lingering in your eyes. It breaks his heart, but he pushes those feelings aside. Right now, what matters is helping you heal, even if it means hiding his own growing feelings for you.

As you continue walking, Theo keeps you close, his hand never leaving yours. And though he doesn’t say it out loud, he silently vows to do whatever it takes to make you smile again, even if it means keeping his own heartache hidden in the process.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the time you reach your dorm, exhaustion weighs heavily on you. You’ve spent the entire day with your head down, avoiding any sight of Mattheo and Veronica. The silence between you and Mattheo feels foreign; it’s the first time you’ve gone a whole day without speaking to him, and you’re unsure if he even noticed your absence.

Unfortunately, you share several classes with both Mattheo and, evidently, Veronica. The sound of her laugh has become something you never want to hear again.

You kick off your shoes, fatigue weighing heavily on your limbs as you move towards your bed. As you pass your desk, something catches your eye—a bundle of red flowers sitting on top of your books. You pause, your curiosity piqued, and approach the desk. With a gentle touch, you lift the bundle, revealing vibrant red peonies. Their rich color stands out against the soft light filtering through the window, and their subtle, sweet fragrance fills the air.

Your eyes catch a note nestled among the flowers. You bite your lip to hide a smile as you read his messy handwriting: your name followed by a simple heart.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[auspicioustidings]

Based on this. You are in Finland full of self-loathing and the 141 needs a fat wife if they want to win some beer.

You aren't exactly on holiday in Finland. It should be your honeymoon but since you caught your groom balls deep in your maid of honour you instead have used it as an escape from the country. You just cannot be around the people you love right now, can't have them all look at you with all that pity. Even worse is that some of them probably don't even blame him. Your former best friend is a size 8, perfect hourglass figure. Your former partner is trim and decently fit. They look like they belong together more than you and him ever did.

You hate yourself. You hate looking in the mirror. You hate how clothes fit you. You deserved it you think.

"Not a chance MacTavish, that's my wife!"

"Away and biel yer heid, I saw her first!"

"Actually I saw her first!"

"I outrank all of you muppets so I think you'll find that is my wife!"

It's a racket in the little cafe but you don't pay much mind, still just staring out the window and wondering if you could ever deserve anything. One of the servers comes to take your empty cup and grins at you, telling you in her heavy accent that she would personally go for the one with the mask since he's the biggest. You don't understand when you look around and there are a lot of locals smiling happily over at you while four Greek Gods of men are having a scuffle, moving slowly in your direction. More people chip in, arguing about who you should pick, some lamenting that they would claim you themselves if they thought they could.

One big man does try, basically some Viking God, but he's playfully (you hope it's playful) spear tackled by the man with the mohawk before he laughs and backs off.

When Gaz with warmed cheeks and excitement in his eyes gets to you while Soap is busy with the viking and Ghost and Price are wrestling one another he asks if you'd do him the honour of being his wife. You nearly choke, but he explains that the wife carrying competition is today. You look around, bewildered, ask him why he wouldn't pick any of the other women in here given that they are all gorgeous slim things.

"Fuck all use to us, need a nice soft bird with lots of fat" says the man in the mask.

Price scowls and whacks his lieutenant upside the head because he sees how you look a second away from crying.

"You're gorgeous sweetheart, he didn't mean anything by it. The prize is the wife's weight in beer though, so he's right about a little lady not being much use."

You don't know what to say. You don't know if this is mortifying or not given that everyone around you seems to not be looking at you with sneers or laughing at you, but instead looking with soft smiles that convey fondness. They think this is adorable.

"Dinnae listen tae their nice soft birds and sweethearts! I'll be a better husband bonnie. I'm shorter aye bit look at the power in these legs, naw going tae drop ye. And I'll split that beer 50/50!"

And then they're arguing. The four of them are arguing and trying to put forward a case to you about why they would be the best husband. When it starts to get raunchy, you fluster and stop them. But fluster is something. It's not self loathing. It's been weeks since you felt anything but self loathing. So even though you are sure everyone can feel the heat rolling off of you in waves at how bashful you are under so much attention from such attractive men, you pick one (the others are devastated but vow that you're only a wife for the competition, that after they should get another shot at convincing you that they're the best option).

And they do. Even though the man you picked doesn't win (gets DQ'd actually since you are heavy and he decided that you were getting over that damn finish line so the four of them took turns) they take you out for drinks after. You think you feel humiliated that they couldn't carry you a long distance, but you don't have time to sit with the feeling because they drown it out with how warm and giddy they make you feel.

They insist that they will compete next year, so you have 365 days to pick a husband. When you make a quiet comment about how you'll lose weight by then so they can carry you the whole way, they nearly riot as they assure you that they would be a shit pick for husband if they didn't spent the year getting stronger so they can carry you just how you are. Plus they'll not be losing any beer thank you very much.

By the time the next wife carrying competition rolls around you are a different person. You're wearing clothes that fit instead of trying to hide your body. You laugh and flirt back with the barista instead of assuming they are making fun of you by flirting. And you don't care if your husband makes it over the finish line, just that you have fun and laugh and joke about the attempt. Of course it's not entirely certain who that husband is yet, got to keep them on their toes after all.

[lisired]

who needs cupid’s bow?

pairing: bff!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: bff2l, suggestive, lots of sexual innuedos but no smut, fluff, a teaspoon of angst, mc & hc are oblivious to each other’s feelings and jaemin calls them out on their bullshit, mutual pining

summary: Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.

word count: 11.1k

a/n: inspired by down for you by kehlani, boyfriend by ariana grande, and serial lover by kehlani. another oldie but i kinda like it… kinda. as always, feedback is appreciated!

It’s safe to say that Cupid is your mortal enemy (Or immortal—whatever. Nonetheless, you aren’t the biggest fan of him.)

You don’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he always makes you fall in love with the wrong people. Such as Lee Taeyong from eighth grade, or your failed relationship with Kim Jisoo from your biology class in high school — a pretty girl, but you were as compatible as Mentos and Coca-Cola. Hell, there was even Jung Sungchan from senior year, who you naturally drifted away from during an exam period. They’re all chapters in your book now, but you’re currently stuck on the one about your best friend, Lee Haechan.

It seems like you’re Cupid’s mortal enemy, too. You and Haechan are always side by side, down one another’s throats, there’s no way his arrow could have hit you and missed Haechan.

Perhaps, it’s a hole you dug yourself in. Via mutual friends, when you were seventeen, you met Lee Haechan — jock, senior, and the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. There was an instant connection between you two, all it took was a convo at a party about coincidentally both failing the same math exam, and you quickly became friends and close enough to pour out your heart into little rants whenever there was something personal bothering either of you, and you needed an outlet. You liked him because he understood you. He was patient witth you. You see, you aren’t the best at communicating how you feel, and he never makes you feel bad about it.

You remember breaking up with your then-boyfriend, Jung Sungchan, and while you weren’t heartbroken since you saw it coming and all the love had evaporated by then, you were devastated that you no longer had someone to kiss. That being your main concern made Haechan laugh. He thought it was the most you thing ever.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you asked, a little grin on your face, although you were very serious. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, kissing your best friend. He has pretty lips, and it isn’t like it’ll mean anything, you think. It’s just one kiss.

Haechan scoffed, biting off the last remaining piece of his Tootsie Pop off the stick. You’re kidding, he thinks. Why would you seriously want to kiss him? And after breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend? The wound’s still fresh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

To Haechan’s surprise, you dared.

He tasted like chocolate, exactly like a Tootsie Pop, as expected of him. You didn’t mind, though. You never do. It was fun, you liked the way Haechan held you in his lap and kissed you back with fierceness, and he still kisses you with that same passion, like there’s no tomorrow.

And that’s the problem.

Fast-forward four years later, you’re still best friends with Lee Haechan, only this time you’re in college, and have the fattest, most gigantic crush on him. Somewhere along the way, those lines between love and friendship were blurred. It’s impossible to pinpoint when, but you fell deep and hard for your best friend.

And the worst part? You doubt he’ll ever reciprocate those feelings.

One kiss turned into more than you can count on your fingers and toes.

Should you continue making out with your best friend who doesn’t reciprocate your romantic interest in him? Probably not.

Are you still going to, though? Absolutely.

“Y/n, I’m going to kill you,” Haechan states as he stumps inside the dining room. His hair is tussled since he’s just waken up from a nap, but you like this raw side of him. He looks gorgeous, and despite him basically threatening to murder you you still want to kiss him.

“Romantic,” you deadpan, training your eyes back on your laptop. It takes everything in you not to stare, but if you want to keep your feelings low-key, you need to follow a couple of rules.

“I know you took my Tootsie Pop. Where is it?”

You smirk a little, but it quickly fades into a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, and you both know it. You aren’t the only other person in the house, but Jungwoo, Haechan’s stepbrother, is asleep and wouldn’t cut his nap time short to do something as stupid as stealing the last of his brother’s favorite candy. That leaves you. As his best friend, you’re the first person to know Haechan turns murderous over those stupid lollipops, and that he’s the last person to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. In your personal opinion, they’re not even that good. But he’s loved them ever since you’ve known him.

“We’re best friends, y/n. I know when you’re lying,” he remarks, and doesn’t give you the chance to answer before he persists, “where is it?”

There’s only one way out of this.

Run.

Haechan follows almost automatically, and in spite of being barely awake he obviously has the upper hand because he’s always leaned more towards the sport-y side. This doesn’t deter you though, because you have a getaway plan.

In your attempt to somehow outrun a man that used to do track and field, you make a beeline for the backyard door. He’s not going to outrun you in the grass in slippers, you think as you turn to see if he’s caught up on you. You’re in the lead, albeit barely, with your body almost being in arms reach. You try to pick up your speed, and once you reach the door you hurry to turn the knob. Except, there’s one, itty-bitty problem.

The door is fucking locked.

And you already know you won’t have time to open it, so you cave in to defeat, whirling around with your hands up in a surrendering pose. Your plan’s backfired; you’ve been caught.

“Oh, I’ve got you now,” Haechan says cockily. He has you—hook, line, and sinker, and at this point you aren’t even upset. You can’t be upset. His eyes are on you, and his body is close to yours, dangerously so.

“Okay, you win. Happy?” You mumur.

“Not until I get my Tootsie Pop back,” he shakes his head, “now where is it?”

Smiling, you shrug. Of course, you know where the candy is, but he’s either going to have to win or pry the answer out of you.

Then, he steps even closer, and your heart starts pounding in your chest twenty times faster than your feet were against the hardwood. This isn’t your first rodeo, you’ve made out with your best friend countless times, yet the anticipation gives you a rush, like you’ve never done this before. It makes you feel like a teenager in love all over again — seventeen, young and head over heels in love with the man closest to you.

He’s back you into the door, and you can’t keep your eyes off his lips. Beautiful, plush, soft, and your eyes flutter shut as you prepare to feel the same skilled pair against your own, closer, and closer, and closer—

Crunch.

“I fucking knew it!” Haechan yells, jolting your eyes open. You aren’t even given the opportunity to register the situation before his hands are digging into your back pocket, retrieving his fortunately unharmed Tootsie Pop.

It feels like he’s gone before you can even blink, and realizing he’s slipped back into the hall, you begin to follow him into his room. “Hey!” you yell, and he doesn’t say anything, just looking up at you from his gaming chair with that damn candy hanging from his mouth, “why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Why’d you steal my Tootsie Pop?”

Okay, that was stupid, yes, but there was a particular goal in mind which was reached, even if for a short-lived moment.

You frown, “I wanted your attention.”

Haechan shakes his head, laughing. “C’mere.”

Somehow, those words never fail, making you melt and slip into his lap effortlessly every time. You’re like Jell-O to his voice, to his touch, to his whole. You’re a goner, some would say, and a part of you is alright with never coming back if it means you get to feel all the weird, Cupid-y emotions he makes you feel.

At this point, you don’t think you’ll ever stop kissing Haechan. In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve both been in relationships, hence putting the make out sessions on hiatus. They were never really long though, because you’d break up with them and inevitably find your way back to one another in the end.

His fingers guide your chin up, and once more your eyes flutter shut as his lips unite with yours. Haechan kisses in a manner that contrasts with the soft feeling of his lips. He always starts off gentle, but there’s a hunger that overcomes him as he stands up and pushes you against his desk, rough yet graceful and holding you so firmly, like you’re glass, but he wants to break you. And when he shatters you into all those tiny pieces, you don’t care. You want him to glue you back together and do it all over again. He’s intoxicating, he’s an addictive drug, but he tastes like candy, and you can’t stop coming back to him. He feels like home, the place where you belong. The place where you can be one-hundred percent, authentically you, safe and whole, more than the general perception than you. And fuck, does he kiss like the damn devil himself.

You were silly for ever believing it would only be one kiss.

Jungwoo thinks that for people who are trying to keep their not-so relationship-y relationship under wraps, you two are very loud.

Speaking of which, and despite the nature of your relationship, you and Haechan haven’t even discussed your label. You know that you aren’t friends with benefits—you haven’t crossed that line, but to be honest, those lines have been starting to look blurry for a while—but you also aren’t in a relationship. You see other people, you fuck other people, and when other people ask if you’re dating, you both deny it immediately. You’re just best friends, you both say each time like some rehearsed line, even if it breaks your heart to hear him friendzone you.

Karina and Mark even have an ongoing bet about you two. Karina is one-hundred positive there’s something going on, whereas Mark is probably the only person in the world that wants to give you guys the benefit of the doubt.

“For heaven’s sake, I can’t get any type of sleep around here,” Jungwoo rasps, leaning against the doorframe, “I really hope you guys don’t do this shit when Dohwan’s here.”

His judgmental eyes practically bore into your soul, and you thank heaven that you don’t have to worry about keeping this secret from Jungwoo, even if he would probably appreciate it more if you did. He finds you in a rather interesting position, straddling Haechan’s lap as you press kisses into his collarbone.

It’s all Haechan’s fault, really. Three years ago, Jungwoo made the mistake of walking inside Haechan’s bedroom without knocking, accidentally finding you two making out in a very touchy way on his bed because a certain someone didn’t think to lock the door. Not only did you ruin his quote-unquote innocence, but his perception of you forever, and ever since that ordeal, Jungwoo has never opened his stepbrother’s door without knocking. This time, it just so happened to be wide-open.

You bite your lip, feeling bad. Kim Dohwan is Haechan’s halfbrother of whom he babysits whenever available (and you like to tag on, because dealing with children is stressful and Haechan’s already stressed enough), and on weekdays Jungwoo has to wake up from his nap earlier to pick up the kid from school and bring him back home, then leave for work. You were too loud and disrupted the poor guy’s nap time.

“Oh,” Haechan says the syllable blankly, not too sympathetic, “did we wake you?”

“Of course not, I usually wake up at 2pm and take extra longs showers to start my day,” Jungwoo deadpans, “but whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget to go grocery shopping today.”

“Noted,” you and Haechan say simultaneously, gazing at one another and stifling giggles when you catch each other’s gaze. Jungwoo smiles at you, then flicks off his brother before parting.

When you’re both all alone again, a few seconds pass before Haechan’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle every time something catches his interest (or perhaps that’s the in love side of your brain making you see things.)

“Hey, you coming to Chenle’s Valentines Day party Monday?” You don’t know why he’s even asking, you follow Haechan everywhere he goes like a lost puppy. Maybe he’s discreetly asking you out. “Unless you’re actually busy, by the way, I hope you know you’re going. And maybe you’ll find some single pringle interested in a relationship. You can’t just kiss me forever, you know.” Oh. Well that eliminates that thought.

A part of you is yelling at you to decline, to lie and say that you actually have a dick or pussy appointment scheduled for the 14th, yet another is weak, in spite of you being aware of how this works. First of all, Valentine’s Day parties are mainly for single people who don’t have anything better to do, and each time one of you go to one, you end up meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. You know that’s more than likely what he’s going to do, and you aren’t strong enough to watch him flirt with other people.

You know how to put up a good front, though, so you’ll fake it until you make it.

“We can do a lot more than kiss,” you suggest with a wink.

Haechan grimaces, “No thanks. Now get off my lap.”

You frown, but climb off his lap nonetheless. “Wow,” you drag dramatically, “You’ll make out with me for what feels like hours, but sticking your dick in me is where you draw the line?”

“Precisely.”

You gasp in faux offense. “Oh, come on. Sex doesn’t seem so bad. Like, think of it as my pussy giving your dick a nice warm hug.”

Haechan’s at a lost for words, his face bright red. How do you even come up with this stuff? “Oh my god, are you coming or not?”

You joke, “I thought you said sticking your dick in me was where you draw the line?”

He shoots you a glare so sharp you’re sure that if you were still on his lap, he’d be barely resisting the urge to shove you off. You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up, though.

Haechan groans exasperatedly, leaning back his gaming chair, “Y/n, seriously!”

“Fine!” resisting your best friend is literally impossible, you conclude, because you have officially caved in to his request—or, more or less, demand, rather, “fine, fine! I’ll go!”

“Great,” he grins with satisfaction, beaming with his thirty-two teeth, and you even see little gleams of smiles in his eyes, “anyway, Dohwan’s gonna be here soon, so let’s get ready to go shopping.”

You furrow your brows. You have a solid twenty minutes left, and all you really need to do is slip on your shoes.

“I need more Tootsie Pops,” Haechan adds, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.

And you roll your eyes. “We’ll get you some more Tootsie Pops, but you better not ditch us for the candy aisle!”

“Of course, not,” he smiles, not even trying to sound or appear convincing. “I’d never leave you guys.”

That’s exactly what he does.

You aren’t even remotely surprised, though heavily disappointed when he announces in the middle of the thankfully empty cereal aisle that he’s going to find Tootsie Pops, managing to run off before you can even protest.

Gripping the shopping cart, you avert your gaze from the Cinnamon Toast Cruch boxes to his figure, almost missing him jog onto the following aisle. You shake your head, a small smile tugging your lips. If it were the end of the world, Haechan would stock up on those candies before he would even think to consider water.

“Auntie Y/N,” you aren’t quite adjusted to being addressed as an aunt, but you aren’t against it either. You have the image all put together—rich, thriving, and the kids adore you, “do you love my brother?”

That was perhaps the very last question you expected the six-year-old boy to ask you. Your eyes are a little wide, but it’s a kid, you remind yourself, so you shouldn’t be worried. But shit, then again, if a first-grader can figure it out, you’re fresh out of luck.

“Why do you think that?” You crouch down to be eye-level with him, having a feeling there’s some misunderstanding here. Dohwan’s bright for his age and doesn’t let anyone forget it, but you’ll be damned if he’s sniffed you out.

He makes a face. “I saw you kiss him, just like mommy and daddy do. And my mommy and daddy love each other very—” he stretches the vowel, and you can’t but giggle, “—much! That’s why they made me!” then he gasps, and you fear what it means, praying he doesn’t ask what you think he will. “Will you and my brother have a baby, too? I wan’ a new friend!”

On second thought, you think you’d rather he would’ve asked you what you thought he was. You nearly have a heart attack in the middle of the aisle, yet still, Dohwan gazes up at you with his innocent, sparkly eyes. You assume it’s in the blood; Jungwoo doesn’t have them, and he isn’t blood-related to Haechan, but Dohwan partially is, and the twinkle is promiment.

Calmly, you reply, “Don’t you already have a lot friends?”

He does, you both know it. You vaguely remember pulling up to his sixth birthday bash and being in shock of all the little kids jumping and flipping on the Spider-Man bouncy house. You haven’t been surrounded by that many children since, hell, probably since kindergarten.

“Yeah, but I wanna be a big brother,” he folds his tiny arms and pouts, “It’s not fair Hyuck and Woo get to be big, but I don’t!”

With minimum success, you manage to stifle your laugh, stretching out your arms to bring the little boy in for a hug, “You’ll be big one day. Trust me, you don’t wanna rush it.”

“And strong like Superman?”

“And strong like Superman,” you reassure, all smiley and convincing. “Now let’s go check up on your big brother, he’s taking too long.”

Dohwan rocks from side to side as he walks, murmuring some Nickelodeon TV show theme song, and you push the cart until you’ve reached your designation.

Quickly, you regret acting on your impatience. The scene taking place at the back of the aisle is anything but comforting—Haechan’s talking to some girl, whom of which is literally throwing herself onto him, and you can’t help but notice the way he wallows in the attention. For fucks sake, all the attention you give him and he doesn’t even give a fraction of it back! Then here comes this random girl from your campus.

Sometimes, you think about how you could do everything she’s doing right now—twirl your hair around your finger, be touchy with him, giggling girlishly at everything he says, funny or not—and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye, because you’re best friends and nothing more. Kissing each other breathless is already normalized between the two of you, what’s a little flirting.

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t kissed your best friend that day. You’re both too comfortable, everything is too weightless. I love you, Haechan says it back without a thought. C’mere, he calls and pulls you onto his lap or cuddles you to death. Fuck, he—on very rare occasions when making out goes a little too far—groans into your ear, groping you a little. Scratch that. It may be weightless on his end, but it isn’t on yours, and everything has an everlasting effect on you.

“Auntie?”

When you look down at Dohwan, your gaze is so, so tired. Your eyes do the talking; you can’t move your lips.

He hugs your leg. “I love you.”

His face is pure, innocent, but he reads you so perfectly. The corners of your lips turn up, and you ruffle his hair, “Love ya, too. Let’s go get your brother, alright?”

He bounces eagerly, and you both begin to stroll down the aisle until you’re beside Haechan. You’re in a selfish mood today, so you think of some remark to make in the process.

“Nice Tootsie Pops, Bowlcut,” you mask your tiny emotional breakdown with a joke, “Hi, Faith.”

“Hope,” she corrects, evidently annoyed by your presence, though she doesn’t state it outright. “My name is Hope. And… bowl cut?”

“Interchangeable,” you dismiss her correction carelessly. In all honesty, you already knew her name, but you’re feeling like a bitter bitch currently, “and yeah, in high school Haechan had this hideous bowl cut that he—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Haechan grumbles, “that was four years ago!”

“And I’ll never forget,” you’re smiling blissfully, nostalgic. “Anyways, what’cha two doing?”

“We were catching up, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Hope here,” you hear Hope snicker at this, and something about it is extremely off-putting. He turns to her, “So, I’m in a bit of a time crunch. Could I have your number?”

Ouch. Right in your face, literally.

She giggles some more, typing her number in his phone, and you try to focus on Dohwan so that you don’t cave into your desire to knock her upside the head. There’s already so much on your plate, you don’t need an assault charge.

She smiles, all bubbly and giddy. You know jealousy isn’t a good look, but it’s still pissing you off. “See you around?”

“See you around,” Haechan replies. She hugs him, not forgetting to shoot you a look from across his shoulder as she does, and only once satisfied does she turns on her heel, sashaying away.

“Didn’t know pussy was on the shopping list,” you sneer, relieved once she’s finally gone. Her presence was suffocating.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “at least I’m actually trying, I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m cuffed down and—holy sh—I mean crap! You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here,” Haechan jumps, only noticing Dohwan when he pokes at his leg. “And don’t you dare make a cuff joke, y/n. Not in front of the kid.”

You yell in that defensive tone which is a tell-tale sign you’re lying, “I wasn’t gonna!”

Haechan gives you the look.

The we’re-best-friends, I-know-when-you’re-lying look.

And that look is utterly withering, so you decide you’re accepting defeat. “Okay fine, maybe I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t actually gonna say it. Not with him around.”

Haechan snorts, like you said something funny, but in reality he just doesn’t believe you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s finish shopping.”

You don’t argue, but there’s a lingering thought in your mind as you push the cart, rattling around in your brain still.

When he’s cuffed. Hmm. You can’t speak for him completely, but you both know how that one goes. When you get into a relationship, you think the person is great and they serve as a nice temporary distraction—that is, until you’re bored and realize no one will ever compare to Haechan, and especially not in the kissing department. So you break up, and then you go back to making out with Haechan, solidifying your suspicion that no one will ever replace your best friend. It’s the reason you don’t do relationships anymore, you feel bad for using people when you know it isn’t going to change a thing. It never does.

As far as your knowledge extends, things aren’t too different with Haechan. You and him don’t push things, you don’t pry too deep. There’s some unspoken boundary, and you know when to drop things. That’s why you both say the same thing each time you ask one another why you and whoever it was that you were previously seeing broke up—it wasn’t working out.

Like a moth to a flame, Haechan always finds his way back to you too, because apparently you’re the only person that can keep him tied down. You don’t think that’s the case, though. Your problem is you’re in love with your best friend, no matter how hard you try to suppress the feelings. His problem? You can’t be sure, but you’d guess commitment issues.

Whatever it is, and as selfish as it may sound, you want it to stay. He isn’t yours, but you like the comfort of knowing that he isn’t anyone else’s, either.

If Cupid had a human counterpart, it would be Na Jaemin in reincarnated form. He may not have wings nor a bow and arrow, but he does have dedication and a gigantic mouth.

“I can’t believe you called me over here for this,” you stand in an effort to leave, but Jaemin pulls you back down by your wrist, so you sigh, accepting that you’re stuck in the cafe and in the middle of a Jaem-terrogation.

“Not so fast, Sonic. You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t have all day, you know, I have other people’s business to be in,” he admits unabashedly, and you snort at his honesty.

Jaemin is an extremely shameless, extremely straightforward individual. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and the only time he’s afraid of letting someone know what he’s chasing for is when it interferes with his goal of obtaining said desire. He loves all things drama and gossip, and these are the lengths he’ll go to squeeze information out of you. No wonder he’s one of the writers for the campus newspaper.

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan,” you fiddle with your fork. “And even if I did, why would it matter? Haechan doesn’t have feelings for me, either.”

“Forgive me, but you’re a fucking dumbass,” Jaemin concludes, and you gasp in dramatic offense. “Why would I be here if he didn’t like you back, y/n? You know that he hasn’t had anyone over in two weeks? There’s like, three things at the top of Haechan’s list of shit he needs to survive, and that’s you, Tootsie Pops, and sex. Yet he’s gone two entire weeks without it. He likes you, really fucking bad.”

“Golly gee, Haechan hasn’t fucked anyone in two entire weeks. He must be head over heels in love with me,” you deadpan, ignoring how Jaemin rolls his eyes in response. “Be serious, Jaem. He literally got this girl’s number the other day. The man said himself that he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me. There’s nothing going on.”

Okay, so maybe Haechan is a raging sexaholic. Maybe he’s been a little horny recently. And maybe contact-full makeout sessions have been a reoccurrence in the past two weeks, but none of that matters, and he typically has extreme self control. Fresh as yesterday, he was definitely trying to get into Hope’s pants. It’s weightless, everything between you. It means absolutely nothing, and you’re trying to come to terms with the possibility that it never will. You wish your friends would accept the fact, too.

At least they don’t know you and Haechan make out, and have been for the past four years. They’d be insufferable, and you two would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“Y/n, please. Your biggest competition is those damn Tootsie Pops.”

“And if you told him that he had to live without me or the candy, he’d choose them over me any day.”

“Actually, he’d tell me to fuck off—and stop asking him stupid questions. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m speaking from experience,” Jaemin grins, “I pushed the question until he gave me a proper answer. He chose you, by the way.”

You groan into your hands, “Unless you have some other evidence to provide besides this stupid question and him not getting laid in two weeks, you’re wasting my time here, Cupid.”

Jaemin sighs, “I thought I could pressure you into admitting your feelings—”

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan!”

“—that you deny having, but I guess taking the high road doesn’t work. Don’t worry, I still have plan B. I mean, you should be worried, but it’s whatever.”

You blink. “Plan B?”

He ignores you, standing up and preparing to take his leave. You’re still curious about whatever his alternative, backup plan is however, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to tell you.

“Jaemin!” You shriek. “What are you talking about?”

“February 14th, Chenle’s party,” he answers vaguely, swinging his bag over his shoulders. “Be there, or be square. Whatever that means.”

He exits without another word, leaving you dumbfounded and with a sudden dread in your chest. They don’t… know, do they? No, of course not. How could they? You’ve been keeping this secret for nearly four years, and the only people that know are Jungwoo and Dohwan.

Great. Another reason to dread the fourteenth, and despise Cupid—and his human counterpart, your actual mortal enemy.

“I know you like Regina George, but the dress code is Cady Heron.”

Bummer. You didn’t exactly plan on attending as a sexy bunny in fishnets and knee-high boots, but you don’t intend on wearing a Party City outfit, neither. It’s only the 6th though, so you still have a week and some change to outfit plan.

You frown, “Why the change? None of his past parties have had much of a dress code.”

“Because Chenle is also stuck babysitting his baby brother on Valentine’s day while his parents are having a date night,” Haechan answers. “I’m not saying you have to dress like a prude, but don’t dress like a slut, either.”

Ignoring the insinuation behind his words, you don’t miss the fact he said also. “What do you mean also? Don’t tell me…”

“Exactly what you think. Dad is whisking my stepmom away on a romantic evening date to only God knows where, and Jungwoo is busy with his girlfriend, so me being the sole single-pringle in the family gave him the bright idea to have me baby sit,” he explains, though he doesn’t seem burdened by the task. “I don’t really mind, though. It’d be one thing if I planned on getting some pussy that night, but no one’s smashing at a party where there’s children. I hope not, at least.”

You wince at that. You hope not, too. It’s a setback that you have to re-plan your outfit, but on the plus side, Haechan can and will help you decide this time, even if you have to force him.

So that’s where you find yourself a couple hours later, your bedroom a mess as the aftermath of the meticulous care you’ve put into your self-styling. You’ve narrowed it down to two outfit selections; option A, the white crop-top with the cute pink pants; or option B, the pretty and red mini-dress with stilettos. It’s a little embarrassing that hours of your indecisiveness have led you to this conclusion, but you want to choose the perfect outfit that’s also not overbearing.

“And I have to help you why?”

“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends are for, duh.”

Haechan’s favorite thing about your place is you have all his utmost favorite games—and that literally everything there is like a piece of you, from the decoration to the smell of your perfume bottles you keep in your bathroom. He’d never tell you that, though—so he wasn’t too enthusiastic about being interrupted from his video-gaming session. But then, he realized he gets a special preview of your Valentine’s day outfit, and Haechan loves the way you dress, probably an abnormal amount. Slutty or prude-y.

“Then what’cha waiting for? Strip for me, princess,” he demands jokingly. It isn’t normal for you to feel bashful by anything a guy says, but everything is so different with Haechan. It’s the littlest, simplist things that drive you over the edge, that make you want him in ways you probably, scratch that, definitely shouldn’t.

And all the questions, assumptions, and rumors regarding your nonexistent relationship with Haechan aren’t exactly unwarranted. You two flirt and touch an abnormal amount, and while it’s common knowledge that Haechan is a touchy person, and you’re a natural flirt, people say it’s extreme between you two.

That makes you laugh. When it comes to the tension between you both that people speak of, you wish you could see what they see.

“You want to watch me strip?” You’re genuinely surprised, only the other day he seemed repulsed by the thought of you naked. “That’s new. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, silently confirming what Jaemin told you at the cafe, but you shake the thought away, refusing to let it spur you on. It doesn’t mean anything. “Anyways. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl. Now, you gonna strip or what?”

“I’m stripping, I’m stripping! Relax, Liam Payne!” It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before, because Haechan’s seen naked girls, and he’s seen you half-naked before, so neither of you actually care. You peel off your top, slowly and in a strip tease sort of way and look him in the eye, giggling once you catch him shaking his head. You don’t repeat the movement with your shorts though, simply taking them off and picking up your new shirt to slip it off the hanger.

Successfully discreet, Haechan wallows in the sight of you half-naked for as long as he can before you’re slipping on the crop top and the pink pants. Now that he thinks about it, he bought you those pants, and darn do they make your ass look good. Then he realizes he’s thinking about your ass and taking not as discreet looks at it, and shakes the thought away.

“So?” Your voice cuts through the silence. “What do you think?”

He needs a moment to gather himself and recollect his thoughts, because he feels like turning on Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious and if spoke his mind he would definitely say something he’d regret. Like, I could fuck the shit out of you. He doesn’t think he should say that.

“What do you mean, what do I think? I bought you those pants, I’d be damned if I thought you didn’t look good in them,” Haechan supplies, making you roll your eyes in response.

“Very underwhelming reaction. I wanted you to fall out on the floor and pass out for a few seconds with your hand on your chest,” you pout.

“Definitely not doing all that,” he chuckles. “But you do look good enough for… somebody to do it. Anyways, it’s stripping time again. Get in that dress for me, princess.”

If he doesn’t stop with the pet names you’re going to combust. You hide it though, taking off outfit option A and putting on option B. You feel confident in your appearance, with or without him, but the way Haechan’s practically gawking at you does boost said confidence.

“What about this one?”

Okay, so Haechan’s one-hundred percent biased in his decision—or maybe he isn’t, since he didn’t buy this outfit—though nonetheless, he loves this dress on you. In his personal opinion, you’ll look good in anything you wear, but the way this particular dress hugs your figure perfectly is a bonus. He knows all eyes are going to be on you the moment you step inside Chenle’s house, and maybe he’s going to have to keep you and Dohwan close to his side.

Rather than replying verbally, Haechan walks forward and pulls you into a kiss. His hands dip around your waist, skirting the area until he’s gripping you like he’s afraid of letting go.

And as always, you melt into his lips. Like ice to the sun, or wax to a flame. It’s the umpteenth kiss in your whole lifetime, but Haechan always makes it feel like the first time. Like two love-struck highschoolers, except with a lot more experience. Haechan kisses you like he loves you, and you hate it. You might even loathe it.

His fingers slip down your hips, to your revealed thighs, like he just so happens to know that’s one of your weak spots. Luckily you’ve learned some of his weak spots too, and not really thinking, you don’t hesitate to aim for his most sensitive one - his neck. You can’t get used to how beautiful he sounds as he moans, your lips pressing into his sweet spot and leaving undoubtedly a mark.

“Fuck,” Haechan moans, “you’re my kryptonite, you know that?”

“A kiss is all it takes for you to fold?” You gasp out with a smirk.

“Shut up.”

Your grin widens. “Make me.”

Just as he leans in, about to pin you down to your duvet and kiss the life out of you while you’re thinking that maybe this is the tension people speak of, his phone rings in his back pocket. It feels like snapping out some trance or spell, like a reverse Cupid’s arrow, and he instantly backs off of you.

He takes a look at his phone screen. “I um, I gotta take this.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”

“You look great though,” he comments, and you smile thinly at him as he slips from between your fingertips yet again.

It seems that you’re left all alone, pathetically wet, and wondering if that person on the other line is Hope - but you try to shake that thought off.

Sighing, you flop against your sheets. Love is some extremely cruel, extremely rigged game that only lucky people win, and it seems that Luck has sided with the evil that is Cupid. You’ve been dealt cards, and Haechan refuses to show you his hand. All you can do is watch it play out.

Haechan knew that something was dangerously off when Jaemin bought him a brand-new bag of Tootsie Pops without being asked, and invited you over for a movie night with the guys, offering to open up with you and Haechan’s all-time favorite movie, Mean Girls. He even offered to play The Kissing Booth next! Everyone else instantly protested of course, but the fact he offered in the first place is borderline suspicious.

Sure, Jaemin’s not the devil or anything, depending on who you ask. He’s… kind, and he can be a sweetheart. But Jaemin does nothing for free, and Haechan can’t shake the thought that this is planned bribery. And it isn’t hush-money. Jaemin doesn’t buy silence, he buys words.

By the time Jaemin asks Haechan to help him with the popcorn, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure that something is definitely wrong here. Yet still, he follows him into the kitchen.

“Alright, what’s up man?” Haechan wastes zero time, wanting to get to the bottom of all this. “I know you want something out of me. There’s no other reason you would offer to play The Kissing Booth, or buy me Tootsie Pops for free.”

Jaemin scoffs, but he doesn’t try to front, “Glad you know. Since we’re on the same page, let’s address this thing with you and y/n.”

“That’s what this is about?” Haechan grumbles. “I’ve told you, I don’t have feelings for her!” He whisper-yells.

Jaemin has heard that far too many times for it to be convincing. He’s positive that even Helen Keller herself could tell you two are hopelessly in love. Takes one to know one, he thinks. It seems the three of you must be blind, because you and Haechan are oblivious to your feelings for one another, and it’s painfully obvious.

“And Mary wasn’t a virgin,” Jaemin says ironically, making Haechan roll his eyes. “If you’re not in love with her, then explain what the hell is going on between you two. I know that she’s your best friend or whatever, but you don’t act like it at all. From a fresh perspective, someone would totally think you’re in love.”

Haechan hates that he’s right. It doesn’t make sense the amount of times you’ve gone to public places and had cashiers refer to you as a couple, or elderly people ask you if you’re together. Because you’re not. You’re best friends, and even if Haechan wants to be more than that, that’s his label. And he’s sure he’s stuck with it for life.

“You’re fucking Hope to distract yourself from your feelings for y/n,” Jaemin adds, and it’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Jaemin interjects. “Head over heels, in love with a girl you think doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you’re also being an ass to her, whether you know it or not.”

If Haechan was in a situation where he needed to simplify the reason you two click so well, he’d say chalk it up to compatibility and say it’s because you’re like a mirror of one another. Which also means he knows you, better than anyone else even, and he knows neither of you do the whole catching feelings things anymore. You like to fuck and flirt, and fuck some more, to avoid the fact that you love too hard. If you fuck people whose names you don’t even remember, it doesn’t mean a darn thing that you two make out.

No one really knows about that part yet. But they do know that you like to fuck, and that’s why Haechan thinks that if he’s an ass, then that means so are you. What the fuck is he doing that you aren’t?

Even if he is an ass, what is he supposed to do? He’s only recently realized that damn, he actually does have feelings for you, which is where Hope comes along and yes, he is fucking her to distract himself from you. So what? It’s not like it’s working, he’s still stuck on you, obsessed with the thought of you, craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He still loves you, and it’s so scary because no matter what his friends say, he thinks they don’t know you or your relationship like he does. They think they do, but they don’t.

“I’m not in love,” Haechan lies through his teeth, “maybe I’m in like.”

Jaemin snorts. In like? That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Not in love his fucking ass. “You’re in denial, that’s what you are.”

Haechan grumbles, trying desperately not to raise his voice so that the others don’t hear him from the living room, “Even if I did like her—and I’m telling you, I don’t—it wouldn’t change anything because she doesn’t like me.”

“You two are the same breed of oblivious and stupid,” Jaemin takes the popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it all into a bowl. He’s even laughing, much to Haechan’s confusion, but he’s apparently unbothered by Haechan’s lack of confession, “but fine. Lie to my face. I still have a backup plan.”

“A back-up plan?” Haechan repeats, lost.

“I just thought it would be nice of me to try and get you to confess before I have to work a Valentine’s day miracle, but unfortunately you two are a match made in heaven—both terribly stubborn,” Jaemin says vaguely, not really answering Haechan’s question, “so I guess we’ll all know the truth at Chenle’s party.”

Jaemin exits with the popcorn bowls before Haechan can even part his lips to ask another question, and he stands there, shocked and unsure of how to react. He’s concerned, though. Jaemin has something cooking (besides the popcorn), and he isn’t sure what, but it’s Na fucking gossiping blabbermouth Jaemin. That means it can’t be anything good.

So apparently when you and Haechan had that heated makeout session the other day, you left a trail - or in other words, you marked his neck the fuck up.

You hadn’t noticed because he covered it up with concealer, but you’re in the middle of another one of those when he stops you, preventing you from repeating your mistake.

“You can’t do that. People will see,” Haechan frowns. You wonder what’s the problem with hickeys. Is he embarrassed? No way. Haechan? Embarrassed? About hickeys? He has much bigger fish to fry.

In contrast, you’re over the moon. Even if he isn’t yours, marking him up makes you feel like he belongs to you. Plus, other people will see, and they’ll know that he isn’t theirs, either. Haechan also has a beautiful neck, you realize as you stare at his skin. It makes you wonder if there’s anything about him that isn’t beautiful.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask. “You’d look sexy all marked up by me.”

Haechan groans, “Do you ever think with your head and not your pussy?”

“I wish my pussy was my head. My head’s just so full of you,” you sigh dramatically.

It’s rare for Haechan to blush, but you somehow manage to make him full-on flush sometimes and you take that as an achievement. It’s partially the reason you love flirting with him so much, he’s so reactive. His reactions are cute sometimes.

“Be serious for 5 seconds,” he whines, and you giggle.

“I was serious,” you insist, “but fine, I’ll think with my head since yours is clearly not working. No one’s gonna assume they’re from me, Hyuck. Just tell them they’re from one of your hoes.”

“I know, but it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s, um…” he trails off.

You’re confused, blinking. If not your friends, then who on earth—oh, for fucks sake.

“It’s Hope,” you utter tonelessly.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he wonders why you suddenly sound so dry, and then the whole grocery shopping thing seeps back into his mind. You obviously don’t like Hope, and it’s not just you, really. Lots of people don’t like her. But Haechan needs a pretty face to compete with the image of yours in his head, even if it isn’t winning. “She kinda likes me, and—”

“Do you like her?” You don’t mean to ask so fast. It slips, like your mouth has a mind of its own.

Haechan shrugs. No, he doesn’t like her. He likes you, but he thinks that maybe he can somehow convince himself it’s the other way around. So he replies, “Maybe.”

Fuck. You try not to appear suddenly devoid of life, forcing a cheery smile. “That’s… nice,” you lie through your teeth. “Let me take this opportunity to have one last kiss before I possibly never will again?”

Haechan snickers, to silently say as if. He isn’t wrong for it, either. One kiss is never one kiss with him — never has been, never will be. There’s a reason you both bonded over bombing a math exam.

D-day rolls around, and you’re eyeing your frame in your full-length mirror, smoothing your palms over your dress as you give yourself a quick once-over before the clock strikes 7PM. You look like that bitch, and everyone in that party is going to fucking know it because you’re going to walk in there like that bitch. Fuck Cupid. You don’t need his stupid bow. And fuck Haechan, too. He’s your ride, but he’s gonna ditch you at some point in the party like he always does. It’ll be no different now, and this time, you’ll be the first one to leave.

The chime of the doorbell jolts you from your mental slumber, and you quickly reach for your purse then head towards the door with a heavy heartbeat. You know he’s already seen you in this dress, he chose it for fucks sake, but there’s something else that gets your heart racing—no. You can’t think about him. Fuck Haechan, remember? He’s no good for you.

“Here goes nothing,” you mutter to yourself, palm on the doorknob, “you can do this.”

Haechan’s sucks in a breath the moment you open the door. You look gorgeous. You always do, but in this particular moment, you look better than you ever have before. Those corny romance sayings usually make him laugh with mirth, but he’s genuinely convinced you look better everyday that he sees you. All dressed up like this, or not.

“You look so pretty, Auntie!” Dohwan beats him to a compliment.

You bend down to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Thank you, Dohwan. You look very handsome.” And then you look at Haechan.

He looks handsome as well, unfortunately. Jet black hair, exposed forehead, and his outfit is black with red hearts in the center of the shirt. You try not to pay him too much mind, but your heart and the place between your thighs don’t seem to agree with your mind. He catches you looking at him, and feels a twinge of anxiousness in his heart. Get it together, man, he tells himself. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t get nervous looking at pretty girls. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate about his actions, either, wondering if he should hold your hand, he doesn’t rethink what he should say. It all comes to him naturally.

“Yeah, you look beautiful,” he settles, mentally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything else. He blames you. Ever since you first snuck in his mind, you’ve been living rent-free there, and make it hard to think about anything else sometimes. That’s why he thought that needed distractions.

If you could relay the message to your heart, you’d tell it stop beating. Instead, you mask your emotion, smiling. “Thank you, likewise. Now c’mon, we gotta get there by 7:30!”

Haechan’s saddened by the dismissal, but you don’t catch his face as you walk to his car.

If you ignore him, you can do this.

Haechan cannot do this.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t right the second he noticed you gave him a simple, rushed compliment, not bothering to make some sexual remark that usually makes Haechan’s cheeks feel like fire. You didn’t even kiss him before you got in the car. And Haechan’s sure you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, scurrying off and getting lost in the red and pink sea before he could even ask you if you wanted to check out the drink menu.

He doesn’t know where you are, and that haunts him. Turns out Chenle is paying Yangyang, Ten and Jisung to keep the kids entertained on one end of the house, whilst the adults do adult-y things on the other. You could be with someone else for all he knows, hell, you probably are. He was practically fuming when he saw some people staring at you as you walked in.

“Uh oh, I think y/n divorced Haechan,” Chenle jokes, and a choir of laughs follows suit.

Haechan grumbles, “A guy can’t miss his girl best friend?”

“Of course, you can,” Chenle drawls, “but everyone knows she’s more than just a friend to you. Like even if you aren’t together, there’s no way you guys don’t have feelings for each other.”

“Right? And they’re so cute together, too. A literal match made in heaven by angel Cupid,” Jaemin agrees, speaking as though Haechan isn’t right there.

“You’re dating y/n?” gasps Karina, overhearing Jaemin much to Haechan’s dismay. Oh, great, she’s as much as a blabbermouth as he is. The whole world’s going to think Haechan’s dating you in five minutes or less.

“No!”

“Yes, he is, spread the word,” Jaemin says, already knowing he doesn’t have to tell her. Karina’s mumbling I knew it under her breath before jogging somewhere.

“You know,” Haechan starts, downing a shot because if he’s not at least tipsy he’s going to die at this party, “she’s been making me watch murder documentaries with her and I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two. I’d be careful.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Please. You’re going to be kissing my ass and the ground that I walk on by the time this party’s over.”

There it goes. Haechan wonders what’s so special about tonight that Jaemin’s been hinting at vaguely. It’s been keeping him on his toes, but he doesn’t ask because he knows Jaemin, and he isn’t going to tell him a thing. The one time this guy wants to keep something secret.

An hour flies by, and Haechan still hasn’t seen you. He’s looked for you, and refuses to believe his eyes are somehow missing you, even though you’re in a crowd. He literally went up the stars and gazed over the railing for a better view, and you were no where to be found. You’ve refused to answer your phone, too, and Haechan doesn’t know what to do. He would just start talking to some random chick, but that’s not what Haechan wants. He doesn’t want some random chick. He wants to be with you. Hold you. Touch you. Kiss you, with no shame, no fear, in front of everyone, and he isn’t in denial about it. He wants you.

And Jaemin is fed up.

“Alright, I’m tired of you moping around drinking like a divorced man. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jaemin suggests. Or commands, but still.

Haechan quirks a brow. “Where there’s nothing but more drinks?”

“Trust me, I’m not letting you drink anymore tonight. You have a wife and a kid to drive home,” Jaemin jokes. Usually he’d deny any sort of relationship with you that isn’t best-friendship, but Haechan simply shakes his head, following his friend and roommate into the kitchen.

Then he sees you, and his jaw doesn’t just drop, but it falls flat on the ground, bounces a little, and comes back down. You’re clinging to Chenle’s side with a confused face, equally as surprised to see him, though not very delighted.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?”

You stare at one another.

“Stop copying me!”

“Stop copying me!”

Jaemin and Chenle stare at one another, then stare at you two staring at one another, and stare at one another again.

“I hate to interrupt your… stare-off, but there’s a reason we brought you two here,” Jaemin interjects, making you two finally split gazes as you stare at him, confused.

“Which is?”

“Which is?”

You glare at him. Jaemin’s success was short-lived, it seems.

“Drum roll, please,” he says, and Chenle begins tapping against the counter, “Dohwan!”

Suddenly, Dohwan pops up from around the corner. He’s on the completely wrong side of the house, and while he’s under adult supervision, you still wonder why he’s here.

You blink. “What’s he doing here?”

Jaemin smirks. “I’m glad you asked. Dohwan tells me he’s witnessing some very interesting sights of the two of you. Go ahead and tell us what you saw, kiddo.”

“I saw Haechan and Auntie y/n kissing, like mommy and daddy do!” Dohwan shares, grimacing in disgust. If you weren’t practically fearing for your life right now, you’d probably laugh at his reaction.

“And how often do you see this?” Chenle adds.

“Um…” the kid ponders, “every time Auntie y/n comes over. I heard them say they wanted to keep it a secret from me, but they’re not very good at it.”

Haechan shoots you a panicked look, and you’re wearing the exact same one. By the time you realize that this is what Jaemin’s been hinting at this whole time, it’s much too late. Your secret has been exposed to the worst people ever, and now they’re definitely going to think you’re dating. 

“Thank you for your input, Dohwan,” Jaemin smiles, then turns to look at you and Haechan. You’re both frozen and stiff, unsure of how to respond. “So, anything to say about this?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Haechan’s quick to say. You hope no one catches the way your face falters with hurt for a split second. “If you want me to be honest, then fine, I will. Yeah, we kiss. We’ve been kissing since high school, but it didn’t mean anything then and it doesn’t mean anything now. We just, I don’t know, do it for fun.”

Chenle deadpans, “So you just kiss for pure, innocent fun.”

“Exactly,” Haechan nods. “It means nothing.”

It means something to me, you think to yourself, and when you notice the silence in the room, you gaze up to see everyone’s eyes on you, Haechan’s a little wide. Oh, fuck.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Jaemin grins. He was right. “Is there something you want to share with the class?”

Stupidly, you decide to look at Haechan, and he’s re-lost his composure, frozen up and stiff all over again. Your heart is pounding harder than it has been all night. It’s partially the alcohol, but you can feel it in your veins and all around you. It won’t leave you alone, and looking at Haechan, it’s faster, as if to say he’s the one I want.

So you choose to make another decision that you might possibly regret, but you have to get this off your chest. It isn’t news to anyone but Haechan anyways.

“Donghyuck,” you start, and he knows it’s getting serious because you just said his government name. You literally never call him by his government name. “I know we agreed to keep things platonic, and for it to mean nothing, but I want you. Like really, really bad. I think I—no, everyone’s right, I really am, extremely in love with you. If you don’t feel the same I understand, I just had to get this off my che—”

You aren’t given the chance to finish before Haechan swoops you in his arms, reaching for your waist as he pulls you into a kiss. There’s a chorus of cheers from Chenle and Jaemin, followed by a shriek of disgust from Dohwan as he covers his eyes, but you two aren’t trying to hide anymore, you want to scream from the rooftops that you’re in love. Yes, the infamous Lee Donghyuck and y/n know more than flirting and fucking. You’re in love, drunk off of a sip of it and the taste of Haechan’s lips, and god, has kissing your best friend never felt better.

“Let’s give the newlywed couple some privacy now,” Jaemin says with a grin. Gosh, he really is the spawn of Cupid, but you have to thank him. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his stupid ‘gotcha!’ plan. “You two work this out.”

The three of them pile out, and you and Haechan part from one another to breathe. You stay in comfortable silence for a moment, his hands slipping into yours.

“Your hands are sweating,” you comment after a while.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s the middle of February.”

“So? Global warming is real, you know,” Haechan shrugs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his hand is sweating because he’s nervous. He’s accepted that you make him feel all warm inside and his heart feel like mush, but he still isn’t used to not hiding the way you make him feel.

You laugh but don’t press things. “Newlywed couple, huh. Can’t be, you still haven’t popped the question.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, too. “Then will you take my hand in marriage and take me as your illegally wedded husband?”

You hum, pretending to contemplate, “Hmm, I don’t know. You sure you don’t wanna marry a giant cardboard Tootsie Pop cutout? Or what about that girl? What happened to her, by the way, I thought you said you liked her.”

Haechan groans, not really wanting to think about her right now, “No more Hope. Ironically, she’s a lost cause. I had to cut shit with her because she can’t comprehend what a fling is. She wanted a relationship, and you know, I lied to you when I said that I might want her. I didn’t know you liked me back until, like, now, so I was just saying shit in hopes of convincing myself I could stop liking you. That planned failed, though.”

His words lift a massive weight off of your shoulders, and you finally feel like you can breathe now. Take that, bitch, you think with a smirk. She was giggling in your face so hard at the grocery store, but you’re having the last laugh.

You tilt your head. “What about the Tootsie Pops?”

“Yeah, sorry but I can’t give them up as easily. Would you mind a Tootsie Pop bouquet?”

Gosh, this is the man you love. You roll your eyes, but smile as you reply, “You know, you’re like a Tootsie Pop.”

If Haechan were a dog, his ears would perk up right now. “How come?”

“I’ll never know how long I’ll be able to kiss you without wanting to fuck you,” you lean in his ear to purr, voice tickling his neck. You eye it and his lips, and lord knows you can’t wait to finally be able to mark him up again.

“Yeah? Wanna go home, put Dohwan to sleep, and let me take this dress off you?” He grips at your waist, his hand resting there with the burning urge to dip lower. He bites his lip.

“Thought you drew the line at sticking your dick in me,” you joke.

“That was when I was in denial about wanting you,” Haechan whispers, “but now I can admit to myself that even though you amazing in this dress, I wanna take it off of you. Your body’s perfect.”

“I kinda hate the scar on my thigh.”

“Don’t. It provides depth to your character. It makes someone wonder how you got it, the story of how it happened,” he answers, ever so deeply.

“Poetic,” you snort, “can’t tell if you’re giving me Bruno Mars or John Legend vibes more right now.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You said you’d never know how long you’d be able to kiss me without dying to fuck me, right?”

“I never said dying.”

He ignores you, “Then let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

Your lips wind up pressed firmly to his, with your hands on his cheek and his palms on your hips yet again. It’s fiercer than ever, Haechan’s kissing you like he doesn’t want to let you breathe, like he wants to stay in this moment with you forever. He kisses you with love and lust, with passion and desire, with emotion and no more fear in his chocolate-y eyes. You don’t regret kissing Haechan that day. It took a while, but it brought you to this moment where you can finally call him yours. And that one more kiss stuff is bullshit. His lips are yours and vice versa, and as you’re by each other’s side, you’ll never stop kissing him. And he’ll never stop kissing you.

“They’re here!” Karina suddenly bursts into the kitchen, pointing at you and Haechan. “Look! I told you they were dating!”

Oh, god. You totally forgot about Karina’s stupid bet with Mark. Mark looks entirely devastated and surprised, devastated because that’s twenty-five bucks gone from his wallet, and surprised because he genuinely believed you and Haechan have been best friends this whole time. Technically, he isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt to tell them that.

Mark whines, “Oh, c’mon! I really thought you guys were just friends.”

“Pay up, loser,” Karina smirks, and with a pout, Mark pulls cash from his pockets.

Haechan looks at you, and while you don’t say anything, you can tell you’re both thinking the exact same thing. The whole campus is about to know you two are dating. Karina’s for sure going to tell everyone she knows, hell, probably even people she doesn’t know, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of Jaemin raining your business on everyone in his latest report for the school newspaper.

You can’t say that you care, though. This is what you wanted, to unashamedly love Haechan, to be able to state it proudly in front of everyone, to let everyone know, to claim him as yours and yours only. So fuck Cupid. Fuck his bow, fuck his arrow, because this relationship is all a product of you and Haechan’s hard work and dedication.

Who needs Cupid’s bow when you have tasty lips and Tootsie-Pops?

“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for the past four years? Oh, you’re a soldier. I would have given up in the first month.”

You snort. Part of becoming Haechan’s girlfriend is the process of telling one another the secrets you’ve been keeping, such as how long you can been in love. Haechan’s been in love with you for a solid year, he thinks, maybe two, but it’s been almost four years for you, on the other hand.

“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “Trust me, I tried getting over you by getting under other people—how Jessie Reyez of me—but that didn’t work out, obviously.”

“You are too much like me,” Haechan shakes his head. “What made you think we should anyways?”

“You mean, four years ago, or now?”

Haechan shrugs. “Either. Give me three reasons.”

“Oh, brace yourself. I could do a presentation on this. One, we know each other’s McDonald’s orders. Two, like you said, we’re very alike. When have we ever argued over pizza toppings?” You reason. “Three, I can’t imagine kissing anybody else. I mean, we’ve basically been practicing on each other for the past four years. I’m the reason you can kiss so good, it would insane for you make out with other people. Four, I have a fat ass and sometimes I catch you staring at—”

“I said three reasons!” Haechan cries, face blooming red as a rose.

“I could go for a fifth,” you grin, “we’re both terrible at math.”

“Damn right we are,” he mutters. “But that’s what makes us… us, isn’t it? The only reason we’re dating right now is because we couldn’t resist kissing each other after one time.”

He’s right. It practically only took one kiss to fall in love with Haechan. He’s giving you major Dua Lipa vibes right now.

“I know you’re thinking about that Dua Lipa song right now.”

You smirk. “You know me very well.”

He tilts his head. “And what else are you thinking about?”

“That you look like all I need,” you say in tune, making Haechan laugh. “And I just want to feel your skin on mine.”

“Then we should do something about that, right?” Haechan smirks back.

You’re kissing the smirk right off his lips seconds later, and this is where you decide that you just can’t get enough of him. Even if one kiss is all it takes, you’re greedy for more, and more, and more, until both your lips are swollen and you’re both gasping for air.

[paracosmic-murdock]

these colors fade for you only ; benedict bridgerton x reader (part i)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: one thing worse than seeing your enemy often was living under the same roof, certainly, and you and benedict suffered from that unfortunate condition. not even the eleven years you've slept separated by a thin wall only helped you overcome that hatred, you would always hate each other. or not really, because it's too definite to say something as such when a few hours could change the meaning of until the end of time.

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, sexual tension, very inappropriate behavior for the 1810s, colin bridgerton being a little shit, two people who hate each other locked in a room, what could possibly go wrong?, nude paintings, implied smut, song: sunlight (hozier)

word count: 3.2K

❁ part ii

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

One thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how you could ruin even the best of days for him.

One thing about you is how much you loved to make him mad and see the frustration on his face.

Another thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how pathetically obsessed he was with insulting you in any chance he gets.

Another thing about you is how you were willing to do absolutely anything to bother him or tease him.

You acted like children: always arguing, always making fun of each other, always making everyone at Bridgerton House completely insane with your bickering the entire day.

One thing was having to see your enemy often. One way worse was living under the same roof.

Eleven years ago, your parents had an accident, and you have lived with the Bridgertons ever since, as your mother was Violet Bridgerton's best friend since childhood.

Devastated for years, you accompanied the Bridgertons in their grief for Edmund, which was what ultimately gave you strength to go on with your life. All of you.

But that was the very same thing that ignited your rivalry with the second Bridgerton: your enthusiasm would collide with his mourning and harsh words coming out of his mouth you had no will to tolerate.

It began with his insults to you, though you knew he didn't mean to be rude, and it was all his grief doing the talk. When you couldn't tolerate it anymore, you started insulting him back.

Then, Benedict would play pranks that went too far, and you would burn his sketches in the chimney.

Benedict started sabotaging any chance you could get to find a suitor and you would spread silly rumors about his performance in the bedroom with his friends from the Academy.

Thanks to his efforts, not even being named Diamond of the Season was enough for you to find a husband, which was already making you feel like a failure, not to mention a burden to the Bridgertons. Benedict's fault also.

“Anthony, has he come back?”

He gave you a pitiful look. “I am sorry, Y/N, but I spoke to Lord Raeken to ask him his intentions, and he said he was not interested in marrying you.”

“What?” You gasped. “But everything was going so well! He- he invited us for dinner last week! His mother and Aunt Violet befriended each other even!”

“You will not like what I am going to say.” Anthony anticipated, and you already knew whose fault it was.

“It was Benedict?! Again?!”

Anthony nodded. “I talked to him… It was a threat. He said he would fix it, and I promise you that Lord Raeken will propose to you. If not, he is not worthy of you, and that is all.”

“Nobody is worthy of me, then? He… ruined it with the Duke of Sussex, with Lord Leclerc, with the Count-, I… Why does he keep doing this, Anthony?” You whimpered. You didn't even notice when you started crying, but before anything happened, he hugged you tightly. “Has he not tormented me enough already?”

The eldest Bridgerton knew all too well of your inner motives to hate each other, but decided not to meddle in your war anymore unless it was a case as delicate as this.

“Promise me you will not ruin his latest painting, Y/N,” he begged. “I am trying to work on a peace accord between the two of you, so as long as you stop doing things to him, he will stop messing with you.”

You sighed. “If I do not marry this season, I will have no other choice but to find a job as a governess.”

“Why do you even say that?” He frowned.

“Because it has been eleven years of you sponsoring me, and I believe that it is too much time.”

“You think you are a burden for us?” Anthony asked, and your silence answered. “The day you leave us will be one of the saddest for us Bridgertons, Y/N. You are like our sister, and we love you and care about you as such. Perhaps it has not worked before, but do you really believe that a man that loves you will let none other than Benedict intimidate him?”

“Gregory is more threatening than him,” you noted. “And those dimples could melt the coldest of hearts!”

Anthony smiled. “Do not think too much of it. We shall find you a husband before the season ends.”

“Alright.”

“Now go, I believe Colin is expecting you, and I have many things to do.”

“Sure thing.” you replied.

Once you were out of his office, you gathered the baby blue skirt and ran to Benedict's studio. There, you saw the painting Anthony begged you not to ruin.

It was a woman's naked figure, quite a graceful one. And it was beautifully portrayed.

It would be a shame for it to be ruined. Thank God you did not promise Anthony a thing.

It was still wet, so it was not difficult to use other colors and mix them with the paint so it would look different. You also spilled droplets of red and signed your name on the painting where he had his.

Then, you cleaned your hands and ran to the door.

“Colin!” you exclaimed, and he turned around. “We are going to find Benedict right now.”

He frowned, annoyed. “What happened now?”

“Lord Raeken won't marry me for something Benedict did. Now I must speak to him.”

“It is getting late. We will not get to the tailor in time if we go to Benedict first.”

“Please?” You begged Colin. “I can get on my knees if you wish, but please…”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Alright, let's- oh, there he is!”

You looked in the same direction as him and noticed Benedict getting home. He seemed mad, and your face lost all its life when you thought of what could happen when he saw his painting ruined by you.

“Let's get out of here, Colin…” you muttered once Benedict passed you without even saying hello.

“Why? Benedict is here if you wish to talk to him.”

“It might not be a great time right now…”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I swear to God!”

“Because…” You gave Colin a sheepish look at Benedict's scream.

“What did you do?”

“He started it!”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Did you-”

“Come inside right now!” Benedict yelled once he reached the door. “I am dead serious.”

You sighed, walking next to Colin. “He is going to kill me, Colin.”

“You do not know that.”

“I did something bad.”

“So did he.”

You pursed your lips. “Tell Daphne that only Francesca is a good fit to replace me as Auggie's godmother once I die.”

“Do not say that.”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!” You mimicked him, anger coming to surface again as you reached his studio.

“This was an assignment for tomorrow morning!”

“Well, Lord Raeken was my whole future, Benedict!” you yelled back.

“Look at it! It is ruined!”

Colin was annoyed enough of your fights, and seeing the keys was enough for him to know there was only one solution.

So he did it and thought that you would either kill each other or make amends.

The third Bridgerton exited the room quietly and thanked your bickering for being distracting enough so you did not notice when he closed the door and locked it from outside.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked when he saw Colin lock the door.

“Forcing those two to reconcile.”

The eldest brother chuckled. “Best of luck with that.”

“I know they will get over it,” he said, sitting on the floor next to the door. “I shall stay here even if it takes me the whole night.”

Anthony joined him. “This should be fun.”

“I do not care if it is ruined, Benedict… you can ruin my future but you draw a line at ruined paintings?!”

“Do you not know how important my career is for me?! You can find another suitor anytime!”

You groaned. “This is my third season, and I have not found a husband! I was the Diamond of my first Season, Benedict! And you have been ruining all of them for me!”

“I have not ruined anything. They simply are not a good fit for the family!”

“I am done listening to you.” You walked away from him and tried, in vain, to open the door.

After looking around, you noticed Colin was supposed to be in the room with you but he wasn't.

“Colin Bridgerton, open this door right now!” You banged the door, making him flinch. “Someone, open the door! We are locked in here!”

Benedict believed you simply weren't strong enough to open it, so he joined you trying to open it but couldn't while his brothers hid their laughter. He looked for the keys but couldn't find them either.

“Colin must have taken the keys,” he noted.

You sighed tiredly. “Somebody open the door! Please, we are trapped!”

“Open the door! Colin!”

“They will not let us out.” you told him.

“Perhaps we should just say we made amends and they will open the door.”

“Do you think he is an idiot? Only a fool would believe you and I could reach an agreement overnight, let alone the ten minutes we have been here.”

He groaned, giving up on escaping the room and returning to the conflict. “How are you so blind, Y/N? How can you fail to see that they are not right for the family?”

“I beg your pardon?! You do not even know them!”

“Is that so?” he questioned, getting closer to you. “Lord Leclerc, a widower who had lovers left and right while his late wife was terribly ill, the Duke of Sussex is a dull rat, and the Count had three illegitimate children by the time he set foot on Mayfair. They are not good people for us.”

“If that is what worries you so, I can leave forever after I marry!”

“Do you truly think this family will survive a week without seeing you? Mother is devastated at Daphne's absence… yours would kill her.”

You rolled your eyes. “We are not even a real family, are we? I am not related to you, I am a mere burden, so why do you not take any of them as your chance to get rid of me?”

“I did not mean that. Stop bringing it to the table each time it suits your purpose to manipulate me.”

“I could seriously kill you with my bare hands right now, Benedict…” you spoke, outraged. “What is it that I did for you to hate me so much?!”

“It is not worth talking about that now.”

“Why are you like this with me, Benedict? At this point, I would marry just about any man who could take me away from you.”

His heart skipped a beat. “We can't just let you marry anyone, alright?”

“Why do you even care?!”

“Because I cannot let you go with someone I do not trust…”

“What will it even take for you to trust any of them?”

“I could never trust them, Y/N, because I can't trust in someone who does not love you devotedly and absolutely.”

Your lips formed a line of disdain at his words. “How would you even know they don't if you do not give them the chance to truly get to me?”

“Because no one does.”

“Wow,” you laughed bitterly. “Thanks for reminding me how unlovable I am.”

“You do not understand, Y/N.”

“Explain it to me, then!” You asked, you begged him.

“No one does it like I do, my goodness!” he screamed, and you were sure it echoed through the whole floor.

You choked on your own spit at his confession, and at the other side of the door, Colin and Anthony looked at each other completely flabbergasted.

“We should leave.” Anthony whispered. “Unlock the door.”

Colin nodded. “I agree, we should let them out.”

Anthony nodded and left, but Colin was determined.

He certainly did not unlock the door.

“What?” you asked in almost a whisper.

Benedict seemed surprised at his own words, as if he had spoken from ignorance because… it couldn't be real, could it? He couldn't be in love with you.

“I…”

“Benedict…”

“You are my family,” he ‘corrected’ himself. “Conflict in families is not uncommon. It is fine. I care about you, and I… we do not want you to be the wife of a man that does not deserve you, Y/N. You are sunlight, and they are nothing but a gray sky.”

You breathed out shakily, looking at his blue eyes deeply, feeling like you had never seen such blue in your entire life. “I am sorry about your painting.”

“It is alright, I will try to fix it; maybe if Colin lets us out, I can go back to the Academy before it is too late. Find a model-”

“Is that what you need? A model?”

Benedict cleared his throat, guessing where it was going, though scared of it. “Yes, but it should not be difficult to find one at the Academy.”

“We will not be let out,” you reminded him and gave it all a careful thought.

You were aware it wasn't right. He was a man, and you were a woman who was not married to him. He must not see you naked under any circumstances, but again… he saved you from those men who weren't worth it, and you paid him by ruining his artwork. It was not fair, so you owed him.

You could break the rules a little. After all, you were locked in a room for God only knows how long.

So you nodded and started undressing. “I could model for you if that is what you need.”

“What? Do not, I-”

“What is the difference between that woman and I?”

Benedict's brain told him to stop you. It was definitely not right for a lady like you to be seen naked before marriage. Worse than that, be painted.

“Y/N…”

“Am I not interesting enough to paint, Benedict?” you questioned as your dress reached the floor. “I just wish to make up for what I did.”

You started undoing your corset under his careful eyes.

“If what worries you is my identity, I believe you could use the other model's face,” you added once the corset was discarded and your bosom fully exposed to him. “It is intact in your painting.”

“I am afraid your grace cannot be compared.”

You exhaled nervously when your shaking hands reached the beginning of your underpants. “Then make justice to it.”

Finally, you stood completely naked before him and didn't dare to be modest about it.

“Paint me.”

You walked to the couch and laid in a similar position as the model in his painting.

“I cannot ask that of you.” He tried one last time, gathering all the strength in his body… You were a lady, and he was a gentleman; no matter how rare that would be of him to stop you. It was not right, but what a sight he had before him.

“Then it is good that I offered.” you refuted.

He doubted for longer than he is willing to admit, but ultimately approached you with hesitant steps.

“Allow me,” he whispered as he reached you. You nodded, and he accommodated your head so you would be looking up at the ceiling and your hands to cover what could be seen of your face to his art's convenience delicately. His touch, hot, caused goosebumps on your skin. A gasp left your lips. “You truly are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

Benedict returned to the canvas, telling himself he could do this.

He shouldn't.

But if your face wouldn't be seen, it would do no harm. Only you and him would know it's you.

A few hours had passed and the night had fallen. It was difficult to paint with the growing darkness hiding your features, so he left his piece for a second to find some candles.

Before he returned to the canvas, you spoke. “Am I doing it well?”

“You certainly are,” he praised you. “A natural indeed.”

You had goosebumps once again.

What is wrong with me?, you asked yourself.

How could Benedict, of all people, make you feel like this? How could he control the speed of your heartbeat with mere words? How could he turn your skin into a burning mess that acted as if it was freezing? How could he make your hands sweat each time he got closer? How could he make you forget how much you despised him after he said he loved you?

How did he love you? He said you were family, but he did not dare to call you a sister like his siblings always do. No, this was a different kind of love: the kind of love you read about in the romance novels you have stolen from his library, because that is the way you were feeling near his presence, under his stare, at his touch.

“Come here,” you commanded long before you thought what you would say. He complied, flying to you like a moth to a flame, but you were sunlight: billions of times more powerful, and you could consume him long before he dared to reach you. He felt like a moth with wigs made of wax, melting with each step that brought him close to you. Gladly. “How do you love me, Benedict?”

“What?”

It was unbelievable that a man of words like him could act so clueless, but there he was. Oblivious to your passion, not to mention his.

“I have always been your Mama's daughter and your brothers and sisters' sister. But I have never been yours,” you mentioned. “Why, if you love me so?”

“Y/N…” His hand caressed your face, and you took the other to put it on your left breast where he could feel your heart beating.

“Kiss me if what my beating heart says about your love is true.” It was an order, and that heart of yours was certainly right.

And right then, he knew he was careless of his own insignificance. He would fly as high as the melting wax allowed him to and fall as deep into the ocean as his own weight imposed.

He could drown and disappear, live and die for this moment. For all the frustration that has haunted him all those years of loathing and yearning. For his sunlight, for you.

He kissed you, and you returned the kiss as if your lips had ever touched others before.

They haven't.

They shouldn't.

But they are now.

It was an angry kiss. Wet, carnal, breathless, hot, feral, everything.

His lips did not caress yours or danced with yours, no; they fought and devoured yours, and you gave in.

It was exquisite but depraved in a way you couldn't bring yourself to explain, and you absolutely loved it.

Once the kiss ended, you were the first to talk. “Take it all off.”

He breathed out, nerves he does not recall to have ever felt scared his determination away.

He felt as pathetic as those men he threatened to ruin if they were to set foot in the same room as you ever again, and he took off his clothes with the urgency of a task set by the scary educator of his childhood.

You looked at him, took it all in, and gave him space to lay beside you.

“It's just us, Benedict…” you let out, your breath blending with his. “You can love me now.”

His cue.

[mononijikayu]

safe and sound — nanami kento.

“Who was that, Nanamin?” Yuuji asked hesitantly. “That was my wife.” Nanami explained to him, putting his phone away.  “It’s better if we talk about it on the way there. Come on, let’s get going. I don’t want the store to close on us.” “Huh?” “Huh? Itadori–kun, are you okay?” The shock is now more evident than ever before in Itadori Yuuji’s face. He was hysterical, stunned and dumbfounded. “What? Nanamin, you’re married? You have a wife? Huh?” "Itadori–kun, please calm down." he began, his voice steady but tinged with an uncharacteristic gentleness. "Yes, I am married."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 6.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: im alive (hurray!!!); i've recovered a little bit, so i wrote this. hurray for the winning poll!!! i'm sorry it took this long to post. i hope you enjoy it as much i did writing it!!! i'll be writing pasilyo and seeing you in the upcoming days~ i love you all <3

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

polaroid love | safe and sound

next: just one day

IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING, THE AFTERMATH. Every mission felt different. Every mission left a different taste, a different texture, a different feeling. And this wasn’t something that Nanami Kento was unfamiliar with. If he was being honest, he’d experienced all the sorts of emotions that come with being a Jujutsu sorcerer. But it was new to Itadori Yuuji. And it was devastating to watch.

It was almost as though the blond had returned to those days, that misery when Haibara Yu had died. He could remember being just as lost, being just as disgruntled and grievous. Every bit of it returned in a flash as he stood there, watching Yuuji grapple with the fresh wound of loss.

Itadori-kun hasn’t spoken since yesterday, not since they talked. But Nanami Kento had expected it as much. What does one say after such a tragedy? The boy who had died, the one named Junpei—he was a comfort to Yuuji. He didn’t know Junpei as well as Yuuji did, but he knew that he was just a kid. A kid who was robbed of his life, of a chance.

Nanami’s heart ached with a familiar pain as he watched Itadori Yuuji, who was sitting on the ground with his knees drawn to his chest, staring blankly ahead. It was an all-too-familiar sight, one that he had seen reflected in his own mirror years ago. The silence between them was thick, filled with the unspoken sorrow that hung heavily in the air.

He sighed as he saw the boy still at the edge of the school’s steps. His shoulders slumped and eyes fixed on the ground. The battle with the curse Mahito had taken its toll on everyone, but it seemed to have hit Yuuji the hardest. With Gojo Satoru still away on his overseas mission and Gojo Genmei's whereabouts uncertain, Nanami Kento felt the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his own shoulders. He couldn’t leave the boy alone. Not like this. He could see it in the young boy’s eyes. He needs relief, peace of mind. 

Ieiri Shoko and Kiyotaka Ijichi were good people, but Nanami knew they weren’t what Itadori-kun needed right now. Shoko was burdened with her own responsibilities, cleaning up the mess that curse left behind. Her duties as the school's medic were already overwhelming, and adding Yuuji's emotional turmoil to her plate would be unfair. Ijichi, on the other hand, was exhausted from going back and forth between missions, assisting wherever he was needed. He needed rest, not more stress.

Nanami sighed, racking his brain for a solution. No one else was to know that Itadori Yuuji was alive—that was what Gojo Satoru had insisted on. It was dangerous to reveal Yuuji's survival, especially with the higher-ups likely to come after him. They wouldn't hesitate to use Yuuji as a pawn in their political games, and Nanami couldn't allow that to happen.

The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on Nanami's shoulders. If he failed to ensure Yuuji's well-being, it would be his fault. He couldn’t bear the thought of failing another young sorcerer, not after what had happened to Haibara. The memory of his own anguish, his own failure, was still too vivid, too painful.

As Nanami watched Yuuji sitting despondently, he felt a surge of determination. This boy, who had been thrust into a world of curses and death, needed guidance and protection. It wasn’t a sin, to be a child who needs protection from the cruel world. He needed someone, something. To live, to breathe. To be relieved.  And it was up to Nanami to provide that. He would not let Itadori Yuuji fall into despair or danger. 

He approached Yuuji, who was still staring at the ground, lost in his own grief. "Itadori–kun." he said softly, trying to reach through the boy’s sorrow. "Are you alright?”

Yuuji looked up, his eyes empty and haunted. "O–oh, I’m fine, Nanamin. Please don’t worry about me—”

"I’d rather you be honest with me, Itadori–kun." Nanami replied. "I know you're hurting. And I know it feels like you’re alone. But you’re not. You should not burden yourself with this anymore than you should.”

Yuuji’s gaze dropped again, and Nanami felt a pang of sympathy. The boy had been through so much in such a short time. He needed someone to anchor him, to help him navigate the turbulent waters of his emotions and the dangerous world he now inhabited.

“But Nanamin…”

Haibara used to make that face too, Nanami thinks. That same expression of guilt and self-doubt, as if he hadn’t done enough, as if he should have been better. He could see it now, in Yuuji’s eyes. The weight of regret and the burden of what-ifs.

“I just…” Yuuji’s voice cracked, his words trailing off. The pain and uncertainty were clear, and Nanami’s heart ached with understanding.

"Gojo-san trusts you. And so do I," Nanami said, his eyes softening as he met Yuuji’s troubled gaze. "You’ve shown incredible strength and resilience, Itadori–kun. I told you that yesterday. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. It’s okay to grieve."

Yuuji’s lower lip trembled, and he bit down on it, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “But what if… what if I’m not strong enough? What if I fail again?”

Nanami shook his head slowly. “Strength isn’t about never failing, Itadori–kun. It’s about getting back up, even when you’ve fallen. It’s about continuing to fight, even when it seems impossible. You’re stronger than you think, and you don’t have to do this alone.”

The boy looked down, his hands gripping his knees tightly. “Junpei… he was my friend. And I couldn’t save him.”

Nanami’s grip on Yuuji’s shoulder tightened, offering a silent promise of support. “We can’t always save everyone. But we honor them by continuing to fight for others, by becoming better, stronger. Junpei–kun wouldn’t want you to give up. He’d want you to keep going, to keep trying.”

A tear slipped down Yuuji’s cheek, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I just… I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Nanami assured him. “And you will. Little by little. You can do it, Itadori–kun.”

Itadori Yuuji didn’t respond immediately, but Nanami Kento could see a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes. It was a start. Little by little. He could feel the boy’s breathing become more even. He could see his features relax slightly, the tension he had vanishing. Nanami thinks that he’ll cry again, when Nanami isn’t there. But perhaps, this was enough. Seeing him be reassured once again, that it wasn’t his fault.  Maybe one day, Nanami Kento would see him smile genuinely again.

WHENEVER HE SEES YOUR NAME ON SCREEN, HE SMILES.When he heard the familiar melody of his ringtone, Nanami Kento excused himself from Itadori–kun and walked off to a more private area. The buzzing seclusion of Tokyo Jujutsu High’s main stairwell faded as he found a quiet corner. He felt a pang of guilt for not replying to you much earlier. He can only think how much you were thinking about him, with a worried heart. He knew you understood, especially during times when he was on missions. But he thinks that understanding can only go so far. His job after all was something that was hard to grasp with relief. 

But you knew the demands of his work as a sorcerer, when he told you about it years and years ago. He wouldn’t leave the work, you know that much. So you let it be. As long as he came home to you, that was fine. And so, it has always been fine when you don’t get a text between some days. All these years, you had never pressured him about not replying or calling. The same understanding applied when you were engrossed in your manuscripts during writing season. 

At times, Nanami Kento wishes he could be a better husband for you. A husband that you deserve. A husband that’s always there to coddle you, to take care of you, to love you. He thinks about it sometimes, if he were a househusband. He could commit his life to taking care of you, the way you had always done for him. Maybe one day he’d get that chance. Maybe he’d finally be able to return your love for him in a way that was true to loving you.

“Hello, my love.” he greeted, trying to keep his tone cheerful. “I’m sorry for not replying to you sooner.

“Kento, baby! I’m so glad I caught you.” you replied, your voice warm and bright. He loves it. He adores it when he hears that excited pitch. He was happiest when he could hear your voice. “I haven’t heard from you all day.  I hope everything’s been alright at work, baby.”

Nanami Kento hesitated for a moment. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that he had almost died yesterday, that the mission had been far more dangerous than anticipated. He didn’t want to worry you. He doesn’t like it when he stresses you out. You were in enough pressure for your deadlines, he didn’t want to add to that.

“Yes, everything’s fine, love.” he said, forcing a smile even though you couldn’t see it. “Just a bit busy, you know how it is.”

You sighed on the other end of the line, a sound filled with understanding and concern. “I know. I just worry about you sometimes. I’m a worry wart, you know?”

“I know you do, my love.” Nanami replied softly. “But I’m alright, really. I did well and survived. I’m okay. That’s all that matters.”

You sighed tenderly. ‘I suppose so. I think that’s always enough for me. Knowing that you’re well.”

“Exactly. So, my love. Enough about me. Tell me, how was your day? Did you finish your manuscript for the new book?” He thinks that he could see your smile, even from a phone call. If there’s anything that makes him feel warm inside, it’s your smile.

There was a brief pause, and you laughed. “Yes, I did! It was a lot of work, but I finally finished it well. Before the deadline! Which means, no editor coming into our house to take me away from you! I’m really happy with how it turned out. I spent most of the day taking in the words I wrote and making sure everything was perfect.”

Nanami listened as you shared the details of your day, his heart lifting with every word you spoke. Your voice was animated and full of excitement, a soothing balm to his weary soul. He could picture you in the kitchen, eyes sparkling as you talked about finishing your manuscript and experimenting with new recipes. He asked questions, genuinely interested in every detail, finding comfort in the normalcy of your conversation.

As he listened, he was struck by the stark contrast between the world you described and the chaos he had faced earlier. Your day, filled with the mundane but meaningful tasks of editing and cooking, felt like a distant haven from the danger and uncertainty that had engulfed him. It was in these moments, when he could hear the warmth and love in your voice, that he found his grounding.

Nanami Kento often marveled at how deeply he loved you. It was a love that had grown over time, a steady flame that had become an essential part of his existence. Despite the tumultuous nature of his work, you were his constant, his anchor in a sea of unpredictability. Your unwavering support and understanding were the bedrock of his strength, and he cherished every bit of it.

In a world where so much was uncertain, your love was a rare and precious constant. It was the reason he fought so hard, the reason he pulled through the darkest moments. Your voice was a reminder of why he endured the risks and dangers of his profession. It was the promise of coming home to a place where he was loved and valued, no matter how challenging the world outside might be.

As you continued to talk, Nanami Kento felt a profound sense of gratitude. He knew that he could face any challenge, knowing that you were waiting for him at home. Your support gave him the strength to confront the darkness and emerge stronger. And in that quiet, shared moment over the phone, he felt an overwhelming appreciation for you, his partner, his love, and his greatest source of comfort.

“And then I took a break and made that recipe we found a while back!” you continued, giggling at the end. 

You were always like this, when you were excited about something that had turned out well. Nanami Kento thinks that he can only feel like his heart is going to burst whenever you talk like this, like you were sunshine itself in his cloudy days. 

“I can’t wait for you to come home, baby. You would enjoy it well!”

He chuckled softly. “I’m looking forward to it. It sounds delicious.”

You laughed, the sound light and musical. “I’ll make it for you when you get home. Just promise me you’ll be safe until then, okay?”

“I promise, my love. “Kento said, his voice sincere. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“That’s great!” You cheered on the other line. “I can cook it right away. I’m sure it will be ready by the time you get home.”

Nanami was about to reply when Itadori Yuuji walked in. The boy with fuschia hair started to speak but quickly realized that Nanami was on a call and fell silent. His face started to turn red as he blubbered a weak apology, as he turned around and started to walk off. Nanami shakes his head and puts his hand on his shoulder. Yuuji looks as though he was going to explode from embarrassment, mouthing to Nanami to let him go. But since he was here, he might as well introduce you to the boy.

Nanami Kento was private about his life. He rarely talked about how he was a proud married man. But it wasn’t because he was embarrassed. If anything, he would like to brag about you to the world. How you had the loveliest singing voice. How your cooking was the best he had ever tasted. How your words were always the warmest to hear. But he didn’t think he needed to share you with the world. Your presence was his sanctuary, a secret haven where he could retreat from the chaos of his duties.

In the quiet moments at home, when the world outside seemed a distant memory, he would listen to you hum a tune as you prepared dinner, your melody weaving a tapestry of comfort and familiarity. The aroma of your cooking filled the air, a symphony of flavors that spoke of love and care in every bite. And when you spoke, your voice gentle and soothing, it was as if the weight of his burdens lifted, replaced by a warmth that radiated from your every word.

Nanami didn’t need to share these moments with anyone else. They were his to treasure in this life, this little life he’s built with you. In your eyes, he found a reflection of the man he aspired to be – strong, yet tender; stoic, yet deeply affectionate. And in your embrace, he found the peace he so often sought in a world that demanded so much of him.

To the world, he was Nanami Kento, a formidable sorcerer and a man of few words. But to you, he was simply Kento, your beloved husband who cherished every moment spent in your presence. And that, he believed, was more than enough.

But he supposed, at least today, you would get known to the world.

“Who was that, Kento, baby?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

Nanami smiled slightly. “This is Itadori Yuuji, a student at Jujutsu High. I’m looking after him right now, for Gojo  and his wife.”

He could feel the pitch get higher. That excitement in your voice, it never gets old to him. “Oh, bring him over for dinner, baby. I’m sure there’s enough food for us to share. Maybe even more.”

Yuuji looked even more flustered, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t want to impose on you at all…”

“Nonsense, Yuu–chan! Can I call you that, Yuu–chan? I think it suits you well!” 

“Y–yes, that’s fine.” The boy uttered back, his lips trembling. “I–I don’t mind at all.”

“My! He sounds like a darling, baby.” You gushed happily. “I’d love to have him over for dinner with us, baby. It would be more lively.”

“Hm, I think so too.” He hums as he looks at Itadori. “Itadori–kun, you are welcome at our house.”

“I….I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Yuu–chan. We’ll be glad to have you.” You cooed on the other line. “Oh, baby. I think it’s going to be chilly tonight, so you might as well grab some miso paste before you get back home. It would be nice.”

Nanami nodded. “Alright. Is there anything else that you want me to grab?”

“I think something for the soup! I’ll text you the details.” You say to him. “But, baby, I’ll start cooking in a bit, so I’ll hang up.”

“You should. Remember the last time when you were cooking on call?”

He could feel the heat from your cheeks miles away. That incident will never leave you, you think. “T–that was one time, you know! And it ended on a happier note. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Hm, I suppose so.” He smiles at the phone. “I’ll be home in a bit, with Itadori–kun. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you soon, Kento!” You blew a kiss through the phone, and Nanami felt a little flustered as he ended the call.

Clearing his throat, he turned to Yuuji, who looked both embarrassed and curious. There were few people who knew he was married, let alone how much softer and brighter he became when it came to his wife. And now, Itadori Yuuji seems to be one of them.

Nanami's stern facade cracked ever so slightly as he met the young sorcerer's gaze. Yuuji's eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and wonder, clearly grappling with the unexpected revelation. Nanami could almost see the gears turning in the boy's head, trying to reconcile the image of the strict, no-nonsense mentor with the man who evidently harbored a deep, abiding love for someone special.

Kento sighed, pursing his lips. This was bound to happen, he supposed. The gods would make it happen, one way or another. He had always been careful, keeping his personal life meticulously separate from his professional duties. But perhaps it was inevitable that, sooner or later, the two worlds would collide.

“Who was that, Nanamin?” Yuuji asked hesitantly.

“That was my wife.” Nanami explained to him, putting his phone away.  “It’s better if we talk about it on the way there. Come on, let’s get going. I don’t want the store to close on us.”

“Huh?”

“Huh? Itadori–kun, are you okay?”

The shock is now more evident than ever before in Itadori Yuuji’s face. He was hysterical, stunned and dumbfounded. “What? Nanamin, you’re married? You have a wife? Huh?”

"Itadori–kun, please calm down." he began, his voice steady but tinged with an uncharacteristic gentleness. "Yes, I am married."

Yuuji blinked, processing the confirmation. He finds his composure and starts smiling. "Wow, Nanamin, I didn't know... I mean, you never mentioned it. But I should—Congratulations on your marriage!”

Nanami nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't know what to say as the young fuchsia-haired boy started clapping like it was a newly finished wedding reception. The sound of Yuuji's enthusiastic applause filled the air, an unexpected burst of joy that contrasted sharply with the usual solemnity of their conversations.

This kid has too much energy in him, now that he’s out of that dark headspace, Nanami thought, observing Yuuji's bright, expressive face. The transformation in the boy was remarkable; gone was the haunted look that had shadowed his eyes not so long ago. Instead, Yuuji was brimming with vitality, his spirit seemingly unbreakable despite the hardships he had faced.

But Kento thinks that it’s for the best. It’s hard to be in such a dark place. Levity should be welcomed. In a world where curses and battles often cast long shadows, moments of light-heartedness were precious. Nanami Kento had always believed in the importance of balance, of relief and seeing Itadory Yuuji so full of life reminded him of why he fought—to protect the innocence and joy that still existed in the world. 

"I don't often talk about it.” Nanami says softly. “Not because I am ashamed or unwilling, but because...well, my wife is a part of my life that I prefer to keep private. Our moments together are precious to me."

Yuuji's curiosity seemed to override his embarrassment. "Your wife must be really amazing, Nanamin!" he ventured, his tone sincere and full of admiration. “Your wife seems to make you very happy!”

"My love certainly does." Nanami replied, his expression softening as he thought of you. "My wife is my sanctuary, my peace in a turbulent world. I’m lucky to be blessed.”

Yuuji smiled, clearly moved by the rare glimpse into Nanami's personal life. "That sounds incredible, Nanamin. I think it's great that you have someone like that."

Nanami gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Yuuji's words. But he cleared his throat, feeling a bit of heat rise to his face as the young boy grinned at him. "Thank you, Itadori-kun." he said, his voice steady yet softer than usual. "Now, let’s make our way. It’ll be hard to find a store open late."

Yuuji’s grin widened, but he nodded obediently, falling into step beside Nanami. "Right, Nanamin! Let’s get moving."

As they walked through the dimly lit streets, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the vulnerability of revealing a part of his personal life, he found solace in Yuuji’s reaction. He thinks his reaction was endearing, too. Nanami Kento thinks that he realizes the extent of the boy’s unfiltered happiness. It was like a deep uncharted ocean. But it was nice, how warm it was, his genuine response. 

Nanami Kento thinks that learning more about being an adult is because of Itadori Yuuji than anything else. And he thinks that’s lovely, and perhaps you will think the same. The children are the future, after all. And their joys will always be  a reminder of the simple joys that still existed, even amidst their perilous world. Perhaps that’s why Gojo Satoru gave him the boy. Gojo’s always been astute about that sort of thing, but Nanami thinks that he doesn’t have the capability of saying it out loud.

"Say Nanamin," Yuuji began, his tone conversational, more casual than before. Comfortable. "What's your wife’s favorite thing to cook?"

Nanami glanced at Yuuji, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, my wife has a knack for many dishes, but my wife’s favorite to cook is a traditional Japanese meal. My wife loves making it, and I must admit, it’s my favorite to eat. Perhaps more than Danish or Filipino dishes.”

Yuuji's eyes sparkled with interest. "That sounds amazing! Do you ever help out in the kitchen?"

Nanami releases a small laugh, the sound carrying a warmth that feels foreign yet welcome. Yuuji thinks that he feels like he is going to smile wider. Happiness looks good in Nanamin’s face. "I do, when I can. I take days off sometimes. But my wife likes doing most of the cooking. My wife says that I’m more of a hindrance than help, though. But it’s the effort that counts, or so my wife tells me."

Yuuji laughed, the sound bright and full of life. "I bet you’re better than you think, Nanamin. It sounds like you two have a lot of fun together."

Nanami’s expression softened, the memories of their shared moments filling him with a gentle warmth. "We do. I’m happy to say that." he admitted, his voice quiet but filled with affection. "In those moments, everything else fades away. It’s just us, and that’s more than enough."

THE SMELL OF GRILLED SALMON MADE NANAMI HAPPY. You were always a much better cook than him, he thinks. He always looked forward to coming home and having a nice hearty meal when you made it for him. The thought of your cooking brought a soft smile to his face as he and Yuuji navigated through the ryokan. He gently handed the young boy slippers, which was returned by a gentle smile and a whispered thanks.

The weight of the day seemed to melt away as he stepped further into the warm embrace of your shared home. The familiar, comforting aroma of your cooking wafted through the air, mingling with the soft, ambient sounds of home. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and danger he faced daily, a sanctuary that he cherished more than anything.

Loosening his tie, he took a moment to simply stand in the hallway, eyes closed, breathing in the scents and sounds that spoke of love and normalcy. Each time he returned, he was reminded of just how much these simple, everyday moments meant to him. It wasn’t just the meals or the comfort of the house—it was you. Your presence was the balm to his weary soul, the light that guided him through the darkest of times.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he could hear you humming softly to yourself, a tune that brought a smile to his face. He paused at the doorway. He was going to take in this moment. Itadori Yuuji was just behind him. Both of them take in the sound of your tender humming. Kento was sure that you were also gracefully dancing on the other side, expertly preparing dinner. There was something almost magical in the way you worked, turning ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary. It wasn’t just food; it was an expression of your love and care, a daily reminder of how much you meant to each other.

He walks and then stops for a moment, where a wall separates the dining room and the kitchen. Nanami Kento often marveled at how effortlessly you could turn simple ingredients into something extraordinary. The kitchen was your domain, where you wielded spices and herbs with the same precision he applied to exorcizing curses. He watches as your humming intensifies as you move around the kitchen, your movements lively and excited.

There was a particular comfort in the routine you had established together in these many years of marriage. He enjoyed it, every single time. After a long, arduous day, he would come home to the welcoming warmth of your embrace and the tantalizing aromas wafting from the kitchen. You had a way of making every meal special, infusing each dish with a warmth that spoke of your love and care. He knew he was lucky, every single day — to be in your loving arms, to be cared for and adored by you.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he could hear you humming softly to yourself, a tune that brought a smile to his face. He paused at the doorway, taking in the sight of you moving gracefully, expertly preparing dinner. There was something almost magical in the way you worked, turning ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary. It wasn’t just food; it was an expression of your love and care, a daily reminder of how much you meant to each other.

Clearing his throat, your Kento stepped into the kitchen. "It smells amazing, my love." he said, his voice warm with affection.

You turned around, startled, and your cheeks flushed as you saw him standing there. "Kento, baby! I didn’t hear you come in." you said, quickly setting down the spoon you were holding. Then you noticed Yuuji standing behind him, grinning widely, and your blush deepened. "Oh! Yuu–chan, welcome. I–I’m sorry you had to see me in that state! My humming must have been so loud!"

Yuuji gave you a cheerful wave. "Hello, Mrs. Nanami! I didn’t mean to intrude, but Nanamin invited me over."

You wiped your hands on a towel, trying to regain your composure. "It’s no trouble at all. And please, you don’t have to be formal with me. You’re always welcome here, Yuu–chan!"

Nanami watched as Yuuji smiled wider at your response. He stepped closer to you, his presence calming your flustered nerves.  "Your humming was great." he said softly, his eyes filled with affection. “I’m home, my love.”

You smiled up at him, the embarrassment fading away in the warmth of his gaze. "I’m glad you’re home, Kento." you replied, reaching up to touch his cheek.

Yuuji watched the interaction with a happy grin. "You two are so cute, Nana–san!" he said, unable to hide his delight. 

You laughed, the sound light and happy. Kento didn’t know how to feel with the nickname that Yuuji gave you, but if you were happy about it, then he doesn’t think it’s anything to be having a fuss over.  "Thank you, Yuu–chan. Why don’t you take a seat? You must be so hungry! Oh, you should eat a lot. You seem to be getting thin! Come here and wash up. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Thank you, Nana–san!”

You grinned. “Oh, it’s my pleasure! Now go and wash up. Have a good warm one, okay? Ah, and the towels and some clothes are in a cabinet in front of the bathroom!”

Yuuji grinned and waved at you and Kento before he headed over to the direction you pointed and left. Kento crossed his arms and sighed. You were still smiling. “I’m glad you took that boy home. He seems to be such a lovely young man, Kento.”

“Hm. Itadori–kun’s a good kid.”

“Like Megumi–kun, hm?”

“Well, Fushiguro–kun’s a different sort of kid.”

As you turned back to the stove with an agreeable hum, your husband stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You smile as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "Do you need any help?" he asked, his voice a low murmur in your ear.

You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his embrace. "Just keep me company," you said softly. "That’s all I need."

“How was your day?”

“It's really good.” You whisper to your husband, satisfied. “I finished my manuscript. I sent it to my editor. I’m just waiting for feedback.”

“What did you do for the rest of the day?” He asked softly, his eyes shifting to look at you tenderly. “I hope you rested. You must have worked through the manuscript without taking a break again, hm?”

It was quick for him to pick up on your ears turning red. He was right. “....I did sleep, you know. I rested a lot after. I knew you would be worried if I didn’t.”

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t reply to my text.”

“Huh, what do you think I was doing?” You pouted as you looked at him. 

He grins. “I thought you were crying about your 3D man on Twitter again.”

You blush even harder. “Ahhhh, Kento! I wasn’t, I was sleeping!”

“Hm, that’s a win for me then.”

“You tease, you!”

Itadori Yuuji had gotten out of the shower and stopped his tracks when he saw the two of you bantering. It was something interesting to see. So far, he’d only known the blond to be stern and stoic, perhaps serious and strict too. But he could not help but feel warmth when he saw how he is with you, his wife. He could only watch with a mix of admiration and amusement as Nanami Kento stayed close to you as you finished preparing the meal. 

At times, Yuuji could not help wondering if his mother and father had ever done something like this. If he was being honest, he doesn’t remember much about his parents. And grandpa really didn’t talk much about them when he was growing up. But Yuuji still liked to imagine. He liked to imagine a warm, happy home. Where his parents were there, waiting for him. With a warm meal, a loving hug and a laughing face. 

For a moment, he couldn’t help but imagine that this was home. That this was his own little happy home. With a mother and a father that loved each other, with a warm meal on the way for his belly and a tender greeting with that laughing face for him. Itadori Yuuji thinks that maybe just this once, even just tonight, he’d like to keep this moment as it was and carve it in his memory. 

You were the first to notice that he had returned. You turned around as Kento moved away. You were still a bit flustered but smiled at him. “Did you have a good shower, Yuu–chan? Dinner’s almost ready, you can sit down!”

Yuuji smiled widely. “Yes, I did! Thank you for welcoming me again, Nana–san.”

You waved him off. “Oh, don’t even think about it, Yuu–chan. We’re glad to have you here!”

“Itadori–kun, come here.” Nanami calls to him, waving for him to come. “Help me set up the table for the meal.”

“Yes, of course, Nanamin!” He nodded, immediately coming over.

They settled the table as you began putting the dishes on the plates. You grinned as you turned to set the dishes on the table, your heart swelling with affection as you watched your husband indulge Yuuji in a conversation about how to properly plate a table. Yuuji, with his usual wide-eyed curiosity, listened intently as Nanami explained the intricacies of table setting—how the forks and knives should be arranged, the importance of the right glassware, and even the subtle art of folding napkins.

You could see the delight in Yuuji’s eyes as he absorbed every detail, and it warmed your chest to see Kenyto share his knowledge so patiently. It was clear that Kento was savoring this moment quietly, enjoying the chance to mentor and connect with Yuuji in this simple yet meaningful way. His usual reserved demeanor softened into something more tender and nurturing, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness.

The kitchen was alive with the sounds of your evening together—laughter, the clinking of utensils, and the occasional lighthearted banter. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the challenges Nanami faced outside. You moved around the table, placing the final touches on the meal, while the two of them continued their engaging discussion.

"See, Itadori–kun." Nanami said, demonstrating the correct way to position a knife beside the plate. "The blade should always face inward, toward the plate. It’s a small detail, but it makes a big difference."

Yuuji nodded, his expression one of earnest concentration. "Got it! I’ll have to remember that. Thanks for the tips, Nanamin."

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them. The sight of Kento imparting his knowledge with such care and Yuuji absorbing it with enthusiasm filled you with a profound sense of contentment. It was moments like these that reminded you of the beauty of simple connections, the joy of sharing everyday experiences, and the happiness that came from seeing the people you loved come together.

As you finished setting the table, you joined the conversation, your voice blending with theirs in easy harmony. The meal was ready, and the table was set with all the care Kento had described. The three of you chatted effortlessly, the conversation flowing naturally between you. Yuuji asked questions, Nanami answered with a mixture of expertise and humor, and you added your own touches to the discussion.

The kitchen was filled with laughter and the clinking of dishes, creating a symphony of warmth and joy. As you all sat down to enjoy the meal, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment. The love and connection you shared with Nanami, now extended to Yuuji in these small, everyday moments, made you realize just how precious and meaningful these times were.

In the midst of the shared meal, as the conversation continued and the laughter echoed through the room, you felt incredibly grateful. The sight of Nanami treating Yuuji with such kindness, the ease of their interactions, and the warmth of your home created a beautiful tapestry of everyday joy. And as you looked around the table, surrounded by the people you loved, you knew that these were the moments you would cherish forever.

As the meal drew to a close, you noticed that Yuuji’s eyes were beginning to droop. The day's excitement and the hearty dinner had taken their toll. You glanced at your husband, who met your gaze with a knowing smile.

“Yuu–chan.” you said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting late, and you must be tired. Why don’t you head to the guest room and get some rest? You’re welcome to stay the night if you’d like.”

Yuuji blinked, a little surprised but clearly pleased. “Oh, really? I didn’t mean to impose, Nana–san…”

“You’re not imposing at all, Yuu–chan.” you reassured him with a warm smile. “You’re always welcome here. Always. We’d be happy to have you stay.”

Yuuji’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Thank you so much! I’d love to stay. It’s been a while since I had a home-cooked meal like this, and spending time with you both has been really nice.”

Kento nodded, his expression tender. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The guest room is all set for you. Let me show you where it is.”

As your husband led Yuuji toward the guest room, you decided to go on ahead and tidy up the table and cleaned the remaining dishes before your husband came back. Your husband always insists on doing it, but he is already tired.It feels nice for you, you think — to make sure that the home is clean for your lovely husband to relax in. The sounds of their footsteps and quiet conversation in the hallway were a comforting backdrop to your evening chores. They still must be talking upstairs, if they were still walking about. A few minutes later, your husband returned, his demeanor still soft and content.

“You know you didn’t have to wash it up, my love.” He presses a kiss on your cheek as you dry your hands. “I would have wanted to do it.”

You smile at him. “I know, but I wanted to do it. You deserve some rest.”

“So do you.” He sighs, growing softer as he looks at you. “I’ll do it tomorrow, hm? The whole day.”

You playfully roll your eyes, smiling wider. “Fine, if you insist.”

He smiles. “Good.”

“So, how is Yuu–chan?” You asked as you started untying your apron. “He must be exhausted.”

“Hm. He’s about to get ready for bed. He didn’t sleep much yesterday, so he should start to fall asleep soon.”

You sighed. “Poor boy. Well, he can stay as much as he likes. I doubt Sato–chan would be home early to pick him up again. Let him stay with us until then.”

“That’s what I told Gojo.”

“Good.” You smiled at him. “Then I could continue to cook for him. Pamper him, even!”

“You really made Itadori–kun’s night, my love.” Nanami said, his voice filled with appreciation. “He looked genuinely happy.”

You smiled at your husband. “He’s a good kid. I’m glad we could make him feel at home. It’s nice to share our home with someone who means so much to you. And well, someone who is dear to me now too.”

Kento walked closer to you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “Thank you for making him feel welcome. I know it means a lot to him. And to me.”

You rested your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his hug. “It’s what family is all about. And you know, it’s nice to have another person to share our home with.”

As you both stood there, the tranquility of the evening enveloping you, Nanami kissed the top of your head. “Let’s go check on him before we head to bed. It’s always nice to say goodnight.”

You nodded, and together you walked down the hallway to the guest room. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see Yuuji already settling in, his face relaxed and content. The blacket was covering him well enough. It was a cold night, so you were at least glad for that. You smiled at him.

“Hi, Yuu–chan. We just wanted to come up and say goodnight.” you said softly, peeking into the room. “Sleep well, hm? As much as you like, it’s okay. Remember, you have a home here with Kento and I whenever you want.”

Yuuji looked up, his eyes bright with gratitude. “Thank you, Nana–san, really. I’ll definitely take you up on that whenever I can. Nanamin already said the same thing, but really….I’m grateful to both of you.”

You smiled at him warmly. For a moment, Yuuji thinks that it would be a smile that only loving mothers can pull off. “Of course, don’t worry. Good night, Yuu–chan. Get some rest.”

With a final wave and a warm smile, you and Kento quietly closed the door and made your way back to your own room. The house felt even more like a home with Yuuji’s presence. And you were glad for it. As you looked at your husband, you knew that he felt the same way. You leaned against him, satisfied, happily. This was a happy night.

epilogue 

The warmth of the evening lingered, and you felt a happy contentment settle over you as you changed into your pajamas. Nanami Kento was already in bed, propped up against the pillows and reading a book. You slid under the covers next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Kento, baby." you said, your tone light and playful. “I have thoughts I wanna say out loud.”

"Hmm?" He glanced down at you, his expression softening. “What are they about, my love?”

"I’ve been thinking, you know….I don’t think it’s crazy to think this, what I’m thinking." you began, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "Maybe we should adopt Yuu–chan."

Nanami blinked, clearly taken aback. "Adopt Itadori–kun?"

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face. "Yes, he’s such a sweet boy, Kento. And he already seems like part of the family. Plus, he clearly adores you. And you clearly adore him. I’m sure it’s mutual between him and I. So, we might as well make it happen!”

Nanami chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "You do realize he’s already got Gojo as his current guardian, right? I doubt the higher–ups will allow us to take Itadori–kun.”

You pouted. "Yes, but think about it. I’m sure Sato–chan can convince everyone to make us Yuu–chan’s parents.  He’d bring so much energy into the house. Imagine all the laughter and fun. And you’d get to give him more life advice about girls, well even boys. I’m sure we’ll love him no matter what, you know?”

Kento closed his book, setting it aside. "And what would you get out of this arrangement?"

"Oh, just the joy of seeing you two bond even more. Being his mother…." you said with a laugh. "And maybe some help with the cooking. I can think some more, I’m sure.”

Kento shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "You’re incorrigible, my love.”

"But you love me still, hm?" you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"That I do, my love." he agreed, wrapping his arm around you. "But I think we should leave the adopting to those who don’t have to face curses every day."

You sighed dramatically, still pouting. "Fine, fine. But I still think it’s a good idea."

Kento laughed, pulling you closer. "Maybe we can settle for having him over for dinner more often. How does that sound?"

You snuggled into his embrace, your smile widening. "Perfect. And who knows, maybe he’ll start calling you his dad! And me, his mom!”

Kento groaned playfully. "Now that’s a terrifying thought."

You laughed, the sound mingled with his, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, the warmth of your love and the lightheartedness of your conversation wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“But maybe when you retire….”

“......I’ll think about it.”

“I love you so much!” You say, kissing his shoulder. 

You hear him sigh, content. “I love you too.”

facts about nanami and his wife:

kento thinks that he fits being a house-husband. he likes the idea of taking care of his wife, so he thinks that he'd be great at it. he's thought about quitting sorcery to be a house-husband.

yuuji becomes a staple in your house. the guest room he used became his regular bedroom at the house. you buy clothes you think would suit him often and put it in his drawers. when he can't stay for the night, you indulge a long dinner.

these dinners lasting long into the night leads into yuuji not going home to the dorms at all and a long phone call between kento and yaga.

kento's mother and grandmother send your recipes to try almost daily. you guys maintain a group chat without the men in your lives. you enjoy it a lot, when you vent about your editor.

your editor always has a hard time with you keeping up with deadlines and because your editor's stric. sometimes, he brings out a picture of kento looking disappointed at you and you cry harder.

you still continue to ask kento to adopt yuuji because you really love him a lot. it would be easier if he was your son!!!

[ratsonastick]

Blind Love

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (happy Ending)

When you return from a mission, hurt and partially blind, Clarisse finds herself growing close to you. But the day you can finally see again she grows nervous that you won't recognize her voice.

Requests are still open

Warnings: Blood, aggression

The first time everyone saw you again, you were bleeding from the eyes, crying hysterically while blindly walking through the camp woods with your friends on your shoulders.

You were a quiet and sweet girl, always with your two other friends, but even though you only had been at camp for a few weeks, you were sent on a quest. 

You didn't have time to remember people, to memorize their faces, you hoped to do that when you returned but unfortunately, you were attacked moments before entering the campgrounds for your return. 

Chiron ran to you, or at least that's who you thought it was, you couldn't see and all you could do was keep limping with your friend on your back. 

There were three of you, but Milo sacrificed himself to give you guys a chance. So you ran with Lila who hit her head, on your shoulders, until something sliced your eyes. You stumbled, screaming in pain and gripping at your eyes as you felt the blood travel down your face. 

Whatever did it to you, didn't want to kill you fell on the ground for Lila, throwing her over your shoulders once more and continuing to try and go in the direction of the camp.

You walked to the healing infirmary with two people guiding you and eventually sat down on a bed while many voices yelled in the background. 

You felt hopeless. You were hopeless, especially when they called out that Lila was dead. 

They covered your eyes with bandages, and you couldn't help but dampen them with blood and tears. 

Someone squeezed your shoulder and you only straightened your back and stayed still. “They will heal with the medicine we will provide, but you need to keep them covered … if they get infected then it's over.” A boy with a gentle voice told you. 

Holding your hand to help you get off the bed. 

They wanted to set you in your bed and allow you to finally relax but you refused. You wanted to sit in the chair on the porch of your cabin, if you couldn't see nature you wanted to at least feel it. 

And that's what you did, almost every day. You couldn't do anything else, you wouldn't talk to anyone, too devastated about what happened to your friends to try and make more. Without sight, you couldn't train, walk around, or explore. 

So you sat and simply breathed. 

But it wasn't till one day when a camper named Clarisse made the wrong choice at the wrong time. 

She didn’t know you, not many did, you were quiet before and now you were like a ghost. And talking to you did not sound appealing to her. 

So when she was walking past a camper that unfortunately left your cabin she decided to trip them because her siblings next to her dared her to. 

But then she heard a deep voice call her, Chiron. 

“Clarisse, we talked about this.” 

Clarisse let out a sigh and turned around to look at him as her siblings ran off, “About what?” 

“About your abuse towards other campers, just because your father is the god of war doesn't mean you have to always prove to him you can be aggressive.” 

You didn't know this girl, but you thanked her for saving you from Chiron. Chiron had been visiting you daily to try and convince you to do things, but you always whispered a no. 

“You need to be friendlier … help others.” He spoke once more, an idea brewing in his head “Which is why I want you to help Y/n … bring her to the lake” 

You let out a sigh, your eyebrows furrowing together in annoyance, now you couldn't say no to him. 

Clarisse looked at him annoyed, her arms crossing and she rolled her eyes. Chiron waved her to follow him and she did, approaching you as you sat there. 

“y/n, you need to get up. You like sitting in the ocean and it's time to move.” Chiron spoke, he didn't want you to think you had a choice. 

“I can't see, why would I want to go to the lake if I can't even see it.” You mumbled looking in the direction you thought he was in. “You still have a few other senses you can use to enjoy yourself there.” 

You sighed once more and turned your head away from him “Again. I can't see … how you plan on getting me there.” 

Chiron let out a chuckle ‘Well this is where Clarisse will come in clutch.” Clarisse looked at Chiron with anger, she did not want to help you, she had better things to do than this. 

Chiron grabbed your arm and helped you walk to Clarisse and gave her your arm. 

When he went to leave he placed his hand down on her shoulder “You can't hurt the blind … it's unfair.” 

While he walked away he chuckled “Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about being kind, Y/n is a good one.” 

Clarisse looked at you, her tongue poking the side of her cheek in annoyance. When she thought you’d say something to her, you didn’t. 

“Are we going to move?” you finally spoke up, your arm frozen in her grasp. “Oh…” Clarisse mumbled as she led you down the steps and the dirt paths. 

She didn’t mind the silence, she found herself enjoying the company without feeling the need to always be talking. 

Every once in a while, she found herself looking at you, how you still moved your head around as if you were looking for things to see, but instead it was only the sounds. She took notice how every once in a while you'd stumble and your grip would tighten on her arm. She noticed all these things and enjoyed them. 

When you finally arrived at the Lake, Clarisse picked a good spot and sat you down and then sat right next to you. 

She never really liked the water, always finding it aggressive, and not in a delightful way, and she hated how the sand always got caught in her hair. But she took notice of how your shoulders softened at the familiar sounds that you had kept yourself from for weeks, and she found herself smiling. 

“You like the water?” Clarisse asked softly, finding herself caring if you were ready to talk yet or not. “Yes … I grew up by the ocean, it makes me think of better times.” You mumbled, your fingers digging into the sand. 

You hate the sand, but you still find yourself touching it trying to remember those times you played with it when you were younger. 

Clarisse looked away from you and back at the lake, she wanted to hate Chiron for making her do this, but she couldn’t. 

After a few moments, Clarisse looked back at you and memorized your face, she wondered what your eye color was and if they matched your personality. “Do you want to … touch the water?” Clarisse thought for a moment, looking around at things to do. 

You had been sitting there for a while, soaking in the sun, she wasn't sure if you were bored. You nodded your head and stuck your arm out for her to grab, and she quickly took your hand, pulling you off the ground and slowly walking you toward the water. 

The waves were small, making a limited amount of noise, but the scent still wavered in the air. You walked closer to the water, Clarisse held a loose grip on your hand not wanting to hurt you, and then you finally touched the water. 

It was refreshing, almost felt like a new start to you, as if you were finally willing to try and live your life instead of sitting around all the time. 

You inhaled softly as you stood there, and Clarisse did the same, finally looking away from you and out at the water. Watching the campers row small boats and splash each other with the water. For once she didn't feel the anger she constantly felt, a part of her wanted to thank Chiron, but instead, she silently thanked you. 

After an hour you finally voiced that you were done, so Clarisse started to lead you back to your cabin. But instead of the usual route, she took a longer path, wanting you to spend some more time walking instead of going back to your cabin where you would sit back down. 

You knew what she was doing, you had noticed the difference in paths and how long they took. A part of you wanted to ask why but you kept quiet. 

Eventually, you got back to your cabin and she helped you to the door, you carefully opened it and felt around, following the string some of your younger siblings had set up for you to follow. 

Clarisse watched as you went inside, she knew you couldn’t see her standing there, so she took her time leaving. 

Every day she would go back to your cabin, saying it was Chiron who was making her help you but in reality, she just wanted you. 

You started to open up to her, showing the lively personality that you had lost during the attack, and Clarisse loved it. 

Things were perfect for both of you until it was the day to get your bandages off along with the stitches for good. While on your usual walk, you told Clarisse and for a moment you heard silence. 

“Aren't you excited for me?” You asked softly squeezing her arm gently and you heard Clarisse hum softly “Yeah –” 

“Will you be there for me?” you asked once more and you heard a soft hum from Clarisse again. You didn't think anything of it, but deep down Clarisse was upset. What if you saw her for who she is, an ugly person inside and out? 

Later that day you went to the infirmary, sitting down on the bed with your foot gently shaking at how excited you are. Will walked over to you and started to unwarp your face and you heard the door open, figuring it was Clarisse you asked someone “Is Clarisse here?” 

Will looked behind him and saw her, but before he opened his mouth Clarisse shook her head at him, staying near the door she waited. She didn't know why she didn't want to stay with you, she was always curious what your eye color was, but she still had that unfamiliar feeling of embarrassment. 

“No … she uhm isn't,” Will answered you, and he noticed how your shoulders visibly fell in disappointment. A feeling that maybe Clarisse didn’t like you flooded your mind but you quickly tried to brush it off. 

Will finally had the bandages off and started to unstitch your eyes, right before he finished Clarisse had left, not wanting you to see her. 

You quickly opened your eyes, looking around, everything was so bright. You smiled and thanked Will, walking towards a mirror and pausing in fright right in front of it. 

There were scars left behind, you were disappointed, you felt ugly and all you wanted to do was talk to Clarisse, but you had no idea what she looked like. 

“They'll disappear eventually don't worry Y/n” Will comforted you and you only nodded and smiled. When you walked around Camp you asked some campers where Clarisse was but they all either said they didn't know, or it was best if you didn't know. 

After an hour of searching you went back to your cabin defeated, it was nearly noon and campers were leaving to go get dinner, but you weren't feeling hungry. 

As you grabbed onto the railing, a habit of yours two hands covered your eyes which made you let out a yell. 

“Sorry!” the voice responded, and you immediately knew who it was. You turned around and saw her in all her glory, Clarisse. 

She was pretty … really pretty. You furrowed your brows together, forgetting why you were upset for a moment until you remembered. 

“I don't want to talk to you,” you spoke before turning around and walking up the stairs. Clarisse was quick to follow “Wait!” she grabbed your shoulder and turned you towards her, her hand running down to hold on to your arm. 

She stared into your eyes for a few moments, memorizing the colors and the way your pupils changed sizes when you looked at her. 

“Stop looking at them,” she looked puzzled for a second “At what?” 

“My scars,” you answered as you turned to look away, a part of you didn't want her to see you looking like this, “Why? They look badass” she mumbled, bringing her hands to gently touch them, which for a moment startled you until her fingertips started to feel nice against your skin. 

“You weren't there,” you mumbled quietly looking back at her, “I was … just didn't want you to see me.” she spoke softly back, her eyes still memorized by you, “But Will said-” 

“I told him to lie,” she responded quickly, her hand finally dropping, leaving your skin feeling colder than before. “Why?” 

“I just … was feeling insecure, wanted to look my best for you.” She spoke with a smile, and you took the time to lock away the memory of what her first smile looked like. “And why would you want that?” you asked even softer, allowing Clarisse’s hands to travel down your arms towards your hands. 

“Are you blind?” she asked in a bit of an aggressive voice, which startled you for a moment, but you did tell her you wanted to see all of her one day. “I like you.” She admitted shamefully, her hands trying to reach for your hips. 

While she waited for a response, she prayed to any god or goddess to help her, she wanted this to work out. 

“Do you think I would have stayed around to listen to you tell me about cartons if I didn’t like you.” She spoke up once more which made you smile, and Clarisse took notice of how your eyes and nose scrunched together when you smiled at her. 

She liked it. 

You both moved closer, not realizing it at first “I like how you aren't disappointed in how I am … or what my hands have done in the past.” she mumbled before she quickly kissed you. Her hands tighten around your waist. 

Through each kiss she mumbled another thing she liked about you, trying to convince you more that she liked you. 

“You're the person I want to crawl home for.” She admitted as she pulled away from your lips, her hands still in the loopholes of your shorts. 

You smiled and brought your hand up to touch her face, and you took notice of how she flushed a darker red at the touch of you. “I like you too Clarisse,” you smiled as you kept your eyes connected to hers. 

For a moment you forgot about everything until you heard a voice in the background, it was Chiron clearing his throat, “You ladies best get to dinner.” He let out a soft chuckle as he walked away. 

[caplanbuckybarnes]

In The Lonely Shadows (2/2) Dean W.

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

the first part of this was requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

A/N #2: people were rabid about asking me for a part two. So please, enjoy!

WC: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, dean returns. sassy & protective crowley

[READ PART ONE HERE]

Read on Ao3!

--

Dean watched as your chest heaved up and down with every breath you took. The wind was howling outside, with rain pouring down. He was only partially soaked, having run for cover under teh pitiful awning above your hotel door. A suitcase was tucked into one hand and a backpack filled with supplies slung over the shoulder. He'd wanted to say goodbye before he left. But he couldn't. He was a coward, after all. He'd had a few visits from Castiel and Crowley, neither of them saying a word about you.

Though, he asked. He hasn’t spoken a word about Sam, either. The horror of watching Sam fall into the pits of Hell with Adam devastated him. So he ran away. He ran away to the person who would get him away from the hunter’s life, Lisa and Ben. He played pretend for as long as he possibly could.

Until he couldn’t keep up with the facade anymore. All he did was think about you, and the life the pair of you could have had. He’d find himself hovering over your name in his cellphone but never pressing the call button. Oftentimes, he’s stay up late at night, while Lisa laid peacefully next to him sleeping.  He knew he couldn’t lie to her forever about what - or who - truly had his heart.

Oftentimes, when he dreamed, it was about you, your face and your hands wrapped tightly in his as you started behind him on hunts. Thats what he loved about you the most, how much you trusted him to protect you.

So months after he departed, he located you in this dingy motel, where rodents and garbage littered the parking lot, and a few street lamps flickered dangerously in this damned storm. He’d gotten a replacement key to your room, claiming to the sketchy old man at the kiosk that he was your husband and you didn’t leave the key outside for him. So, on the threshold of the hotel room is where he stood, his fight or flight response kicking in the moment he laid eyes on you again.

He hadn’t seen you in months, far too long. But not long enough to forget the way your cheeks puffed out while you were embarrassed or the way your hair always fell into your face when you’d laugh at his stupid jokes. He couldn’t forget the way you would shuffle into his warmth at night, either.

God, did he miss the way you infected all of his clothing with your perfumes. 

He hesitantly stepped into the room, only to stop midway through in almost a panic. What if you moved on? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you shot him? He wondered at that moment if you held any protection on you, or if you’d thrown all of it away.

But he took the chance anyway and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He quietly toed out of his shoes and turned around before fully surveying the room. He couldn’t see any other person’s belongings in the room, so he assumed you were indeed alone.

Nervously, he tiptoed to the bed and studied your face for a long moment. He remembered everything about you-- your eyelashes, the dimple on your cheek. He wanted to reach out to you, nearly stopping himself as he felt his arm move without his command. He brushed his fingers against your cheek before he knew what he was doing and stepped back as your eyes had flung open in terror.

“Y/N,Y/N, it’s me, it’s Dean,” he said, reaching behind him for the pistol he always carried with him, though, he would never attempt to hurt you in any sort of way. “Hey, hey.”

“Dean?” you blinked through the darkness of the room. You must have been sleeping. Because you thought you heard Dean’s voice. And you thought you seen him standing mere inches away from where you slept on the bed.

Before he could get the chance to respond, another voice filled the room, a voice you’d come to recognize and acknowledge throughout these last few months.

“She doesn’t need you, Squirrel. She’s doing great without you.” Crowley’s voice echoed in the small room. 

Pulling yourself into a sitting position on the bed, you wiped at your eyes before switching your gaze between the pair in front of you. Crowley had been watching you over the weeks, which you had grown weirdly accustomed to, so it was no surprise that he had appeared out of the blue. What had startle you, was the other man standing mere inches away from you. If you just lifted your arm a few inches, you would be able to clasp your hands together.

“You left her high and dry after Moose had fallen into the depths of Hell, where, mind you, he’s been shacking it up with Lucifer. You should hear the agonies and woes from him.”

You could see the agitated twitch in Dean’s cheekbones, even in the poor excuse of light shining through the cracked window curtains.

“But now, back to the matter at hand, hmm?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and the two-night lamps turned on, casting the room in sudden brightness that none of you was prepared for.

“How’s Lisa and Ben?” Crowley smirked as Dean looked entirely uncomfortable at the jabs. “Didn’t want to be a family man anymore, huh? Did she decide she didn’t want your baggage?”

“It’s none of your business, Crowley,” Dean quipped. He snuck a look towards you and almost melted at the sight of tears in your eyelids. He wanted to erase the heartbreak he had caused you. He wanted to erase the pain away from you.

He only wanted you to forgive him. He wanted you and only you. He wished he hadn’t run off after Sam had gone to Hell, but he was broken and insecure. He was scared that you would leave him as well, so he did the only thing he could think of doing at the time: He ran away.

He begged for Lisa to forgive him, and she did. She took him in immediately, even after he explained all that went down with Lucifer and Adam and Sam. She took care of him. And for a while, he could forget all the pain. He could mourn the loss of his brother in peace. But there had always been a hole in his heart that Lisa nor ben would veer be able to fill.

He hadn’t known it at the time until he had sat up the night before and wallowed in misery after having nothing but dreams and nightmares about you for months.

“No harsh words, Not Moose?” Crowley taunted as he took a step toward you, causing Dean to nearly topple backwards onto the bed you were still sitting on. “No quips? Nothing? What do you have to say for yourself? Because while you were playing house, I was left to pick up the piece of her broken heart! How noble of you.  Leave her behind to wallow in misery, and now what? You expect her to swoon because you're back? Pathetic."”

You never thought you would see the day when the king of hell would be red in the face at the Winchesters. But here he was, pointing a threatening finger in Dean’s direction while the other man looked like a kicked puppy. 

You wanted Crowley to stop the insults at Dean. But the fact that he was protecting you in this way meant so much to you. You never knew how much Crowley actually cared about you. 

"I bet she’s just thrilled to have you back. Nothing says 'I care' like a good old-fashioned abandonment, right?" Crowley scoffed.

“Crowley, enough,” you sighed as you finally pushed the duvet away from your body and stood up, causing Dean to look at you with hope. With your request, Crowley quieted down, though he didn’t cease the glare or scowl on his features. Ignoring him, you took a breath, taking Dean’s height in stride. “So, what? You show up at my doorstep and nearly scare me to death, for what?”

“I was wrong,” Dean swallowed, blinking slowly as tears piled against his eyelids. “I never should have left you the way i had. You were mourning Sam as well, and I was a coward for leaving you. I never once stopped thinking about you. I never once let you out of my mind. Lisa knew it, Ben knew it.’

“I’m not forgiving you, Dean.” you held your ground, even as you had to wipe the tears away from your cheeks. “How could I forgive you? Do you know what the hell I’ve been through? You weren’t the only one to lose a brother, you know? Sam was my family as well.”

He opened his mouth, only for you to cut him off.

“It’s been fourteen months, Dean—fourteen long, terrible months. I celebrated Sam’s birthday without you. I celebrated your birthday without you. Crowley was the only one to check with me. Do you know he saved me from death on numerous occasions? That could have been you.”

He looked utterly defeated at the mention of the birthday celebrations. He could only imagine you singing to yourself with some cheap cake and a gas station lighter, wishing for the family you once held as you blew out the candles.

“Dean, I don’t know whether to hit you, kiss you, or put a bullet in you.” you scowled, pushing past him to walk over to the bathroom to wash your face. Leaving the door open, you heard Dean shuffle around Crowley to get to you again. 

“I can’t leave you, not again. Never again,” he watched your reflection as you grabbed for a hand towel and wiped the water from your face. 

Glaring at him momentarily, you sighed heavily before turning around and leaning against the counter. “Crowley will kill me for this. But I can’t help but think that I’m still in love with you. We can talk more about this in the morning. I had a long few weeks, and I’m absolutely exhausted.” 

Eagerly, Dean followed you out of the bathroom, barely noticing Crowley’s absence as he tucked you into the bed before he climbed in himself.

--

**totally up for a part three IF people want it. So please, please, please, if you enjoyed this reblog this & leave comments.

[nothingtoseehere00-00]

Just imagine Steve figuring out he's bisexual and realizing that when he dates a girl, at a certain point into dating them, he's gonna have to tell them that he's also into men. Of course since it's the 80s, the chances of them being okay with that is probably slim. They might think he's disgusting or that he's just gay playing straight.

So he tries dating guys instead, thinking that's safer. And he ends up meeting a great guy named John at a gay bar who he really likes. Things are going strong until they started talking about past crushes and first loves. Steve casually mentions celebrity crushes on women and having loved Nancy. And thus Steve gets his first ever experience of the rampant biphobia in queer spaces. John accuses Steve of being confused and trying to hold onto his "straightness". Steve tries to explain himself by saying that, no, he really does like women, but that only makes things worse. John now believes that Steve is just going to eventually leave him for a woman, if he hasn't already been cheating on him. John ends up storming out leaving Steve devastated.

He goes crying to Robin and explains what happened. He's horrified to realize that no matter who he dates, there's always going to be the risk of them not accepting him, guy or girl. But he can't hide that part of himself, it's too big. It's who he is. Robin is there to reassure him that if someone can't accept him being bi than they don't deserve him. It's able to cheer him up a little, but the damage has been done.

Steve is now very reluctant to date anyone. And if he does manage to bring himself to go on one, he gets complaints of being very emotionally distant or having a fear of commitment.

When Steve inevitably falls for Eddie, he's scared out of his mind. It's clear that Eddie is gay based on his hanky, but, again, that doesn't mean he'll accept Steve's bisexuality. One night, while the two get so high in Eddie's trailer that Steve has to stay over, they argue about sleeping arrangements. Eddie keeps insisting that Steve would probably be more comfortable with Eddie sleeping in another room for some cryptic reason and Steve, who gets incredibly clingy while high, keeps shooting back with them sharing a bed being fine. When Steve keeps asking why they can't over and over again, Eddie blurts out that it's because he's gay. Without hesitation, Steve's says he knows and points at the hanky on the dresser by the bed. Staring at Steve for a moment, Eddie then asks how he knows about the hanky code. This time Steve hesitates. For awhile. It honestly scares Eddie for a moment, thinking he's been vecnad. If Steve hadn't been high, he maybe would have been able to think of an excuse, some way to get out of this conversation, but he can't. So he admits that he likes guys.

Eddie very excitedly starts asking a bunch of questions and talking about how they finally found something they have in common, who knew? When he notices the tears in Steve's eyes, he stops, confused, and asks what's wrong. So Steve tells him. He's not like Eddie. He's bisexual. And he braces himself for the backlash. For loosing his best friend and crush.

But then he feels a hand grab his. Eddie tells him that they still have something in common because he's also bi. Steve points out that he said he was gay, though. Eddie asks if he has ever told anyone that he was bi before, specifically gay men. Steve nods. Then he asks if it went well. Steve shakes his head. Eddie tells him that's why he said that. He's explains how tiring it is to have to explain his existence to people who won't get it and/or react badly to it. So he just tells guys that he's also gay. It just makes things easier. And Steve gets it. By God, does he get it. They spend the whole night exchanging stories and experiences, for the first time able to talk freely about their love life.

And by the end of the night, they stumble over each other trying to ask the other out. They laugh and both say yes.

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Other headcanons from Twisted Wonderland can be found here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Deuce Spade, Lilia Vanrouge and Vil Schoenheit.

Deuce Spade

• Ace would have realized what was happening to Deuce faster than him. Spade had always liked you very much but he didn't even realize when his feelings started to go in a completely different direction. He stopped seeing you as just a friend and started to imagine what it would be like if you spent even more time together alone. Which with your friends always looking for trouble was really hard.

• Ace would come up with several potential plans, each of which would backfire. The flowers? Ruined by Grim. The letter? Misplaced somewhere. Everything would turn against Deuce. His friend, tired of it all, would tell him to just get a grip because he had no more options.

• To say Deuce was shaking the whole way to you would be an understatement. But in the end, he decided he had to be himself. Deuce wanted you to love him like that. So he went exactly as he was, at night when the thought occurred to him. In his pajamas, during curfew in Heartslabyul. He figured he'd admit it to the prefect in the morning, like an honor student.

• When you opened the door for him, he said what was in his heart in one breath. He promises to love you just the way you are. Because he knows he's not perfect himself. He'll try to change, for you. Hard work is his specialty. So give him a chance and you definitely won't be disappointed.

Warning! This part contains spoilers for the beginning of the 7th book!

Lilia Vanrouge

• This would be a confession that would survive many trials. From the very beginning, something drew you to him. Maybe because, as it turned out later, Lilia is a completely different student than everyone else at NRC. Because of his flirtatious behaviour, it is easy to perceive it as fun. Something seemingly non-binding. As if everything was fleeting for him because after all, he had lived so many years. That is why you would have to wait for a real, sincere: I love you.

• When he announced he was leaving school, you were devastated. Here he was, announcing the news to everyone and you were standing at his farewell party, looking him straight in the eye with boundless sadness. Lilia truly believed it was for the best. Until Malleus decided to put everyone, including you, into eternal sleep.

• When you woke up in Vanrouge's dream, he wasn't the same fae you knew. You didn't really want to admit it was him but with every passing second, you began to understand him better. All the reasons why he became who he was. The lengths he would go to when he loved someone. It was then that you realized that only now did you fully understand him.

• When Lilia pulled you desperately to him in the dream, you didn't know what to do. He was your beloved but also a general who shouldn't exist anymore. His lips wandered for a moment. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Quite the opposite, it expressed hunger and longing. It said what words couldn't before the dream separated you. Now you have to do everything in your power to be able to feel it once more.

Vil Schoenheit

• Vil doesn't look for people who can't match his determination. He's got his life in order and knows exactly what his goals are. He's only changed the methods to achieve them. So when he realized how much he cared about the potato, he knew you had to grow up to that level of determination.

• He gave you time to read the gestures that expressed romantic interest. At the same time, however, he was very direct. He didn't want to leave anything unsaid. He waited for you to realize it and ask directly. He loves you and is able to do a lot for you. He made it clear that you have to accept that his career won't go anywhere and will be an important part of your lives. However, if, despite this, you return his feelings, he will move mountains for you because he knows he can. When you were already sure that you felt the same way, he asked you out on a real date.

• The date was classic and classy. A bouquet of wine-red roses. In addition, you, dressed in the best, elegant clothes that Vil chose for you two. An expensive restaurant and exquisite dishes that melted in your mouth. Afterwards, a walk. The starry sky above you, which turned into a cluster of torrential clouds halfway there. However, this gave you the opportunity to play a truly cinematic scene.

• You will remember the kiss in the rain for the rest of your life. Just like running in the downpour to the nearest free roof, covered with Vil's jacket, while holding his hand. His sincere laughter is not something you hear often. It will play in your ears like a melody for a long time.

If you'd like to be tagged in the next part of Twisted Wonderland headcanons, let me know!

[ash-says]

Things to be aware of as a Hopeless Romantic:

We all have been there daydreaming about the perfect man, the perfect life, the perfect whatever,etc. Still life is not full of roses and thorns are inevitable.

So here are some aspects to look out for according to me so that you won't fall in the delulu is the only solulu trap.

Remember if you follow me, we don't do regrets here. We accept, take accountability and move on. We don't soak ourselves in problems. We solve them effectively.

1) Drop those rose-colored glasses. Crush them under your feet and now look at the world again. Learn to accept reality. It is what it is. Not what you make it out to be. Learn to become an observer of your life from time to time. It will give you the real picture.

2) Potential is useless if you are not leveraging it. It's a trap both for yourself and others. You see potential in him of changing and being a good guy?? Girl, he *IS* not a good guy. It's not your job to raise a man. It's embarrassing. Stop babysitting grown men.

3) Standards are important but ensure they are not rooted in fantasy. Let's be honest finding a man who is rich, dark, tall, sexy and talks in the way you read in your romance novels is difficult. I am not saying it's impossible but don't be too rigid. All I will say is make sure you are also on the level where if you come across such a man he should be ready to date you.

4) Men view sex differently than us women. I know many of you will get triggered after reading this but the majority of men really view women as sex dolls. Blame the porn industry maybe. Good men exist but not every other man who talks sweetly is good.

5) A person in your life treats you nicely. Always talk sweetly, tells you that you matter to them but their actions don't match it. Chances are you are being breadcrumbed. Plans being cancelled? Messages being unseen? But when confronted all you get is,"Sorry love, I was busy. I was going to do it. You matter a lot,etc etc." Breadcrumbing. Be smart it can happen even in friendships too. I understand people get busier with time and things do happen. Use your discernment to see who really is busy and who is faking to be busy.

6) That uncle was so kind to me. He talked to me sweetly and always tried to help me out. Now, that's really sweet of him. Next he calls you home to help out with the household chores and he is alone at home because his wife is out of town for some work. Would you go and help? Yes. Will you go alone? No. That's unsafe.

No matter how much a gentleman a man appears to be you are not allowed to be in a situation where he could potentially take advantage of you. You always bring along a friend or deny it. I know it's wrong to not help someone but at your own risk. No. Never. It's common knowledge in our society.

7) Dreaming of a Prince Charming to whisk you away from all your troubles??? Dream on. The idea that a soulmate or one person will magically solve all our issues is dumb. We as human beings add to each other's happiness rather than becoming the core of it.

8) One of the biggest mistakes I have seen girls around me make is of being fully invested in a relationship to the point one small fight makes them depressed. That's codependency. It's unhealthy.

9) Never make your relationship your identity. You should always have a separate identity out of it. Stop curating yourself for your partners. Morphing yourself according to their likes and dislikes. That's one way ticket to an identity crisis after breakup. Compromises are essential but changing your core self??? Crazy shit.

10) Your relationship should not be the reason for your downfall. It happens especially with my intense girlies we invest so much of ourselves in the relationship to the point it becomes our focal point and when it faces upheavals we are devastated. The mental distress starts flowing in other areas of your life and suddenly your grades are falling, your career seems unstable, etc. Develop the emotional strength to compartmentalize your emotions and not allow them to overflow in other areas and affect them.

Imagination is fertile but being delusional is being stuck in a swamp.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[nutattack2005]

!!Umbrella Academy S4 SPOILERS!!

Honestly, the Lila x Five plotline devastated me when I was watching it because of Aidan Gallagher's phenomenal acting. I don't think people are fully grasping how long 7 years is, nor the fact that for these 7 years, all they have been doing is hopping from one train to another over and over again. All they had was each other's company. I think that there is great potential for a story such as this to be heartbreaking and beautiful.

But not for these characters.

As a standalone, sure. But this goes against everything that's been established about these characters, especially Five. I cannot for the life of me imagine a 64 year old man with his set of characteristics ever go for his brother's wife. You can argue that this is just like him and Dolores: that he finds love in his only other companion, no matter how dubious the circumstances. But this is the man who fought tooth and nail living in the apocalypse for over 50 years just for the chance to get back to his family. Consistently, that has been Five's motivation for the past few seasons.

Do I think it's fair for people to say "how could he be a homewrecker after just a few years with her?" Given the circumstances, I don't think so. Imagine how hopeless the situation feels fighting to survive in a liminal space for 7 years with only one companion. I'd imagine they didn't think they could make it out. That becomes your new normal. They had it rough.

But "the Five we know would have never done this" is a 100% valid criticism with the writing.

[callmearcturus]

finished ted lasso and obvsly i have thoughts

okay i don't think the ending was bad, but i do not know how the fuck you don't see Ted's ending as an absolute tragedy. like a truly fucking upsetting tragedy.

i feel like they were onto something with the Phillip Larkin quote but then. it's like... they flinched from it. I don't think Ted is allowed to break his cycle. The show goes into frankly devastating detail on how Ted has lived his entire life like a fucking apology for existing, always giving and giving and giving, and in the end he.....

Like, given the implications of what Michelle did to him and how much you do or don't think Ted was oh idk gaslit by a therapist into ending his marriage, the fact is he uprooted his life and basically exiled himself just so his wife could have some space

and he fucking tripped into a community that loves him, people who love him, a team he can appreciably work with and improve, a career that has been massively rewarding, he literally was set up from the word go to fucking fail and instead Rebecca rehabilitated herself and decided she'd do anything for this man she tricked into moving to England

like, even fuckign Beard stayed. even Beard.

I don't understand how its anything but a tragedy. and it's so frustrating because the show lands so many other things. Hell, I am a Nate Hater and I didn't really buy the entirety of his redemption arc. But that scene with Beard? is one of the best in the entire fucking show.

Roy's getting therapy and is the new GM. Rebecca directed AFC Richmond to victory in the name of love instead of spite. Jaime has grown so much as a person he's barely recognizable from when we meet him in S1. Nate gets a second chance at life. Keeley and Rebecca are reunited and going to change the world. Colin kissed his fella in front of the whole world and has a mega-hot fairy godfather.

And Ted just... goes back to Kansas, and leaves his home behind, leaves all those people behind.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad, indeed. Be the goldfish.

[myluvrrhea]

— Girl Of My Dreams |R.Ripley

Request - Would you consider writing judgement day or rhea Ripley x reader [platonic but can be romantic if you prefer that] And basically the reader gets betrayed by their tag team partner, and obviously they are devastated because they were really close (think like liv4brutality, for example) — @princessthatcantfuckingsleep 💞

Song for this fic — Girl of my dreams :: Guti

Pairings - Rhea Ripley x Fem!Wrestler!Reader

Warnings — R!getting punched, passing out, crying, Angst + Fluff, Rhea comforting you in the end 🩷 [Lemme know if I missed any]

You looked up at Shayna. She had been your tag team partner for about 5 months. Everything was going smoothly until you two lost the only title chance you guys would have for a while. 

The anger on Shayna’s face told it all. She sneered as she looked down at your broken figure. 

“Why did you tap out? You knew this was the only title chance we have.” She spat at you. 

You knew she was enraged when she combed her fingers through her hair. The same angered expression staying the entire time.

“Look Shayna im sorry— It was just too painful you know-“ You were cut off by a punch. You were dumbfounded, as you put your hand on your forehead. Tears threatening to spill.

Shayna gave you a few more punches before walking out of the ring. A cold expression painting her face. The pain was unbearable. Not only were you hurt, but embarrassed. You knew she would be mad about the loss. But this — this was unexpected.

The camera panned on your tearstained face. The pain clear as day in your expression.

“THIS IS MY BRUTALITY”

The crowd erupted into cheers hearing Rhea’s theme. Ready for what would happen next.

Y/N’s POV

I looked up as I heart the infamous theme song, of Rhea Ripley.

“Well lady’s and gentleman’s we have a sudden visit from non other than Rhea ripley, who has been women’s world champion for a while now. Seemingly undefeated. But what is she doing here?” I heard Michael Cole comment. I was just as confused as everyone else was.

I saw Rhea holding her title as she ran over to the ring, sliding in. I looked up at her standing figure. She scooped me up into her arms. I felt my vision growing blurry, and before I could talk my vision had gone black.

No ones POV

“It appears Y/N has passed out in the arms of the seemingly terrifying, Rhea Ripley.” Michael commented the worry evident in his voice.

Everyone in the arena watched as Rhea carried you backstage. Her title on her shoulder and a worried expression painting her face.

As soon as Rhea had gone backstage people crowded the halls trying to check on you. You had been a favorite to many of the wrestlers. Your bubbly and energetic made you loved by many. And when people saw what had happened— they felt scared and worried about you.

You had a dark purple bruise on your lip and forehead. Rhea had been yelling for everyone to move out the way. She was enraged because of what Shayna did to you. Although She had done the same thing to liv. 

“She needs help move over,” She spoke with an attitude. Pushing pasted the crowds of worried crew members and wrestlers. 

Once she sat you down on the medical bed, she quickly yelled at the medic to help you quickly. Her worry and anger pilling up inside her.

YOUR POV

I squinted my eyes adjusting to the white lights flashed at me. I opened my eyes and tried sitting up, soon feeling a stinging pain on my shoulder. I heard yelling next to me a familiar deep aussie accent.

“Do you not understand she needs help. Look at her look at the condition shes in,” Rhea spoke, pointing down at me. 

She. Was.  Pissed.

“I know ma’am but she’s-“ the medic was cut off by Rhea. 

“No, no “buts” she needs help cant you see-“ 

“Rhea?” I cut rhea off while sitting up. Pain taking over my body. I was confused on why Rhea had carried me backstage. Better yet why she was still here.

Rhea turned to look at me, a small smile forming on her face. 

“Hey, are you feeling any better?” She asked me. It seemed like her mood had taken a 360. The anger she had from before had faded off.

“My head and arms still hurt, but I think I’ll do just fine,” I answered flashing her a sad smile back. We sat in silence for a moment before I spoke again.

“It just hurts what Shayna did to me. I just thought she was different,” I looked up at rhea tears pooling my eyes. 

“It’s gonna be alright. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll be your tag team partner. The fans will love it,” Rhea sat onto the medical bed, pressing a kiss on my forehead. 

“Thank you.” I spoke.  bearying  my head into her neck.

“No problem. Ill always be here for you.” Rhea replied, laying her head onto yours.

A/N — @princessthatcantfuckingsleep thank you for requesting <33 im still getting to other requests at the moment so expect for more to come 💞

[gemini-sensei]

Popular!Reader who is new to the school and is lowkey obsessed with either nerdy Eli or Miyagi Demetri and Yasmine DESPISES it but she can't leave Reader because... idk maybe she's related to one of them or something 😭

Eli or Dem is convinced its a joke of some kind and says something awful (against Miguels begging to consider that Reader might just like nerds) and omg sorry I love angst ♡

I love angst too, no worries.

Reader being Yasmine's cousin who moves to town and starts obsessing/crushing on a nerd would irk Yasmine to no end. Every time she catches Reader staring at the boys, she would say something along the lines of "omg I can't believe you, they're so uncool" and "get a grip, there are so much better guys around here." But Reader won't listen. She's sure she's found the best guy in the Valley no matter what her cousin says.

When she approaches shy!Eli and starts chatting him up, he has no idea what to do. He barely says a word and lets her do all the talking. He just stands there and listens because how is this happening right now? Is this really happening? He's not dreaming, is he?

She'll even sit with him in classes they have together, working with him every chance she gets. It's super cute. But when it comes to lunch, she sits with Yasmine and her friends. They're constantly talking and laughing, mostly because Yasmine finds it fun to laugh at people but Reader isn't so sure about the things she's saying about them. Yasmine just tuts and tells her, "You'll learn the rules of this school eventually."

Eli convinces himself that Reader isn't actually into him. He can't stand the idea that she's faking nice to him, it's somehow worse than the outright bullying he's faced all his life. While talking to his friends about it, Miguel tries to tell him that he's overthinking it because Reader seems so genuine and nice, but Demetri is there to counter every point he has, his biggest argument being "She's friends with Yasmine, the pretty, popular Queen of Mean." It doesn't help Eli with thinking Reader is actually nice and really into him.

So, thinking she's trying to make some kind of joke out of him, he thinks he should say something to her. He'd rather be shoved into a locker and called names as opposed to someone pretending to like him just to get a few laughs out of her friends.

The next time he sees her, she's a little flirty with a big smile on her face. He can't deny she's beautiful, but unlike Demetri, that isn't enough for Eli. He can't take this anymore.

She smiles at him so pretty and starts talking. "Hey, Eli! So, I was thinking about how the science fair is coming up. Since Mr. Palmer said we could get extra credit if we enter, I was hoping you could help me with my project. Just you and me-"

"L-look, just leave me alone!" he cuts her off.

The outburst is surprising to both of them. He can't believe he actually stood up to her while she's shocked by what he said. Was she being annoying? Was she bothering him? Had she completely misunderstood where they stood with each other?

She asked softly, "What?"

"I said, leave me alone," he told her, not the least bit more confident, just tired of her games. "I-I don't want to hang out with you, and I don't want to do your project f-for you. Figure it out for yourself and don't talk to me again. So you can stop a-acting nice because I know y-you're really just a bitch."

She stares at him, completely devastated. She blinks back a few tears but Eli doesn't see them because he has his head down, sure that he has a berating coming his way. But instead, Reader just says, "Okay, fine" and walks away.

She ends up crying in the bathroom not understanding what she did wrong, unaware that she didn't do anything wrong. Her makeup runs down her cheeks as she tries to calm down, missing class because she can't. Eventually, Yasmine and Moon start texting her about where she is and if she's okay, why is she missing class (because that's not like her) and what's going on? She can't even hold her phone without shaking and needing to just belt out a cry because why would Eli say something like that? Was she that overbearing and annoying to him?

By the time Yasmine and Moon find her, she's quietly sniffling into her hands because she's so confused and hurt. She asks them to take her home and they skip the rest of the school day. They ask her what happened and she tells them how she was trying to subtly get some alone time with Eli, all for him to tell her to essentially fuck off and not bother him anymore. All Yasmine and Moon hear is that he hurt her feelings and called her a bitch, and they're upset about it.

Yasmine begins saying she knew little creepy nerds like Eli are nothing but jerks and idiots. She goes on and on about it until Moon puts a hand on her arm and says something about how that isn't really helping, fresh tears streaking Reader's face as they buy ice cream and cookies to help her feel better. They end up back home where they do everything they can to make Reader forget about what Eli said with movies, but whenever it gets quiet, his words replay in her head. She's constantly trying to figure out what she did wrong, where she misstepped or misunderstood things. She starts rereading her interactions with Eli as her being overbearing with her flirting and annoying talking to him when he obviously didn't want her to because he never said anything in return.

Of course he was annoyed with me. I was too much all of the time, she thinks to herself, crying softly.

Moon hugs her and lets her cry into her shirt, trying to soothe her by rubbing her back and letting her let it out. She looks at Yasmine sadly, unsure of what else to do because this has never happened to them before. What should they do?

Yasmine is pissed. This is her cousin. Sure, she was annoyed with the way she flirted with the nerdy boy and talked about how cute he was all the time, but now that boy had crossed a line. He'd hurt by far the sweetest of her friends.

Naturally, he had to pay.

[reddesires]

hey, would you be down to write some Koba head cannons for if he reunited with the woman who cared for him for a short time when both of them were little, kinda like Caesar and Will except Koba was taken from reader and that’s when he got put in the labs and abused and all that. But years later while he’s hunting with Caeser or Caesar welcomes reader into the colony since they needed help and Koba recognizes them since they kinda raised him and pretty much the only human he’s ever met who was kind for him

Platonic please, may you also include Koba later getting Jealous if Reader interacts with any other ape

I’m so sorry of this is like too much for a request this is literally one of my first time requesting things on peoples pages and I have no clue how to go about these things 😭😭

Koba x Human!Reader [Platonic Headcanons]

Fandom: Planet Of The Apes

Rating: No Warning.

A/N: Here you go lovely, I appreciate being the one to writing your first request. I hope you enjoy it ❤️

(Primatologists are people who study primates, including apes, in their natural habitats)

•You were a primatologist who helped rehabilitate Koba when he was small, his mother had passed away and was refused by the other bonobos since they had babies of their own.

•You had a bond with koba unlike any other, he clung to you like you were his mother despite there being others that looked after him too. After seeing his distress of being apart from you, you took sole responsibility of the small bonobo.

•He became the light in your eyes. You would coo at him in a gentle tone as his small hands tenderly touched your face in fascination. This small creature captured your heart, and his eyes were your favorite feature of his. The intelligence and unconditional love he held for you became your source of motivation.

•the devastation of being separated from him after there was a financial cutoff for your program was like a punch to the stomach. he wasn't yours but he was in all the ways that truly mattered, you became his surrogate mother and you knew that getting feelings involved would complicate things but he needed you and loved you and felt the same.

•"NO! Please! Don't take him, I'm begging you!" You pleaded and begged. You just knew that if they took him away, you may never see him again. All you wanted was for him live the life he was supposed to, amongst his own kind but in the end they took him from your arms as your pleas' mixed with koba's cries, his tiny hands reaching out for you and your own hand reached out in desperation "Koba!".

•You searched for him for many years, making connections and reaching out to sources, but it always led to a dead-end, but you couldn't give up. You felt immense guilt, and you still carried so much love for him that helped you hold onto hope that you'll be reunited with the bonobo that you raised.

•One of your sources gave you info that one of the last times they heard of the group of apes that came from your program was when they were sold to a corporation for testing purposes in a lab, the doom you felt catapulted into you with such force that you felt your heart break into a million tiny pieces. You had no way of knowing which corporation and the location and it's been so long that you knew the damage was done and there wasn't a damn thing you can do, the shame you carried was an overbearing force as you came to terms. You were working in the San Francisco zoo as the up until the simian virus ravaged the human population, leading you back to the bonobo you were looking for.

                                °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

•You had found refuge in the woods since other humans no longer welcomed others within their inner circles, you understood they were trying to protect themselves but you'd rather avoid the conflict entirely seeing as how scraped up you are already.

You knew of the apes within the confines of the forest but you'd rather your chances with them as you spent many years living amongst them during your primatologist years, but it was obvious their intelligence skyrocketed since then.

As you are gathering whatever resources within the area, berries being your top favorite and encapturing your attention as you're busy with your task, you start to hear slight rustling to the left of you.

You tilt your head only slightly, seeing two dark figures in your peripheral, you knew better than to react abruptly so you slowly straighten yourself out facing them your hands up in surrender to show you mean no harm. The two are cautious in their steps as they fully come out of the brush. It's a chimpanzee and Bonobo you observed.

The Bonobo has a defensive stance, a spear at ready and a snarl crossed on his muzzle and the chimp has a hardened scowl on his face and you feel a chill trail down your spine at his green stare but the primatologist in you tells you not to stare him in the eye.

"I mean no harm..just seeking safety.." You softly say, your throbbing leg shaking as you try to balance yourself upright.

"Koba." The chimp holds his palm up in front of the bonobo, the bonobo slowly lowering the spear, his stare hard and calculated as he sizes you up but nevertheless listens to the order given.

You feel your heart stop in your chest as the word hangs in the air, and you're practically breaking at the seams. He's not only a bonobo, but his name is Koba too.. it seems too much like a coincidence to not be him.

"Koba?" You say, signing his name the way you did back when you cared for the baby bonobo. You dropped your hand against your sternum, a circular motion you would reserve only towards the small Koba.

Time seems to hold still and resume after Koba drops on all fours slowly approaching you with an unreadable expression on his face as he stands in front of you, and you notice him extending his palm out.

You remember this motion. He did it as a small one often to you. He was expecting you to respond accordingly so you do. Your fingers slide across his palm.

It was you, after all. His mother.

                             °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Bonus ending:

You were welcomed by Caesar into the colony after the revelation of your connection to Koba, you were in disbelief of finally getting reunited with your little bonobo and though he was different than what you remember you can still see remnants of the old him.

You came forward to Caesar with your knowledge of rehabilitation to help the other apes in the colony and heal their ailments, he accepted your helping hand concluding that you were now a valuable member of the colony due to your extensive experience and abilities.

Koba was very protective of you and he was in a way jealous of your attention to the other apes, after years of being separated and missing your motherly guidance you were the only human that'll he'll ever hold a torch for.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he watched a male chimp get too close to you for his liking. "Koba, be nice to the others."

"Hmpf."