#especially not my friends it breaks my heart

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[obsessedwithceleste]

You Can Say You Love Me Now

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: A little fake dating trope, just in time for Valentine's day

word count: 3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the perfect plan really. Or it had seemed like it at the time. When fueled by frustration, love, and desperation, what could go wrong? Theo had loved you for as long as he could remember and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. To himself at least. But to you, well, that was a bit more challenging.

Coming from a pure blood family, a sacred 28 family no less, Theodore’s fate had been sealed long before he was even born. Destined to marry another rich, pure blood heiress, have children, and secure the Nott legacy another generation. All ridiculous nonsense if you asked Theodore. What was the point of tradition anyway? Pretty much everyone who cared was already dead, so what did it matter?

Unfortunately for Theo, his father was not dead and had been trying to find a suitable match for what felt like years at this point. Names of witches that Theo couldn’t even match a face to had been floated by, but Theo had spoiled each and every potential match and his father had been growing increasingly more agitated by the day.

That’s when it had struck him. Kill two birds with one stone. Get his father off his back and gain the perfect opportunity to win over the witch of his dreams. Was it a bit short sighted? Sure. But he wasn’t left with many options at this point and this was as good a plan as any.

“Please principessa, you know what my father’s like. And it would only be a few months.” Theo begged, following close behind you as you make your way through the labyrinth that is the Hogwarts library.

“I am not going to pretend to date you for a few months Theodore. Or at all. That’s actually insane. Besides, no one would believe it anyway. We’ve known each other for how long? No one is going to buy the idea of us just now deciding to go out. Especially not your father. Do you know how long my mother has been trying to set us up?” you sigh, plucking another book off the shelf.

You had known Theodore practically your whole life. The two of you had been best friends since before you could walk. Your earliest memories involved waddling around the gardens of his family’s manor as your mothers watched on in thrilled bliss. There was simply no way the two of you would be fooling anyone.

“Well that’s just it isn’t it? Father has been hounding me to court you for ages, he’ll be too relieved to care,” Theo replies, an air of desperation creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, And what do you suppose we'd tell them hmm?" You ask.

"Don't know. We wanted it to happen naturally or some other sappy story. They'll eat it up."

You give your friend a pointed look. This was not the first time he had presented you with a half-baked plan that was certain to go wrong at some point.

“You’re being so ridiculous right now Theodore, this easily makes it on the list of your top ten stupidest ideas.”

“You keep a list?”

“It’s alphabetized.”

Theo has the nerve to look offended.

“Please principessa? I know your family has been on you too. This will buy us both a little time at least,” Theo protests. "Just think, we tell them over winter break, string it along awhile, and then after we've gone our seperate ways we're just too broken hearted to even consider any other possibilities for the future."

In all fairness, the boy was right. Your family had been bothering you for months now, asking if you’d found a special someone. You'd known when Theodore's father began ramping up the pressure for him to find a match that your family wouldn't be far behind, but it was honestly starting to get to be a bit ridiculous. And exhausting.

"It's not even completely incomprehensible. We've been mistaken as a couple before." Theo continues to press.

You glare at your friend, eyes rolling at the mere memory.

six months prior

It had been another one of your mother's usual, stuffy garden parties. The sun had been beating down on you all morning and all you really wanted to do was throw your blasted shoes across the lawn. Who thought it was a sensible idea to be out on the garden's cobblestone paths in scorching heat for hours at a time? This was not your idea of a good time.

"Principessa," Theodore greeted, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

"Don't even start, Theodore," you grumbled, leaning into the boy. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and if my mother tries to make me join one more conversation about the Ministry or some such I'll set the whole garden on fire."

Theodore just laughed, pulled you closer.

"C'mon love. We can sneak off to the lake I reckon. Berkshire just arrived so the mums will all be too busy throwing him at the Greengrass sisters to notice."

Had you felt a bit bad leaving Enzo to the wolves? Sure. But still, you had let Theodore lead you down the path to the lake, collapsing onto the lawn sofa that was perched almost picturesquely on the patio overlooking the glassy water.

You had closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax into Theodore as his fingers combed methodically through your hair. You didn't know how long the both of you had been sitting there simply basking in each other's company when an excited gasp jolted you from your peaceful bliss.

"Oh! Oh my!" the shrill voice of one of your mother's airheaded socialites tittered. "I wasn't aware the both of you were courting! Oh your parents must be so pleased- what with your families being so close and all-"

"We're not courting." You interjected, holding your hand up to stop the women mid sentence.

She had stuttered awkwardly after that before finally shuffling off. Had you been a bit harsh? Perhaps. But you simply hadn't been in any sort of mood to deal with the notion of dating your best friend.

Theodore hadn't said a word, but you could feel him recoil ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice if it hadn't been you. And things were a bit, strained, for the following days. If you could even call it that. And then things went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

You would have forgotten the whole thing, brushed it under the rug as something to laugh about in a few years, if it hadn't left a nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You had never even allowed yourself to think that you could ever end up with your friend. Sure, years ago your mothers had shared the fantasy of the both of you ending up together one day. You were sure your mother was still convinced it might happen. But no. He would be auctioned off to the family of some wealthy heiress and you would be matched with some boy your parents deemed suitable. It was just how things worked.

Your feared your father was wearing going to wear through the carpet at any moment with the way he was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Your mother sat twiddling her fingers on the sofa across from you, watching your father in exasperation.

Theodore was quite pleased with himself. To be completely honest he really didn't think he'd get this far. But sitting smugly on the sofa of his father's office, arm wrapped securely around you as he faced not only his own father, but your parents as well, he felt on top of the world.

"Well? Is it true? Are you?" your mother asks, finally breaking the silence as she had apparently given up on your father being the first to speak.

Your father had stormed off to Mr. Nott's office before you could even let out a breath, and by the time you and Theodore had finally slunk into the room, your mother was already doing a piss poor job of hiding her excitement.

It had always been a dream of hers for the both of you to end up together one day. It was hardly a kept secret. Maybe Theodore had been right and their blind excitement would stop them from asking too many questions because this was truly horrific.

"Of course it's true! It better be! The way I found him all over y/n," your father interrupts.

Mr. Nott just gazes on, eyes seemingly boring into your soul as Theodore meets his father's stare with cool, nonchalance. The smug bastard.

"Oh it's all we ever hoped for!" Your mother gushes, eyes falling onto the portrait hanging on the wall of the late Mrs. Nott.

"Well. That settles it then. They'll begin courting. Or whatever it is they call it these days," Mr. Nott says finally. "But there will be no more of this, nonsense. Not under my roof."

a few minutes earlier

"After further reassessment, this is the stupidest idea you've ever had," you hiss. Glaring at the brunette boy in front of you.

You were currently perched on one of the many desks lining the library walls of Nott Manor. Theodore was pressed up against the side, warm hands on your thighs holding you securely in place and sending shivers down your spine.

"Hush amore. How else will they be convinced we've been hiding a relationship, hmm?" He asks, slowly guiding one of your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"Oh I don't know. Suppose we just tell them? Ever think of that?"

"Yeah, and how would that go? Hey mum, I've been secretly seeing the son of your dead best friend who you've been trying to set me up with for ages. This is definitely not a distraction. Please believe us." Theo scoffs.

"I'm being serious," you respond, giving the boy a light whack on the shoulder. "When I agreed to the whole 'pretend to go out' bit, this is not what I had in mind."

"We've kissed before," Theo drawls, all nonchalance.

"You know that's not the same Theodore."

Before Theodore is able to respond, likely with another of his dry quips that you had grown to adore (not that you'd ever admit it), the door of the library swings open, footsteps echoing on the marble floors.

You don't even get the chance to fully take in the reality of the situation before Theodore's lips are on yours. It's slow and soft and warm as you feel his thumb softly brushing circles on your inner thigh. A soft gasp escapes you as you melt into the boy.

"What is the meaning of this?" Your father's cutting voice calls out, breaking you from your trance.

You jolt away from Theo, eyes snapping up to meet your father's, face flushed with embarrassment. Theo on the other hand looked quite self-satisfied. Oh you were going to kill him later.

"Both of you. Into the office. Now." Your father snaps out, looking like he was wishing he could obliviate himself in that moment.

"How long are we going to keep this going?" you ask, eyes not quite meeting Theo's as you lean your head against him. It was another warm night in which you and Theodore had managed to sneak up to the astronomy tower.

Your visits to the astronomy tower had started back in fourth year. It seemed like forever ago. And now you looked forward to nothing as much as nights spent with Theodore gazing up at the sky. The nights were different now though, you supposed.

It had been what? Five months now? You were almost certain it was five months, but those months seemed to have flown by in bliss. You hadn't realized how easy it would be. You and Theodore seemed to have been carefully tip toeing the line between friendship and more for years. You simply hadn't put the pieces together. It had been a bit clunky at first sure. Awkward maybe. But this was perfect. Standing in Theodore's arms as the stars above you seemed to go on forever. Perfect.

three-ish months prior

"Shut up. Shut. Up. You're joking," Daphne squeals, eyes locking onto your fingers which are tightly interlocked with Theo's as you enter your dorm room.

Something you seemed to have overlooked when agreeing to Theodore's dating scheme, was the fact that an integral part of the plan involved selling the lie to your closest friends.

It was much more difficult than you had anticipated.

You had spent the first initial month spending all your free time with Theodore, never really leaving his side. Apparently this didn't seem out of the ordinary. The flowers sent to your dorm didn't elicit a single reaction from your roommate, nor did Theodore's constant pet names. No, what really did it apparently, was the hand holding. Scandalous.

Your friends never failed to miss an opportunity to humble you.

"Took them long enough. Don't know why you're so shocked Daph," Mattheo replies dryly from his spot on the floor, papers scattered around him. He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Well duh. We all knew they'd end up together eventually. Just didn't think they'd figure it out while we were still in school." Daph responds matter of factly. “Ugh. I owe Pansy 25 galleons now.” She groans, a frown appearing on her face.

"We can hear you, you know," Theo drawls, raising an eyebrow.

"Well it isn't as if the two of you have been subtle about it. Always holed up together in the library for hours at a time doing gods knows what."

"We study together," you reply, feeling the need to defend yourself.

"You’ve also attend every single ball together since, ever," Mattheo adds.

"Better that then go with whatever tossers our parents dig up."

"I've found the both of you asleep in Theodore's bed on more than one occasion."

"As friends."

"Right. You'd sleep together as friends, but drew the line at hand holding." Daphne says dryly. "You're both hopeless."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y/n, I damn near saw you hex Theo's hand off in fifth year when he tried to hold your hand, and even that wasn't solid proof that you two weren't already going out." Daphne snorts. "Hopeless."

"C'mon Daph, let's leave the love birds to it then," Mattheo says, gathering his papers. "Make good choices. Don't do anything I'd do," he calls as the two of them make a quick exit.

As soon as the door slams shut, you turn to look at Theo as if to ask 'what on Earth was that about?'

“They make fair points,” he says with a shrug, pulling you onto the bed with him.

"We weren't being obvious about anything Theodore. There was nothing there to begin with." You reply, allowing him to pull you onto his chest.

You knew there hadn't been anything there before, or at least you thought there wasn't, because this was all very new. Sure before you might've fallen asleep in the same bed after staying up until 3 am studying for your charms exam, but you'd certainly never seen Theodore look at you like this before. And you'd certainly never felt his hand creep under your shirt to rub soft circles across your rib cage. You'd definitely never felt your heart try to beat out of your chest like this. Or maybe you had.

"Is it really so absurd to think we've always been so close?" Theo asks, eyes very clearly focused on your lips. Not that you noticed of course.

"Maybe not," you reply, letting your head fall to rest on the boy's chest.

This was nice you thought to yourself as Theo's lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"How long do you want to keep going?" Theo asks after a moment.

"Don't know," you reply, feeling his eyes on you as you continue gazing out at the sky in front of you.

"Another month?" Theo asks carefully, pulling you ever closer.

You can feel your heart begin to race at the idea of it all ending so soon. You shake your head.

"You want to end it sooner?" Theo asks, voice wavering ever so slightly.

You shake your head again. You hear Theodore's sharp breath as he realizes your implication and you feel yourself growing increasingly more nervous as the silence stretches on.

You'd really, truly never allowed yourself to consider the idea of ending up with Theo. You knew that simply wasn't how the world worked. And frankly the idea of rejection couldn't even be a possibility. You couldn't allow yourself to lose your best friend. Or maybe you could. This was all his idea to begin with after all.

"What if we just kept going?" You ask finally, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

Theo's arms tear away from you as he turns you to face him, hand holding your chin firmly in place, forcing your eyes to meet.

"Don't play with me like this, principessa," he says, voice all seriousness as his eyes scan your face, searching for anything that might suggest you're joking with him.

"I'm not."

And just like that, Theo's lips are on yours once more. They seemed to find themselves there a lot lately, melting your mind to absolute mush as he pulled you closer. You could feel your back, now pressed up against one of the marble pillars of the tower as Theo's lips moved slowly from your lips to your jawline, and carefully down the side of your neck.

"You can say you love me now," He whispers into your ear, his warm breath giving you chills as his hands continue to wander.

"I love you," you gasp out.

"Sorry, who?" he pushes, leaving little pecks across your jawline once more.

"Theo. I love you, Theodore," You say finally, just as Theo presses another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, amore."

Did I start this well over a year ago? Yes I did, thank you for asking. Did I change the title three different times? Absolutely I did. Am I posting this before editing? Also yes. Cope.

[skzdelf]

Rockstar | Hwang Hyunjin

⭑ PAIRING: Hwang Hyujin x f.reader

⭑ CONTENT: Guitarrist!Hyunjin - Singer!reader - Band!Au - Drummer!Felix - Bassist!Bangchan

⭑ SYNOPSIS: Hyunjin, the talented guitarist of a rising rock band, lives life on the edge, captivating the hearts of fans both on stage and behind the scenes. Watching him flirt and hook up with fans breaks your heart, but you hide your feelings behind your close friendship. One night, frustrated and jealous, you confront him.

⭑ WARNING: Panic attack - Jealousy - mention of drugs - slightly smut - swearing

⭑ WORDCOUNT: 3k (3000)

⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒

Fever Bloom, the high school band you put together with your best friend and, at the time, a few strangers from neighboring classes who, like you and your friend, needed extra credit to pass a class, was just minutes away from playing its biggest show yet.

For some reason, the band had gained quite a bit of attention, which allowed all of you to keep going and reach where you were today.

Although everyone was very talented at what they did, whether it was singing or playing one or multiple instruments, you still couldn’t quite understand how, two years after finishing high school, you were about to perform with the band in a venue with a capacity of up to 6,000 people.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, because, damn, you were absolutely scared out of your mind.

You’d had enough rehearsals that the night before, you’d been relaxed enough to get a good night’s sleep; but peeking through the curtain to look at the audience had been the worst idea you’d ever had.

Your bandmates were already on stage, either walking around or settling into their spots, as the curtain would rise and the show would begin in just 20 minutes.

A tightness started building in your chest, your breathing grew unsteady, and sweat began to bead on your skin. You tried to keep your composure in front of your bandmates so they wouldn’t worry.

But Hyunjin, your best friend, already holding his guitar, set his eyes on you. After so many years of friendship, it was no surprise that you were an open book to him—especially with your face being so expressive all the time.

Whether you were happy, annoyed, angry, sad, or surprised, you could always express your feelings through your facial expressions, even if you tried to hide it.

You met his eyes, but you couldn’t make out his expression clearly due to the tears welling up in yours, blurring your vision. Quickly, you looked away and rushed backstage.

You could faintly hear the sound of his boots behind you as the world began spinning around you.

You stumbled into what you assumed was the dressing room—luckily, you were right—and quickly went to a corner of the room, hugging yourself tightly as you tried to steady your breathing.

You heard the door open again in the distance. Your eyes were closed, and your head was tilted slightly back, but the oxygen just wasn’t reaching your lungs.

Suddenly, warmth flooded your back as a pair of lean but muscular arms wrapped around you. He rested his head on your shoulder as yours fell against his chest.

“Easy, I’m here with you,” Hyunjin murmured in a low whisper, his lips brushing your ear as his hands gently stroked your arms.

Panic attacks didn’t happen often, but when they did, Hyunjin was usually there to comfort you and help you calm down.

You shook your head, unable to say a word. A sigh escaped your lips, and your trembling hands reached for his, squeezing them as if to make sure he was there, to reassure yourself you weren’t alone.

“I need you to breathe, okay? Just, focus on my voice. I’m right here; I’m not leaving you,” he continued, speaking words of support while holding you in his arms, radiating warmth and concern.

A couple of tears fell from your eyes as, little by little, you began to hear your surroundings clearly again and started breathing, weakly and in short, uneven breaths.

You could feel Hyunjin’s racing heartbeat against your ear. You hated putting him in these situations; you didn’t like worrying him, and you didn’t like showing such vulnerability to him.

“Th-thank you,” you whispered in a shaky breath, adjusting your posture and gently releasing his hands.

“We can delay the show if that’s what you need, until you feel better,” he said, still holding you in his arms as if trying to keep you from breaking, as if you were a porcelain doll.

“N-no, it’s not necessary. I just need some water, please.” He let go of you and took your hand, gently guiding you to the couch in the dressing room so you could sit down, and you did.

He left you alone for a moment to grab a bottle of water. You could hear the voice of your drummer, Felix, and Hyunjin’s voice in the hallway. Felix was asking about your whereabouts, letting him know there were only 10 minutes left before the show.

Hyunjin reentered the room with a cold bottle of water in his pale hand. You lifted your gaze from your knees and subtly looked him over.

He looked stunning. He was wearing an oversized red jacket with a thick, soft texture that draped over his shoulders with the effortless confidence of someone who owns their style. The dark stripes crossing it seemed to intensify the color, giving him a fierce, untamed vibe, as if the garment itself echoed his personality.

Under the jacket, his tank top was barely visible. With each movement, the jacket’s fabric flowed freely, while its sleeves fell over his arms like a waterfall, surrounding him in an aura of nonchalance.

His pants, black and fitted, had numerous rips that broke up the monotony of the smooth fabric. The slashes at the knees revealed flashes of skin, a detail that added a rebellious touch.

Completing the outfit, he wore black boots. The chains decorating his ankles gleamed under the light.

In his hair, a pair of red sunglasses added the final touch, wrapping him in an air of mystery. The red of the sunglasses, in tune with the jacket, completed the look with a harmony that felt powerful, as if the whole outfit was designed to make a statement.

Your best friend was simply an incredible person—kind, talented, and handsome. With a strong personality, sometimes arrogant, other times playful. You loved him with all your heart, but at the end of the day, he was just that—your best friend.

Nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but you couldn’t help feeling jealous when he gave attention to another woman, knowing how attractive he is and his ability to have any woman at his feet—including you.

He handed you the bottle, and you took it, sipping calmly. He sat next to you, his ripped jeans brushing against your thigh, exposed by the skirt you wore for the performance.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can—we can reschedule” he repeated, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“We’re not rescheduling anything. It wouldn’t be fair to all the people who paid for this. Besides, I’m already feeling better. Thanks for being here with me, Hyun,” you gave him a soft smile, and he patted your head, smiling back.

You both got up from the couch and walked slowly down the backstage hallway towards the stage again. Through the curtain, you could hear the crowd’s shouts—cheering for you, arguing with each other, or chatting with their friends.

You positioned yourself in front of the microphone stand at the front of the stage, with Hyunjin a few feet to your right, slinging on his metallic gray electric guitar with a sharp, edgy design.

You turned to look at the other band members. Felix was twirling his drumsticks between his pale fingers, nodding slightly as if to make sure everything was set; you nodded back in his direction.

To your left, Chan was adjusting his in-ear monitor, with his bass already strapped across his torso.

He gave you a friendly look. The guy wore a bright red leather jacket adorned with metal studs. The jacket was open, revealing a white T-shirt with red details that looked like paint splatters or graffiti, adding an urban touch. The shirt’s collar was crisscrossed with laces. His look was completed by a silver chain necklace hanging from his neck and small pieces of jewelry that added character to his style. Meanwhile, his baggy black pants, held up by a thick belt with metal accents, fit snugly around his hips.

Everyone was in their respective positions, lost in their own worlds, ready to perform the biggest show of their small career.

With trembling hands, you took the microphone—still off—between your sweaty palms, exhaling constantly to clear your troubled mind.

The purple curtain opened in front of you, the colorful spotlights flashed on, blinding you for a moment, and the crowd’s screams hit you like an euphoric stampede.

Although your band had many original songs you’d composed together, as well as some created individually, you and your fans enjoyed covering songs from other artists.

Tonight, you planned to play Salvation by The Cranberries. You were especially excited to perform this song since it’s one of your favorites, and you hoped the crowd would enjoy it too.

The show began, with the first songs led by Chan and Hyunjin as they moved across the stage, gesturing and occasionally approaching the edge. Most of the loud cheers were from the female fans, and they got even louder whenever Chan winked at the audience or whenever Hyunjin… whenever he did anything at all—absolutely anything he did drew screams from women and men alike.

They carried the first part of the show while you were still somewhat lost in your own thoughts, not wanting to look out at the cheering audience in front of you.

After the third song, when you felt Hyunjin approach to encourage you while playing his guitar, you started to loosen up.

You moved around the stage, dancing, singing more clearly, and joining your bandmates to sing in unison.

At times, your voice would break, making it sharper in certain parts of the songs and adding a personalized touch.

By the end of the tenth song, you were completely liberated, your once-styled hair now in a messy ponytail from shaking your head while dancing. After taking a sip of water, you stepped up to the mic to shout.

“Are you still with us, Tokyo?” The crowd cheers and jumps in place, pushing each other, cigarette smoke visible against the colorful lights.

“Tonight we’ve got a cover we hope you’ll really enjoy,” you say, as the crowd erupts in excitement and your bandmates return to their starting positions. “By the way, it’s one of my favorite songs,” you wink at the crowd.

Felix and Hyunjin begin playing their instruments simultaneously, and a few seconds later, Chan and you join in.

Felix’s remarkable talent on the drums elevates the experience even more. While your voice wasn’t identical to Dolores O’Riordan’s, you aimed to pay tribute to her skills.

It was a song with a great beat and meaningful lyrics against drug use, showing that the freedom one seeks won’t be found in illegal substances.

When the song ended, the crowd applauded with satisfaction and energy, calling for another cover that, unfortunately, you couldn’t give them.

“I’m sorry to say this will be our last song of the night,” you said, seeing on the screens how Felix pouted and Chan made a face. For the first time that night, the crowd booed and protested.

While you gave a short speech, Hyunjin helped the sound crew set up a stand and microphone in front of him; for the last song, he’d be doing some backing vocals to support your voice.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed this amazing night as much as we have. This is Neon Heartbeats.”

Chan’s bass began to play, and a few moments later, you started singing. Hyunjin and Felix joined in, giving the song a heavier, more energetic beat.

Hyunjin started singing with you while still playing guitar. You took the microphone off the stand and approached him, your bright eyes meeting his dark, shining ones.

You continued singing in unison, leaning back against him as the long-anticipated guitar solo approached.

When Hyunjin’s moment to shine came, he moved away from you, focusing intently on each string that his long, skilled fingers needed to play. He approached the edge of the stage, jumped down to the space between the barricades and stage, getting closer to the fans as he continued his solo, lifting his head to make eye contact with the fans, who practically threw themselves against the barricade trying to touch him.

You knew he loved that attention, and you couldn’t help feeling a rush of jealousy; liking your best friend was tough—especially when he was such a flirty maleslut.

You held it together in the moment, and when his solo ended, you resumed singing, now focusing on Chan, who was smiling brightly as he played his bass strings frenetically.

Felix hit his last beats on the drums and cymbals, bringing the song to a close. The crowd roared, wanting more, but after an hour and a half of performing, all you wanted was to collapse and rest.

With Hyunjin back on stage, he stood beside you, and the four of you lined up at the front of the stage, bowing in gratitude as the curtain fell in front of you, finally allowing you to breathe easy.

With wide smiles, you hugged Felix, laughing and bouncing in place as you embraced. Chan approached, telling you how well you’d done, and you returned the compliment.

With Hyunjin, things were even more awkward—at least on your end. He approached to hug you, but you subtly dodged him, giving him an uncomfortable smile. Before escaping backstage with the rest of your team, you noticed the way he furrowed his brow.

You stormed down the hall toward your dressing room, almost furious. You couldn’t get out of your head how Hyunjin had bitten his lower lip while face-to-face with a fan during his guitar solo.

You wanted to slam his head into the wall—or yours, or that girl’s, or anyone who got in your way.

Once inside, you shut the door forcefully and started furiously taking off your accessories, tossing them onto the vanity next to your makeup.

The door opened again behind you, and in the mirror’s reflection, you saw Hyunjin walk in, his hair messy and a little damp on his forehead. He closed the door behind him and made eye contact with you through the mirror.

“What is wrong with you?!” Hyunjin exclaimed, a flash of anger and confusion in his expression, his dark eyes piercing through the glass at you.

“Nothing, what are u talking about?” You continued taking off your accessories, specifically the choker you were wearing, which seemed to tighten more as the situation intensified.

“Then why the hell are you ignoring me?” he seemed very upset, his furrowed brow and clenched fists.

“Im not. You are talking nonsense”

At this point, you couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, that intense look filled with mixed emotions, seeming to want to pry into your mind.

“You aren’t even looking at me!” he exclames

“Because I can’t fucking stand your face right now,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

“What the fuck are you saying?” he started to raise his voice, walking toward you with long, determined strides. In seconds, he was right in front of you.

“Because every time I look at your fucking face, I can’t think about anything but you practically making out with some random fan right in front of me!” you practically yelled at his face, lifting your head slightly to meet his eyes because of the height difference.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he thought of what to say.

“And why is that a problem?” he asked in a softer, more relaxed tone. The bastard wanted you to admit it out loud.

“It shouldn’t be a problem, but my feelings for you make it really complicated,” you confessed abruptly. Hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise not thinking you would confess that easily, while yours squeezed shut, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

A few minutes of silence passed, filled only by the sound of your mixed breaths.

You felt Hyunjin’s cool hand rest on your cheek, tracing a soft caress down to your chin. From there, his thumb rose to your lower lip, leaving delicate touches and strokes.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispered, a sigh escaping his lips after he uttered that word so tenderly.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself gazing into the brightest, most loving eyes you’d ever seen. His gaze moved from your eyes to your lips and back up again.

“You look so fucking hot when you’re jealous,” He spoke in an even lower tone, his voice growing deeper. He smiled, pressing his full lips to yours, completely taking you by surprise with both his words and his sudden action.

Once you snapped back to reality, you returned his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair.

His hands traveled to your waist, gripping it as he took a few steps forward, pinning your lower back against the vanity.

The kiss grew more intense, with Hyunjin gently biting your lower lip and pulling away, causing a small gasp to escape from your lips.

“I like you too, pretty girl,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand softly caressing your waist. You felt the warmth radiating from his body against yours. “How could I not fall for the most magnificent girl in the world?”

Your eyes met his again, filled with both wonder and affection. His beautiful dark eyes, framed by long lashes—still with your hand buried in his blond hair—you pulled his head toward you, bringing your worlds together once more that night.

⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒

Hope you enjoyed it!!

Please don’t forget to reblog or like!!!

DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK PLEASE

[desertteagles]

╰───► like it’s our last - e. williams

drabble.

Pairing - bbf!ellie x fem! reader

Synopsis- your brothers back from college and he brings his best friend since childhood back with him. you’ve realized you have a crush on her and sworn you wouldn’t act on it, fearing your brothers disapproval. ellie also has been harboring feelings for you but promised to not make a move per your brothers request.. especially since ellie’s kind of a player.

warnings- no smut this time </3 but little angst ig…, uhhhh idk i think that’s it.. was gonna make this a oneshot (that’s why the punctuation is sorta kinda good) but i decided NAWT to so here !

a/n well um… hi guys ! i’ve been gone for a year my bad chat 😞

U nfortunately, today was the fucking day. Now, usually, you’re happy whenever your brother decides to visit home, but this time he’s bringing an unwanted (very wanted) guest that you’ve been kind of avoiding, in order to not run your big ass mouth.

Ellie was annoying as fuck. That didn’t stop you from developing a crush on her, though, and you hated yourself for it. It was just... she’s so pretty with her stupid green eyes and veiny hands, and her pretty hair that’s always in that fuckass bun, and her... “Wait, what the fuck. Stop thinking about her, oh my god,” you groaned, putting your face in your hands. Unsurprisingly, you could never seem to keep her from getting stuck in your mind. It was a never-ending cycle of “I don’t even like her; she just has a nice face,” to “Why the fuck am I lying? I want her so bad,” battling it out in your head ever since you realized there might be something more than just annoyance toward her because she was your brother's best friend. Which also opens a whole new can of worms that you really don’t have the mental capacity to deal with.

You see, your brother is very, very, very overprotective. It was so bad that you couldn’t even bring up liking celebrities around him, which was absurd, so you had to tell him to back off (he never really did). Ellie, being the player that she is, definitely tried to get your brother's blessing to pursue you back in high school, but he naturally shot her down with a vicious and explicitly detailed description of how he’d kill her and hide the body if she ever tried anything with you, which effectively scared her from even looking at you for a while. Obviously, that didn’t last long because she became this annoying nuisance of a human being, and it ground your gears until she finally left for college with your brother, giving you a much-needed break.

the break didn’t last long because for some odd reason you thought it was the greatest fucking idea to stalk her social media. Granted, you did it out of hate (it wasn’t hate) so it’s really not your fault that seeing her posts made you start looking at her in a different light. But now she was back. And this time, you have this added knowledge that she’s hot as fuck and you don’t really think you will be able to function around her.

You paced around your room, hands in your hair, agonizing over what the fuck to wear ever since you learned Ellie was visiting with your brother today. It was like some kind of cosmic joke — the universe giving you just enough time to forget how much you liked her before slamming her right back into your life.

You could hear the muffled sound of your brother’s laugh from downstairs. Your stomach twisted, nerves kicking in. You peeked out of your bedroom window and, sure enough, there was Ellie, leaning against the car, hands shoved in her pockets, that fuckass bun sitting low on her head. She was talking to your brother, but you barely registered him — all you could focus on was her smirk, the way her eyes squinted when she laughed, how the light from the sun caught on her freckles. Now that made you make a face, “ew why the fuck am i thinking like a poet.”

“Gotdammit,” you muttered to yourself. “Get it the fuck together.”

Your heart was racing, but you couldn't tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe both…. definitely both.

A sharp knock on your door yanked you out of your thoughts, and before you could even answer, your brother barged in. “Hey, Ellie’s here,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “Come down and say hi, don’t be weird.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the weird one, you are. and plus i have to finish getting ready! i’ll be down in a second, get out!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just be normal for like five minutes, when you come down okay? I know you guys have this weird rivalry or whatever the fuck but its been like a year so please.”

“fine, but if she starts her shit don’t say anything.” you mumbled, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. “fuck me.” you sighed and turned to finish getting ready.

—

As soon as you hit the bottom step, Ellie’s eyes locked on yours. That familiar spark of mischief shined in her gaze. She tilted her head slightly, grinning in that infuriatingly, cocky way that always made your knees a littttle weak.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, as if she already knew the effect she had on you. Which she couldn’t know… right? Right.

You swallowed hard, trying to act unfazed. “Ellie.”

Her grin widened, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn she looked you up and down. Almost like she was checking you out. weird. “Long time no see,” she said, stepping forward and pulling you into a quick, unexpected hug.

Your brain short-circuited for a moment, and when she let go, you were left standing there, blinking like an idiot, your skin buzzing from where her hands had briefly touched your back.

“It’s barely been a year. but yeah, long time,” you managed, trying desperately to sound casual but instead sounding like a dying cat.

—

The next couple of hours were spent catching up and you watching ellie and your brother play Call of duty.. or was it fortnite? you can’t really remember. all you can seem to focus on is how ellie’s hands look around the controller and how good they’d look around your ne- “hey. are you.. okay?” you jumped a little at being pulled from your thoughts by ellie and slowly realized how long you were staring at her hands. “oh um yea.. totally,” you chuckled nervously and turned your attention back to the TV trying to ignore Ellie's burning gaze on the side of your face. Like usual, your brother was oblivious to anything but that damn game, trash talking like crazy, while you kept sneaking looks at Ellie after that embarrassing ass moment. She didn’t seem to mind though; in fact, she seemed to enjoy catching you staring. Every time you glanced her way, she was already looking, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

At one point, you found yourself in the kitchen, you were hungry as fuck and being a third wheel didn’t exactly curb your hunger. Unfortunately, Ellie walked in not too long after you, her presence immediately making the room feel smaller.

“So,” she said, dragging the o and leaning against the counter with that same smirk. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You froze, almost crushing a chip that was making its way into your mouth in your hand. “What!? No, I haven’t. You're actually delusional, I don't know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Rightttt. I'm totally delusional.”

You turned to look at her, grabbing another chip out of the bag to eat before pausing and saying, “Okay, maybe I have. But it’s not purposefully !”

Ellie took a step closer, and you had to force yourself to keep breathing. “Oh really?”

“Yes really! I have literally no reason to avoid you. Don’t be dumb. i’ve just been busy with getting my esthetician license.. ” You bit your lip, trying and failing to seem calm. God, this was the exact situation you were trying to avoid. You wanted to tell her off, make her stop questioning you, but honestly… you kinda missed her (you’d never admit this out loud) and it was nice talking to her. Not to mention looking at her lips while she talked was one of your favorite pastimes.

Ellie took another step forward, so close now that you could smell her — that familiar mix of leather and something earthy. It was distracting as hell, and you loved hated it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

“Busy with your esthetician license, huh?” Ellie’s voice was low, almost mocking, as if she knew how much of a lie that sounded like, even if it was mostly true. “that’s hilarious because you seemed to have plenty of time to stare at my hands earlier.”

Your face burned instantly. “I wasn’t staring,” you blurted, probably a little too fast.

Ellie’s smirk widened, her eyes flicking down to your hands fidgeting with the chip bag. “Sure you weren’t.” She was enjoying this way too much, but instead of leaving you to drown in embarrassment, she stepped even closer, her gaze suddenly more intense, less mocking. “You know, I don’t typically care if you stare.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. Was she for real? You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest as you decided it’s now or never and maybe it’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

You leaned in, your eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the playful tension between you both shifted into something else — something heavier. “is that right?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as you tucked a loose strand behind her ear with a smirk.

Ellie’s breath hitched and you saw a blush spread across her face like crazy. She was not expecting you to reciprocate her teasing. In fact, she thought you would get too flustered to even think. You giggled at her stunned face, body still alight with nerves and your mind screaming did i really just do that??? The room felt impossibly small, and you couldn’t focus on anything but how close she was. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her gaze flickered down to your lips for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

“I—” you started, but before you could even finish, your brother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, causing you to jump back from Ellie in surprise.

“Ellie, you better be keeping your hands to yourself…” he called from the living room, his tone half-joking but you could tell he wasn’t.

Ellie groaned in annoyance at the interruption. She raised her hand as if to hold yours but faltered at your confused expression, and dropped it with a sigh “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, as she turned toward the living room. “Jesus Christ.”

[maplegyu]

Went into this with no expectations! I just saw the tropes and summary and was like ooohhh i love all of these! I ended up rly loving the story and enjoying my read!!!

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking.

Loved loved loved how this was written!!! I could really feel how reader was clinging onto the alcohol like a lifeline! The more it felt like Mingyu would be slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to be grounded by something else!

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

I GET U READER I WOULD BE TOO He's such a gentleman and he's sooo in tune with her feelings WHO WOULDNT FALL IN LOVE W KIM MINGYU

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

GOD I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS its like ur breaking ur own heart bc the feeling is like!! WHAT RIGHT DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY???!! i get u reader i rly get uuuu BUT UR FEELINGS ARE REAL AND VALID 😭 the hoping and yearning wow wow wow

I loved the imagery of the writing so much!!! Especially the scene outside the restaurant!!! Felt so immersed in the story and in very few scenes was already familiar with how close reader and Mingyu are and their feelings for each other.

BUT THE MORNING AFTER SCENE OH MY GOD???!?! CHEEKY MINGYU AAAAHHHHHHHHH

ON GOD!!! I AM NOT OVER THE IMAGE OF JUST WOKEN UP MINGYU, RASPY VOICE, REACHING OUT FOR READER... SMIRKING!!!!!! who wouldnt want to wake up next to this man for the rest of their lives?!

"Oh, this is fun," - im sorry. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Mingyu being a tease and being cheeky... I LOVE THIS KIND OF MINGYU GENUINELY LIKE SOME OF MY FAVORITE MINGYU TO READ!!!!!

YES HE DID BECAUSE PERHAPS!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH U ALSO DEAR READER?! 💘

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

MY KNEES TURNED TO JELLY FR!!!! when he is chivalrous and a gentleman but also hot as fuck 🤩

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.

IMAGINING THIS MINGYU

AND I DONT BLAME READER FOR HAVING A HARD TIME W HER FEELINGS FOR HIM

THE WAY THIS WHOLE SCENE EXCITED ME BECAUSE IT CONFIRMS THAT MINGYU DOES ACTUALLY FEEL FEELINGS FOR READER TOO!!!! ITS NOT ONE-SIDED AAAAHHHHH ✨️

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

#MAPLEGYU SCREAMS!!!!!!!!! this is everything. officially down bad. on his way to becoming a certified loverboy!!!!!!

The whole back and forth about stealing and wearing Mingyu's clothes...... THE OBVIOUS FLIRTING PLEASE I WAS RLY EATING IT UP!!!! dont u two realize ur so into each other aaahhhhhh! And then tbh at this point i thought the story (or part 1) would be over but there was more!!!!

Mingyu was still there and reader was wearing his clothes. Excuse me a whole day of domesticity with your favorite person????

The way user taesjpq painted the picture of how their night was going sent me to space actually because ITS THE LITTLE THINGS!!!! together ordinary things feel extraordinary 😭 and im sure thats what reader felt w gyu!!!! And please they never stopped flirting! Him telling her he looks good in his clothes!!?? MY BABY GIRL LET YOUR MIND GO THERE!!!! THINK ABT GYU BEING PART OF UR DAILY LIFE!!!! BELIEVE HE LIKES U BACK COS HE DOES!!!!!

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

THIS MADE ME INSANE I LEGIT WASNT BREATHING

SO IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT WHEN HE TRIED TO GO IN FOR A KISS!!!!!!! The build-up??!?! The uncertaintainty but also wanting it so bad??!?! CROSS IT CROSS THE LINE!!!! God im rooting for them i am suchhhh a sucker for bff's to lovers!!!!!!!

Thank you for writing this i really reaaally enjoyed it!!! I cant wait for the next part!!!! 💖

Jealousy part. I

genre — suggestive fluff, best friends to lovers, smut (maybe in part II) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — You, Hoshi, Wonwoo, and Mingyu—inseparable. Their apartment feels like your second home. But one of them makes your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He treats you like you’re special—attentive, caring, almost like a boyfriend. But he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. He treats you this way—this is just how Mingyu is, right? word count — 4,3k (part l)

Warnings and notes under the line.

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/insecurity, unrequited/complicated feelings, emotional distress, avoidance/coping mechanisms, mild possessiveness (towards him), possible hangover, waking up next to someone, suggestive elements/mild sexual tension, light kiss [let me know if I forgot something]

notes: san (ateez) cameo (you will better understand in part II) Hoshi, Wonwoo cameo. This is my first published ff ever, I hope you like it. I‘m actually very nervous about it, so feel free to give your opinion. I just wrote this, when I felt down bad for Mingyu again (he‘s so boyfriend istg). The question is, when i am not exactly down bad for Mingyu? He‘s the standard.

"Any plans for the weekend?"  

San held the office door open for you, his gentle smile as familiar as ever.  

You sighed quietly, relieved that the exhausting workweek was finally over. It had been chaos—half the staff out sick, leaving you drowning in double the workload.  

San had been your lifesaver, stepping in every time you thought you might break under the pressure.  

"Actually, I'm meeting my friends at a restaurant," you replied, noticing the faint flicker of something wistful in his eyes.  

"Why am I not surprised?" he teased, his grin widening as you stepped through the door.  

San had a way of always asking about your plans, like he was hoping, just once, your answer might include him. But it never did. Just: „My friends, my friends, my friends.“ 

It wasn’t a lie, though. You practically lived at their apartment. Gaming nights with Wonwoo, gym sessions with Mingyu, and endless meals with Hoshi—that was your rhythm, your second home.  

"Thanks for the coffee, San. Next time, it’s on me," you said, flashing him a grateful smile.  

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you parted ways.

 

You arrived flustered, breathless from rushing. Of course, they were already here. 

As you pushed open the door, the warm buzz of conversation and clinking plates enveloped you.  

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, locking on them almost immediately: your boys—and a girl. A girl? 

She was sitting beside Mingyu, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. Her laugh carried across the table, light and unrestrained, and something about it made your stomach twist. Who was she?  

"Finally!" Hoshi greeted you as you approached, his voice brimming with playful exasperation. "We thought you’d ditched us."  

You forced a smile, settling into the usual chaos of their teasing welcome. 

"This is Hana," Wonwoo explained casually when he caught the question in your eyes.  

"And? don’t you think she looks just like me?" Hoshi added, grinning as he gestured dramatically toward her.  

You studied her more closely, and the resemblance hit you. It was uncanny—her smile, her energy. She could’ve been his twin. 

"I’ve been crashing at their place for a few days," Hana said, extending her hand toward you. "Hoshi insisted."  

Your polite smile barely reached your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone told you?  

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking her hand and glancing around. There wasn’t an empty chair for you.  

Mingyu noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stood, grabbing one from a nearby table and setting it beside him.  

"Thanks, Gyu," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.  

He nodded and gave you a gentle smile. 

Oh, how you’d missed him. His warmth, his silly jokes—the way his laughter could dissolve the stress of your week. You’d been looking forward to this, to catching up with him. But now, it seemed difficult.  

As the group settled into conversation, you tried to focus, tried to join in. But your attention kept drifting—to Hana, to how close she sat to Mingyu, to the way she leaned into him when she laughed. Her fingers grazed his arm casually, like she belonged there.  

"So, Hana, how do you like the city so far?" Wonwoo asked, drawing her attention.  

"It’s great," she said brightly. "Hoshi’s been showing me around—it’s been so much fun."  

Her hand lingered on Mingyu’s shoulder as she spoke, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably.  

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing drinks on the table. Four sojus. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise—they’d ordered before you arrived. That wasn’t how things worked. You always waited. It was a small tradition, but it mattered. Or, at least, it used to.  

"One soju for me too, please," you said quickly, catching the waiter before he walked away.  

But the unease didn’t leave. Hana’s touchiness continued—her laugh too loud, her attention on Mingyu too focused. He didn’t seem to mind, even smiled at her a few times. Yet, every so often, his eyes flicked to you, as if checking for something. 

You didn’t know why, but every time Hana’s hand brushed against his arm, you reached for your bottle. Every time she giggled a little too sweetly, your glass met your lips. The warm burn sliding down your throat was easier to deal with than the twist in your chest. 

"You should see these two at the gym," Hoshi chimed in suddenly, pointing between you and Mingyu. "They’re like workout aliens or something." 

The group laughed, and you managed a small smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

Hana giggled, leaning closer to Mingyu. "Maybe you can show me some moves sometime," she said, her tone playful. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.  

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go. 

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lie, the words tumbling out too quickly, barely convincing even to yourself. 

You needed space—air that wasn’t thick with your confusion, your frustration. If you stayed another second, your face would betray you, exposing the childish jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.  

The cool evening air hit you like a lifeline as you stepped outside, goosebumps forming on your arms from the crisp breeze. 

You closed your eyes briefly, letting it kiss your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The dull, relentless throb of longing refused to fade.  

“This isn’t the bathroom.”  

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.  

You glanced back anyway, already masking your shock with a strained smile. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “This looks like a bathroom to me.”  

He chuckled, that low, warm laugh that always did things to your chest, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. And despite yourself, you smiled too, because how could you not? 

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.  

Without a word, he steps closer, draping your jacket over your shoulders. “You’re probably freezing,” he says, his voice gentle, but with a tenderness that makes your stomach tighten.  

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he adjusts the jacket, and it sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but from the barely-there touch. 

You look up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his. His gaze softens, a flicker of concern crossing his face.  

The silence that followed stretched taut between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed willing to break it. The faint hum of traffic and the muffled buzz of laughter from the bar filled the empty space.  

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Don’t say it. Don’t bring her up. Just let it go. But the question clawed its way out of you anyway.  

“I didn’t know Hana was staying at your place,” you blurted, the words sharper than you intended, laced with something raw and exposed.  

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Trust me.”  

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure. “Hoshi didn’t mention it?” 

“He forgot,” Mingyu mutters, shaking his head. What a Hoshi thing to happen, you thought.  

“I walked into my room, and she was already asleep in my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I took the couch for the week.”  

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his explanation sitting heavy. Of course, he wouldn’t complain. He’s Mingyu—always generous, always selfless. Always giving more of himself than he should.  

“Oh,” you managed, your voice too light, too fake. “It’s just funny to think… if I showed up at your place, I’d find her instead of you.” You tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow, even to your ears.  

He shrugged, casual and unaffected. “It wasn’t a big deal for me. I worked overtime all week, so I wasn’t home much anyway.”  

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.  

You felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not now.  

The night had been shallow and hollow, a void you couldn’t seem to escape. All you’d wanted was a quiet evening with your friends, especially Mingyu. Just sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder—feeling the solid warmth of him—would’ve been enough.  

But instead, you’d spent the evening watching Hana, her laughter, her touches, her presence invading spaces you’d always considered yours. Even if you don't have the right to do so. 

The ache in your chest sharpened, spreading through you like wildfire. You couldn’t stay here any longer.  

“I’m gonna head home,” you said, your voice flat, eyes fixed on the ground. “I think I need some rest after this week.”  

You felt his gaze land on you, heavy and searching, and for a moment, you wavered under its weight.  

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.  

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, trying to steady your tone. “I have my car.”  

“I know,” he says, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes scan your face, tracing every inch of you, as if reading you in ways that make your heart race. “But you shouldn’t drive. You drank too much.” 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not drunk.” 

 And then, he speaks again, voice softer, more tender. 

“Your cheeks,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your flushed skin. “They’re red. That happens when you drink too much.” 

You freeze, his touch lingering. Your heart pounds in your chest, and his proximity feels like a punch to your gut. He looks even more handsome than usual—his messy hair falling over his forehead, the soft fabric of his shirt still loose and unbuttoned just enough to make your breath catch. The way he stands there, effortlessly composed, but so close that you can almost taste the air between you—his scent wrapping around you like a warm, familiar blanket. 

God, you feel weak in front of him. 

“I can’t let you drive like this,” he adds softly. 

You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. He cares. He always does. 

“Unless…” he tilts his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got other plans?”  

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through your head as you reached for your phone, your limbs feeling heavy under the weight of sleep. 

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too bright, making you wince as you blindly swiped to answer the call without checking the caller ID. 

“Hello…?” Your voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. 

“Mingyu, where are you?! I’ve been trying to reach both of you for hours!” 

Your brows furrowed, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. Mingyu? 

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the name on the screen. Hoshi Hyung. 

Your headache made it hard to process, but one thing was clear—you would never save him like that. 

Why the hell was he even calling you about Mingyu? 

Just as the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place, you felt it—a presence beside you. 

With a slow, sinking feeling, you turned your head to the right. 

And there he was. 

Mingyu. 

All 187 centimeters of him, sleeping peacefully under your blanket like he belonged there. His hair was tousled, his breathing deep and even, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. 

Your eyes widened, your grip on the phone tightening. You hung up immedietly.  

Fuck. 

Before you could spiral too much, Mingyu let out a deep sigh, his arm stretching out lazily—almost like he was reaching for you. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, fluttered open but instantly softening the moment they land on you,— The way you were staring at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere —his lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep. 

“It’s 2 p.m., Mingyu.” 

He blinked slowly before lazily glancing around the room. “Shit, really?” His voice was raspy, thick. He let out a slow breath before sinking deeper into the pillows. “I slept so fucking good.” A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he let his eyes fall shut again. 

You watched him. His dark hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and yet, somehow, it only made him look softer. His skin looked warm and tan against the white sheets. His lips—full, slightly swollen from sleep—parted just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, you had to fight the urge to reach out, to trace them with your fingertips, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

You swallowed hard. "I... uh—what happened last night?" 

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face you properly. “You really don’t remember?” 

Your silence was answer enough. 

“Oh, this is fun,” he mused, resting his cheek against his palm. “You were very affectionate. Like, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t expect you to cling to me like that.” 

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.” 

He grinned wider. “You wouldn’t let go. Kept saying I couldn’t leave, that I should sleep next to you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “Should I start staying over more often?” 

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He laughed, catching it effortlessly before it could hit his face. 

“Ohhh, so violent first thing in the morning,” he teased. “Where’s all that love from last night, huh?” 

You wanted to escape the awkwardness, so you stepped away from the bed, but as you did, your gaze betrayed you—flicking toward Mingyu. His white shirt hung loosely on his frame, almost completely unbuttoned, exposing a hint of his chest and the silver chain resting just above it. The sight made your breath catch for a moment, your heart skipping. 

Mingyu caught your glance. His eyes met yours for a heartbeat, but then they dropped—slowly, unwillingly, lingering on your legs just a moment too long. 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fabric of your dress inching up, revealing more of your legs than you'd intended. The air between you both seemed to thicken, heavy with something unspoken. 

In an awkward flurry, Mingyu began buttoning his shirt, his movements too quick, too self-conscious, like he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to fill the silence, and nervously stammered, “I—I’m making breakfast.” 

Mingyu immediately sat up, “I’ll do it.” 

You turned to glare at him, a bit sharper than you intended. “I can make it on my own.” 

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

His eyes flickered over you briefly—the exhaustion, the headache written all over your face, the way your clothes were still crumpled from last night. 

“You should take a shower,” he added, voice gentle. “It’ll help with the headache.” 

You blinked at him, and looked down on you after.  

“Yeah..probably.” 

You hesitated for a second before heading towards the bathroom, still feeling like you were stuck in some weird dream. 

The moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you almost flinch. 

Your makeup was smudged, your hair an absolute mess, strands sticking to your forehead. Your dress from last night was wrinkled and slightly loose on one side. 

You looked horrible. Greasy. Disgusting. 

Mingyu slept next to this? 

You suddenly wanted to cry. 

Taking a deep breath, you quickly peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weird feelings in your chest. 

By the time you were done, you felt human again. 

There was no way you were putting that dress back on, so you grabbed your bathrobe, tying it tightly around your waist before stepping out. 

Your hair was still damp, strands clinging to your skin as you walked barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of food. 

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.  

And then he turned around. 

For a moment, it was like time froze. 

Mingyu’s breath hitched the second his eyes landed on you. 

The damp strands of hair framing your face, the way your robe sat snugly around you, revealing the delicate curve of your collarbone—he was so unprepared for this. 

His fingers twitched around the wooden spoon, and for a split second, he forgot what he was even doing. His grip almost faltered. 

He was staring. 

Hard. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You good?” 

Mingyu swallowed, snapping out of it. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—uh, food’s almost done.” 

He forced a smile, turning back to the stove way too quickly—like he needed a second to compose himself. 

You didn’t question it, shrugging as you took a seat at the table. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, gripping the spoon like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind. 

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

“So.” Mingyu cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. “How’s your headache?” 

You barely looked up, scrolling through the endless messages from Hoshi and Wonwoo. “Hm? Oh-It still hurts. But I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating something."

A beat of silence. 

Too long. Too heavy. 

You, sitting there like that—bare-faced, hair still damp, wrapped up in your robe—he had seen you like this before. And yet, right now, it felt… different. His fingers flexed against the edge of the kitchen counter. 

He didn’t want to think about why. 

“How’s work been lately?” he asked, voice casual—too casual. “You looked exhausted yesterday. And, well… the number of drinks you had kind of spoke for itself.” 

You let out a dry laugh, stretching your legs beneath the table. “Yeah, work… Work has been insane. Feels like half the office is out sick, and I’m the lucky one picking up the slack.” 

Mingyu frowned as he turned off the stove, moving with practiced ease. “That’s bullshit.” A pause. “No wonder you were exhausted.” 

That wasn’t the reason you drank last night, but he didn’t need to know that.  

You shrugged, watching him. The way he knew where everything was. The way he moved through your kitchen like he belonged there. Because he did. 

Mingyu set a plate in front of you before settling into the chair across from you. He picked up his fork but didn’t eat right away, just watching you for a beat. 

“You really need a break,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to yours, and something shifted in his expression. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Or maybe just… new clothes.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

He gestured vaguely toward you. “I mean, I knew you had a couple of my things, but—” He gave you a pointed look. “At this point, half of your closet is mine. I could practically  move in here.” 

You almost choked on your food. 

That little shit. 

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, I always wondered where my stuff kept disappearing to.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “For a while, I actually believed I had a hole in my closet.” 

You swallowed your bite. “Weird. Sounds like a you problem.” 

He scoffed. “Oh, really?” 

You nodded, keeping your face blank. “Mhm. No clue what you’re talking about.” 

His gaze flickered over you, his smirk deepening. “So, you’re telling me my hoodies just magically disappeared? Along with my t-shirts? And my beanie? And—” 

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, groaning. “Maybe your clothes are just… way too comfortable. Not my fault they’re basically begging to be stolen.” 

“Begging,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. 

“Yes.” You met his eyes, feigning innocence. “I don’t see the issue.” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” 

You smirked, tilting your head. “And yet, you still let me steal your stuff.” 

He exhaled through his nose, picking at his food. “I don’t let you. You just take it.” 

“Semantics.”  

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression—something warm, something familiar. 

For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Like the weird tension from before had settled into something softer. Something easier. 

But then his eyes lingered on you a second too long. 

And suddenly, it was back. 

That unspoken thing between you. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

You just kept eating. 

And Mingyu? 

Mingyu was so, so screwed. 

Your phone started ringing. Hoshi was calling. 

We were screwed. 

By the time evening settled in, you had changed into something comfortable—his clothes, to be exact. He was still here, lingering in your space, and for a few fleeting hours, everything felt right. As if this was how it was always meant to be. As if this was your everyday. But deep down, a small voice whispered, warning you not to get used to it. 

After dinner,  Mingyu is still here. 

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a plate, and it’s almost too quick to register. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he. 

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching you as you load the dishes into the dishwasher. His voice breaks the silence, low and casual, but there’s an edge to it, something like hesitation. 

“Do you still have a headache?” 

Before you can speak, he’s close. His presence fills the space between you. His left hand gently presses against your forehead.. His right hand moves to your neck, fingers brushing lightly over your skin.  

You barely notice it at first, but when you shift slightly, you feel it—your back pressing against the counter. Mingyu is so close, standing in front of you, subtly caging you in You can barely breathe. You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he’s so close, or the fact that you want him closer.  

Your voice falters when you answer. "I’m fine now. It’s... better." You watch as Mingyu’s face softens in an instant at your words. 

Neither of you moves, standing close, too close.  

Mingyu’s lips quirk into a grin, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “My clothes look good on you. I should let you steal them more often.” 

You laugh, but it’s breathless. You stretch up, reaching for his face, your fingers brushing his skin. You squint your eyes, making a playful face. “I’d do it anyway. Don’t need your permission.” 

Mingyu chuckles, but his gaze shifts, sharpening just enough for you to notice. He steps closer. The warmth radiating off his body, the faint brush of his leg against yours, the way his chest is so close that if you just leaned in the smallest bit, you'd be pressed against him. It’s intoxicating. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing for a second until you force yourself to inhale, only to take in the faint scent of him—clean, familiar, utterly Mingyu. 

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

And then, he inches closer, almost without thinking, and his lips brush against yours—just the lightest touch, so soft that it could almost be a breath. Your body tenses, and for a second, everything stills.  

But fuck, it’s enough to send heat coursing through his veins. 

His lips are soft, teasing, brushing lightly against yours. The kiss is slow, barely there, but enough to leave you gasping for more. 

You inhale sharply, your breath mixing with his. You don’t move away. If anything, you shift closer, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. 

His lips linger, hovering, teasing. Testing. 

His self-control is hanging by a thread. 

He tells himself to stop. You were loosing yourself in it. You- 

- Ding Dong 

The sound of the doorbell rings, slicing through the tension. You both freeze. The world shifts back into focus. The heat, the closeness, everything evaporates in an instant. 

You step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. 

[acexsmhking]

TICCI TOBY WITH A THING FOR KNUCKLE RUBBING LORD I BEG THAT IS THE REQUEST

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

(𝗮𝗱𝘃.) 𝗜𝗻 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗮𝘆

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Toby relationship knacks

note: i actually just got done with a full sobbing breakdown so this ask genuinely made me giggle i love you😭😂

Warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff nothing else<3 kinda..

No cause Anon you’re so right, like idk about anyone else but I LOVE knuckle rubs just in general and Toby 100% rubs your knuckles. All of them!!

Especially that little knuckle bone on your wrist tho I guess that’s a wrist bone.. what the difference..

But omg Toby LOVES hands; he loves holding your hand, kissing your fingers, your palms, EVERYTHING!

Toby is a very very touchy grabby feely person like 98.99% of the time. Of course he has his moments where that depression or anxiety hits all of us and he just,.. cannot handle any human interaction

But trust! He is holding your hands, thumb rubbing your knuckles, occasionally bringing your hand up to kiss.

And Toby is actually very open about PDA. Toby doesn’t really care about other people’s opinions or feelings if it isn’t you.. Tim.. Brian.. and Kate. So. Like. Ya know.

He keeps it more PG around them but 100% expect that if Toby ever does wiggle his way into town with you to go shopping he will slap your ass no care

So yeah no one is like shocked by just HOW often he kisses your knuckles. And it’s a lot

Toby pretty much is always with you, sure he heads off for house chores and maintenance and food but other that Toby is with you the whole 24HRS.

So he just… holds your hand. It’s really great actually. Toby doesn’t sweat, and he’s pretty chill not necessarily cold. So like it’s weirdly comfortable and satisfying to hold his hand

Sometimes he’ll hold your hand in his mouth if he’s doing something but still wants some body part of yours

We love the little cutie patootie

Toby 100% is the kinda guy that holds your hand when you guys have sex. I mean it, he loves it. He craves it. It’s just so.. close and intimate like those sappy old adult movies

*sobs*

Not to mention if YOU kiss his knuckles? Yeah he feels his heart tingle; back flipping, doing the tango. Toby is a very big emotion feeler. He feels rather intensely a majority of the time

Like he will break down crying holding your face telling you how much he loves you…

Me with my dog

But he is just a sucker for love. Don’t get me wrong, yes Toby has his moments, and his flaws, and lingering issues. But at the end of the day it genuinely is.. exhausting. And Toby isn’t just some emotionally stupid person he’s stupidly smart if anything lol

Especially canonically

And sometimes after eating a family of five, with your weird demon friend and masked adoptive mom you just wanna go home to your beloved and hold hands

Nothing wrong with that..

Omg going on dates Toby 100% holds your hand across the table. I don’t make the rules

(Ok sure your dates are always at home or the picnic table he built for you but it still counts)

He also LOVEEES how your hands feel, especially that soft skin one your knuckles. He had very very worked hands and just lovessss the differences in textures it itches something in his brain

Ride him, hold his hands as you bounce he will get you pregnant. Sucks if your a guy or mtf he don’t give a fuck. m!preg bitch take that

All in all. While Toby is 99.98% of the time a chaotic bundle of cannibalism, weird morals, demon possession and neurodivergence when he’s with you his only the neurodivergent and chaos LMAO

someone draw Toby kissing some hands<3

: ̗̀➛ Thank you again for this ask I have actually been so stupidly stressed today and this made me feel better. I promise Deer anon and other anon I am working on your requests too!! Just well tumblr decided not to save half the progress LMAO deer anon yours should come out tomorrow! — Ace

[sapphossparenoterbook]

Reader has antler tattoos on their lower stomach… they remind Lottie of other times…

Post!Crash, no Switzerland AU

It’s the last few weeks of college before the summer break kicks off properly, but it’s still incredibly hot, especially in the lecture halls.

Most guys are wearing tank tops and jorts, and most girls are wearing crop tops and skirts-really, just anything to try and keep the sweltering heat at bay and stop the heatstroke from getting so bad that people pass out half way through lectures about the development of common law or something. It was the first day you’d really succumb to the heat and let yourself wear that crop top you’ve been putting off wearing forever now, but a heatwave has come in, and even thin t-shirts was unbearable now.

You’d recently started talking to a photography major, she’d wanted to do something else, but didn’t get the qualifications in high school because of some big life-changing event that she doesn’t share any details on. Except a quick google search would find out exactly what it was… anyway, Lottie “I wanted to study law, too!” Matthews had told you to meet her under an oak tree in the centre of the courtyard, so that’s where you caught her snapping pictures of people passing by that she liked the look of. You’d been talking to her for a few weeks now, been on a few dates… it was fun, she was hot and easy to talk to.

“Are those for your course, or your wank bank?” You ask mockingly from behind her, making her jump mid *snap!* of her camera. “Hey! You ruined my photo—“

Lottie cuts herself off at the sight of your tattoos. You’d told her you had them when you started talking, but she didn’t realise how beautiful they’d be.

Antlers.

Just like her old crown, back in the Wilderness, tattooed onto your lower stomach. Lottie used to wear antlers so similar when the other girls would kill in front of her, would dig their teeth into the flesh of their dead murdered friends for the chance to see another desolate day. You’d said something about the metaphorical regeneration that you admired in deer, about their antlers growth cycle, and how you got the tattoo because of it being meaningful to you.

“Hey? You okay?” You ask her, and she snaps out of her daze like state to give you a grin and grip at your hips, running her thumbs in a soothing caress over the tattooed antlers. “I’m perfect” she says. And, yeah, technically she is. She’s medicated, and attending therapy, and coping. She’s perfect in the sense she’s doing so much better… but she felt like something was missing. Her crown, her leadership. That’s what was missing, that’s what her heart and soul screamed for in the quiet of the sleepless nights, bed too soft to sleep in after so long on the cold, hard floor of the dirt.

Lottie understands now that she had no power other than being respected by her teammates. She’s perfectly sane. Her crown now, was etched into your skin with ink, perfectly aligned with the top of her head when she’s between your legs. She used to dig her teeth into flesh, and bite. But now, she digs her teeth into your flesh, and sucks.

—————

Sorry if this is a bit shit, haven’t written in a while!!

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For the song fic event JJK, Suguru Geto x reader Baby I'm yours by Isabel LaRosa Especially this line "I'm nervous trip over my words, you're so pretty it hurts"

summary: suguru really, really, likes you but you overhear something he says to gojo and suddenly there's a terrible misunderstanding

wc: 981

cw: fluff, slight angst, misunderstanding, suguru is down bad, reader wears a sundress, like two swear words, reader refers to herself as girlfriend once, suguru calls reader baby once, may be ooc bc it's only like, my second time writing for him, sorry

note: this is a little shorter than the other ones, but i'm actually fairly pleased with how it turned out! i think it's pretty cute!

listen to this while reading!

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

The brush of cold air whirring from the air conditioning in the little boutique was the only thing keeping Suguru sane. Why he had decided to join you and Ieri on your shopping trip in ninety degree weather was beyond him. He should have just stayed on campus and relaxed in his dorm, maybe read a bit of the book he’s been intending to read for months. 

The rustling of the curtain enclosing the dressing room draws his eye, and he hears you and Ieri whispering urgently at each other. Suddenly, you stumbled through the curtain, and he swears he feels his heart stop in his chest.

It’s not like he hasn’t looked at your face pretty much every day for the last few years, or he hasn’t seen you in a sundress before. It’s not even the first time he’s found himself thinking that you were beautiful. But there was something just a little bit different about this time.

Maybe it’s the way the sun shines through the window, a small beam caressing your face lovingly, like the sun itself was entranced by your beauty. Or perhaps it was the flowy little sundress you’re wearing that accentuates your features so well. 

Actually, he decides. It’s a little bit of all of the above, but the biggest factor was your smile, blindingly bright as you turned to face him after kicking Ieri through the curtain.

“So, what do you think? Should I get it?” 

His chest constricts, his heart feels like it’s going to explode, and he’s not sure how or what he managed to say. Hours after the fact, he privately reflects on the exchange, his heart panging in his chest every time he recalls the moment.

It should be illegal to be that pretty. It’s bad for his the public's health and sanity.

I'm nervous trip over my words You're so pretty it hurts

“-I just can’t do it anymore.” 

You don’t mean to eavesdrop, you really don’t. But you hear Suguru having what seemed to be a serious conversation with Gojo then caught your name being mentioned. Naturally, your curiosity was piqued, so you loitered outside the classroom, only to immediately wish you had just minded your own business.

“I can’t be friends with her any more.” Suguru groans, and a chair squeaks as if he had leaned back in it. “It’s just too difficult you don’t understand. I can’t even look at her any more.”

“What?”

You had no idea what you were doing until you had thrown open the door and stepped into the classroom. You see Gojo mouth “oh, shit” over Suguru’s shoulder, but your attention is focused on your black-haired classmate, hurt and betrayal lining your face. 

“What did you just say?”

He takes a deep breath, anxiety lining his body as he exhales in a long, drawn out sigh. 

“I think we need to talk.”

Favorite mistake Friendship's over

The silence is awkward as you perch next to him on the bench, fidgeting with your fingers. Suguru’s pants rustle as he slides his legs into his usual obnoxious manspread, the adjustment causing his thigh to press up against yours, heat transferring between you where your uniform pants touch.

“I’m sorry.”

Your quiet apology breaks the silence, and his head jerks up so fast you’re half afraid he got whiplash.

 “I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. But when I heard you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore I listened in. Did I do something? Can you tell me so I can try to fix it?  I really value you and our friendship.”

Suguru lets out a dry chuckle as he scrubs his face with his hands and your heart drops. Does he really hate you so much that the idea of remaining friends with you is laughable? What went wrong? Did he find out about your feelings for him? Is that why he doesn’t want to remain friends?

“Listen if this is about my feelings for you.”

“I think you might have misunderstood-”

You speak at the same time before pausing as the other’s words registered. You’re confused, because what was there to misunderstand? He’s just staring at you with something akin to hope glimmering in his dark eyes.

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?” Could this have gone any worse? You bury your face in your hands, hiding your burning face from his intense gaze. “I thought-I thought you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore because you found out and were uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, finding out you have feelings for me is the last thing that is going to make me uncomfortable. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was scared.” Your confession is barely audible as you stare at your shoes, unable to look at him. “I didn’t want things to change. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Warm, calloused fingers grip your chin softly, and tilt your face to the side. The look on his face is so soft you want to melt, and the gentleness of his grip on your chin simultaneously breaks your heart and heals it.

“Baby.” Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sound of the pet name. “Things are going to change but you sure as hell aren’t going to lose me.”

“What do you mean?”

You’re hardly breathing, the suspicion of what he was trying to say stealing the oxygen from your lungs.

“What are you saying?”

“Let me be your boyfriend.” He’s looking at you so earnestly, so openly, it brings tears to your eyes for some inexplicable reason. “Please. I’ve been yours since the moment I met you, whether you knew it or not. So, can I make it official?”

“Depends.” You give him a watery smile. “Do I get to be your girlfriend?”

“I thought that went unsaid.” 

“Then baby I’m yours.”

Won’t be the same Baby I’m yours

thank you so much for reading! as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always so so appreciated!! don't forget to comment/send an ask/dm me if you would like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists. love you all <3

general taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @hotvinimon @evemooniepeach

jjk taglist: @m0k0k0 @starlightanyaaa

geto suguru taglist: n/a

[beautiful-basque-country]

What do you think? https://youtu.be/WW4D-1Sa-r8?si=8peyR-RkNAeYOynL

Kaixo anon!

Somehow I thought somebody would ask me about that video? I watched it yesterday.

I'm suscribed to Linguriosa's channel and have learnt very much from her videos, that are generally well researched and explained.

This one isn't different. She tries to be somehow aseptic and focus on the laws that attacked Galego, Català, and Euskara during the dictatorship without too much assessment or analysis beyond that.

For instance, she says that the first ikastola (school 100% in Basque) was opened in Donosti in 1954 but fails to mention it was actually a clandestine school. She also fails to add context when she says thatin the 60s - the so-called "liberal phase" of the dictatorship" - magazines and records could be edited in Basque.

By that time, 23 years - a whole generation - of repression and punishment and making people ashamed had passed; that thousands of Basque-speakers had left their homes (27,000 to Cuba and +7,000 to France, just in 1937, and we're talking about the registered immigrants; it's calculated that half the people that escaped Spain did it illegaly);

Literally millions of people from the rural communities of Spain moved to the industrial capitals - especially Barcelona and Bilbo -, which made the few Basque speakers remaining not to interact in Basque since maaaaaaaany citizens were now from outside EH and Spanish, even though not over imposed by law as before, was very much imposed by the situation;

This is to say that by the 60s when Franco allegedly changed his mind and was so gracious as to let Basque people have content in our language, Basque was a TINY language on the verge of death. Unimportant. Incidental. Completely safe.

Then I see comments below Linguriosa's video saying something like "I am Basque and I was always taught that Basque was super banned under Franco and now I see that I was fed propaganda" and my heart breaks. Because this is exactly what happens when you fail to give as much context as possible to actually let people understand the whole picture and story.

Because, really, if you know nothing about this and watch the video, you actually get the idea that Franco became more tolerant regarding the minoritized languages in Spain as he got older and what he was actually doing was just laughing at our people: see? you have freedom to use your language now, too bad nobody can speak it anymore!

I'd love to know the takes of my friends @useless-catalanfacts and @jar-jar-ate on this, if they oblige! ^_^

[haytan]

WILDFLOWER | G.A

inspired by billie eilish's wildflower. I think you can already predict that it's very angst. I cried writing this and I love it even more because of it.

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 3390

𓍼 SUMMARY: after listening to Two People on Good Riddance tour something invades you, like a fever.

𓍼 WARNINGS: angst, good ending...

good riddance had been out for a few months now, yet you still remembered the nights when gracie came home late from the studio. it might have seemed like a bad thing, but she always found a way to make it up to you—small surprises, late-night apologies that always ended with her between your legs—so, in the end, it was never really that bad.

one of the things you admired most about her was her honesty, especially when it came to her feelings. while working on the album, she never let you forget how much she loved you, how important your relationship was, and how those lyrics were nothing more than echoes of old wounds.

more than anyone, you understood what this album meant to her. it wasn’t just a way to express everything she had been through, but the first project that was truly hers, a piece of her heart laid bare. and you had been there for every part of it.

before love ever crossed your mind, you and gracie were just friends. and you had the luck—or maybe the curse—of knowing her ex-boyfriend, of watching them grow together and, eventually, fall apart.

it should have been easy to let time wash it all away, to accept that the past was nothing more than that. you had promised yourself it wouldn’t matter anymore. you had promised gracie, too.

but then two people started playing.

and when gracie sang that one specific line—

"and you know, you know every inch of my body"

that was when the tears started falling, before you could even think about stopping them. that was the night you started seeing him in the back of your mind again when you started feeling like you were burning alive.

but you knew she didn't mean to hurt you.

so you kept it to yourself.

…

the next morning, usually filled with kisses and silly conversations, is ruined by a tension that settles between you like something unspoken—thick and heavy. the air inside the apartment feels too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

gracie leans against the sink, absentmindedly stirring her tea, though you’re not even sure if she actually intends to drink it. her fingers tap a slow rhythm against the ceramic mug, eyes fixed on some distant point.

you sit on a stool by the counter, arms crossed, so close yet so far away. the hum of the fridge, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall—everything sounds too loud in the midst of the silence between you.

"are you really not going to talk to me?" gracie finally says, her voice quieter than usual but heavy with frustration.

you exhale through your nose, hearing your own heartbeat echo inside your head. "i don’t know what you want me to say."

"i want you to say whatever it is that’s bothering you."

you shake your head, staring at a spot on the floor. "it’s nothing, gracie."

she laughs, but there’s no humor in it. "liar. you shut down the moment we got home. you barely looked at me all night. just tell me what’s going on!"

"i already told you—i’m fine."

"no, you’re not." she leans forward slightly, exasperated. "and i’m tired of pretending i don’t notice when you’re upset just because you refuse to talk to me."

your chest tightens. part of you knows she’s right. but another part—the one that’s been burning since last night, since that damn song and the way it made something ugly take root inside you—wants to resist.

you run your hands through your hair, a habit stolen from her. "maybe i just don’t want to talk about it, okay?"

gracie shakes her head. "god, why do you always do this? why do you always push me away when something’s wrong?"

"because i don’t want to fight with you!" you snap, your voice rising as your patience wears thin. "i don’t want to ruin the morning or… or make things weird before your show!"

gracie exhales sharply, setting her mug down on the counter harder than she intended. "and you think not talking makes everything better? because right now, it just feels like you’re shutting me out."

you press your fingers against your forehead, breathing heavily. "i just need time, okay?"

"time for what?" her voice wavers now, a trace of hurt seeping in. "for me to stop asking? for me to just sit here and pretend i don’t see that you’re upset?"

"for me to figure out how to talk without sounding like an idiot!"

that makes her pause. the tension between you crackles in the air, the silence stretching too long.

gracie swallows, the sound making you shiver.

"you know what? forget it," she says, turning back to the sink and picking up her tea.

you close your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. "gracie—"

"no, i get it." she cuts you off, taking a long sip. "you don’t want to talk. fine."

gracie turns back to you, searching your face for some sign of regret, but she finds nothing but confusion.

"in the end, i’m always the only one trying to fix things," she says before walking away, the sound of her heavy footsteps echoing as she climbs the stairs.

you stay there, sitting on the stool, staring at the empty space where gracie stood just seconds ago.

your fingers grip the edge of the counter, and you let out a shaky breath, frustration still pulsing beneath your skin. this wasn’t how you wanted the morning to go. this wasn’t how you wanted things to be before her show.

but now it’s done.

you rub your face, trying to clear your thoughts. but everything feels blurred, tangled—a mess of emotions you don’t know how to unravel.

the apartment suddenly feels too small. the air inside it, too heavy.

you need to get out.

standing up quickly, you grab a sweatshirt draped over a chair and shove your keys into your pocket. the soft click of the door unlocking echoes through the apartment, but there’s no sound from upstairs. no attempt to stop you from leaving.

a part of you wishes there was.

you walk down the stairs slowly, hands buried in your pockets, with no real destination in mind. you just keep moving.

the cold morning air hits you the moment you step outside, and an immediate urge to cry swells inside you. your nose starts to sting, your eyes well up, and before you know it, those words are replaying in your head again.

"and you know, you know every inch of my body."

you know she loves you. you should let this go, shouldn’t you? but he lingers, always there, in the back of your mind.

last night, when gracie wrapped her arms around you, kissed the nape of your neck, and told you she loved you, you wanted to turn around, hold her tighter, tell her you loved her more, and start a silly argument over it.

but every time she touched you, all you could think about was how he felt.

had gracie ever looked at you and seen him? in the dark of the bedroom, between kisses and whispered promises, had a part of him ever slipped into her mind?

and if, just for a moment, she had wished it was him instead of you?

you try to push the thought away, try to hold onto the certainties gracie gives you—the way she reaches for your hand without thinking, the way her eyes light up when she talks about you, the i love yous that sound so real.

but doubt creeps in, spreading like a loose thread unraveling everything.

what if they’re not?

what if, deep down, you’re only here because he’s not?

the thought tightens in your chest. you swallow hard and keep walking, unfamiliar streets closing in around you.

but nothing feels as endless or inescapable as the maze inside your own mind.

…

the lights dim, and the crowd erupts into cheers. the air is electric, pulsing with anticipation, and gracie feels it thrumming through her veins. she grips the microphone tightly, fingers trembling just slightly, but she forces herself to take a deep breath. this is her moment—her show. no matter what happened this morning, she needs to push through.

but she knows better than to think she can just shut it out.

as she steps onto the stage, her eyes scan the audience, moving quickly over the sea of faces. the adrenaline in her chest spikes as she catches sight of you.

standing near the back, hands buried in your pockets, shoulders drawn tight, looking at her like you’re not sure whether you want to be here or not.

the moment stretches between you, thick with words left unsaid.

gracie knows that for months she has been exposing you to these painful memories embedded in her own songs. but she also knows that they are past pains, without weight or meaning, and she expected you to know that too. if something was wrong, you would tell her. wouldn't you? but as she stands there, watching you from the stage, doubt grips her chest.

did i cross the line?

abrams swallows hard, forcing herself to keep moving, to wave at the fans screaming her name, to smile like she’s okay. but her mind is already somewhere else, stuck in the heaviness of this morning, the way you looked at her, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you as you left.

she drags in another breath, stepping up to the mic as the opening chords of the first song hum through the speakers. the setlist is the same as always, but tonight, everything feels different. she wonders if you can feel it too, if the weight pressing down on her is pressing down on you as well.

and then the next song starts.

the one that ruined everything last night.

the crowd sings along, voices blending with hers. her gaze, however, is locked on yours. she sings the line without hesitation, without breaking, watching the way your jaw clenches, your eyes darkening just slightly. she wonders if you can tell that she’s looking at you. if you can hear what she’s trying to say through the words that once meant something else.

i didn’t mean to hurt you.

it’s just a song. it’s just a song.

but that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?

the song ends, the moment passes, and yet, the weight lingers. the rest of the show blurs together—flashes of movement, chords, applause—but that moment stays lodged in her ribs, burning like something she doesn’t know how to name.

by the time the final song fades, the crowd’s cheers ring in her ears, and gracie barely remembers getting through it. sweat clings to her skin as she steps backstage, her heart still pounding too fast, and she doesn’t know if it’s from the performance or the way you looked at her.

she doesn’t have time to figure it out before she hears movement behind her.

turning slowly, she finds you standing there, just a few feet away.

you’re still wearing that same guarded expression, the one that makes something in her ache, but there’s something else beneath it now. something hesitant. something like regret.

she wants to say something, anything—but what is there to say?

where were you?

are you okay?

i’m sorry?

but before she can choose the perfect false words, you take the first step. "we should talk… at home."

"yeah, definitely," she says almost automatically.

you hold each other’s gaze for a moment, both fidgeting with your hands—shared habits.

the ride home is silent. the radio plays some random melody, but neither of you really listens. gracie keeps her hands on her thighs, fingers restless, resisting the urge to reach out. she doesn’t know if it would be welcomed. if she still can.

on the other side, you stare out the window, your hand so close to hers. close enough that if one of you just…

but no one moves.

back home, the silence is just as heavy. gracie drops her bag on the counter but doesn’t step away, fingers gripping the marble as if she needs something solid to hold onto.

this time, there are no distractions. just the two of you and the space between you.

"can we talk now?" gracie asks, her voice low.

"yeah," you answer hesitant. but it takes a moment before you can actually speak.

gracie’s breath seems caught in her chest as she waits, and you hate it—hate how uncertainty spreads across her features, like she’s bracing for something bad. but the truth is, you don’t even know how to put what you’re feeling into words.

you run your tongue over your dry lips before finally saying:

"that song last night, two people… it really fucked me up."

gracie blinks a few times, surprised by the raw honesty in your voice. she swallows hard before responding.

"i didn’t…" she pauses, the words dying before they fully form. "i didn’t mean for it to hurt you."

"i know." you squeeze your fingers, letting out a heavy sigh. "but it did."

gracie nods slowly, eyes fixed on you, unsure of where to step. "you never said anything before. about the song, about…" she hesitates. "him."

"because i thought i was fine," you admit, your voice coming out rougher than you intended. "i thought i had let it go. but hearing it—hearing you sing it—just brought everything back, and i hated it. i hated that it still gets to me."

gracie stays silent for a moment, her gaze locked on you like she’s searching for the right thing to say. then, in a hesitant, almost resigned tone, she asks:

"do you want me to stop singing it?"

do you want that?

"because if you do, i will."

"of course not," you say, shaking your head. "that’s not the point, gracie."

"then what is the point?"

"i don’t fucking know!" tears start streaming down your face, and suddenly, you’ve never felt more exposed than now. "i’m sorry…" you bring your hands up to your face, as if trying to hide somehow.

gracie doesn’t think. she just moves.

before she can second-guess herself, she closes the space between you, wrapping her arms around your trembling frame. you tense at first, your body stiff against hers, but then, slowly, you sink into it.

your hands clutch the fabric of her jacket, desperate for something to hold onto, something solid in the middle of everything unraveling inside you.

gracie presses her face into your hair, eyes squeezing shut. "hey," she whispers, voice barely steady. "it’s okay. you don’t have to be sorry."

but you shake your head against her shoulder, fingers tightening. "i hate this," you choke out. "i hate feeling like this. like i’m stuck. like i—" your breath catches, breaking apart in your throat.

gracie pulls back just enough to look at you, cradling your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the tears from your cheeks. her gaze is searching, pained, but steady. "then don’t do it alone." she almost whispers. "let me be here. let us figure this out together."

"look at me," she continues, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers.

your breath hitches. "gracie—"

"i love you."

you swallow hard, eyes flickering between hers. "i know that you love me."

"no." her grip tightens, not to hold you in place, but to make you feel her, to feel the weight of what she’s saying. she looks at you like she’s searching for something deeper, something that words alone can’t reach. "i don’t want you to just know. i need you to feel it. i need you to feel it in every vein in your body, how much i want you, how much i love you, y/n."

your chest tightens, throat burning with unshed tears.

"you’re my baby, my girl, my fucking adorable, sweet princess," she breathes, her forehead resting against yours. "i’d give you the whole damn universe if you asked me. and i’m sorry for not noticing how hard this has been for you."

"you don’t have to do anything," you shake your head. "it’s not your responsibility. it’s not your fault."

gracie lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with her thumb. "i’m your girlfriend, of course it’s my responsibility. but it’s not just that—i want to. i want to be here. i want to hold this with you."

you let out a shaky breath, your forehead still pressed against hers. the warmth of her hands, the closeness of her body, it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

gracie watches you, waiting, giving you space even as she holds you close. there’s no rush, no expectation. just her, just this moment, just the steady rhythm of her breathing mixing with yours.

"i don’t know how to stop feeling like this," you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

"you don’t have to figure it out all at once. we’ll take it one step at a time. no pressure, no rush. just us."

you close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself lean into her, feeling the warmth of her presence wrap around you like something safe, something solid.

then, after a beat, you whisper, "say it again."

gracie pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. "i love you."

you shake your head. "no. the whole thing."

her hands tighten around your face, eyes dark and unwavering as she speaks again, voice like a vow:

"i don’t want you to just know how much i love you. i need you to feel it. in every breath, every touch, every part of you. you’re my baby, my girl, my sweet, adorable princess. and i’d give you the universe if you asked me."

tears slip silently down your cheeks, but this time, they don’t feel heavy. it’s love, because of love.

gracie catches one with her thumb, her smile turning just a little teasing, a little mischievous. "and i’m never singing two people again unless you say it’s okay."

you let out a breathy, tearful laugh, shoving her shoulder lightly. "i never said that."

she grins, eyes crinkling, before she leans in and presses the softest, most deliberate kiss to your lips. like a promise. like a beginning.

gracie doesn’t pull away right away. she lingers her lips barely brushing yours, memorizing the shape of you, like she’s making sure you feel every ounce of her love in that kiss. when she finally does part from you, it’s only far enough to rest her forehead against yours again, her breath mingling with yours in the small space between you.

"you okay?"

you nod, a little shy now, a little overwhelmed but in a way that doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

she smiles, thumbs still tracing light patterns on your cheeks before one hand slips down, lacing her fingers with yours. "come here," she says, giving your hand the gentlest tug.

abrams leads you to the couch, pulling you down with her, and before you can even think, she’s tucking you against her side, wrapping you up in warmth. it’s so easy, so effortless—the way your body finds its place against hers, the way her arm fits snugly around your waist, like you were always meant to be here.

"do you wanna talk more?" she asks after a moment, her voice soft. "or do you just wanna stay like this for a while?"

you don’t answer right away. instead, you shift, pressing your face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. she smells like vanilla and something distinctly her, something comforting.

"this," you murmur against her skin. "just this."

gracie hums, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "okay, baby. just this."

and so you stay there, tangled together in the quiet, her fingers trailing lazy patterns along your back, your hands resting against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

it’s not perfect. there’s still a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. but for now, in this moment, in her arms, you feel safe.

and that’s enough.

guys…

thanks for reading <3

back to nav

[leaawrites]

Maybe later is a better time

Noel Gallagher x fem!actress!reader

Summary: where both can't flee the inevitable.

Warnings: angst, lots of angst

Wordcount: 1.1k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Masterlist

It didn’t seem to stop. Every hurdle they had to overcome seemed to lead to only another strain in their love. Another pain for their hearts.

The - stopped, but the headlines didn’t. They never would.

“They’ll try to get every drop out of this story,” her publicists said as they met up the last time, two days prior. “You’ve got the choice, stay and hurt even more or leave and feel the needle for only a second of time.”

She didn’t want to go, she had no reason to leave him. This was all worth it for her in the end, she had nothing else.

Sitting on the sofa of his house, staring out into his backyard with no one else around - not even him - she noticed that exactly that was the problem. All she had was mostly his. All she shared with him wasn’t equally separated between the two of them. Nothing that was hers was hers alone and everything that he had was outside of her reach.

And everybody knew that.

The media, the interviewers, the fans. Friends and family. The neighbours. Colleagues. And now her mind knew that too and it wouldn’t forget.

When Noel came home, every night it was the same. He’d come walking through the door, put his coat away and say that they should go out to eat and every night she’d say no to the offer of being taken out and insist that she likes it more at home. Truth been told, she knew what would be on the front page the next day. Which scared her.

She didn’t want to be able to foresee the future, especially if she knew that it was gonna be bad.

“Everything alright?” Noel asked one night as they sat together at the table after she refused to go out once again. Dinner plates in front of them. His was half empty but hers was only thrown around on the plate. Changing places but never leaving.

“Huh?” Her head snapped up at the sudden sound of his voice. “Everything’s fine.” It came almost natural; the lie falling out.

“You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight.” Letting out a little chuckle, Noel hoped that it would get at least a small smile from her. But there was nothing but emptiness in her eyes. “Usually you can’t stop talking.”

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t have anything to tell because nothing happened,” she snapped, letting the fork clink on the porcelain as it fell out of her hand.

“Alright, no need to get so tense, woman. Was just making sure you’re alright.” He meant it in a funny way. The nickname being the irony of the headlines they’d get. Normally they made a laugh tumble out her mouth and her eyes rolling. Tonight, it only worsened her mood.

“I am. I’m fine, stop asking.”

Standing up, she pushed the plate a bit further away. Walking out of the room and away from the problem. Still it followed her until late at night.

When Noel made his way up the stairs to the bedroom, pushing the door open and seeing her crying on the bed, it was like a hammer hit him. He shouldn’t have waited for so long before coming up. Who knew how long she was already sitting there like that? Broken and littered in unhappiness. Minutes, hours, maybe months.

“Love.” Walking over, he gently sat down on the mattress next to her. Taking her head in his hands and laying it down on his chest. She clung to him like he was the only safe haven that could keep her from drowning.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled in between sobs against the fabric of his shirt. Repeating the same words over and over again. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he assured her. Kissing the top of her head every time a new tear slipped out of her eyes. “Just tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

He sounded almost like he was begging now, breaking her heart even more. Making her confess.

“I don’t wanna be just someone next to you. I want to be someone on my own.”

“What are you talking about, love?”

Lifting her head from his chest, she looked at his confused eyes. She could see the fear in them. The fear of the inevitable.

“I have a job in America.”

“That’s great! I’ll come and visit you, it’ll be fine. We can do it like before until you come back-”

“I’m not gonna come back.”

“What?”

She could feel his heart beat stopping in his fingertips. Could feel his breath hitching against her face. His mind falling backwards. Tumbling down a rabbit hole, waiting to find wonderland. But it never came. He only fell further.

“I’m gonna stay in the US. I have more opportunities there, more people interested in watching my movies. It’s easier if I stay there all together. It’s better if you accept that and move on as soon as possible.” She tried making it sound as painless as possible, keeping her own fear of it being the wrong decision to herself. Not wanting to hurt him even more.

“What has gotten into you, love? I can’t just move on like that.” His voice was quieter now, softer than she’d ever heard it before.

“No one would care anyway. It’s better if we do the inevitable now than when people believe this is more than a little love story.”

“Is that really what you think this is?” His fingers were shaking, falling down to his sides. Tears pricking in his eyes. He couldn’t cry now.

“I just think, that maybe later could be a better time.”

But he did.

Later, that word made the first one slip out and after that, it didn’t stop. He wasn’t a man for crying, never had been, but something about her way of saying it made his heart hurt more than ever before.

“So that’s it? You’re leaving and I’m stuck here? In this house that reminds me of you every time I walk through the door? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“Right, just the fucker who can’t keep a relationship, huh? Easy and off.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said though, innit?”

She hesitated. She hesitated and that was the problem. It was the answer.

Leaving out a dry chuckle, Noel stood up. Looking out the window for a second longer, standing with his back to her before dragging his hands down his face. Taking his phone from the night stand, he didn’t look at her when he said, “I’m leaving for tonight. Go when you’re ready.”

And with that he was out the door.

She could hear his feet on the stairs, his keys jangling as he picked them up, the door of the closet closing and then, eventually, the door as he escaped the crime scene.

‘Two Graves, One Gun’ but he fled while bleeding out.

[postcardsfromheapside]

So I finished my DA2 replay, and I had wondered if I would feel differently after taking my time with it, and with the perspective of Veilguard. And yes, in small ways I do, but about the series and about Anders, I don't. That is to say: I think Veilguard is a fucking fantastic capper to the series (I mean, pray there is more, "hope for the best, expect the worst" as the Mel Brooks song goes), and Anders is relatably angry, even if the "betrayal" is frustrating and heart-breaking.

Also, there's just too much Dragon Age just the same way there's too much Tolkien, it's just that I can relisten to Tolkien via audiobook while I work and don't have time to constantly replay Dragon Age to absorb every little detail that my broken brain forgets (and I'm pretty good with lore) and I wish parts of this fandom were more curious than scathing about things they've obviously forgotten. Or skipped through, according to some of them, because I guess the context of dialogue and a cut scene isn't necessary for some of them to weigh in on things.

Word vomit of notes below the break:

First of all.

Can these two just fuck already. Watching Cassandra go from throwing him around to absolutely ENTHRALLED by Varric's complete bullshit is just going to make it so much better when I hit the "Guilty Pleasures" quest again in DA:I. This woman is SEDUCED by his story-telling, and you *cannot* convince me he wasn't gagging on his power trip.

Second.

I never played Mark of the Assassin before, and had completely forgotten Felicia Day was in DA2, and laughed like hell. I really enjoyed it. I haven't really used a stealth option in a game since leaving Skyrim for other stuff (do we ever really leave Skyrim?) and it was really fun, but I think the wyvern at the end of the DLC was actually the best fight in the entire game, even more than Corypheus. It hinted at the dragon battles to come in Veilguard. Also, I loved how Anders' dialogue got more relaxed outside of Kirkwall, like shedding the city let him loosen up. The back and forth with Hawke about his fantasy for being rescued was completely unhinged - after I accused Hawke of being feral and lacking social graces, I've decided the two of them match each other's freak and they're fine.

Third.

All the people who were losing their minds about the line "A crow never abandons a contract" and acting like the devs forgot Zevran.

He literally addresses it in the game. I keep having these moments where shit that people bitched about regarding Veilguard is addressed right *there.*

"The crows do like saying that, but I am living proof it's a lie."

No one actually forgot, but I'm sure the Dellamorte's wish to the Maker a motherfucker could.

When people complain the writing in Veilguard is too modern, I'm going to remember Hawke complaining exactly like this. She sounds like I do when I'm side-eyeing my friends in the year of our Maker 2025.

Fourth.

I had planned on romancing Blackwall this DA:I run, finally, because I'm a little obsessed with this Warden throughline from Anders to Blackwall to Davrin. From a cage, to hope/redemption, to a more meaningful path of positive change and impact.

They both haunt Veilguard's narrative and dialogue.

And then of course:

hrm.

Fifth.

I do hope we get another DA. Or supplementary material. Because I want to know what the fuck is going on with this story I had forgotten the details of, especially with the decision regarding the Nadas Dirthalen.

These two fucking idiots. I can't believe in different lives I've schtupped them both. (I can absolutely believe it)

Sixth.

The worst part of Meredith is she sounds like conservative family members of mine. 'Better to punish the innocent than risk even one guilty person go free', rather than the opposite. To them it sounds so reasonable. To us, it's abhorrent to punish everyone else for other people's crimes.

I couldn't bring myself to feel betrayed by Anders, even though I tried to play my Hawke as I think she would have felt: betrayed by the secret-keeping, if nothing else. The shock and hurt at the innocent lives. But it's hard not to feel an understanding when I sit here in a political situation with - maybe not less fraught, but at least less fantastical - implications and certainly still feel like violence is inevitable and we are way past the point of compromise and words.

Anyway.

This dwarf.

[zepskies]

Oh you got that right. 🥲 It was a bit stressful, and though I didn't want to admit it, a bit scary too. But I made it out of the procedure with flying colors and am already on the mend! (Yep been dealing with this medical issue since May of last year, but I so appreciate you for those well wishes 💓💓💓)

ahaha your question did not seem like a request, no worries!! I just decided the HC format was the best way to "answer" your question, so why not! For you, I didn't mind one bit. 😘

On this I love getting your insights as a barista -- with Dean I sense a coffee chop au a' brewin'. 😝 And a cookie butter latte sounds amaaaazing! 🤤 (Oh I miss Beau too!! I appreciate you in advance for the reread on TMH. I wanna get back into writing those two 💞)

"what the fuck is oat milk" lmfaoooo 😭 that is probably what he'd say though 🤣 (also i feel like you would not be able to explain that oat milk makes the drink creamier because that man would have an array of jokes to make 💀) but cold brew would be a great choice for him! especially with the higher caffeine percentage lol.

lmfaoo yeah there's no way you're gonna be able to explain that creamy ratio to Benny boy, unless you want a host of disgusting ad libs to go with it. 🤣

also fun fact, i actually do have a regular customer named russell who orders a flat white 🤣 except he gets his with a lot of white chocolate. like a lotttttttt, it concerns me a bit but i'm just there to make the drinks loll

Omg really?! That's too funny loll. Maybe if he's cute you can slip your number in along with that extra white chocolate. 😏

you are the absolute sweetest alex!!💗💗 i started out my day by waiting outside of work for forty minutes in the cold rain because my supervisor was late, and it had only gone downhill from there. but this? not only did it cheer me up but it truly warmed my heart <3 sorry to get sappy on the timeline lol, but you genuinely put in so much thought and effort in your responses, even to all my silly little questions :') i appreciate you very much friend <3 and i'm glad it was a fun question! i was worried it wouldn't make much sense, i was rushing to type it out on my lunch break 😭

Ughh omg that sucks!! I'm so glad this little batch of HCs could turn your day around, hun. Seeing you pop up in my inbox gave me something to take my mind off just laying in my bed all day, so thank you! 💗 I don't like to do things half-heartedly, so if an idea hooks me, I want to give it my full attention.

And it made perfect sense! It's fun to imagine these guys doing domestic everyday things like what they'd order for their coffee fix. Thank you again btw for having Midnight Espresso in mind!! There's a reason why an espresso mug is now part of my blog banner. 😘☕

hiiii, i hope your friday is going well lovely 💞💞 :) how has your week been?💕

i’m currently stuck at work and it’s beeeeeen quite the day already, but you always cheer me up so i have a random question :p

i’m thinking about the scene when dean tried cafe con leche in the midnight espresso-verse (also i’m a barista loll🥲), and he was pleasantly surprised, so it has me wondering;

if they were to get something besides plain coffee, what do you think dean/ben/beau/russell would like to drink if they ordered at a coffee shop?

i always love to hear any and all your thoughts 🙂‍↕️🤍

Hello my lovely! 💞💞 I actually am in recovery this week after having a surgical procedure yesterday, so I'm finally getting a chance to catch up on my TBR reading and the shows I've had on my watchlist. 🤪

Ooh introducing Dean to Cuban espresso was the scene that inspired that whole fic of Midnight Espresso, and ultimately turned it into a whole series of Dean x plus-sized Latina fun!! lol

This is such a fun question though!! You as a barista probably know way more about coffee than I do, but here's my take on these guys' orders...

HEADCANON: What Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would order at a coffee shop. ☕

Dean Winchester

Why, an espresso of course! 🤎

Cram that little cup full of sugar, and you've got Dean hooked on a heavy-hitter fix that'll keep him up during long research sessions. (It also gives you the opportunity to distract him from said research, give him a taste of another steamy fix. 😘❤️‍🔥)

Beau Arlen

Ooh I feel like he'd protest at first and claim to solely drink Americanos, but he's a basic latte guy.

Hit him with some caramel or hazelnut, and he's happy. But you could also hook him into being a little adventurous with a pistachio or "brown sugar" latte lol. Like most things, Beau is willing to try almost anything once. 😉

Soldier Boy (Ben)

So he's definitely going to be thrown by all the modern selections of coffee. (i.e. "What the fuck is oatmilk?") And how the hell can you get milk out of cashews and almonds?

All the health crazes, "drip" coffee, and milk alternatives are definitely going over his head, or he's mocking them. ("Save that pussy drink for Hughie." 💀)

But one thing he might go for, other than a black coffee, is a nice cold brew, hold off on too much foam -- can't be getting the milkstache, now can he? But he'll like it even better if you make it "Irish." 💚

Russell Shaw

Last but certainly not least, we have Russell! I don't think he's picky about his coffee, considering he probably drinks a lot of free motel coffee. lol

But! I think he'd appreciate a nice flat white at a proper café. It's more robust than a normal cappuccino and less milk, so he'd argue that he's getting more "bang for his buck." 😂

AN: @wvffles Hope you liked this little headcanon, friend, and that it cheers you up! I LOVE me some coffee, so this question with the guys was really fun to contemplate. 😘☕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @mxltifxnd0m @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[s0urw00lf]

I saw your post for requests and I was hoping you could write one of mine 🫠. Can you do something like an au where Dean did go to college briefly but left to continue hunting. But while he was in college he met reader and they start dating and when he left he told her he’s come back for her but he didn’t. Time skip to s3 after he sold his soul he comes back hoping to rekindle only to see how him breaking her heart changed her

Whether or not that get back together is up to you

Back into my life

Dean Winchester x Blackfem!reader

an: im so glad you asked this because its been the longest time since I’ve written for dean and i think its time to add him back to my roster. Also the person who requested this PM’ed me and asked for reader to be black.

Dean knew he was wrong. Dean knew sam knew he was wrong. But he couldn’t help himself, he had a year left and he wants to spend it with the woman he fell in love with all those years ago. If you’d let him. He knew you’d give him hell, but he was willing to take it if it meant he could at least see you again, hear your voice one last time.

“You sure you wanna do this man? I mean y/n is a hell of a force especially when she’s mad” Sam asked from the passenger seat. Dean didn’t answer, he stared at the entrance to the bar that a friend of yours had told him where to find you with a smirk on his face when dean mentioned who he was.

Without even answering he got out of the car, Sam followed quickly behind, hoping that this ended well but knowing your fiery nature and deans macho attitude, it wouldn’t.

When they entered the bar deans eyes immediately found you, you weren’t hard to spot, it was like his eyes just knew where to look. You were laughing with a group of friends in a pretty little dress that complimented your skin and your hair was out of the braids you used to keep them in during college.

Every part of you made his heart pound out of his chest.

Before he knew it he excused himself to the bathroom or really just left Sam standing. And thankfully so because not long after you found your eyes wandering as they did very often and your eyes landed on a familiar face, unmistakably Sam. Your heart plummeted to the ground, you knew that if Sam was here there was a really big chance dean was too.

You excused yourself from your friends and made your way over to the man who had grown even taller since you’d last seen him. You pushed your way through the sweaty crowd hoping to reach him before he disappeared in the crowded club.

You reached him just in time to see him start making his way to a table. “Sam!” You shouted over the loud music. The tall man turned around and his eyes widened as if the reason for being here wasn’t for his brother to seek you out, he just hadn’t been expecting you to see him before dean. “Y/n, its nice to see you” he said scratching the back of his head.

You gave him a look “is he here?” You asked, Sam looked as if he was debating lying but a look from you threw the thought right out of his head “he’s uh- in the bathroom” he stuttered.

You inhaled deeply pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation. After the week you had of course the only guy you’d ever fallen in love with and was so kind as to leave you in the dust, was back.

You looked back to Sam who stood awkwardly, awaiting whatever it was you had to say. “Why now do you two decide to pop up? You got hunt or something?” You questioned squinting your eyes.

“Uh no we-“ “I just wanted to see you again” your heart skipped a few beats at the sound of his voice, that love you had for him blossomed in your stomach as if you were taken back to all those years ago, but the rage also built and quickly overpowered any kind of love that was there.

You slowly turned around facing the green eyed man. He hadn’t looked a day older than the last time you saw him, though his hair was shorter and he was a little taller and muscular he was still Dean.

“Hey sweetheart” he said cautiously with an uncertain smile on his face. You couldn’t stop your hand from connecting to his face with a little too much force before leaving the bar entirely.

Dean was shocked by how hard you hit him, yes he was completely deserving of it it didn’t take away from the shock factor. He looked to Sam who was trying his hardest to hold back his laugh before following you.

You didn’t know what to do, you were driven to the bar by Chelsea and she was somewhere inside doing god knows what.

You couldn’t help the tears that formed in your eyes, you always thought that if he ever came back you’d stand tall and give him a piece of your mind and that slap was hardly scratching the surface of what you needed to say.

You felt like the world was spinning and the sound of him calling your name and his rushed footsteps coming toward you hadn’t been helping.

“Sweetheart please-“ “please what Dean?” You whipped around to face him. “What you want me to listen to whatever sob story you make up so I feel bad for you? Not gonna happen” you shook your head.

Any ounce of confidence he previously had was shattered. Standing here looking at your broken teary eyes he felt his throat closing up. “No that’s not why-“ “how could you do that to me Dean? I gave you my heart, my body and my soul and you took it with you when you left. All I had was one lousy message a promise that couldn’t have meant much to you to begin with. You said you’d come back for me. And I waited, and waited, and waited, for you Dean. For years.” You threw your head back, looking at the stars as you tried to keep from letting the tears in your eyes fall.

There was a long silence, you waited for anything from Dean but you were only met with silence. “One hell of an apology” you said, moving around him to go back to the bar. You had to get Chelsea and go or at least borrow her car, thankfully you weren’t too drunk to drive.

“I tried to stay” Dean shouted from behind you. Your steps faltered to an eventual pause. “I tried to call, hell I even tried to come back” he said. You turned around, his back was facing you and his head was down as if he was ashamed. “Why didn’t you?” You questioned, net even positive you wanted the answer.

“My dad. He came back, after a hunt and I’d got home late from hanging out with you. Even though Sammy could handle himself he was pissed” he paused “he questioned me ten ways to hell until I broke. Told him about you and how much I loved you, that you were good for me and accepted me and what I do.”

You had not even noticed when you started walking back towards him, it was like his body was pulling your body back to him where it belonged.

“I mean he was furious. Never seen him that mad in my life. He packed us up and left, broke my phone and the sim. After a while he told me you were better off without me. That all I’d bring you is death and destruction” the more Dean talked the more broken he sounded.

You grabbed his face moving it to face you. “Oh god… dean” you didn’t even know what to say to him. His eyes held so much pain it couldn’t be health for one person. “ ‘m sorry sweetheart, I should’ve came back, I shou-“ you cut him off pressing your lips firmly to his. You held his face with such softness you were scared he might disappear again.

Dean sighed into the kiss, bringing you closer by your hips, you body felt ignited again. The flame that blew out once he left was back, and you wouldn’t let anything take it away from you again.

You disconnected from the kiss “I’m sorry, I spent all these years resenting you and you suffered just as bad as me” you whispered, feeling like if you spoke any louder you might snap into a reality where this was just a dream.

“You’re mine again sweetheart. From now until the end” for him it wasn’t long. But you didn’t need to know that. Not yet at least.

[da-extroverted-introvert]

Are we even friends? (tasm!Peter Parker x reader)

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.66k

Warnings: angst, death mention, grief

So I had a burst of inspiration and wrote this. I haven't seen the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies in a hot minute so things may not be entirely accurate but please just roll with it. Working on a part 2 already, hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback!

Dividers by @lavendergalactic

Despite the gnawing feeling deep in your gut, you bring yourself to unbuckle your seat belt and walk out of the car.

You sit in the car and take a few deep breaths. You clutch the bouquet of flowers in your hand, trying to will yourself to step foot out of the car. Even after three months, this is hard to do. It’s like the first time all over again. The grief hits you just as hard as the day of the funeral.

You walk through the long, long aisle of headstones and grave markers. A bunch of people long gone who you’ll never know. It breaks your heart to know that to other people visiting loved ones, Gwen Stacy is just another headstone. Another person nobody will know again.

You finally make it up to Gwen’s grave. You kneel down and gently set down the bouquet. You stay kneeling there, just staring at your best friend’s name.

You take a deep breath before you start speaking.

“Hey. It’s me again.”

You pause for a moment, almost as if you’re expecting a response, even though there hasn’t been a single response throughout the many times you’ve been here.

“My grades are doing really good now. Applied for a few scholarships, and I actually think I might get into an Ivy League.”

You smile gently, knowing Gwen would be so proud of you. Whenever you doubted yourself, she would always encourage you. You remember the countless nights of her helping you with homework, telling you how much you’ve improved. She even said she was positive you’d get into the same school, becoming roommates and actually living together. Like sisters.

“Everyone in school misses you. They still talk about how amazing you were. How smart and how nice.”

Just yesterday you were walking down the hall past Gwen’s locker. There’s still plenty of pictures and decorations commemorating her. It gives you hope that Gwen will not be forgotten for a long time.

But you also think about the looks you get when you walk by. The sad, pitiful looks. You hate those looks. You also think some of those odd expressions are looks of confusion, as it was so weird to see you without Gwen Stacy right in front of you. You’ve always been Gwen Stacy’s best friend. People don’t know how to react seeing you without her.

“Uhmm…Peter misses you.”

You always choke up a bit at this part.

“We all do, of course, but especially Peter. I try to visit him every day. He doesn’t really talk to me though.”

Not that he talked to you too much before Gwen died, but you still felt like mentioning it.

“He just kind of sits in his room all the time. He hasn’t been in school much.”

The few times he has shown up in school, he just kind of ignores everyone. He must be getting tired of those pitiful looks in the hallways too.

“I’ve tried looking out for him. Like…like you would’ve wanted.”

God, you hate this. You really hate this.

“He just won’t let me in. I know he’s not going out as Spider-Man anymore, but he’s just not doing anything. He just sits in his room all the time. Not talking to anyone. Not even May.”

If he isn’t even talking to May, why would he talk to you?

You take a deep breath and finally stand up fully, your legs aching from kneeling on the hard ground for too long.

“I’m actually headed to his place now. I know he probably won’t talk to me, but I’ll still try. For you.”

You try to keep the tears back.

“Even if he doesn’t talk to me, May still lets me hang out. You know she makes the best food.”

You stare at her name again, not wanting to say goodbye again. But you know you have to.

“Anyway, that’s all. Thought I’d keep you updated. I’ll visit same time next week.”

You can almost hear her say goodbye to you. But you know it’s in your head. So you finally turn around and go back to your car, preparing for yet another uneventful visit to the Parker residence.

You knock on the door, preparing to put on a happy face in front of May. She’s such a sweet lady, you don’t want her to worry too much about you. She already has to worry about Peter, and you don’t want to put any extra stress on her shoulders.

Sure enough, May answers the front door with her signature sweet smile.

“Hey there, sweetie! Come on in, I just put on a pot of coffee, you must be freezing out here.”

She ushers you in and you revel in the warm atmosphere of the home.

“Thanks, May. I appreciate it.”

She dismisses your statement with a wave.

“Think nothing of it, hun.”

You sit down at the coffee table while May gets the coffee ready. While she does, you look around the home, which you’ve done countless times at this point.

Your favorite thing to look at is the picture on the wall of Peter. He must’ve been young, maybe sixth grade. In the picture, he’s at a science fair, holding up a nice red ribbon with “1st Place” written on it. May and Ben are standing proudly behind him as he smiles brightly at the camera. It makes you smile, seeing him so happy. But you also get sad, wishing he had some of that childlike joy back in his life.

May brings comes back in the room with two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Here you go, should warm you right up.”

You accept the cup with a smile, embracing the warm feeling on your hands. The warmth spreads when you take a sip. The coffee is nothing special, just as generic as any cup of coffee, but knowing that May made it for you and how happy she was to see you makes it taste better.

“Peter’s in his room if you want to say hi.”

She didn’t need to tell you where he was. You knew.

“Okay, I’ll go see him.”

You take a final sip of coffee and walk to Peter’s room.

You contemplate knocking on his door. You know if you knock that he probably won’t answer you, but if you just walk in, he still won’t talk to you. So, knowing the answer will be the same either way, you just walk in.

It looks like Peter hasn’t moved an inch since your last visit. He’s just laying on his bed, covered in blankets, head turned away from you. You know he’s awake though, you can tell by the way his body slightly tensed at the door opening.

“Hey, Pete.”

You speak gently, almost like you were afraid to scare him off. You close the door as softly as you can behind you.

“Missed you at school. I had the teachers give me your assignments so I can give them to you.”

No response. As usual.

You don’t know how to speak to him. You never really did. Neither of you really spoke to each other before he started dating Gwen, and when they did start dating, there was only small interactions between you. But still, you liked those small interactions. They were nice. Made you feel like you were sort of friends. But now that Gwen is gone, you don’t know where you stand.

Even so, you still try. You know that’s what Gwen would want. She wouldn’t want the love of her life wasting away like this.

“Have you eaten at all today?”

No answer.

“I know you’re, like, superhuman and all, but even so, you need to have some food in your body.”

You lick your lips and sigh, getting a little bit frustrated. It’s the same thing every day. You talk, he lays there, then you go home. You don’t feel like your presence is helping him that much, but if you don’t make an effort, you know you’ll feel guilty.

“How about some pizza? I can order one and it’ll be delivered in no time.”

As expected, no response. God, this boy is so infuriating sometimes.

“I know you hear me. Your spidey-senses kind of force you to.”

It’s still weird that Peter’s Spider-Man. You only found out about his secret by accident. You just walked into Gwen’s room, without knocking of course, as best friends do, and there you saw a surprised Gwen and Peter in his suit, mask in hand. That was a few weeks before the accident.

“Come on, Peter. You need to eat something. We can’t have you wasting away in here.”

“Why do you care?”

Even though his voice is raspy and not at all loud, you still flinch. That’s the most you’ve gotten out of him in three months.

“I, uh, what do you mean? Of course I care.”

“Why?”

His voice is a little louder this time.

“Because, we’re friends, Peter. I care about you.”

He sits up in his bed and faces you. You can finally get a good look at him. His once bright eyes, full of joy and mischief are dull and bloodshot.

“Since when? I mean, we barely talk.”

You don’t really know what to say, because it is true, you never talked with Peter as much as you would’ve liked to, but you still kind of thought those small interactions amounted to a friendship.

Just as you try to speak again, he talks some more.

“We both know the only reason we ever hung out was because of Gwen. And she’s not here now. So, please, just…”

He moves his arms around, trying to get his frustration across.

“Leave me alone.”

When he says this, he looks dead into your eyes, which are slowly but surely filling up with tears. You try not to let them fall.

You’ve been wishing for Peter to say something to you for months now, and now that it’s happened, you just want to curl into a ball on the ground.

Not wanting to be in the room with him any longer, you turn around and face the door. You put your hand on the doorknob but before you twist it, you turn your head towards Peter.

“I know you never really thought of me as a friend, Peter. A part of me always knew you just putting up with me for Gwen’s sake. But I always respected you, Pete. You were kind, funny, cool. Never mean.”

A couple of tears drops fall despite yourself.

“I remember when there was that Homecoming dance. You and Gwen were going together but I didn’t have a date. I was fine staying home, but you felt bad and invited me to come with you guys. You didn’t have to, nobody was forcing you, you just offered. Gwen didn’t even have to ask you to, you just did it.”

You wipe your cheek for a moment, still trying to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you.

“It was small things like that that made me like you. You’re such a good person Peter. I mean, you’re fucking Spider-Man, of course you’re a good person.”

You take one final big breath.

“So, you may not consider me a friend, Peter Parker, but you are mine. You are my friend. And I don’t have many of those, so, I’ve got to look after you.”

You finally twist the doorknob and open the door.

“It’s what Gwen would’ve wanted.”

With that final sentiment, you walk out of his room and speed past May, who is clearly worried about the tears on your face, eager to leave this house and go home to cry.

You spend the rest of your night watching movies in your room. You’re laying on your bed in your pajamas, bowl of popcorn in your lap. You glance at the opposite side of the bed. The side Gwen would sit as she laughed at the movies with you.

You try to focus on the movie, trying not to think about Gwen so much, and also trying not to think about your fight with Peter.

Was it even a fight? Neither of you yelled, but he did make you cry. He said some hurtful things. Things that were partially true. But you still didn’t want to see him. Seeing him hurt you a lot. All you can think about was the way he looked at you, with annoyance, frustration, anger. You felt bad for him, you know he’s grieving too, but he just made your blood boil and your eyes well up with tears.

Despite this, you know you’ll still visit him tomorrow. Because Gwen would want you to. Because that’s what friends do.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

Instead of your mom or dad like you expected, none other than Peter Parker walks through your door.

He’s actually dressed in New clothes, as opposed to the weeks old clothes you saw him wear earlier. His eyes look like they’re filled with guilt.

“Hey.”

You’re not used to seeing Peter Parker in your room. He only showed up a few times when he crashed yours and Gwen’s movie nights.

“Hey.”

Peter looks at the ground nervously, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I have been an absolute jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words.

“You’re grieving. I get it. It’s okay.”

He quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s not okay. I know I’m grieving, but you are too. I’ve just been shutting you out when all you want to do is help. It’s not right.”

You have no words. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but maybe you should have. It is Peter, after all. He’s a superhero. Always trying to make things right.

“You have always been nice to me, and you never gave up on me, even when I completely shutting you out. I haven’t been a good friend to you, and I want that to change.”

Hearing him actual say that he wants to be your friend warms your heart more than it should.

You give him a slight smile.

“You can start being a good friend and have a movie night with me?”

At first, Peter looks shocked that you’re willing to just forgive him so quickly. But then the expression on his face soon turns jovial as you shoot over on the bed, allowing him to sit next to you.

You smile as you press play on the movie you were watching. You can feel Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, but you ignore it until you know he’s watching the movie. Both of you just sit and watch, hands leisurely grabbing popcorn from the bowl between you. It almost feels normal, natural.

It actually feels like you have a friend again. Not that he can ever replace Gwen. And you know you could never replace Gwen in Peter’s eyes either. But both of you are filling the space that Gwen’s death left. It makes things easier for the both of you. It’s nice knowing that you have each other during this difficult time.

After a while, when all is calm between you and Peter and the movie is almost over, you turn to look over at Peter.

“You know, I visited Gwen’s grave today. I visit every week. You could come with me if you want.”

Peter is still for a moment, eyes locked on the screen in front of you. You wish you didn’t bring it up, knowing that Peter is just now starting to talk about Gwen’s death, and now you may have pushed too far too fast.

But then he looks over at you, a sad but gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah. I think that’d be nice.”

[solentient]

In another life. A danon story

Synopsis: A knight and princess should never be together. Nor should two women. And their fate is proof of that.

Pairing: Manon and Daniela

TW: Death, Mentions of heaven & Hell, Homophobia, Foul words, Lk rushed so like ignore the bad writing & design LMAO

Enjoy:)

In a distant land, beyond the reach of time and memory, lay the kingdom of Meret. It was a land of grandeur and power, ruled by King Aldric and Queen Lysandra. Their daughter, Princess Meret Manon, was the kingdom’s future, the sole heir to the throne. But despite the riches and prestige that came with being royalty, Manon found her happiness not in luxury but in the presence of one person—Daniela.

Daniela was Meret’s most formidable warrior, her name spread with admiration across the land. She was fierce, fearless, and unwavering in her duty. But to Manon, she was more than just a warrior. Daniela was her protector, her confidante, her only friend.

But, above all, she was the love of Manon’s life.

However, nothing seems to last.

For when King Aldric discovered the truth, his blood boiled. A princess should not love a mere warrior—especially a woman. It was an abomination in his eyes, a stain upon the royal bloodline. He forbade Manon from seeing Daniela ever again, his decree absolute.

“You are the heir of our kingdom! And you want me to accept the fact that you’re marrying a knight? A woman nonetheless.” Her father shouted. Furious about his daughter’s actions, He barged inside her room.

“So what?! It’s my life! I can spend it however I want.” Manon replies, standing her ground against her father, for once.

“I will not allow my daughter to be a spawn of the devil and be tempted to commit a sin. Either you break it up, or I will have her beheaded.”

Manon begged, pleaded, but her father’s will was iron. In the end, with the weight of the kingdom pressing upon her shoulders, she did the only thing she could do. She looked into Daniela’s eyes, those warm brown eyes that had always shielded her from the world, and whispered the cruelest lie she had ever spoken.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“W-what?” Daniela’s breath hitched. She had faced countless enemies, walked through battlefields drenched in blood, but never had she felt a pain as deep as this.

“A princess and a mere knight should never be together. This was just all a stupid mistake on my part, Please stay away from me from now on. His highness should be appointing a new guard soon.”

And so, with nothing left to hold on to, she walked away.

Days passed. Weeks. The distance between them became a wound that time could never heal.

Then, one fateful night, the kingdom was attacked. Meret’s enemy, the ruthless kingdom of Rhdalvania, launched a brutal assault. Their goal? The princess.

Manon stood frozen in the chaos, her heart pounding as an archer took aim. The arrow shot forward, death fast approaching—

Until Daniela was there.

She shoved Manon aside, her own body taking the blow. The arrow lodged deep into her chest. Blood spilled, staining the ground.

Manon caught her before she collapsed, her trembling hands pressing against the wound as if sheer desperation could undo fate.

“Stay with me,” she begged, her tears falling onto Daniela’s pale face. “Please.” Daniela tried to speak, but no words came. A faint, smile touched her lips before the light in her eyes faded. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, Manz.”

And Manon shattered.

The kingdom celebrated Daniela as a hero, but to Manon, there was no glory in her death. Only emptiness. Only grief.

Three days after Daniela’s funeral, Manon made her choice. Standing at the castle’s tallest tower, she whispered to the wind, “Maybe in another life, we can be together.”

Then she stepped forward. Taking her own life.

In a new world, Daniela lived once more. Yet, deep in her heart, an ache remained—one she could never understand, a longing for someone she had never met.

Then, one day, she did meet her.

A girl named Manon.

But this Manon was different.

She was dying.

And Daniela, now bound to another, could do nothing but watch as history repeated itself. “Maybe, we really weren’t meant for each other.”

“Please don’t give up on us, I’ll wait for you, however many lives it will take.” For fate, it seemed, had always been cruel.

Daniela, having died with courage and sacrifice, was granted a new life. A blessed existence where she was cherished, loved, destined for happiness.

Manon, who had died by her own hand, was denied the same mercy. She was cast into the void, unable to return.

They were never meant to meet again for Daniela did an act of good, and Manon did an act of evil.

A gift for @hwonnrinji nd @cinnamanz 💞🩷 rly bad writing guys bare w me