#he died the year after I graduated but he is cheering you on

[marlynnofmany]

As my high school history teacher used to say, on an almost daily basis, “NOTES!”

Picture it shouted by a grinning fellow with a tan complexion, a graying ponytail, and a goatee to match. You are a high schooler listening to lectures and watching documentaries, and your final test will involve writing an essay on this stuff, and he knows that the only lifeline you have to keep from forgetting all of it is that notebook in front of you.

You may not know how to describe his accent or his ethnicity, because he gives a different answer each time someone asks, to the point where it’s become a running joke that he was born on a flying boat over China, but you do know this: he wants you to succeed.

And you do that by taking “NOTES!!!”

[ditzybeee]

❥・Jason Todd — high school bf

❥・tags: jason todd blurb, jason todd is a loverboy, jason todd is a loser, high school sweethearts, gn!reader, no use of y/n, implied dialogue, loosely based on me and my bf :3

❥・word count: 636

❥・─────────────────────

Jason Todd is crushing hard.

The two of you met freshman year and he couldn't get you out of his head since.

He, of course, went through the painful process of friends-to-lovers. Because he'd rather make sure you liked him—a lot—before considering flirting.

Not that you'd know it.

He was bad at it. He was so, so bad at it.

Stupid lines from his stupid novels. Did you even read Jane Austen?

Never mind that you thought it was cute—you thought he was cute—lucky him.

When Jason asked you out, it couldn't be less cheesy. Full bouquet of flowers—which he didn't burden you with holding for the school day—and a bunch of your favorite snacks, which you promptly shoved into your bag before your teachers questioned them.

Newly dating and he was so excited. Nervous and sweaty palmed holding your hand in his, smiling ear to ear.

He'd walk you to class, even if it's across campus.

Sure, a few tardies would damage his perfect record, but he can't afford you missing your classes.

Dates with Jason were something else. Bruce had Dick chaperone the first few—either that or the dates were at the manor. Not that he didn't trust you, but he didn't trust Jason.

And he wanted to see his second son awkwardly maneuver speaking to his own partner.

Jason shared his first kiss with you on his first non-chaperoned date. A picnic some spring day in which he kept sneezing because of the pollen, mumbling about how badly he looked.

You stared at him in awe, giggling, and helping him wipe his face.

He was so, so in love with you that he whispered if he could kiss you, and quickly did when you accepted.

As high school continued, your relationship blossomed.

Both families trusted the other to keep their child safe when they slept over, to send the two of you to different cities and states for events, and to allow trips.

Jason first said "I love you" when he saw you in your dance attire. Sure, he's seen you in formal wear before. But this? This takes the cake.

He kissed you quickly, whispering the three words into your ear before Alfred made you two pose for pictures.

This same scenario repeated every time the two of you had a dance.

Every dance, every school event, every club meeting, you and Jason were there together.

It was about junior year when he told you about Robin and how he was thinking of changing it to Red Hood once you two graduated. He took your pointers for his new costume design—after a week-long argument about him being a vigilante and how dangerous it was.

He asked you to prom in a long-winded text message—multiple questions of whether you wanted a public promposal—it was obvious he used speech-to-text, and the message mirrored his speech patterns.

The dance was great. Dinner was delicious and the night was equal parts your boyfriend and equal parts your friends.

The days leading up to graduation were full of anxiety and joy.

You and Jason would stay out well past your curfews—which were basically obsolete, as both families didn't enforce it, as long as you were with each other—and just hang out.

You'd talk about your plans after high school—college, trade school, straight to work?

He'd mumble soft praises against your skin as you ramble about your ambitions, mirroring your energy when you asked about his vigilante plans.

Graduation—Jason's eyes hadn't been dry for a single second that day. He sobbed when you walked across the stage, when you cheered just as loudly for him, and when he saw you in your graduation gown all dressed up.

Jason loves the title "high school sweethearts".

❥・─────────────────────

❥・a/n: im feelin soft for my boy rn :( obvi no trauma au if he never DIED <3 more smut soon tho! i wont have internet the week after this coming week so ill try and get as much stuff out as possible!

❥・masterlist

[ashwhowrites]

Can you do a fic with Eddie x reader and basically hellfire doesn’t know that Eddie has a gf. So when reader stops by the drama room to give him something that he left at her house they’re all surprised and bombard Eddie with questions. They just can’t believe he got a gf and didn’t tell them and he’s all like yea we’ve been dating for months or years and just brags about being with reader

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Secret girlfriend

Eddie liked to keep his life as private as he could. Not that he was embarrassed, but he liked being a mystery to people. He was close with the Hellfire boys, but still didn't let them know everything in his life.

His girlfriend, Y/N, has been in his life for two years. She was the highlight in his life and he liked to keep him all to himself. Wayne loved her, and that's the only other person Eddie would share her with. They started dating her junior year and now she graduated and went to college.

She stayed in Hawkins for him to graduate, which meant everything to him. He knew it was early but he was already thinking of rings where they'd move to, and how big their house would be. He already wanted her until the day he died.

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts as Dustin groaned at his dice roll.

"Damn another miss"

Eddie laughed at Dustin's displeasure, continuing with the campaign. Then there was a knock on the door, and everyone's heads snapped towards it.

"Who's that?" Mike asked

"Whoever it is shall be punished!" Gareth declared as he punched the air. The boys cheered with him, pounding the table as they yelled "punished" over and over.

Eddie walked towards the door with a hard expression as he swung it open. His tongue was ready to lash out but all his words died on his tongue when she stood in front of him.

"Hey, baby!" She squealed, her arms thrown around her boyfriend. Eddie smiled and hugged her back, sneaking a small kiss. She looked gorgeous in her simple jeans and his band T-shirt, with marks on her neck from the night before.

"There's my girl," Eddie said as his eyes checked her out.

"Who is it?" Dustin called after him, Eddie's body blocking the visitor.

"Boys, this is my sexy girlfriend, Y/N. Behave yourselves." He instructed, stepping aside. The boys stared as the girl walked through, shock written in their eyes.

"Hi, I've heard a lot about you," Y/N said politely as she walked in with a smile. Eddie stood behind her, reaching forward to wrap his arm around her.

"But-but we heard nothing about you. What is going on?" Dustin asked as he stood up. He walked over to the couple and held out his hand. "I'm Dustin, practically Eddie's best friend."

Y/N smiled and shook the small boy's hand.

"That's my bad. I keep her all to myself." Eddie said, snuggling his face into her neck. She laughed as his nose moved back and forth, making it tickle.

"How long have you been together?" Mike asked. He was also shocked that Eddie kept his girlfriend a secret.

"Two years," Eddie shrugged, planting a wet kiss on her cheek as he let her go. He put his hand on Dustin's head and turned him around. He walked back to the table, everyone still staring at her.

"TWO YEARS?" Gareth screamed, "I've known you since middle school, and you don't tell me you have a serious relationship?"

"Like I said, I like her all to myself. Now dear, how can I help you?" Eddie asked with a smirk. He sat at the head of the table and moved his arms behind his head.

She walked over and pulled a notebook out of her bag. "Figured you'd need this."

Eddie gasped as she passed over his notebook. "I've been looking everywhere for this." He was quick to grab the book and open it up. All his campaign ideas were written in his sloppy handwriting.

"Yeah I found it under my bed this morning, and I have no clue how you managed that," she laughed.

"I can think of a few ways," Gareth muttered. His comment was met with a smack on the back of the head from Eddie. The heaviness of Eddie's rings added more pain to his skull.

"I said behave," Eddie warned, but he kept his eyes on his girl.

"Thank you, baby," Eddie said as he stood up. He pulled her into a slow and teasing kiss. She whined when he pulled away, needing more.

"I'll see you tonight," she said against his lips, stealing one more kiss before she turned to leave.

"I love you," Eddie called out after her. She looked over her shoulder as she opened the door.

"I love you too," she smiled.

As the door behind her closed, she could hear all the boys bombing Eddie with questions all at once.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunsonmain @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

What remains of us, pt. 2

Summary: Wally spends the next month being an emotional crutch for Y/N, helping her to acclimate to the spirit world. In his attempts to cheer her up, he blatantly flirts with her and while she pretends it's not getting to her, it's getting harder to deny the way he makes her feel.

Warnings: death, angst, mentions of mental health issues, fluff, SCHOOL SHOOTING, swearing

Word count: 2.9k

Part 1

Y/N never thought the pain inside her would persist in the afterlife. She hoped it would be out of reach, gone with the life she lost too soon. Somehow, the nights she stayed awake became more painful now. At least when she was still alive there was a chance of falling asleep and allowing everything to fade away, but now? It’s impossible to escape.

She’s hounded by her anxious thoughts, wondering how her family is doing after her tragedy. Would this break her mother who pushed her into medicine in the first place? Would her father’s health take a turn for the worse now that his doctor daughter isn’t there to remind him to take his medication on time? Would her sister speak at the funeral after the fight they had a few days before she died? Would her nieces remember her, or would time erase all the ways she loved them?

Loves…she still loves them all. Death can’t take those emotions away.

Drawing in a deep breath, she closes her eyes.  Resting her chin on her knees, she exhales slowly. It wouldn’t do her any good to panic now. She’s dead. While she doesn’t remember the last moments of her life perfectly, she’s aware what killed her. Dwelling on it will only make it worse.

Swallowing thickly, she glances at Wally. He’s been respectful, keeping his distance the past week, but he’s remained fairly close the entire time. She’s been awful to him, barely exchanging a few words here and there, but he’s been very patient and she can’t help the way her chest tightens at the sight of him. It’s comforting not to be alone in this, as well as terrifying. If he’s been dead for forty-two years and still haunts his death place, is that her fate? Will she spend an eternity with Wally in this God-forsaken place?

Well, not only Wally. He’s introduced her to the looping band, Yuri in the art room, Mina the theatre kid, and Xavier Baxter who stayed in the library. There were others, but according to Wally, they mainly kept to themselves and didn’t interact with anyone. A similar idea simmered in her brain, but every time she’d see Wally’s eyes light up around her she knew taking a step back would hurt him. Every time she asks for alone time she sees the flicker of hurt and perhaps a little bit of panic cross his handsome features. Pulling away entirely would definitely do some damage, so she allows him to dwell close enough for them to reach out and touch. There are plenty of ghosts around this school, but something tells her Wally is lonely.  

Wetting her lips, she sighs. “What were your plans after high school?”

Wally perks up. “I had a scholarship,” he moves closer to her. “I was planning on going pro…I wasn’t the brightest student”, he admits. “I’m not sure what I’d choose to study.”

“Did you have lots of friends?”

Grinning, he nods. “Yeah. I see some of them occasionally”, he shrugs meekly. “A few still come to games, mainly because they want to relive their glory days. But most of them stopped coming when their kids graduated.”

“I’m sorry”, she says quietly.

His eyebrows furrow. “What for?”

Pursing her lips, she clasps her hands. Looking ahead, she sighs. “For what happened to you. You had your whole life ahead of you and instead of living it to the fullest, you’re watching the world move on.”

“I guess we have that in common”, Wally reaches out, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “I wasn’t alone in this. I won’t let you be alone either.”

“You keep saying that”, she raises a brow. Standing, she watches Wally do the same.

Y/N blinks at the boy standing in front of her, his arms crossed over the faded lettering of a varsity football jacket. She can’t help but feel he’s keeping secrets, and when he brushes her chin with his thumb, grinning, she rejects the thought. Wally wouldn’t do that to her. She hasn’t known him for long, but she knows enough to trust him.

Biting her lower lip, her gaze falls to his lips as his smile turns into a teasing smirk. He’s tall, and his touch so invitingly warm and she has to remind herself to keep her hands steady because the last thing she needs is to develop a crush on a fellow ghost…Yet she wishes to embrace him, to be in his arms as she was the day she died. If she were to reach for him, would he let her melt into his arms? Part of her is scared she’d just phase through him, the way she did with the policeman, but if they could touch before and she felt his thumb on her chin, maybe hugging him whenever she wants is a possibility? He looks solid, too solid for someone who’s supposed to be dead. Then again, so is she. They’re made of the same material now, residing in the same plane of existence.

Sensing her mood, Wally didn’t want to risk her falling back into the silence he endured daily. He needs her to talk to him before he falls back into his own existential crisis.

“So,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “Not to be dramatic, but I think you might be my soulmate.”

She scoffs. “Excuse me?”

He gestures between them, grinning. “Come on, you’re new here. You’re dead. I’m dead. I’d say we were dying to meet each other, but…” He spreads his arms. “Bit late for that.”

Y/N gapes at him. “Oh my God.”

“I know, right? Super tragic. A life cut short in my prime. The world was robbed of my athletic greatness.” He sighs dramatically, tilting his head to the side. “Not to brag, but I was kind of a big deal.”

“Oh, I bet you were.” She folds her arms, eyeing him up and down. “Split River’s star quarterback, huh? You reek of jock energy.”

He gasps, clutching his chest as if she’s physically wounded him. “Whoa. Harsh. You don’t even know me, and you’re already assuming things? I feel so objectified.”

She arches a brow. “You’re wearing a letterman jacket inside a school. It’s practically a uniform for guys like you.”

Wally’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. Instead, he takes a slow, measured step toward her, gaze flicking over her skeptically. “And what exactly is ‘a guy like me’?”

Y/N smirks, playing along. “Cocky. Talks before he thinks. Probably spent more time flirting than studying.” She taps her chin, pretending to think. “Let me guess….your best subject? P.E.”

He groans, tilting his head back in exaggerated offense. “Wow. Okay. First of all, rude. Second, I’ll have you know I was decent at history. And third—” He suddenly drops to one knee, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “If being a cliché means meeting you, then I accept my fate.”

Y/N blinks. “Are you seriously fake-swooning right now?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Wally grins up at her, looking far too pleased with himself. “It’s called committing to the bit.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m going to regret talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Nah.” He stands back up, brushing off his jacket. “I grow on people. Like an endearing ghost fungus.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re smiling, though.” He nudges her shoulder, cocky but harmless. “Admit it. You think I’m funny.”

She rolls her eyes, but a small laugh escapes before she can stop it. Damn it.

Wally grins wider, tapping the side of his nose like he’s figured her out. “Called it.”

Y/N exhales sharply, shaking her head. “If we’re stuck here together, I will find a way to haunt you specifically.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, slinging an arm over her shoulder with infuriating ease. “I look forward to it.”

The week drags by in quiet stillness. With the school closed, the world outside feels distant, like it doesn’t belong to them anymore. Maybe it doesn’t.

It’s the perfect time for Wally to show Y/N the ropes, to teach her the strange rules of their existence. But mostly, it’s just nice to have the place to themselves before the students return, filling the halls with a life they can never be part of again.

Wally doesn’t mind the solitude. He’s had decades to get used to it. What surprises him is how much he likes having her here.

More often than not, whenever he loses sight of Y/N, he knows exactly where to find her. She always goes back to the hallway.

She’d lay where her heart stopped beating, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers neither of them knew the questions to. He doesn’t understand why she keeps returning to the scene of the crime. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s just something she needs to do.

So he stays.

Tonight is no different. Wally rounds the corner, hands in his pockets, and spots her there again, motionless, her gaze distant. He lingers in the doorway, watching. The way the dim light filters through the old glass windows makes her look softer, almost alive.

Then she moves.

Y/N sits up slowly, rubbing her arms as a shiver racks through her. She exhales, breath shaky, running her hands up and down the length of her sleeves.

Wally frowns. “Hey, are you okay?”

She startles a little but doesn’t look at him right away. “Yeah. Just… cold.”

He hesitates. “You know we don’t get cold, right?”

Y/N lets out a quiet laugh. “I know. It’s just…” She trails off, sighing as she wraps her arms around her knees. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my brain trying to hold on to something human.”

That makes sense, he supposes. After all, she’s still new to this, new to the way her body remembers things it no longer has to.

Without thinking, Wally shrugs off his letterman jacket. It’s second nature, something he’d done a hundred times for a girl on the bleachers or a teammate on the sidelines. But this time, it feels different. He steps closer and drapes it over her shoulders.

Y/N stills. Her fingers clutch at the fabric, eyes flicking to his in surprise. “You…what are you doing?”

Wally shrugs, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “What’s it look like? I’m being chivalrous.”

Her lips twitch. “You do realize this won’t actually warm me up, right?”

He smirks, shrugging again. “Humor me.”

Y/N studies him for a moment before glancing down at the jacket. She tugs it tighter around herself. It’s big on her. The sleeves hang past her hands, and his scent, while faint, lingers like something permanent.

If his heart was still beating, there’s no doubt in his mind it would be skipping a few beats now. His jacket looks perfect on her. She looks perfect.

Y/N glances up, watching him carefully. “Is this some kind of jock instinct? Lending your jacket to a girl so she falls hopelessly in love with you?”

Wally grins. “Is it working?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but her fingers tighten on the fabric. She doesn’t give it back.

He doesn’t ask for it.

Instead, he just sits beside her, shoulder to shoulder, watching the ceiling with her like maybe, if they wait long enough, they’ll finally see something that makes sense.

“I think I’m ready to lose the scrubs”, she says quietly as if it pains her.

Nodding, Wally holds out his hand for her to take. “Let’s go find something you can change into.”

Even with the new outfit, Y/N kept the jacket. 

During days, he watched her from a distance. She often chose to attend classes, watch the living. There was an increased police presence now, something she followed closely. Something about it all kept Y/N on her toes, and while he wanted to ask about it, Wally knew it would be better to let her come to him.

During nights, Y/N would lean her head on Wally’s shoulder, holding his jacket closer to her chest. She’d stare ahead, asking about his family from time to time. She asked about his family home, about his friends and their misadventures and he answered all in as much detail as he could recall. It’s been too long since he thought about his life, after all, he’s been dead for longer than he lived.

“Were there any other hobbies other than football?”

Gasping, he places a hand over his chest. “Football is life, not a hobby. Oh, you wound me when you say things like that!”

Chuckling, she shakes her head. If there’s anything she’s certain about, it’s Wally’s flare for drama and she can’t get enough.

“I apologize, Mr. Quarterback! Please, oh, please accept me in your good graces once more!”

Suppressing a smile, Wally watches her match his energy and he can’t help the blush spreading across his cheeks. He could get used to her…to this being his life.

“Very well, m’lady. I shall forgive theeee, but only if you come with me.”

Furrowing her brows, she narrows her eyes at him. “If I was alive, I’d be questioning if you’re luring me somewhere to kill me.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Clicking her tongue, she scoffs. “You play too much!”

Following his retreating figure, she frowns. His words sent a chill down her spine, one she couldn’t quite explain. She never felt unsafe around him before, never once questioned his motives, but now? Something was telling her to be careful.

Wally’s been around for a lot longer than Y/N…there’s no telling what he knows or what he is capable of.

He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?

Shaking her head, she pauses for a second.

Realizing she stopped, Wally glances at her over his shoulder, sending her a reassuring smile that makes her stomach flip – in a good way.

He wouldn’t hurt her, she decides. Wally is a friend and she really needs a friend right now.

Stopping in front of a room, she holds her breath as he turns on the lights.

The music room is exactly as he remembers it. Dusty, but not forgotten. A relic of the past tucked away in a corner of the school no one really pays attention to.

He steps inside first, leading her past the rows of chairs to the instrument-lined walls. His fingers trail over the edge of a piano, the metal of a trumpet, before finally stopping at what he came for.

A guitar.

Y/N crosses her arms, watching as he pulls it down and settles onto a stool.

“So this is your big secret?”

Wally runs his fingers along the strings, testing them. “What, disappointed?”

“Not really.” She shrugs, but there’s something playful in her tone. “I just should’ve known you’d be this kind of guy.”

He raises a brow. “What kind of guy?”

“The oh look, I play guitar, aren’t I mysterious and deep kind.”

Wally snorts. “Wow. That’s the energy I give off?”

She tilts her head. “Tell me honestly, how many girls did you do this for?”

Wally pretends to think. “Hmm. Only the cute ones.”

Y/N groans, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

He grins, strumming the first few chords of a song before she can argue. The sound is soft, familiar—something tucked away in his memory from years ago.

It takes her a second, but recognition flickers across her face. “Is this REO Speedwagon?”

Wally smirks. “You know it?”

“I mean, yeah. My mom liked them.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re seriously playing Can’t Fight This Feeling at me right now?”

“Why not?” He plucks the next notes with ease, settling into the rhythm. “It’s a classic.”

“It’s a romantic classic,” she points out.

He grins. “You saying you’re swooning?”

“I’m saying you’ve definitely pulled this move before.” She leans against the piano, arms crossed. “Be honest. This was your go-to seduction tactic, wasn’t it?”

Wally sighs dramatically. “You caught me.”

“I knew it.”

“In my defense,” he continues, fingers still moving over the strings, “it worked.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Romeo, but I’m not that easy.”

“That’s okay.” He glances up at her, his smile shifting into something softer, something real. “I don’t mind taking my time.”

Her breath catches, just slightly. Just enough.

She covers it up with an exaggerated groan, moving to sit across from him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

She rolls her eyes again but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watches his fingers move.

Wally keeps playing, his voice joining the melody and she’s awestruck. There’s no denying he’s playing her heartstrings with every lyric passing his beautiful lips as he keeps watching her from beneath his lashes.

And even though she’ll never admit it, she likes this.

Likes the way the music fills the empty room, likes the way the emotions in his voice linger between them.

Maybe she is swooning…just a little.

But she’ll never let him know.

Not yet.

For now, she just lets him play.

And for the first time since she died, she lets herself stay in the moment instead of focusing on all the ways her life went wrong to lead her to the spirit world…to him.

PART 3

[archivernon]

THE MAN WHO CAN'T BE MOVED.

SYPNOSIS: jeon wonwoo's a childhood friend who was crushing on you before and would always gift you handwritten letters on special occasions, not until you had to move away and you've never heard from him since then.

wc: 1.390

notes: slight angst, fluff at the end, nonidol!wonwoo x fem reader. edit: i made this february 10, 2024 and it's erm... a year later, it's been a year dad /ref. i've forgotten i even had an account, haha a lot of things changed. i might write for another fandom

"happy birthday y/n!" cheered wonwoo, his hands shaking from what seems to be his anxiety as if you won't accept his gift yet he excused it as his tremors. "i hope you... like it." wonwoo's gift was stored in a small pink paper bag, peeking from the inside is a folded paper, curious your immediate instinct is to grab it. "wait! i want you to read it later." he smiled cheekily, hands fidgeting behind his back.

wonwoo has always been someone who would gift you handwritten letters, no matter the occasion—most of the time it's just when he wants to thank me for something. "thanks! i'll open them later."

"call me when you open it..." his sentence got cut off by your mother, calling from the kitchen that it's time to cut the cake. "nevermind, shall we?" he took your hand and led you into the kitchen.

"there's the birthday girl! thank you for keeping her company wonwoo." your mother smiled, hands occupied by the lighter to light the cake and sing you a happy birthday. "it's my pleasure ms. y/m/n."

after a few rounds of singing, it was finally time to blow the candles. "make a wish." wonwoo whispered, anticipating on your wish debating if you would say it out loud or not, hands fisting the table cloth. you closed your eyes, taking in the quiet and the eigengrau engulfing your sight. you thought for a second, a smile creeping up on your face before blowing softly of the candle, the smoke rising as the fire dies down.

'i wish for me and wonwoo to grow old together.'

"what?!" wonwoo almost yelled, his face was crestfallen, almost as if you'd suppose that a loved one of his died.

"mommy just told me yesterday night. i tried calling... but your mother told me you were asleep and she'd deliver the message to you once you wake up."

his hands fisted together, anger and disappointment was lacing around his head. he was disappointed that his mother didn't wake him up and he was angry for sleeping early that night. "but... we'll still see each other. right?"

you looked at him, unsure what to answer. you, yourself wasn't sure if you'd still see him. "i don't know... wonwoo, i'm sorry." you pouted, eyes bubbling from tears.

"y/n, don't cry."

"i hate seeing you cry."

his hands found itself wrapped around your fragile and delicate body. wonwoo was not an affectionate person but you were an exception.

"here." he grabbed your pinky finger, intertwining it with his own pinky. "let's promise that we'd find each other. no matter how long it takes." you sniffled a cry, nose stuffed. "promise?" he nodded, hiding the fact that he's not sure if in the future they'd see each other, considering the fact earth has billions of people, it's 99% impossible.

"and if... you get lost. go back to our place and i'll be there to guide you back."

it's been a few years since you moved out of your hometown, and finally today was d-day, you're moving in to your apartment, you've been saving up for a new apartment to move out of your parent's house so they wouldn't have any one other than themselves to look out for. after graduating college, you've been helping your mother in her bakery while your father retired from his job to help around.

you're sitting in the living room, boxes surrounding your figure, unable to figure out what you're going to open next. your mother labeled the boxes, as she helped with preparing.

a box piqued your interest, labeled 'childhood memories' "now what does that mean." you pulled the box towards you, preparing the scissors to cut the tape.

opening the box you found out inside was your old accessories and many many handwritten letters.

"what a cute handwriting, who's this from?" you whispered to yourself, smiling. the nostalgia came running down your spine causing you to shiver. "wonwoo..." you whispered out his name like a chant, all the memories of you together came crashing down your mind like the cupid's arrow.

"i wonder how's he doing." you pondered.

you two were inseparable, always by each other's side. always sharing lunch, books and even hoodies. he was there by your side since you both were babies, virtually doing everything together.

then you remembered the promise, you chuckled at how childish it was but who could blame anyone? you two were kids. some promises are meant to the broken.

but as much as you hate going through the past, you found yourself staying up all night to read the letters, each one, each letter sends a shiver down your spine, as if a ghost was tickling your back. how could you been so blind? "these letters are marked with love... they're made with love." you muttered to yourself.

"wonwoo.." you whispered once again.

"and if... you get lost. go back to our place and i'll be there to guide you back."

you weren't lost. you've already found yourself and everything in here, in this city but you can't help the hairs on your arms to stand up and it makes you stand up too. it doesn't hurt to check, to meet an old past.

you are not lost, oh, you know your way around perfectly—you're just going to pick up something you dropped once, and you're sure as hell won't drop it again.

you knew you can't go back and just move on when you bought the ticket. you fidgeted on the ticket, one bud on your ear and the other hanging loosely but there was no music, as if you were afraid you'd lose focus on the reality, on the fact that wonwoo might not be there.

that he forgot about everything.

you boarded the train, a luggage on hand. you weren't sure how long you'd stay. probably just a day or two if he's not there.

"i'm really doing this." you breathe out, gulping down your anxiety along with the coffee you bought along the way. "i'm not expecting, i'm not expecting." you mutter to yourself, repeating the sentence because you know to yourself that you are expecting.

you arrived with a heavy heart, tightly clutching onto the luggage as you hopped off the train, through the bustling crowd and out into the street.

you took a deep inhale, the smell of your childhood made you calm down, even just for a little bit. nothing has changed much, aside from new stores and much well built buildings. everything really has changed.

everything went fast. you booked a room at the nearby hotel, ate lunch and you were back outside on the streets. you mentally scold yourself, perhaps it's too early. way too early but you noticed your feet already dragging you. dragging you to the place—to yours and wonwoo's place.

the park.

nothing special.

but it used to be special before.

the park was busy, it was never busy before and now loads of people are taking a walk, with their dogs, their partner, their child. you scrunched your nose, suddenly everything is unfamiliar.

the fountain was no longer working, the grass are all grown out and clearly isn't taken care of properly. there were less trees and more structures.

so this is the part where you get lost huh?

"i got you." finally something.. familiar. a warm voice came from behind, breath tickling your nape. their hand positions itself to your lower back, pushing you—guiding you somewhere.

obviously you shouldn't listen but your feet just always happens to disobey your mind.

"i told you. if you get lost, i'll be here to guide you back." the voice led you to the corner, a corner you know all to well. "wonwoo." you whispered under your breath, spinning around to face him.

gods—he was taller, mature looking, still cute. "wonwoo." you repeated yourself, chuckling in disbelief. "wonwoo—"

"yes! y/n, y/n, y/n." wonwoo chuckles, "you're repeating yourself y'know?"

you didn't hesitate, you pulled him in for a hug. it's been years, too long that even he should be unfamiliar by now but nothing about him is unfamiliar. "i missed you so fucking much."

everything about him still is familiar.

"i missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[itgetzweird08]

one two three four

katsuki bakugo x Gn!reader

One week later

T-Minus three weeks until the dance

—------------

 “Good Morning!” 

For so early in the morning, the rat principal was very cheerful. The same couldn’t be said for his human climbing tree. Mr. Aizawa stood slouched, eyes dark and face heavy with lack of sleep. Nezu sat snuggly in the binding cloths on the tired man’s shoulder. Mitsuki had only spoken to the principal on a handful of occasions, and she always thought he was very…unique. But he was damn good at his job, and he really cared about his students. That's why Mitsuki had such a good feeling about the request she was about to make, despite it being such a large one. 

“‘Morning. Thanks for meeting with me, I know your schedules are probably packed with everything going on around here.”

Nezu smiled cheerfully at the woman, waving a paw in dismissal. “Nonsense! I’m always happy to meet with a parent, especially you, Mrs. Bakugo. Young Bakugo is an amazing student and has done a lot for the country. We owe him a lot. Now, let’s get into the conference room. From the summary of your reason for meeting that you gave me, I figured it would be best that the rest of the faculty joined us as well.”

The three walked into the conference room, with Mitsuki taking a seat at the head of the table. Around the table sat the UA teachers, Hounddog, and Hawks. While initially shocked by his presence, she realized that it made sense. In her email to Nezu, she mentioned that the subject of the meeting had to do with bending an international rule, and Hawks had a lot of contact with other countries as the new head of the Hero Commission.  She was grateful he was here, as she knew he had a particular soft spot for Katsuki. If she remembered correctly, he called him “A little asshole with a lot of spunk”. She thought it was a fair statement.

After exchanging greetings and pleasantries, and accepting a cup of tea from Present Mic, she began the meeting.

“Thank you all for being here. I recognize that you all are busy so I’m gonna try and make this quick,” Mitsuki sat up straighter, folding her hands together as she looked around the table. “A couple of years ago, Katsuki met another hero student at the I-Expo. They stayed in contact for a while, got really close, and eventually started dating. They care for each other, a lot. They talk every night and are a huge pillar of support for one another. So much so that,” 

Mitsuki found herself getting choked up. She always did when she thought about the possibility that she would have to deliver that letter to you. She cleared her throat, taking a breath. She hated crying, especially in front of people. After a moment, she continued.

“Right before the war, Katsuki gave me a box to send them in case something happened to him. He truly cares about them. On that note, as you all know, the Spring Dance is coming up. Despite what most people think, Katsuki actually enjoys dressing up. I thought he would be excited about the dance, but he wasn’t. In fact, he’s dreading it. All his friends have been talking about are their dates, and Katsuki refuses to take anyone but them. Now, for my request. Katsuki died for this country. This is his last chance for some fun before graduating and becoming a real pro. So please,” she bowed deeply as she spoke. Mitsuki had a lot of pride and was known for rarely ever apologizing or bowing to anyone. But Katsuki deserved to be happy. She just wanted her kid to be okay.

“Please allow them to attend as Katsuki’s date. I can give you records, letters of recommendation, and even character statements. They are a great kid and an even better student. They would cause no trouble. I just want Katsuki to be happy.”

The room was silent as all of the staff looked at Mitsuki. They then looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. Finally, Hawks broke the silence. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Bakugo, this is a complicated situation. Other countries still don’t have a particularly great view of Japan. Trying to convince them that they should allow a pardon, just for a school dance? Realistically, it’s damn near impossible,” Mitsuki felt her heart sink, a disappointed sigh leaving her. Well, at least no one could say she didn’t tr- 

“However, you make a very compelling point. Young Bakugo saved not only Japan but the rest of the world. He is, without a doubt, a hero. I make you no promises on what the rest of the commission or international board might say, but I can promise that I will advocate for Bakugou and get you an answer before the end of the week.” 

Mitsuki broke out into a rare, wide, sincere grin. She bowed once more to the room, bending deeply.

“Thank you all.”

————

It was about 15 minutes before your usual morning talk with Katsuki when you got the call. Before the war, Katsuki gave you his parents' contact info in case of an emergency. You had only spoken to them on a handful of occasions, wishing them a happy birthday or anniversary, shouting ‘Hello!’ when you were on the phone and Katsuki was at home. But you had never really spoken to them one-on-one until Mitsuki called you.

You answered without hesitation, disregarding your normal early morning TikTok scroll. Something had to be wrong for her to call you, you figured. Your voice was frantic when you answered. “Hello? Is everything alright Mrs. Bakugou? Is Katsu-“

“Chillax kid! Jeez!” 

You blinked, confused at her tone. Okay, so clearly there wasn’t an emergency. 

“I’m sorry, I thought something was wrong. You’ve never called before-“ 

“Sorry, I should make more of a habit of calling my future daughter in law” 

You chose to ignore her comment. “So..if there’s no emergency, not to be rude, why are you calling?” You could picture her shit-eating grin in your head, knowing it was where Katsuki had gotten it from. 

“Well…I spoke to Hawks, you know the head of the hero commission here in Japan, he spoke with your government and pulled some strings…how would you like to be Katsuki’s date to the Spring dance?”

————

I’m having trouble tagging some of yall 😔. Anyways sorry this is so late, uni has been beating me into the floor 😭

Taglist: : @sleepyeri @teeesthings @zaiban2989 @kathsuhki @rinbeeyum @oladelmars @luv-for-fictional-characters @attackonnat @ratcity12345 @bffrs-stuff @ch3rryjampi3 @venus1224idkpleaze @fiannee @consentismfhot @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @bl-og134 @amayaaaxx @mikestuffffs @mushroomsoup119 @thatprettybunny @wheezdostuff @devils-adversary @enony-da @matchat3a @kawliflo @urmomsbananabread @anicaaa67 @that-sweet-mars @crimsonrubie @xanneeeyyyy @sweetloveandaffection-blog @ghostreadersthings @itsdragonius @snore-3 @sleepyk0dyz @ririoutspoken @ivuriexo @getosuckers

[oddinary4bts]

Be With You | ch 1

☆summary: who knew that the hot guy you've been paired with for a class project is also a kind soul? Certainly not you, and you feel yourself falling even though you know you shouldn't. Will it be your demise, or will it all work out in the end?

☆pairing: Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: slow burn strangers to lovers, college!au, smut, angst and fluff

☆warnings: this one starts with a memorial service, childhood/high school friend of brother died in car accident, mentions of flat earthers and other conspiracies, mentions of alcohol, cursing, a school project, Byeol <3, oc's birthday, san is cute and cocky at the same time, explicit content: grinding, dirty talking, jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, he comes in her mouth, big dick!San, oc is a brat hihi

☆word count: 12.9k

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here

☆a/n: chapter one is hereeee hope y'all enjoy <3 and the beginning of this one might be a lil hard to some of y'all, don't hesitate to reach out if you need to talk! Last but not least, thank you to @moonleeai for your amazing work as my beta reader, I love you and am forever thankful for you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

Cold snowflakes Withered down Until you bloom As a spring flower I'll be with you

Be With You, Ateez (english translation)

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, September 22nd

You’ve been staring at a light ray for a couple of minutes, the serene ambiance of the church making you feel sleepy.

Or as sleepy as one can get during a memorial service.

Dust plays in the light ray, the stained glass colouring the light and dust in different hues of red, blue and yellow, with some green sprinkled into it. The priest is talking at the altar, relating a passage from the Bible that you don’t care to listen to, and all you can think about is the stupid project you have to do after this.

It’s not that you didn’t care about Nick - he was a friend through high school, but three years have passed since you graduated and last spoke to him. More than that, you’ve never been of the emotional kind, especially not in public. You cried when you got the news, but that was that.

Your brother shifts next to you, and you shoot him a look. He answers with a sad smile, and you pat his thigh, trying to offer him support.

Yunho was always closer to Nick. Maybe because they are both guys, and they were on the same hockey team for years. So, learning about Nick’s car crash hit him like a train, and he’s been a mess since you’ve learned. Luckily enough, your best friend Sydney has been here with you, and if there’s one thing that can cheer Yunho up, you know it’s her.

He’s been in love with her ever since he figured out what love was in middle school, after all. 

Sydney nudges you with an elbow, and you throw her a look next.

“You okay?” she mouths.

You nod but then motion towards Yunho. She leans forward just enough to catch sight of your brother, and a crease appears between Sydney’s eyebrows as she frowns. She then sits back, sighing, and you purse your lips before resuming your attention on the memorial service.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur of dust and amens and prayers, and then you’re walking out into the early fall evening, the rich scent of the forest surrounding the church hitting you head on.

Yunho walks with his head down, aimlessly kicking a rock, and you push Sydney towards him, knowing that she’ll be much better than you at cheering him up. She falls into step with him, hooking her arm with his, and Yunho throws her his “lovesick puppy” look that she never interprets.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he says.

“Of course,” Sydney answers back. “He was my friend too.”

You consider chiming in from behind with the same thing, but you let them have their moment, instead pulling your phone out of your purse. You’ve received a couple of text messages, most of them from the guy you’re doing your project with later.

[4:12 pm] San: still on for tonight? [4:39 pm] San: hello? [5:01 pm] San: please let me know [5:02 pm] San: cause if not i’ll plan something else😉

You roll your eyes, swiping up so the conversation opens, and you quickly fire back an answer.

[5:10 pm] You: chill, i was at a memorial service [5:10 pm] You: yes, we’re still on

You’re sitting on the back seat of Sydney’s car by the time San replies, and you sigh audibly as you read.

[5:14 pm] San: lol my condolences [5:15 pm] San: come to my place anytime

“What’s wrong?” Sydney says, and she glances at you in the rearview mirror.

“This dude is annoying,” you say, raising your phone. “And I’m fucking stuck with him for my populism and conspiracy culture class.”

“Not your flat-earthers class.”

You laugh. “Yeah.” You show her your phone. “And San is just this random, classic college fuckboy that the professor assigned as my partner.”

“Choi San?” Yunho lets out.

You frown. “You know him?”

Yunho glances at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, we’ve got friends in common.”

Your frown deepens. “You have friends?”

“Y/n!” Sydney chimes in, and you burst out laughing.

It wins you a smile from Yunho, and that most of all makes it worth it, if only so that he stops looking so devastated.

The rest of the ride is spent in easy conversation, though you all avoid the topic of Nick, the heaviness from the memorial service still lingering in the air. You text San to ask if you could meet at the library, but apparently it’s closed due to a water leakage.

When you get to the apartment, you follow behind Yunho with Sydney as he unlocks the front door, and then you climb up the stairs to the third level. Yunho opens the door, and you kick off your shoes the moment you’re in.

“You guys want to eat something?” you say to no one in particular.

Yunho shrugs, the grief clearly hitting him again, and you look at Sydney, before pointedly looking towards Yunho. Sydney gets the message, and she pulls Yunho to the living room while you head to the kitchen.

Though there are some pizza leftovers in the fridge from last night’s dinner - your birthday dinner, yet you don’t particularly like pizza - you decide to cook some mac’n’cheese for the three of you, seeking a meal you know always cheers Yunho up.

It takes you about fifteen minutes, but then you’re walking out of the kitchen with two bowls wafting steam, and Yunho meets your gaze as you stop in front of him and Sydney where they’re lounging on the couch.

Each on their own side, but you don’t miss the way Yunho is slightly leaning towards her.

“Eat this,” you tell your brother, shoving the bowl in his hands.

You hand the other to Sydney, who thanks you while Yunho just stares at the food. You narrow your gaze, tapping the top of his. “Eat, Yunho. You need the food.”

It’s like he snaps out of a daze, and he nods as he picks up the fork and takes a bite. You wait until he’s eaten a couple of them before heading back to the kitchen, where you grab your own bowl. You’re back in the living room in no time, and you sit on the floor with your back against the couch, eyes going to the TV.

“Are you guys really watching Love is Blind?” you ask, almost in disbelief.

Sydney laughs sheepishly. “I just thought it could be great to watch a dumb show for a little while.”

“I like the show,” Yunho deadpans, and you think of course he does.

Maybe it’s the hopeless romantic in him, but he’s indeed always liked dating shows. It’s something you and Sydney don’t relate to - there’s just so much human stupidity you can take before getting annoyed.

“You need to get better tastes in TV shows,” you fire back, and then you eat a spoonful of noodles.

“And you need to stop being a bitch.”

You glare at your brother over your shoulder, though you don’t miss the teasing glint in his eyes. You love to see it there, so you let the insult slide, instead focusing on eating and watching the show in comfortable silence.

You’re almost done with your food when your phone vibrates on the floor next to you, where you put it down when you sat. Your eyes slide to it to notice it’s San texting you again, and you keep your annoyance at bay as you pick up your phone.

[6:34 pm] San: are you going to be here soon?

You can’t help it - you sigh again, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Sydney.

“That guy again?” she asks.

You nod. “I don’t know why I said it was a good idea to do the project tonight,” you say.

Because of course you’d been the one to suggest it last Monday, though you hadn’t planned to have a memorial service today. 

Not that it’s something you can usually plan.

“I’m pretty sure he’d understand if you cancelled,” Sydney says. “It’s your birthday, and with what we were up to today…”

You shrug. “Ah, it’s fine. We celebrated my birthday yesterday.”

You did, and though you didn’t drink a single sip of alcohol, you still managed to have fun with your friends, Yunho even tagging along because you didn’t want to let him mope at home.

“Still,” Sydney insists.

You shrug again, and this time you don’t bother answering before texting San.

[6:36 pm] You: what’s your addy

You finish eating while waiting for his reply, and though part of you does find it strange that he wants you to meet at his apartment, you still call an Uber once you’ve put your bowl away in the sink, Sydney promising that she’ll do the dishes later.

“Do you want me to drive you there?” Sydney asks once you’re getting ready to leave.

You shake your head. “My Uber is already almost here, just stay here with Yunho.”

Yunho shoots her that same lovesick puppy look that she’s entirely blind too, and Sydney ignores it, as she always does.

“Do you need me to come pick you up?” she adds a heartbeat later

You shrug your shoulders. “Nah, I’ll just call an Uber again, don’t worry about it.”

Sydney narrows her gaze as she looks at you from where she’s standing by the kitchen, having followed you out after you put the dishes away. “Are you planning to not come home tonight?”

You snort. “No, I’m definitely coming home. But I want to get a lot of this project done, so feel free to head home before I come back.”

“I thought the plan was for me to stay over,” she says.

She’s right - you’d planned for her to stay after the memorial, though you’d then completely forgotten about your project when you’d planned so.

“True, true,” you let out as you put your shoes on. “Stay here then, and I’ll see you guys later.”

They echo the sentiment, and you finish getting ready, grabbing your school bag and making sure that the Uber is here.

“Don’t have too much fun,” Yunho teases as you get the confirmation that the Uber is downstairs, your hand already on the doorknob.

You cock an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that a project on the Illuminati will be a lot of fun, so I got that covered.”

Sydney chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

You don’t miss her wink, and you ignore it, rolling your eyes. “You guys don’t have too much fun without me!”

Yunho’s cheeks slightly tint with pink, and you don’t know how Sydney misses it. But then again she’s been oblivious to Yunho’s feelings for her ever since he started having them all those years ago.

A moment later, you’re sitting at the back of the Uber with your school bag next to you, and the car starts driving towards San’s apartment. You text him that you’re on your way, and then you look outside the window, enjoying the sunset and the gold that it paints the world with. The clouds up above are drenched golden, like they were dipped in liquid gold, and it’s a sight you’ve always loved - there’s beauty in endings like that of the day, or so you like to tell yourself.

You’re not quite sure there’s such beauty in the ending of a life like that of Nick, but you try not to think about it, not wanting to get emotional before you’re supposed to meet with San.

The clouds have turned to pink by the time the car drops you in front of San’s apartment, and you thank the driver as you grab your bag. You then get out of the car, moving towards the entry, though you stop out front to snap a quick picture of the sky that you send to Sydney.

You’re stopped at the second door of the building, this one locked despite the first one being unlocked. You eye the screen next to you - San lives in a fancier building than you first imagined. You search for his name on the screen, sighing in relief when you find it.

It rings for a few seconds, but then the door unlocks, and you walk in. You’re greeted by an older lady at the reception that nods at you, and you politely smile as you head to the elevator.

You press on the call button, and you scroll through your phone as you wait, stepping in as soon as the doors slide open. You click on the eighth floor, and the elevator shots upwards, coming to a halt quicker than you expected it would.

It takes you a minute to find San’s door, but then you’re standing in front of it, hesitating for a few seconds before you knock. You hear soft footsteps inside, and then the door unlocks, and San appears before your eyes.

The first thing you notice is the black tight-fitting athletic t-shirt he’s wearing - mostly because you’re almost at eye level with his chest. And the shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, so much so that you feel your cheeks burn as you look up to meet his gaze. He’s smirking, his eyes slightly crinkled at the corners, and his hair is unruly, a strand falling in front of his eyes even as he cards his hand through his hair.

“Hey,” he greets you with a smooth voice, and your eyes dip down just long enough to see that he’s wearing grey joggers.

“Hey,” you answer, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, probably because your black dress pants and turtleneck combo does not match his look at all.

He’s the perfect picture of coziness, and here you are still in your memorial service outfit.

“Come in,” he says, and he steps aside so that you can walk in. 

You do so, and he softly shuts the door behind you, locking it and leaning against it. A second later he’s folding his arms on his chest, and you quickly look away from him.

“You have a nice apartment,” you say.

He does. It’s modern, with tall windows that currently show you the remnants of the sunset, and his living room is inviting, especially with the blanket abandoned on the large L-shaped couch. The kitchen is connected to the living room, and the island sports a marble counter that seems freshly cleaned, with some dishes peeking out of the sink.

There’s music playing, and you only understand why when you notice that the TV is currently on, the screen showing the pause menu of some videogame. A grey cat is sitting on a low table underneath the TV, its tail swishing from side to side as it looks at you with piercing blue eyes.

“Tha-” 

“You have a cat!” you let out excitedly, interrupting San. You immediately feel bad, but his soft laugh distracts you long enough for him to speak.

“I do,” he says, and then he’s walking towards the animal. He picks her up, walking back towards you, and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your lips when San stops next to you. “Meet Byeol.”

“Hi Byeol,” you coo, and you let the cat smell your hand before gently petting its head. “He’s adorable,” you say, and you meet San’s gaze before looking into the cat’s blue eyes again.

“She,” he corrects.

You wince. “Sorry for misgendering you,” you tell Byeol, patting her head. 

“She won’t forget.”

San’s teasing tone makes you narrow your gaze as you look up at him again. “Is that a threat?”

He chuckles, wetting his lips. “Maybe?”

Your throat feels dry, and all of a sudden, you understand San’s reputation - he isn’t one of the biggest fuckboys in your program for nothing. Indeed, there’s something effortless about his charm, about the way he glances down at your lips as if he knows he has an effect on you.

And he does. He fucking does, and it’s unexpected - you’ve barely ever spoken to him before except when the professor gave you the subject for your project, and he was clearly hungover then.

You clear your throat, taking off your shoes if only so then you don’t have to look him in the eye anymore. He puts the cat down, and then he’s walking back towards his couch, shooting you a look over his shoulder.

“You can grab the slippers by the door,” he tells you.

You glance at them, and you’re not surprised to see that he conveniently has smaller slippers, clearly for when he needs them for his… dates? 

Though you’re not sure he’s ever really gone on a date before. Not that you want to judge - he’s allowed to do whatever he wants to do, and it’s not like you haven’t had your share of adventures before.

If you can call them adventures.

You put the slippers on, and then you follow behind San, glancing to your left as you pass in front of an open door that leads to his bedroom. His bed is messy, black sheets in a bundle, and there’s an abandoned pair of socks on the floor. It’s boyish, yet it screams of comfort.

You push the thought away, shyly sitting on the edge of the couch while San gets comfortable under the blanket. He picks up a PS5 controller, and then he resumes his game of Elden Ring, as you can now see, his character riding a horse through the wilderness.

“Let me just finish this real quick,” San says, and you cock an eyebrow.

“Don’t we have a project to do?” There’s bite in your tone, and San’s eyes widen slightly before he bursts out laughing.

“Don’t get upset, I’ll be all yours in like two minutes.”

You don’t like the easy flirting in his words, so you don’t reply, busying yourself with getting your laptop out of your school bag and turning it on. Though it takes him a little more than two minutes, San soon follows your lead, turning off the game and the TV, then picking up his own laptop that was on the armrest of the couch next to you.

“So, what is this shit about?” he asks.

You snort. “This shit is about the Illuminati,” you answer.

“Sounds ominous,” he lets out. “What do you have on them?”

“The rich and elite are apparently part of them, or something of the sorts,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you scan the Wikipedia article you pulled up while San was finishing his quest, or whatever it is that he was doing in the game. “Some artists too.”

San peeks at your computer. “I don’t think Wikipedia is a good source.”

You side-eye him. “Just trying to figure out where to start is all.”

“Sure,” he lets out, and you don’t miss the teasing smile on his lips.

It’s strange - the teasing is familiar, easy, like you’ve been friends with him your whole life, and not only partners for a college project.

“You got a better idea?” you challenge him.

It’s like he was waiting for you to ask. He smiles, his eyes sparkling with male satisfaction, and then he opens a doc on his laptop, and your gaze widens as you see he’s already done a lot of research.

A lot more than you have, which amounts to absolutely none besides that Wikipedia article.

San shares what he’s found, and you help him reorganize it so that it makes more sense. He lets you do it, and it leads you to sit closer to him, your nose picking up the scent of the cologne he put on earlier today, or maybe yesterday evening.

He smells of something like whisky and vanilla, and though you’d never think the two scents would mix well, they do on him.

The sun is fully set once you finish going through everything that he already has, and you pull out the instruction for the first part of your project, which is a short report you have to submit by the end of September. 

“You hungry?” San asks as you’re trying to figure out the first sentence of the report.

“Huh?” you let out, your eyes begrudgingly leaving your computer screen to meet his gaze.

He’s closer than you thought he’d be, and you can’t help but notice the dimples on his cheeks. “I said, are you hungry?”

You purse your lips. “I ate before I came.”

“Weren’t you at some…” he trails off, motioning vaguely at your outfit.

He looks uncomfortable as you say, “At a memorial service?” He nods, and he seems even more uncomfortable when you add, “Yeah, I was.”

“There was food?”

This time you laugh - there’s something endearing about Choi San getting uncomfortable about something. The confidence he’d exuded earlier seems to have disappeared, and there’s a slight pout to his lips, like he’s wishing you wouldn’t be talking about that at all.

“I ate at home before coming here,” you explain. “But feel free to eat something.”

He seems relieved that you’ve maneuvered away from the topic of the memorial, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Nah, I can eat when you leave.”

“Does that mean you want me to go now?” you ask.

His gaze widens, his mouth falling open for a second. “Wait, no, what?”

You laugh at his bewildered expression. “You okay?”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “I’m actually starving. But you don’t have to go!”

“Well then, grab something to eat, I’ll just be here with Byeol.”

Byeol indeed has joined you on the couch, lying between you and San. You already like her - though you’re not usually around cats a lot, you just can’t help yourself.

“She’s supposed to be mad at you,” he reminds you.

You smile, and he looks down at your lips, a soft smile following on his own face. He seems to realize it quickly, and he shakes his head, putting his laptop away as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Does she look mad?” you tease, petting the cat. “She was lying closer to me this whole time.”

San chuckles, and you look away from him as he walks towards his kitchen. “You wish, Y/n.”

You don’t know why. But the way he says your name… 

You feel different, like no one’s ever said your name before.

“Calling me by my full name, I see,” you joke, as if trying to hide the vulnerability he’s ignited in you.

If it’s vulnerability, and not something else entirely. Something much more… unnecessary when it comes to a college project partner.

“What do you want me to call you?” He remains silent for a moment, but then adds, “I don’t even know you.”

“Ouch,” you let out, and you put your laptop down, effectively distracted by the conversation. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze. “We’ve had a lot of classes together.”

He smirks, eyebrows raising. “Have we?”

“We’re not going to that big of a college, you know that right?”

He turns away from you, grabbing something in the fridge. “I know,” he says over his shoulder. “I just think it’s funny that you remember seeing me in class when I don’t remember you.”

You roll your eyes, choosing to remain silent. You instead stretch, glancing at Byeol where she’s still sleeping next to you. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?” San asks.

You get up, your slippers padding on the hardwood floor as you make your way towards the kitchen. “I had mac’n’cheese before.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Maybe just a snack?”

He grabs a plate, and you watch as he empties the Tupperware he’s holding. You’re not surprised to see it’s broccoli, rice and chicken - San seems like the kind of gym guy who only eats broccoli, rice and chicken, after all.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say as you stop on the other side of the island. “I ate a lot for my birthday yesterday and I think I’m still full.”

“Your birthday?” he says, stopping halfway through emptying his dish. “It was your birthday yesterday?”

You tilt your head to the side. “It’s my birthday today.”

There’s a short silence as he just stares at you. He looks dumbfounded, almost insulted, and you feel a little awkward standing there.

“You did not come here to do a school project on your birthday,” he eventually says.

Your cheeks burn. “I… did?”

“And you had the memorial on your birthday too?” When you don’t reply, only staring at him sheepishly, he puts his dish down. “That won’t do.”

He moves towards a cupboard, and you watch him, a confused crease between your eyebrows, as he pulls a box of vanilla cake mix from there.

“You’re lucky these are my guilty pleasures,” he says, showing you the box. “I’ll bake you a cake.”

“God, no,” you quickly say. “You don’t have to bake me a cake.”

He glares at you. “Just sit down and let me bake you a cake, okay?”

He’s determined, that much you can tell. “I feel bad,” you mutter, yet you do sit on a stool. “You really don’t have to bake a cake.”

He opens the box, shrugging his shoulders. “This is going to be a much better dinner than what I was planning to have anyway.”

You laugh softly. “Not too fond of the gym meal prep?”

“Who is?” he jokes. 

“Clearly not you.”

He laughs, and the sound makes you glance away, only to see Byeol trotting towards you. She rubs her head on your calves, and you bend down to scratch her.

“Your cat is obsessed with me,” you say.

San chuckles. “Hard to resist.”

Your cheeks burn, yet this time you choose to bite. Maybe because he’s baking you a cake, which is more than your ex has ever done for you.

“Am I now?” you tease, straightening.

A smirk tickles the corners of San’s lips while he busies himself with pouring the cake mix into a large bowl. “Maybe?”

You narrow your gaze, though you can’t help but snort. It turns San’s smirk into a smile, and you just look at it for a few seconds, hating how endearing he is right now.

It’s the dimples. It has to be the dimples.

“I didn’t even ask,” he says as he grabs butter from the fridge. “You do like vanilla cake, right?”

You nod. “It’s actually my favourite. Not that I eat a lot of cake but…”

He grins then, nodding once. “You and I are going to get along well.”

You match his grin, if only because you can’t resist. “Just because of the cat, though.”

He widens his gaze, and then bursts out laughing. “I’m wounded.”

You make a show of eyeing him up and down, which proves to be a mistake as your eyes inevitably get stuck on his chest, on the way his muscles stretch the fabric of his shirt almost to indecency.

“Where’s the wound?” you ask, trying to sound teasing, though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t miss the breathiness aspect of your voice.

“Maybe you’ll see it if you come closer.”

You wet your lips. “You wish.”

San tilts his head to the side before looking down, letting out a small laugh. He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you think he’ll let it go. But then he looks up, meets your gaze, and says, “So what if I do?”

It’s the way he looks at you. You feel seen, as if you were in a crowd before and suddenly everyone’s disappeared. It’s just you and him, and the air fills with electricity, your brain deciding to conjure up an image of what he would look like without that shirt on.

You feel bad, guilty, yet it makes you feel… alive. 

“You always flirt with girls like this?” you ask, cheeks burning.

He wets his lips. “Only the pretty ones that come see me on their birthday.”

You roll your eyes, slightly shaking your head. “I did not come to see you, Choi San. I’m here for the Illuminati project.”

He narrows his gaze. “And here I am baking you a cake.” He looks down at said cake - which right now is just a mixture of cake mix - and he scoffs lightly. “Maybe I should stop here.”

“And eat your plain, boring chicken?”

“I put spices on it!” he quickly says, and he makes a show of pushing the plate towards you. “I’m not that uncultured.”

You laugh, and the smile that blooms on his lips is like a flower in the spring sun, and you once again find yourself looking away, searching for his cat as if that will make you forget the dimples adorning San’s cheeks.

“Yet you want to eat cake instead?”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, and then he’s popping his plate in the microwave. “I’ll eat both. Happy?”

He says it with a slight pout to his lips that just makes you laugh again. You can’t help it - you really feel like you know him, like you’ve known him your whole life. It’s easy complicity - understanding without having to say a word - and you bask in it.

If only to forget that you were indeed at a memorial on your birthday. At the memorial of someone just a year older, someone that should have had a long life stretched in front of them, yet lost it in a car crash.

“Okay,” San lets out a moment later, after he’s mixed eggs, milk and oil into the bowl. “I’ll put this in the oven-” His gaze widens. “I did not turn the oven on.”

You snort at his expression. “What an expert baker.”

This time when he laughs, his eyes close, his dimples flashing quickly. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I take offense,” you say as you lay a heart on your chest. 

He just slightly scrunches up his nose as he glares at you, and then he spins around to turn the oven on. A second later, he’s pulling his reheated plate from the microwave. He opens a drawer, grabbing a fork and then closing it with his hip. 

“I’ll eat while the oven heats up and then we can work on the project some more,” he suggests.

You nod your head. “Sounds good.”

He sits next to you, and you let him eat in peace as you scroll on your phone. He ends up doing the same, and he’s done eating by the time the oven blares through the apartment, letting you know that it’s warm enough.

San gets up, and you’re dumbly aware of the way his arm brushes yours as he does so. You pretend that it doesn’t have any effect on you, yet a shiver shoots along your arm, leaving goosebumps behind.

San pours the cake preparation into a metallic dish - not before rubbing butter on it to make sure the cake doesn’t stick - and then puts the cake in the oven. You look up from your phone to watch him do so, and he catches your gaze momentarily, flashing you an easy smile before grabbing the plate from his dinner. He leaves it in the sink, and then rests his hands on his hips.

“Time for work.”

You stretch, nodding as you hold a yawn in. “Let’s do this.”

San ends up grabbing your laptop and bringing it to you so that you can work at the counter. He sits next to you again - too close for comfort, yet you don’t tell him to move.

Maybe because you don’t want him to.

Working on the project is easy. It really doesn’t make any sense to you. It’s like the professor knew San and you would work well together. Indeed, by the time his timer lets you know that the cake should be ready, you’ve almost finished the introduction for the report, and San declares it enough work for the evening.

“We’re on a roll,” you say. “Shouldn’t we try to finish it all?”

San shrugs as he gets up, and he remains silent for a moment. He instead grabs oven mitts to pull the cake out. You watch him stab it with a butter knife and quickly pulling it out, confirming that the cake is indeed ready, and then he finally looks at you.

“It’s your birthday,” he states. “We’ve done enough work for today.”

“We have to wait for the cake to cool down before we can eat it anyway,” you say.

He smiles. “Good thing we can watch a movie, mmh?”

You’re not sure it’s a good idea, but you keep it to yourself. Maybe because he looks cute like this, soft in a way you wouldn’t be able to explain even if you had a gun to your temple, and you don’t want to disappoint him. 

“A movie?”

He nods, his smile widening. “Yes. Or a show. Or anything really. It’s your birthday, you choose.”

“Mmmh,” you let out, chuckling. “Can I watch you game?”

“You want to watch me game?” he asks, as if not sure he heard you right.

You nod, offering him a smile.

“Wouldn’t that be boring for you?”

“No!” you say. “I love watching people game.” You pause for a moment, and then you smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If they don’t suck, that is.”

He sees it for the challenge that it is. “You really are a brat, mmh?”

His voice is low, face more serious than you expected it to be, and red slowly tints your cheeks as they burn from the sudden heat in his gaze.

“Am I?” you innocently reply.

He breaks out character to let out a laugh, and then he nods his head. “You definitely are. But you’re the birthday girl, so I’ll do my best to impress you.”

You like that he wants to impress you. Like that he tells you to sit on the couch and offers you his blanket. It faintly smells like him, like vanilla and whiskey, and it’s warm, soft like you imagine his skin to be. 

“Do you want a drink?” he says after he’s turned his TV and PS5 on, and the game loads. 

“I don’t drink,” you admit. “But thank you.”

He purses his lips, then glances at the TV. “I can mix you a virgin drink, you know?”

You watch as his character appears on the screen again. You’re surprised he doesn’t ask you why you don’t drink - it’s usually the first question everyone asks.

“You’re being too nice,” you say teasingly.

He smiles. “Just today,” he says, winking at you. “I’ll go back to my usual self when it’s not your birthday anymore.”

You glance at the time on your phone. “You’re telling me I just have two hours and a half left?”

San shrugs, getting up from the couch. He hands you the controller, and you cock an eyebrow in question before grabbing in. He walks to the kitchen then, and you only understand what he’s doing when he grabs a large plate from a cupboard to put the cake on it. 

Once the cake has safely made it to the plate, San walks back towards you, laughing at your expression.

“What?” he says. 

“Why did you give me this?” you ask, waving the controller around slightly. “I don’t know how to play.”

“I can show you,” he suggests. “In the two and a half hours we have left.”

You smile and you don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your lips before the corners of his lift upwards too. 

“I really do want to watch you, though.”

He nods. “Then give me this.”

You do, handing him the controller back, and then he plops down on the couch next to you. He’s close enough for his arm to brush you again, and you slightly lean into the touch, if only because his gravity is pulling you in.

“So,” he lets out, and then he starts showing you the controls. 

It takes longer than you’d imagined it would, yet it’s easy, comfortable. There’s some sort of coziness to the moment, of easy familiarity you indulge in, and he ends up letting you ride a horse for a while. It’s fun, though you eventually fall from a cliff, which just earns you a fit of laughter from him as you profusely apologize.

“Don’t worry, I saved before,” he tells you, flashing you his dimpled smile. “You still want to play?” 

You sheepishly lean back into the couch, dropping the controller on his thighs. “You’re a lot better at this than I am.”

He chuckles. “You’ll get better in time, I’m sure.”

You highly doubt - you don’t have a PS5 at home, and you don’t think you’ll come back here anytime soon. Not that San is not good company - he definitely is, but you don’t want to get too close.

Not when you know his reputation, and when you have a semester-long project to do with him. 

San plays for a while longer, long enough for your eyelids to grow heavy. He doesn’t comment, but you’re sure he’s noticed the way you’re slowly sinking into the couch, the whole day and its exhaustion catching up to you despite you trying to focus on the screen. You end up dozing off, your head on his shoulder - when did it end up there? - only to wake up some time later as he gently shakes you.

“Hey, sleepy head,” he says as you open your eyes. 

You look up, meeting his gaze, and the world feels like it’s slowing to a halt. Like it’s pausing for you and him, to give you a moment to just admire his features from up close. To admire the way his eyes are soft, shining from within, and the way just a few inches separates you from those pretty, pink lips of his.

You’re struck dumb. Struck silent, struck with your eyes slowly widening, and you refuse to voice the tension that arises in your whole body. Refuse to give in to it, to even think about it. Instead, you straighten, stretching your arms. 

“Shit, my bad,” you apologize.

He laughs cutely. “Don’t worry about it. You looked like you needed it.”

Did you? You did, and your heart warms inevitably - of course he’d notice.

“And, you woke up just in time for us to put the icing on the cake,” he says, eyes sparkling still.

“Right.” You yawn, and then snort. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“Hey, it’s totally okay.” He glances at the TV - he’s paused the game, and the music is low, yet it sounds like he was in an important spot. “Besides, we only have less than an hour left to your birthday. Gotta make the best of it.”

You grab your phone, surprised that so much time has passed, yet he’s right - it’s 11:33 pm, and only twenty seven minutes lie between you and the next day.

“Before you get mean,” you tease, reminiscing about your earlier conversation.

He chuckles, though his gaze narrows. “What makes you think that I’m normally mean?”

You make a show of pondering, tapping your chin with a finger. “Maybe because you don’t remember me from all of the classes we’ve had together?”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. “You really are insufferable. Maybe I was just too busy paying attention to the class, mmh?”

“Or too busy chatting up all the pretty girls, right?”

He rolls his eyes, his lips curving upwards. “Only the pretty girls,” he says, giving in to your teasing. 

“I’m glad I make the cut, then,” you proudly say.

Byeol jumps on the couch between the two of you, and San pets her as she climbs on his lap. “What makes you think you’ve made the cut?”

Your mouth falls open, yet you don’t find any snarky comeback. All you do is watch him as he bursts out laughing, and you soon follow him.

“I thought you were supposed to get mean after my birthday was over,” you say with a pout when your laughter recedes.

He shrugs. “Just giving you a taste of it in advance.”

You like this. Like the teasing, the strange familiarity. The way that you put the icing on the cake together, talking about everything and nothing while San fights Byeol to make sure she doesn’t touch the cake. It’s domestic - a scene straight out of a romance movie. You want to hold onto it, but it feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

Or maybe it’s just that the emotions you’ve suppressed the whole day are slowly creeping back in, nostalgia clinging to your heart like a second skin.

“There you go!” San exclaims once you’ve finally finished icing the cake. “Shit, Byeol!” He quickly picks up the cat, holding her at eye level. “Stop acting feral, we have a guest over.”

She doesn’t move for a time, like she’s waiting for the perfect comedic timing, and then she lets out a long meowl that makes you snort.

“I think she’s saying that she wants cake too.”

San shakes his head no, tutting. “She’s insufferable.”

You laugh, totally agreeing with him, and then you watch him as he walks to the couch, putting her down on the blanket.

“You stay there,” he scolds her, a fist on a hip while he’s threatening her with one finger. The scene is adorable, and you’re smiling wide when he turns back towards you.

He immediately grins and that, most of all, pushes the shadows back to the recess of your mind, shedding light on the day.

“Should we eat now?” you ask.

“Hell yeah,” San answers enthusiastically as he walks back towards you. “Just grab a plate and cut yourself a piece.”

You nod, and then you do as he says, grabbing one of the small dessert plates he’s already put on the counter. Soon enough you have a large piece of cake on the plate, and you hand it to San.

“For you,” you say.

His gaze slightly widens, and he lets out a small chuckle. “No, no, take it for yourself, I can cut myself a piece.”

You narrow your gaze, plate still extended towards him. He snorts, but he does grab the plate. “Good,” you let out. “That was too big for me anyway.”

You grab a piece for yourself, and then you walk around the counter so that you can sit next to him. Byeol thankfully has chosen to stay on the couch, and you can focus on enjoying the cake without having to watch her, sharing a light conversation with San.

“Yeah, I came here when I was in middle school,” San is telling you. “I grew up in Namhae.”

You don’t know a lot about Korea, even though your grandparents originate from there. So all you do is furrow your brows. “Namhae?”

“It’s in South Korea,” he explains.

You roll your eyes, though the shit-eating grin on his lips is all worth the teasing. “I know that,” you say. “I meant I don’t know where it is in Korea.”

“In the south.” He chuckles, and then he takes the last bite of his cake. Silence surrounds you while he chews and swallows, and then he adds, “It was a cultural shock when I got here, honestly.”

You can imagine.

“You seem to have adapted well.” You vaguely motion around you. “Look where you are now.”

That earns you a sweet dimpled smile. “I did. Not at the beginning though.”

You exchange a laugh, and then you finish eating your cake, the atmosphere comfortable despite the momentary silence.

“What about you, though?” San asks once you’re done eating. “Where did you grow up?”

You tell him about growing up outside of the city - about the school yard that led to a field where flowers grew in the summer, attracting all manner of bugs. You tell him about the small park where you and Sydney used to go because it had the best swings. You tell him about Yunho, and San listens with a small smile on his lips, like he doesn’t mind listening to you blabbering on and on about things that don’t really matter anymore.

“Annnd,” you say after a moment. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Loved the details,” he says, and you can’t resist. You punch him in the shoulder, and he bursts out laughing. He rubs at the spot, adding, “I’m just teasing you.”

“Of course you are,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “Sorry about that.”

He slightly frowns. “About what?”

“Mmh,” you hum, shrugging. “About dumping my whole backstory on you like that.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize.” He fully faces you, tilting his head to the side. “I did love listening to you. You’re really cute when you tell a story.”

It hits you deep. Right to your core, and it seems he didn’t mean to compliment you. Indeed, his cheeks turn pink, and you reckon maybe this moment is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

“Oh,” you let out. You chuckle awkwardly, your whole face burning. “Thank you.”

He wets his lips, nodding once, and then he straightens before getting up. “Liked your cake?” he asks.

“I did,” you say. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” he says as he grabs your plates to go rinse them off in the sink. “Happy birthday, Y/n.”

You smile softly, heart too warm for your own good. “Thank you. Even if I feel like I’m just repeating myself now.”

He laughs at that, and it eases the tension that had filled the room. It returns to the teasing familiarity that you’ve been growing accustomed to, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s because I’m the best,” he teases. “Of course you have to thank me.”

You snort, looking up at the ceiling. “Here we go again.”

He laughs at that, and then he glances at the time. “Birthday’s over though.”

It is - it’s ten past midnight, and you reckon you probably should head home. You have a nine am class tomorrow after all.

“What a shame,” you dramatically say. “I was getting used to it.”

“You’re greedy, aren’t you?”

You’re not sure what he means, but it’s said with that same teasing tone, and all you can do is chuckle as you nod. “Maybe I am.”

There’s a silence while you just share a look, yet you’re too much of a coward to hold his gaze, your eyes dropping to the counter. You know you should be leaving, yet you can’t bring yourself to say it.

Not when you know the shadows and emotions from earlier are just a second away from circling back to you, and you don’t want the vulnerability just yet.

“When should we meet again to work on the project?” you ask.

He purses his lips. “I think I’m free on Wednesday. And the library should be open then if you’d rather go there.”

You glance at Byeol, who’s now curled up on the couch, fast asleep on the blanket where San put her down. “When would I see her again?”

It’s said with a small pout, and you’re painfully aware of the way San looks at it before he replies. “You can always come over.”

There’s more to his words, a truth left hanging, and he looks at you as if waiting to see if you’ll catch. And you don’t know if you should. Really don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved with San, but there’s something in the air. 

There’s been something in the air all day, be it quiet grief and nostalgia and the realization that life comes to an end one day.

You don’t want to have any regrets later on.

“Can I…” you trail off, and you feel the blush creeping on your cheeks. “Can I stay a little longer?”

You tell yourself that you need it, that you need to feel alive for a little while longer. And perhaps that’s just what San’s been doing - acting as a reminder that there’s life, and that despite the grief you know your brother is going through, life always ends up shining.

You think San understands. You’re pretty sure he does - he nods, walking back to the living room and plopping down on the couch.

“Come here, let’s watch a show.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You get up, immediately making your way towards him. You’re forced to sit even closer than before if only so that you don’t disrupt Byeol’s peaceful slumber, and San takes it in stride, raising an arm to wrap it around your shoulder.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

As if he needs your permission.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He smiles, and then he grabs the TV remote. He maneuvers to HDMI 1, and then he opens Netflix. He hands you the remote then, letting you choose what to watch. You settle on The Office, seeking the comfort of a show you’ve watched a hundred times before already, and then you give him the remote back, offering him a sheepish smile.

“I hope you don’t mind watching this.”

“Not at all.” He leans his head back into the couch, and his arm tightens around you. “I’ve actually watched it before, though.”

“Who hasn’t?”

He chuckles as the episode starts. “I wonder what makes this show so famous,” San ponders. “I feel like it should be offensive.”

“I think that’s what people like?” you say like a question. “And Steve Carrey is hilarious.”

“That he is,” San agrees. “The show wasn’t the same after he left.”

It wasn’t at all, and you love that San agrees. Love that you end up talking for the whole episode, barely even paying attention to it. It’s just so easy - it flows naturally, like the river to the sea, and you’re surprised when the credits roll in, and you don’t think you’ve heard a single thing in the whole episode.

“Shit,” you let out. “We really can’t shut up, can we?”

That makes San laugh, a cute laugh full of dimples on his cheeks and smile lines around his eyes. It makes you look at him, like you’re proud you’re the one making him smile. He meets your gaze, and there’s a moment of silence as his laughter recedes, his gaze finding yours.

You think his eyes soften. You’re convinced they do, and then you’re leaning forward, pressing your lips on his.

Electricity shoots through your bloodstream, and if San is surprised, he doesn’t let it show. He kisses you back, his lips just as soft as you imagined they would be, and he cups your cheek before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You sigh into the kiss, sigh into the life that it creates inside of you - the warmth, the sun, beauty like that of lingering summer, of a sunset painting clouds in gold and pink and everything in between. 

There can’t be shadows when the sun shines like this.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. San follows your lead, his tongue teasing your lower lip, and you let him in. Taste him, tease his tongue with yours. His arm around your shoulder pulls you in closer as one of your hands lands on his thigh, and then you reach a little higher, putting it on his stomach instead.

His abs are rock hard under your palm, and you sigh appreciatively.

The kiss lasts for its small eternity, your thoughts scattering like dust in the wind as San’s hand gently grabs your wrist to pull you on top of him. You don’t resist, and you reckon you were expecting it.

Expecting to find yourself perched on the bulge in his pants, and this time your sigh turns breathy, more like a moan than anything.

It unleashes something in the two of you. San’s hands find your waist, and he makes you grind on him while yours cradle his face before moving to the back of his head, keeping him from pulling away.

You feel warm, hot, and nothing else matters than the way he sucks on your lower lip, slightly biting at it.

“Shit,” you curse against his lips.

He immediately leans away from the kiss, fighting against your grip before you loosen it. “Everything okay?” he asks.

He’s breathless. He’s breathless, his chest rapidly going up and down, and you struggle to get oxygen in your lungs again as you sit there, his dick pushing against you despite the fabric between you.

“Yeah,” you let out. “I…” you trail off, unable to break eye contact despite the redness flushing your cheeks. “Do you want to… to stop?”

You don’t know why you’re stuttering, why you’re feeling shy all of a sudden. He’s hardly your first, yet it feels different.

Perhaps because of the whole circumstances surrounding this moment in time.

“If you want to,” he murmurs. He takes a deep breath. “I’m down to keep going, but I’m aware it might be weird for you considering…”

You silence him with another languid kiss, and his grip tightens on your waist. You grind into him again, and he grunts, his dick twitching in his pants. And even though you want more, you can’t bring yourself to disconnect from his lips. Not when he kisses you so damn well, every swipe of his tongue emptying your brain until there’s just you and him and that whiskey and vanilla scent of his.

It smells of sweet addiction, and for tonight, you want to revel in it. Want to feel alive, want to remind yourself that you are alive.

Maybe that’s why you pull away, breathing raggedly, to ask, “Can I suck your dick?”

San gulps. “Shouldn’t I be the one pleasing you?” 

You furrow your brows, wetting your lips. “Why do you think sucking your dick won’t please me?”

This time he wets his lips, and a smirk slowly takes over his features. “You want it that bad?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, instead leaning forward to capture your lips into another embrace, and you roll your hips. He grunts, pulling away. “By all means,” he says, his voice low and husky. “I want to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You bite at your lower lip, circling your hips one last time, just so that you can see the way his mouth falls open, a pleasured frown taking over his face. And it feels good, far too good, as his dick rubs on your core, on your clit, shooting lightning along your nerves.

Once you’ve had enough, you pull away, kneeling on the floor between his legs. You run your hands along his thighs, appreciating the strength of them, while he just watches you through half-lidded eyes, his chest still moving fast as he keeps on breathing raggedly. Your eyes hold his gaze for a few more seconds before they drop to the imprint of his dick, and you gulp.

He’s big. That much you can tell despite the clothing, and when you run a hand along his length, you know he’ll hurt your jaw. Yet the way he arches when you touch him makes you want to please him, makes you want to hear the kind of sounds he’ll make when you’ll be choking on him, and you know you won’t stop.

“Can I take your pants off?” you ask, your eyes trailing back to his face.

“Let me help.”

He bends down, immediately pulling his pants off, though he leaves his boxers on. They’re tight, revealing even more of his dick, and you run your hand on his length again when his sweatpants are finally off.

“You took a shower today?” you ask as you crawl a little closer.

“Huh?” he lets out.

You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer.

“Yeah,” he adds. “Yeah, I took a shower after the gym.”

You wet your lips. “Good boy.”

And then you bend forward, licking at his tip through the fabric of his boxers. You taste the salty precum that’s already stained the fabric, and you immediately want more. So you pull his boxers down enough to free his dick before wrapping a hand around his base.

His dick sits heavy in your hand, and it’s flushed with arousal, darker than the rest of his body. The head is stained red, looking ready to explode, and veins run up and down his dick, inviting your tongue. Most of all, he really is large despite not being too long, and you lose some of your confidence.

How are you even supposed to fit him in your mouth?

“Shit,” you let out.

“Mmmh?”

You meet his gaze for a few seconds before looking down at his dick. Before you reply, you slowly stroke him up and down, your tongue teasing his slit once.

“You’re so big,” you praise.

“Yeah?” He pushes your hair away from your face, holding it in a makeshift ponytail. “Don’t worry, baby. You can take it.”

It undoes you. It’s the way he says the word, with so much praise, yet so much barely concealed lust.

You want to please this man, and you won’t stop until he’s had his fill of your mouth.

You lean forward, swirling your tongue around the tip of his dick while holding eye contact. He doesn’t blink, only grunts lowly, his mouth falling open when you flatten your tongue and tap his dick on it.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

“How do you like it?” you ask, and you spit on his dick, using your saliva as lube so that you can jerk him off faster.

“I like it in your mouth,” he says. “Be nice for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, smirking. “Or what?”

You suck on his tip once, and his hips lift from the couch, seeking for more friction, yet you don’t grant it to him.

“You’re such a fucking brat.” It’s whiny, but the way his dick twitches in your hand tells you he likes it.

You tease his frenulum with your tongue. “Am I?”

His lips stretch in a thin line as he holds your gaze, and he curses, looking away. “Thought you wanted to suck my dick.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” you say. 

You dive in, wrapping your lips around him, taking as much of him in as you possibly can. But then you pull all the way out, stroking him fast instead, and San grunts in frustration.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, and he lets out a small moan as you take him in your mouth again, sucking on his tip as your tongue teases his shaft.

You think the moan rewires your brain. Because it unleashes you, and you start bobbing your head up and down, your hand following the motion, and soon San starts guiding your head, his hips moving up to meet you.

It’s no wonder you choke on him, and he lets you pull out just long enough for you to take a breath, and then you’re back on his dick, sloppily sucking him dry. You’re drooling, his taste inebriating, and you feel it on the back of your hand, dripping down to his balls. 

It’s only when you get that thought that you pull away so that you can lick down his dick, pressing a kiss on one of his balls. He fucks into your hand, moaning again, and you look up to see that he’s thrown his head back on the couch, the tall column of his neck the only thing visible from where you’re kneeling between his legs.

“Do you want me to suck on your balls too?” you ask.

“Fuck, Y/n,” is all he answers, and so you lick a large stripe between his balls, more tentative than anything else. That snaps him back to reality and he leans forward, cursing loudly. “Just…” He takes a deep breath. “Just be careful, they’re really sensitive.”

You nod, and you gently lick at them this time, before going back up his shaft to swirl your tongue around his tip.

And then you sit back on your heels and ask, “Do you want to fuck my mouth?”

He wets his lips. “I kind of just want to fuck you.”

You shake your head no, sucking on his tip again. The heady taste of his precum coats your mouth, but you want more.

You think you’ll always want more with him.

“Just my mouth,” you say after. “I don’t want to have sex right now.”

That’s a big fat lie if you’ve ever said one - you just don’t want to know how good he can make you feel, not when you know you can’t do this again.

If he looks disappointed he doesn’t say. All he does is nod, and then he says, “Move back.”

You do, allowing him to get up. He’s huge like this, towering over you as he looks down at you, and he gently cups your cheeks. You open your mouth, tongue flat to allow him space.

“Fuck,” he curses again. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Wreck me, San.”

He doesn’t need you to say more. Indeed, he grabs his dick, taps it on your tongue as you just patiently wait there, your hands on your thighs. You crave to touch him, but something about the way he’s looking down at you tells you he likes to have his control, likes to be the one seeking his own pleasure.

And you want him to use you. Want him to come down your throat.

“Stop me if it’s too much, okay?” he says as he rests the tip of his dick on your tongue.

You lick at his slit. “Okay.”

“Fuck.”

His curse is all he says before slowly pushing in. Your jaw is stretched, eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat, and then he’s slowly pulling out, eyes fixated on the place where his dick disappears inside of your mouth. He’s so large you know he has to feel your teeth a little, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Maybe because you’re trying to use your lips to not hurt him, and it seems the sensation is driving him insane. Because the next time he pushes in, he’s faster, a hard thrust that you answer with a moan, and then he fully loses it, shutting his eyes tightly. 

San establishes a quick rhythm, grunting and groaning as he fucks your mouth, drool soon covering your chin. He tastes good, something heady, and the sounds he makes are music to your ear. He’s impossibly hard, and you think of how he’d feel inside of you.

You’d see stars, that much you’re sure of.

“Fuck, Y/n,” San says. “Your mouth feels so good.”

You moan, and he looks down at you. His cheeks and neck are reddened, his hair falling in front of his eyes, but you still feel his gaze piercing through yours, so much so that you feel naked kneeling there.

And maybe you are, in a much more important way than the physical.

“I think I’ll be able to come,” he says, and he pulls out, slowly jerking himself off. “Where do you want me to come?”

You lean forward, sucking on his tip. “In my mouth?”

It seems he was still holding back. Indeed, his gaze goes feral, lustful, and you prepare yourself as he grips your hair in a makeshift ponytail again, his other hand landing on the side of your head. And then he smirks and says, “Open up for me, baby.”

You do. You fucking do, unable to be bratty anymore. Not when he’s looking at you like that, and especially not as you crave him already.

He doesn’t disappoint. San pushes inside of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat so hard you choke on his dick. Your eyes water, a tear slipping free, and he dries it carelessly before fucking into your mouth again.

This time, you hold in the gag reflex, focusing on flattening your tongue, and then dragging it on his dick as he moves in and out. San moans, and you echo it. He pulls on your hair, hard, and you sit back on your heels, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick. It breaks when he taps his dick on your cheek, and you just keep on looking at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“I gotta admit,” he says, and he strokes his dick up and down. “I have trouble coming while standing. Do you mind going to the bed?”

There’s something cute about the way he asks, and you smile, chuckling. “Sure.”

Your voice is croaky from his dick fucking your throat, yet San doesn’t mention it, only smiles down at you before patting your cheek.

“Let’s go.”

He holds a hand out for you to take, and then he pulls you up to your feet. You wince - your knees hurt more than you were realizing - and San chuckles before gently leading you to his bedroom.

And the bedroom is simple, consisting of just an unmade bed with dark sheets, a small bedside table, and an open door that leads to a walk-in closet. San lets go of your hand, and then he plops down on the bed amongst the sheets, his eyes on you.

“Think you can suck me and make me come?” he says, a smirk on his lips.

So maybe he doesn’t need to be in control to come after all.

You move closer, kneeling on the bed next to him. San watches you as you run a finger on his abs, and then you hook it under the hem of his shirt, pulling up.

“Take this off,” you say.

He wets his lips. “And why should I? You’re still fully dressed.”

You cock an eyebrow, and then you take your shirt off, throwing it to the side. San’s gaze widens before dropping to your breasts, and you unclasp your bra, also taking it off. You put it on his abs, and then your hands return to your breasts. You pinch your nipples, making sure they’re all perked prettily, and then you say, “Better?”

“Much better,” he says, voice so low it sounds like a growl. “Can I touch you?”

He makes to sit up, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “No.”

He groans in frustration, yet lies back down, awaiting your next move.

“Tonight is about me making you come,” you add after. “I don’t want you to distract me.”

He takes a shaky breath in when you run your finger along his sensitive dick. You bite at your lower lip, trying to hold a smirk in, but it’s to no avail.

“Then get to work again, baby,” he says. “Better make me come.”

You bend down, blowing a breath on the tip of his dick. “Yeah?”

He nods, cursing underneath his breath, but then you dive in, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a small, pleasured moan. And though your jaw is sore, you suck him hard, taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. It’s easier to hold the gag reflex in when you’re in control, so you go up and down sloppily, your spit coating his dick thoroughly. 

San soon starts to groan louder, the sounds turning into breathy moans that have you soaking through your panties. It’s hot, sinful, and for a moment, you wish you could just sleep with him.

Wish he wasn’t your partner in that stupid project so that you could just indulge.

But he is, and he’s gripping your hair, guiding your movements.

“Shit, I’m going to come soon,” he grits through his teeth, and you look up to see his throat again, the flushed skin of his neck beautiful.

You moan, and his dick twitches once before his hands move to the side of your face. He thrusts up twice before stilling, and the taste of his cum fills your mouth as he comes deep in your throat.

You suck him through his high, suck him dry, only stopping when he pulls on your hair gently. You let go of his dick with a satisfying plop, sitting back on your heels.

There’s a moment of silence only interrupted by San’s heavy breathing, and all you do is watch him as he lies there, his eyes closed. When his eyelids finally flutter open, San meets your gaze, letting out a disbelieved laugh as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Holy shit,” he lets out.

You scrunch up your nose, holding a shy smile in. “You liked it?”

He chuckles again, tilting his head to the side. “I think you just sucked my soul out of my body.”

You laugh, your cheeks burning as he grabs your hand to pull you closer. You understand what he wants as he scooches over to make space for you, and you lie down next to him, laying your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you whisper, suddenly shy at his proximity. 

Not that he wasn’t close when he was deep in your throat, but this feels different, more intimate, vulnerable.

It’s the kind of thing you don’t usually do.

“Of course,” he says, and then he sighs in contentment. “I gotta admit this is the first time a girl has ever made me come by sucking me.” He chuckles, and it’s a low rumble in his chest, almost like the purr of a cat. “So yeah, I loved it.”

“No way!” you let out, pushing m up on an elbow to look at him. “I don’t believe that.”

He cups your cheek, then just gently pats it. “Well, it’s true.”

“Don’t you… sleep around a lot?”

He must not like your words. He frowns slightly, eyes narrowing, and his hand falls away from your cheek. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Sorry,” you immediately apologize. “I did not mean it in a bad way at all.” You purse your lips, looking between his two eyes. His features soften slightly, but there’s still a wary edge to them, and you hate it. “It’s just that I didn’t think I was that good?”

You say it like a question, because it frankly is. You’ve had your share of partners as well in the past - an ex-boyfriend, and then a line of ephemeral relationships that didn’t last more than a few weeks to a few months.

It’s the college experience after all, isn’t it?

“Are you getting insecure on me?” San asks, and his features finally earn that teasing sparkle from earlier. “Confidence looks better on you, Y/n.”

You blush. You can’t help it - there’s something in the way he’s looking at you right now, holding your gaze, that makes you feel incredibly vulnerable.

You feel too seen.

“My bad, then,” you mutter, and you put your head back on his shoulder if only so that you don’t have to look him in the eyes anymore. “I know I’m the best.”

He snorts, and his arm momentarily tightens around you. The silence prolongs for a moment, and you just breathe in time with him, listening to the beats of his heart. He eventually sighs, shifting until he’s on his side, facing you.

It brings your face right in his chest, and the scent of him engulfs you deeper, like a blanket wrapping around you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you feel good too?” he asks in a whisper.

You nod against him. “I probably should just go home for real, now.”

He makes a sound that you can only interpret as a groan. It’s cute, endearing, and at the opposite of what you’d imagined Choi San would be like.

“Why don’t you spend the night?” he suggests. “It’s getting pretty late.”

You wince. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Even if I sleep on the couch?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Even if you sleep on the couch,” you say. “We have a morning class tomorrow.”

“We?” he says, and you hear the smirk in his voice. It makes you want to roll your eyes, yet you’re too comfortable right now to truly be annoyed.

“Yes, dumbass,” you answer. “We.”

“I have a friend that records all the classes,” he reveals. “I could get you the recording and then you could stay and we could sleep in.”

It’s weird - does he really want you to stay that bad?

“Thank you for suggesting it, but I’d rather just go home and go to class tomorrow,” you say. “Another time, maybe?”

He’s pouting. You know he is, partly because he pulls his head back enough to meet your gaze. “That’s boring.”

You chuckle, a little embarrassed. You don’t even know why you are. You just sucked his dick like there was no tomorrow, yet you feel like you need to flee the scene, like maybe a crime was committed.

You wonder, is it a crime to hook up with your project partner? Surely it has to be.

“Well then, call me boring, Choi San.”

He looks like he’s considering it, but then he says, “Nah. I get it, today must have been a wild day for you.”

It… was. You’re glad he understands, even though some part of you does want to stay over. It’s mostly for that reason that you make your way to the door after having grabbed your stuff, and San follows you, his grey joggers finally back on.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say, offering him a small smile.

He smirks. “I feel like I should be the one to say thank you.”

“I meant for the cake.” You roll your eyes as you speak, and San just laughs cutely. “And for actually being a decent project partner.”

He narrows his gaze. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” you say, and you chuckle. “I think I’m just getting really tired.”

He nods in understanding, and then looks behind himself. “Do you want to say goodbye to Byeol before you leave?”

“Yes please!”

You must be beaming because San grins, laughing lightly as he turns around to seek out the cat. He comes back with her, her tail swishing in the air, and you gently pet her, cooing at her like you would to a baby. San lets you do it, his smile everlasting, and when you’re finally ready, you look up to meet his gaze.

He’s close, and for a moment, you want to kiss him again. Want to stay, want to return to his bed so that he can hold you in his arms. The emotion is so strong you have to take a step back, and you awkwardly clear your throat, your gaze dropping to the ground.

“So,” you let out.

You don’t find anything else to say, and San saves you by saying, “Do you want to meet again on Wednesday to work on the project some more?”

“Yes.” You nod, relieved he found something to say.

Relieved he wants to meet again.

“Yes, let’s meet at the library,” you add. “Just to keep things…” you trail off, chuckling awkwardly.

“Are you afraid of what’ll happen if we’re left alone again?” he asks teasingly.

“Gosh, San.” You chuckle awkwardly. “You’re annoying.”

“I made you cake!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re annoying.”

He pouts. “You’re mean.”

You look up to the ceiling, but it’s to no avail - there’s no salvation on San’s ceiling.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe that’s why I sucked your dick.”

He bursts out laughing, and it’s a little loud, so much so that he startles Byeol and she jumps out of his arms before trotting away.

“Right,” he says after having watched Byeol leaving. 

There’s another pause in the conversation, and it slowly fills with tension as you once more just share a look that seems to hold so many words unsaid you can feel their weight on your shoulders. It brings a light blush to your cheeks, and you look away, pulling at some dry skin on your lower lip.

“So I’ll see you on Wednesday?” you say.

He nods. “Yes. But also in class before then.”

“Alright then, Choi San. I’ll see you in class.”

He offers you a gentle smile, one that reminds you of why you kissed him initially - you wanted to feel alive, and you think his smile carries life, warmth, breathing vitality to your soul. It chases away the shadows from the memorial earlier today, and reminds you that you’re breathing. That your heart is beating, and that your neurons carry little sparks of electricity to make you into the full, functioning human that you are.

It’s comforting, reassuring, and you can’t help but echo the smile.

Later that night, when you’re finally in bed, you can still feel the ghost of that smile on your lips, and you fall asleep to the memory of Choi San’s lips on yours.

Teaser | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

hihihihi i guarantee that it is a slow burn lmaooo trust me <3 please let me know what you guys think!:)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2025. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[takes1]

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

masterlist.

requests open.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Some James, Lily, and Sirius notes

I needed to figure out for my fic what Sirius was doing after graduation and before Azkaban. Like, what James, Lily, and Sirius were doing for a living, you know. The common fanon consensus is that Sirius and James were Aurors, but I found an interview that gave the closest to canon answer that we have:

Q: Harry often wondered about his parents lives before he died. What did Lily, James, Remus, Lupin and Sirius do after Hogwarts? JKR: To take Remus first, Remus was unemployable. Poor Lupin, prior to Dumbledore taking him in, led a really impoverished life because no one wanted to employ a werewolf. The other three were full-time members of the Order of the Phoenix. If you remember when Lily, James and co. were at school, the first war was raging. It never reached the heights that the second war reached, because the Ministry was never infiltrated to that extent but it was a very bad time, the same disappearances, the same deaths. So that’s what they did, they left school. James has gold, enough to support Sirius and Lily. So I suppose they lived off a private income. But they were full-time fighters, that’s what they did, until Lily fell pregnant with Harry. So then they went into hiding.

(Interview)

And I found this answer hilarious and it implies 2 things:

That my assumption that James and Lily went into hiding prior to Harry's birth when the prophecy was made is likely what the intention was.

And that there is a nonzero chance Sirius lived with James and Lily at least part-time. He was, after all, living off of James' inheritance (while Remus didn't). JKR stated James supported Sirius and Lily, not Remus who was suspected to be a traitor at the time.

The mental image of a married James and Lily with an infant Harry and Sirius all in the same house is hilarious and I just wanted to share it.

We know how close James and Sirius were:

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

(PoA, Ch10)

They were so co-dependant they enchanted the two-way mirrors becouse they couldn't bear to stay in separate detentions from each other. James and Sirius' friendship was insane.

And Lily's letter to Sirius actually hints the situation wasn't far off from what JKR said in the above interview:

We were so sorry you couldn’t come, but the Order’s got to come first, and Harry’s not old enough to know it’s his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell—also Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend.

(DH, Ch10)

It's made clear Lily wrote to Sirius outside of her relationship with James, that she and Sirius were close by that point, and that Sirius came by whenever he could. I don't know, I just find these three and their potential dynamic in these few years between graduation and the end of the war super interesting.

like Lily and James are married, James and Sirius are best-best friends, and Lily is clearly very close to Sirius by her death. He's probably her closest friend (or one of them) when she dies. And, like, these three are raising baby Harry between them.

Like, Lily asking Sirius to come over to cheer up James... idk... it makes me feel things.

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Your mama’s crying

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x daughter reader

Warning: death, angst, Ian Doyle, depression, Ian calling reader by her “name”

It had been seven months…

Seven months since your mother had passed, your best friend had died at the hands of your father Ian Doyle. Seven months of losing yourself and recreating a new version of who you once were, everything had changed once she left, even me.

I couldn't bare looking into the mirror to stare at the dark eyes, raven hair that I mourned the loss of so I dyed it. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. Red. Before settling on a beautiful Blonde that she would've loved. I swapped my glasses for coloured contacts, it hurt to see the ghost of my mother in myself.

Seven months and yet it felt like seven years..

The first day had begun a month after mum had passed, I was curled in her bed my face smothered in her blankets that were slowly loosing her scent. Morgan had burst into the room throwing my gym clothes at me telling me to get ready, we ran ten kilometres that day only stopping at the lookout on the hill to yell out our frustrations at the world.

It became a routine of sorts and sometimes Penelope would join us although she couldn’t keep up with us as often. It was okay. We would be okay, Sergio clung to me more as the months grew almost as if he just knew.

I sat with Derek on the roof, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders as we spoke "I miss her" I whispered curling myself into him more. "Me too, miniP' he kissed my head before resting his cheek on it"me too he repeated sadly "she'd be proud of you, you know that right?" | nodded biting my lip.

I hope she would be

Although I wanted revenge

I had graduated university top of my class with the team cheering me on in the crowd, how was I to see those two guilty faces. It hurt my mother not being in the front row like she was meant to but I imagined she had been.

My father loved me in a strange way

The team thought it best to use me as the bait to catch him, I called him to a cafe just a quiet one that I had visited him before at. Staring at him I felt nothing, his face was blank “whats the softest way to say you took away my friend, my buddy?. Whats the kindest way to say you took away my friend?”.

“You wouldn’t understand Alora” he whispered “so help me understand father” hopefully the team should walk in any moment. “It was simply fate my dear, we have a past” fate? Fate took my mother? My heart had shattering once more.

I wanted to scream and cry, throw anything available at him but I was just so numb and maybe he knew that as he leaned over. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before the team burst in “Je t'aime Y/n” he whispered I love you Y/n “Adieu père” I whispered. Goodbye father

How dare he simply call it fate

“Elle m'a enlevé ma fille”

She took my daughter away

I was bound to him, mum was bound to him

I was his daughter

It was all a blur as he was arrested, I had become numb but I knew I hated France it would never be the same I’m not sure Virginia could be the same anymore.

I never went home that day, finding myself at Penelope’s front doorstep tears streaming down my face. Her arms had become home I wondered if my mother would be disappointed in me- of who I had become.

“Oh my sweetheart”

I wished I could’ve told her sooner about my adoration for women of my harboured feelings for an older blonde that I had no chance with. I had an internship with the bau while I found a job that I actually wanted, I had plans just as my mother once had.

We had been called into the conference room, I stood near the back “everyone take a seat” Hotch sighed as JJ stood beside him. "7 months ago I made a decision that affected this Team." he said, and I knew immediatly that this was about mum.

"As you know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfilitration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know." he said and I felt sick to my stomach.

"She stayed there until she was well enough to travel, she was reassigned to Paris where she was given several different identities which we had no access to for her security." He goes on.

"She's alive?" Penelope asked.

"But we buried her..." Reid says hurt.

I had buried my mother

I had buried my mother

Yet she had walked into the room with a smile on her face as if these seven months had never existed, I had buried my mother for nothing. These seven months had been a lie, all the words JJ and Aaron said had been lies all those tender hugs and kisses were full of guilt.

I couldn’t help but leave quickly as mum made her way around the team giving out hugs unaware she had watched me go. I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t be in that room not with everyone so happy to have her back, I grieved my mother.

I mourned someone who wasn’t dead

Maybe it was selfish of me but I left the team that day, finally moved my things out of my mothers apartment now that she was back. I ignored her calls so angry she could do such a thing the same went with Aaron and JJ, how could they? my mother?.

The team had called me often saying how my mother had been crying, her sobs begging for me and maybe in some sick way she knew just how I had felt.

I laid with my head in Penelopes lap as I sobbed, her soothing hands running through my hair “I know it’s hard right now Y/n but maybe it would be a good thing if you started talking to her again”.

“I’m just so scared Pen”

“And thats okay baby cakes”

It wouldn’t be another two weeks before I worked up the courage to talk to her, Rossi was hosting a part while I had arrived with the blonde. Mum made her way beside me “I’m proud of you Y/n” she slowly placed a hand on my shoulder.

She took a deep breath in tears already staining her waterline “and I’m sorry, if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve but Aaron had said no. I asked them everyday about you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be here I’m sorry, I put my little girl through all this pain”

She moved her hands to cup my face “my baby girl, and when you graduated Uni. I made sure Aaron got me a clip of you. I never once stopped thinking about you, Mon cher I love you”

“And I am so so proud of you” the warmth of her lips pressed against my forehead cemented she was real “I’m sorry mama” I cried. “I was just so angry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she pulled me into her chest rocking us gently side by side.

After a while she chuckle causing me to look up confused “you and Garcia?” She smirked with a raised brow

[lillaydee]

In Time

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

---

You waited all morning for him to pick you up, as promised. He insisted that he would. No need to get a car, Sweets. I’ll get the car. I’ll pick you up, we’ll go together. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’ll be there for you Sweets. You know that, right? I love you, Sweets. Benny was like a father to me, too. Of course I will be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

The service was due to start in an hour. He was still not here. He was two hours late. Calls went straight to voicemail. You were supposed to be there already, greeting the guests. Fuck this. You grabbed your purse and keys and left, driving yourself to the service. Who cared if you arrived in your old beater rather than a fancy town car, right? So long as you got there.

The traffic in LA was no joke. Hence the plan to leave three hours before the service. You made it with five minutes to spare. You were ridiculously disappointed in yourself. You fell for his sweet talks again. He was no longer the sweet, dependable, considerate David you met 10 years ago. He was Dave Landon now. Successful, sought after, crazed over. And you were still the same boring old Amelia, the simple vet, who hadn’t fully practiced for the last three years, ever since Benny got sick.

You rushed in, the pews in the small room already filled with Benny’s old friends, mostly his age. You apologized profusely to the proprietor, who kindly waved your apology off, already aware of the reason you were late. You took the opportunity to go to his casket, and studied the face of the man who took you in, raised you as his own, and made you who you were today.

He looked good. He was right. This place would do a good job, he had said, and they really did. He looked his age, not the shriveled old man the disease had turned him into. Your heart ached at the memory of your dashing uncle in his prime, looking like a movie star, picking you up in his fancy car on your first day at school in a strange country, a far too glamourous private school, where you looked like a twelve-year-old, while the other girls looked twenty.

When your own parents died Benny had flown back to the UK overnight, being your only family left. He officially adopted you and took you with him from the small English countryside farm you had grown up in and brought you to LA where he owned an art gallery, to live with him. His partner left him for refusing to give you up, and he never had a serious relationship again. You lost count of the number of times he had shut the door on his ‘friends’ who knocked on his door late at night for a good time just because you were there. His life became about you. He paid for you to get the best education you could get, and you managed to get a degree in veterinary medicine back in the UK, him scheduling his work to coincide with your breaks there so that he could spend as much time with you. The day you graduated he was cheering for you so loudly, his voice alone overpowered the claps and music, his eyes glistening with tears at your success.

So when he got sick, you stopped everything to take care of him. David had landed his role of a lifetime, and had asked you to move in with him, but you refused. How could you when the man who dropped everything for you needed you?

And now, the man was gone. You had never felt so alone before. Your friends were far and wide, but you had focused so much on Benny these three years you hadn’t really kept in touch with most of them. You had hoped that David would be here with you, at least, be your hand to hold, but that had been too much to ask, it seemed.

You bent down, kissed your dear uncle’s cold hands and cheek one last time, and told him you would speak to him every night, like you had always done since your first night here.

“I promise, Benny. I love you.”

---

The service was beautiful. Simple, dignified, just as he had wanted. When everything was cleared, you finally checked your phone, hoping to see a text, an explanation from David, but there was none.

When the two of you met, you two were fresh faced university students, instantly hitting it off. You had always been shy, never having a lot of friends, and even if you did, after graduating, everyone scattered all over. You had chosen to go back to LA, not wanting Benny to be alone. He came with you, chasing his dreams to be an actor.

David worked hard to pursue his acting career, going for audition after audition, getting small roles here and there, working as a waiter in between jobs. During that time, Benny and you had supported him, his own family being as unstable as they were. You ran lines with him for auditions, held his head when he cried from yet another rejection, paid his rent when he ran short. You were there for him.

That first year Benny got sick, he helped you take care of him, taking him to chemo when you were still working, caring for him at home, keeping him company. He held you at night when you came home tired, listened to your stories, laughed at your jokes, cried when you cried. He was there for you, as much as you were for him.

But then, one day, he auditioned for a pilot, which became an instant hit. In a flash, David Trafford became Dave Landon, TV heart throb who played Jerry, a superstar playboy turned clumsy, inexperienced dad who had a baby left on his doorstep. You quit your job to take care of Benny, David coming by when he was available to do so, the frequency lessening quickly as the show became more and more successful.

He had been very respectful of your request for privacy, not wanting your private life to be plastered all over the internet and tabloids. His agent was very happy about this, preferring that he be linked with famous actresses to promote his name. You didn’t mind, you knew the game, and he was very frank with you about it all. So, you managed to stay away from red carpets, limiting your relationship to the privacy of his house and Benny’s, and the odd outings. Taking care of Benny was a full-time job anyway, and he understood.

But as he got more and more famous, free time became less and less. His agent was taking advantage of his fame, booking him for anything and everything within every inch of his life. Still you understood, knowing this was his dream, and you were not going to stand in his way.

You had supported his dream, his career, his passion.

But when Benny died, when your world stopped, he didn’t show.

You were suddenly seething. You had never asked him for anything. And the one time you needed him, he was a no show.

You drove over and unlocked his front door. You turned the corner of his foyer, walking into the music filled kitchen.

Where Cleo, his costar from the show, whom he had always been gossiped with, was cooking.

Naked.

You stood there, not saying anything, until he himself came out of the pantry, also naked, holding a bottle of wine, and saw you.

“What are you doing here, Sweets? Why didn’t you call first?”

Cleo stood behind him, covering her body with his. You had no idea why, it’s not that you hadn’t seen it before. Her nudes, her sex videos were all over the internet.

You kept quiet. You didn’t say anything. You were wondering why you were not feeling anything but anger at the fact that he didn’t show for Benny’s funeral. He quickly put an apron on to cover himself, again, you didn’t know why, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before.

“I swear this is not what it looks like. We were just getting comfortable with each other, for the show. We have a sex scene coming up. That’s all.”

Cleo said nothing. Just stood behind him, eyeing you up and down.

Still you said nothing. He looked flustered now, knowing there was no way out of this, that you knew, the jig was up.

“Sweets, you know I love you; she means nothing to me. It’s just sex. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Cleo huffed and went off into his room angrily, slamming the door behind her.

Why didn’t you feel anything? You should be angry, right? This was your boyfriend. And you just caught him naked with his costar in his kitchen. A costar who, incidentally, seemed really angry at the fact that ‘she meant nothing’ to him.

He took a step closer to you, and that’s when you saw them. His eyes. He was high.

“You missed Benny’s funeral.”

You turned around to leave.

“Wait! Benny died?”

You stopped and turned, glaring at him. He suddenly looked annoyed, as if you were being unreasonable with him.

“How high are you? How long have you been high? I told you the day it happened. You told me you were coming to take me to the funeral. I waited for you all morning. I almost missed his funeral!”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Sweets. I don’t remember.”

You turned around, leaving for good. You didn’t have time for this bullshit. You didn’t sign up for this.

“Well what did you expect? You think I’m gonna wait around for you when you put another man and his needs before me? Fuck you, Amy! Fuck you! We’re over! You hear that? I’m breaking up with you! See who will have you now, you boring bitch!”

You slammed the door behind you, leaving this ranting man behind. A man you didn’t know at all, who was not the sweet, caring man you met and fell for years ago.

---

You gave Benny’s house one more look once the boxes had been picked up and the house cleaned. It looked a lot smaller when it’s empty. Funny how that worked. You remember being in complete awe of it all when you first came here. You went to the backyard one last time and laid in the hammock you and Benny had installed together when you first got there, remembering all the time the two of you had done so, talking to the stars. He had you convinced that your parents were among them, and that if you talked to them, tell them your problems, ask them questions, about anything at all, you could always, always hear their replies, and that you would never be alone.

You smiled thinking about the time when he tried to get off the hammock after you had fallen asleep in it during the early days and ended up tipping the hammock over, sending you crashing down to the concrete floor. You broke your arm that night, and Benny carried a sobbing you into the ER shoeless, wearing only his sweatpants screaming for help. He was devastated that he had injured his baby. It took a lot of convincing from you to have him join you in the hammock again, and so much practice getting out of it without tipping anyone over.

You remembered the last week before he passed, where he insisted on lying in the damn hammock with you still, and you helped him lift his frail body into it, just so the two of you could cuddle in it the way you always had. You remembered him falling asleep, his head on your shoulder, telling you he loved you and that being your uncle was his greatest achievement.

He never woke up again.

You caressed his side of the hammock one last time and looked at the stars.

“You’d better be in the stars above Wyoming too, Benny.”

---

You felt like you had been hit by a train. You fell asleep about two hours into the early morning flight and was shaken awake not 10 minutes later. The plane was landing in Jackson Hole shortly. Please put your seat into the upright position, miss, the pretty flight attendant had said to you.

After Benny passed, you were busy taking care of his considerable estate. He had left you everything. You had tried to stay, but you couldn’t help but see him everywhere. The school he used to drive you to, the restaurant he loved, the mural he had liked, the shops he frequented. And at home, you were haunted by his memory. His favourite chair. His slippers. His gown. The breakfast nook. His room. And of course, the hammock.

It also didn’t help that you couldn’t get a job in LA, not that you needed one, Benny’s considerable estate made sure of that. But you just couldn’t stand being idle. Your old workplace didn’t have any vacancies, but your old colleague told you about a year-long job that could be available. It’s a ranch. Their regular vet had to attend to some family matters, and they needed someone to take over for a year. But this ranch was not like the quaint English farm you grew up in or worked at during your Uni days she said, if she remembered correctly from pictures from your Insta. And you had spent almost twenty years in LA. The Tetons during winter was… not quite the English winter you were used to growing up. So, it might be a bit of a challenge, but nothing you couldn’t handle, she said.

You said yes so quickly she laughed and gave you the number to call. “Talk to Tess. She manages the ranch. Tell her I gave you the number.”

And so you called, and Tess was very excited about you coming to fill in, even if you were rusty, having not worked for three years, and had only worked a handful of years before that. Basically you would be taking care of the horses and cows on the ranch, and a few dogs and the likes. The neighbours might call you up for help with their animals too, and they pay you extra for that.

You were worried, you won’t lie. A ranch. But hey, it’s just a year. And you had never lived anywhere that would get proper snow. It didn’t snow much where you grew up, so maybe this would be fun. One year. Good experience. And after that, who knew? Maybe you’ll go back to England. Or move to Asia. Benny had always wanted to do that. Maybe you’ll make his dream come true.

You had sold or donated everything in LA, bringing exactly ten boxes with you to Jackson, mostly books, and four suitcases – Benny’s prized LV ones. He had bought them with his first commission from his first sale at the gallery. You didn’t plan on going back to live in LA, anyway, so might as well make it easy for yourself – easier to bring as little as you can too, considering you were planning on leaving the country after the year was up. The boxes had been sent ahead, and Tess said that someone would be there at the airport to pick you up. Dress warmly, she had warned. And bring plenty of winterwear.

So, you lugged your four suitcases onto a trolley, and pushed. You scanned the arrival hall for your name, but there were none. You pushed the trolley towards the entrance, and when the door opened, you froze.

Literally.

It was fucking freezing.

Shit.

You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and kept pushing. You looked around, standing at the area Tess had asked you to wait at, not seeing anyone or any truck that matched the description and photo that Tess had sent you. Just as you were about to call Tess, an old-looking, battered red truck parked right in front of you. The driver took out his phone, looked at something on it, and then you, and got out.

“You Amelia?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Joel. Tess sent me.”

“Erm, she said someone called Tommy was picking me up. Not Joel.”

He looked annoyed. “Well, he can’t make it. Wife’s not feeling so good. I’m what you’ve got. Are you coming or not?”

You hesitated. This man looked grumpy. And you were not about to get into a truck with a grumpy stranger in a strange place where you knew exactly one person, and that was Tess, who was hundreds of miles away, apparently. You took your glove off your right hand, and dialled Tess’s number, holding a finger up to him. He threw his hands in the air before placing them on his hips, taking a deep, impatient breath, looking like he was about to implode.

You told Tess a Joel was here, claiming she sent him. She laughed and asked you to point the camera at him. Joel rolled his eyes at the camera. Tess told you yep, that’s the grumpy asshole who was going to pick you up. Tommy was supposed to, but his wife was not feeling too well. Sorry, she forgot to text you about it.

Joel started lugging your suitcases, tossing the first one into the back seat.

“Hey! Be careful! That’s my entire earthly possession right there!”

“Doubtful,” he said. “Ten boxes just arrived for you at the ranch. At least lie better.”

“Well, those suitcases mean a lot to me. Please be careful,” you begged. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘damn city girls’ under his breath, but he did at least place the rest carefully in the back seat. He closed the door and pushed the trolley towards the attendant.

You were feeling like a lost puppet. You didn’t know what to do. Stupid questions filled your brain. Do you get in the truck? Do you sit next to him? Do you take your very puffy jacket that wasn’t doing squat in fending off the cold off? Do you wait and shake his hand? What do you do? It was like your brain decided to stop working. You had just arrived, sleep deprived from the emotional night you had saying goodbye to your life in LA with Benny and how early you had to leave for the airport that morning, got ten minutes of sleep and was greeted by the North Pole and a very grumpy elf.

He came back to the truck and got in. You were still standing there. He opened the door back up and asked if he should open the fucking door for you, Princess? You were startled by his aggression. You went around and tried to open the door, but it was stuck. You pulled and pulled, and finally he gave it a push from the inside and the door flung open, pushing you onto your backside on the fucking freezing road, a passing car narrowly missing you by inches.

He just sat there, staring at you, his lips half curled with an amused smirk.

You got back up as quickly as you could, a bit disorientated from what just happened, and quickly tried to get in. But the truck was high, and you were used to small cars, and had so many layers on, and in your cotton-brained, ouchy-my-buttocks-hurt-like-a-mother state you had trouble climbing up, your petite frame not really helping. He scoffed a not so silent ‘Jesus, city girl’ before he offered his hand for you to take. You stared at him and hoisted yourself in, ignoring his hand.

You pulled the door shut, feeling dangerously close to tears, and avoided looking at him. He took his seatbelt off, scooted towards your side, reached across, opened the door back up and pulled it shut with a slam, the truck wobbling from the force. He buckled himself back up and sat there watching you trying to figure out the seatbelt, which was loose, and looked for the slot in the bench seat, the many layers you had on and the rustling of the puffy jacket getting in your way, your arms feeling stiff and the thick gloves making you less dexterous than you normally were. He impatiently took the seatbelt from you and locked it in, muttering under his breath as he did so before pulling out of the spot.

You glanced at your phone, it was 9 in the morning, you had been here not even an hour, and you were already on the verge of tears, feeling more unwelcomed than you ever did in your entire life. You took a deep breath, and tried again, asking him how long the drive to the ranch would be.

He turned the radio on and upped the volume in response.

You looked out the window, the heated interior of the truck feeling much colder than the cold city outside. You pulled the hoodie of your jacket on so he couldn’t see your face, and leaned on the window, tears silently trickling on your cheek.

What a first fifty minutes to the rest of your next year.

This was clearly a mistake.

---

Part 2

[megumithegreat]

On Flowers and The Meanings in Lies of P

Addendum: This took me like 2 hours to write and I still have so much to say on so many other things but I must temper myself and disappear from here again (inevitably to go write more fanfiction).

lol I'm actually making a real post on Tumblr because IG isn't enough. I don't actually intend to discuss this with anyone, I just wanted to muse in a space that isn't it restricted by characters or the space on my phone screen.

SPOILERS AHEAD for LIES OF P and THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY BTW

Many things in the game have some too-specific-to-be-nothing details, such as being able to liken some of Dante's Divine Comedy (especially Paradiso) and most recently potentially John Milton's Paradise Lost to Lies of P (somewhere on my IG and my BSky, but tbh Lies of P deals a lot with Christianity, see La Pietà and The Creation of Adam both by Michelangelo) and the direct reference of The Picture of Dorian Gray regarding the portrait, and potentially Frankenstein (I'll be reading after Paradise Lost). These are just literary references, but I believe even Galileo Galilei has a nod or two in the game (particularly, celestial bodies and orreries).

Also: Dante, Michelangelo, Galileo Galilei, and Carlo Collodi are all from Florence, Italy and John Milton really liked visiting Florence. The web of connections continues :D

But back on topic: last week or so, I was playing Lies of P after a bit of Bloodborne and I noticed something on Geppetto's desk:

On his desk, he has an article about daffodils (narcissus flowers). Now, this is a strangely specific detail for EnvArt to have, isn't it? Except when you consider that flowers have specific associations in Lies of P. So why would Geppetto have this article on his desk, and why Geppetto?

The Meaning of Daffodils

Daffodils have mixed positive and negative symbolism. They are associated with the Greek mythology of Narcissus, who fell so deeply in love with his reflection in a pond that he never moved and eventually died. In his stead, a yellow flower named after him grew.

In most cultures, daffodils symbolize rebirth, rejuvenation, new beginnings, good fortune and wealth (if multiple), and hope/optimism/strength (particularly in the context of cancer or hardship). It's a spring flower, growing after winter, and a bright and cheerful flower. Daffodils, thus, have a mostly positive connotation.

But flowers tend to have multiple meanings.

Daffodils, because of their name sake and depending on the color, can also symbolize selfishness (purple) and broken love. If there is a single daffodil, that might represent misfortune (depending on the cultural context).

At first glance, I had assumed that the positive daffodil connotation represented his hope in P and his desire to make Carlo reborn.

Geppetto and Daffodils

To find this article on Geppetto's desk, especially if you know the truth about Geppetto, it makes sense depending on your interpretation of how he treats Carlo/P, disregarding the sheer chaos he caused just to accomplish his goal.

If you believe that Geppetto truly loved Carlo and loves P, then the daffodils in the article might represent broken love (and possibly remorse). He does feel regret for having ignored Carlo to the point of emotional neglect and not even showing up for graduation, and perhaps this is why he puts so much care into making sure P looks exactly as Carlo did whenever he found his corpse. The Real Boy ending and the implications of it suggest that Geppetto truly wanted his son back

[My camp] If you believe that Geppetto used P as a means to an end and Carlo's rebirth was actually to make him feel like Dad of the Year (y'all even Neowiz knows he's a shit dad lol), then the daffodils in the article might actually represent selfishness and narcissism. Perhaps he loved the idea of having a son, and by manipulating Carlo's memories within P, he would get his son back and maintain the "lie" of being a trustworthy dad (which this is a question he asks you).

Additionally, to tie in some Picture of Dorian Gray (by Oscar Wilde, who was gay, but that's a whole other topic, and I think there's at least one other post that talks about homosexuality in Lies of P). One of the themes of Dorian Gray is vanity and narcissism and the ruination they cause. So in love with himself to the point that almost everyone except Lord Henry is beneath him, Dorian Gray drives at least two people to suicide and murders Basil when he confesses his love and offers to help him come back from the corruption.

When Geppetto states that he had D. Gray paint the portrait of Carlo to capture his soul, and having the article of Daffodils and Narcissus on his desk, I myself am inclined to think this was all out of self-pity and ego.

Sources used for Daffodils

https://www.floraly.com.au/blogs/news/daffodil-flower-meanings#:~:text=The%20daffodil%20symbolises%20rebirth%20and,%2C%20resilience%2C%20forgiveness%20and%20vitality.

https://www.almanac.com/content/march-birth-flower

https://flower-meanings.com/daffodil-meaning/

Tonight, I had an epiphany after defeating Romeo again on NG+2. There is a specific reason why white lilies are depicted with P's P-Organ on the title screen.

After all, you'd expect to see roses, wouldn't you?

The Meaning of White Lilies

White lilies symbolize commonly symbolize purity and innocence, and in Christianity, divine femininity (in association to the Virgin Mary). Like daffodils, they are also a spring flower and can represent fertility, rebirth, renewal, and new beginnings.

White lilies are also associated with the crown chakra, which is focused in the cranium or the top of the head. The associated color of this chakra is violet (the color of nobility and royalty).

In literature, poetry, and art; white lilies are often used as a symbol of the devotion and love in addition to purity and innocence. It can even mean protection by a spiritual guardian.

White lilies are often used in ceremonies. They can mean commitment and used for marriages. They can also represent death and funerals, but still for positive connotations, as death can mean purification of the soul.

Romeo and White Lilies

Romeo's association to white lilies in the title screen is underscored by the background also being his precious theater set on fire. There are hints that become more like statements starting at the end of Chapter 4 when you receive "Divine Service" from Cecile if you help her, through Chapter 5 (Malum District), through Chapter 6 to the climax where we learn most of what happened to Romeo after Carlo's death (including the whisper "Carlo..." upon talking to Sophia about the necklace). From Chapter 7 through the rest of the game, it's Romeo that exposes Geppetto's lies.

Romeo and Carlo were in a deeply romantic and most likely sexual relationship indicated by all of the text descriptions/lyrics of "Divine Service", "Someday", "Fascination", and other items, and loading screens ("brotherly love" is often a way to circumvent saying "gay" in games/writing). There is no doubt, especially when Romeo's Ergo catalyzes the beginning of P's transformation by reminding him of who he is. Moreover, Romeo's dialogue all show a desire to protect Krat and a desire to protect Carlo/P. When he is the one to expose Geppetto's lies, that is the moment that he himself is trying to keep P safe. There is never any malice, even when Romeo says he must kill P to stop it all; he is reluctant to harm him and praises him in his final message.

White lilies persist on the title screen until P arrives on the beach ahead of the Isle of Alchemists or so, as if to tell the player that P isn't alone. And we know he's not, but Romeo is absorbed into him and, as he says upon player death, he'll "always be with [Carlo]".

To draw another connection to The Picture of Dorian Gray and flowers, Romeo's role to Carlo/P is very similar to that of Basil (the painter) if we are to assume that Geppetto is analogous to Lord Henry. Both Basil and Romeo sought to protect the boys they loved, only to be denigrated and murdered by their manipulators Lord Henry and Geppetto.

Bonus: there exists a Stargazer lily, so this might potentially be a nod to this species

Sources used for White Lilies

https://windflowerflorist.com/blogs/news/types-white-lilly-flower?srsltid=AfmBOoo4WEwm-YuQB5u2Xfs2x4o9vM2vcui6dzHCmUZFLLHn-EHy4mqH#ruffruff-table-of-contents-item-1

https://www.bloomandwild.com/the-blog/lily-flower-meaning

https://foliagefriend.com/white-lily-flower-meaning/

Tidbits on Roses and Romeo & Carlo/P

Roses are often associated with Romeo, particularly because he is associated with red to contract with P's blue. Given that both Romeo and Carlo lived at the Rose Estate and that "Fascination" record is adorned with roses, it's hard to miss. Even "Divine Service" mentions in the description.

The DLC trailers show roses in association with the Legendary Stalker (even a closeup on her Monad Badge), and Fox says that P's fighting style is reminiscent if not exactly like the Legendary Stalker's style. So perhaps Romeo's association to roses might specify that he is Carlo/P's childhood lover. And since P has the ability to put Ergo he's absorbed elsewhere (as shown that he gave Sophia back her Ergo), Romeo continues to be carried in his heart.

[cat-in-a-box13]

Twisters HC Part 2, electric boogaloo

ft. my attempts to make a coherent timeline based almost entirely on vibes

Kate and Tyler take an excruciatingly long time to get together. If the movie is set is June (which is what I'm going with based on when tornado season starts and the fact that it makes the most sense for the movie to start a little after the beginning of tornado season), they dance around each other until August after the last chase of the season.

However, by the end of the first week, the Wranglers are sick of their shit. Boone dreams of locking them in a closet together. Javi and Lily actively scheme to make them room together. Dani sticks a post-it note to Tyler's back that says "kiss me" and shoves him at Kate. Dexter intentionally sets their sleeping bags together every time they chase overnight. Nothing works until Kate finally just walks up to him after the last chase of the season and asks if he plans on kissing her, and Tyler responds by dipping her in the sappiest Hallmark kiss you can imagine. No one is sure whether to cheer or groan, because from here on out they will be even more insufferable.

Two weeks after she starts dating Tyler, Kate wakes Javi up in the middle of the night sobbing about how she's going to get him killed just like she got Jeb killed. Javi just silently calls her mom and hands her the phone. Cathy provides expert advice, and Javi provides hesitant head pats because what do you say to that?

Javi and Kate fight like siblings. The first time Javi steals Kate skittles and she full on tackles him, it surprised the Wranglers. The third time, no one even looked up. The seventh time, Tyler just called Cathy and put her on speaker.

Javi's mom left when he was a toddler, and his father traveled a lot for work. When Javi and his dad moved to Sapulpa, they became the Carter's closest neighbors. Rural neighbors, which means there's about a mile of the Carter's farmland in between their houses, but Javi and Kate met when Kathy dragged her over there to deliver a welcome pie.

Because Javi's dad traveled so much, Javi spent a ton of time over at Kate's house, to the point where Kate started calling the guest room, "Javi's room".

Javi's dad died unexpectedly a few weeks after Javi's 18th birthday. Cathy offered to let Javi move in with them, at least until he graduated high school, but Javi insisted on staying at his house, and his room at Kate's house went back to being the guest room. Of course, it didn't stay empty; there was almost always at least one Tornado Tamer that needed a place to crash and now, five years later, Cathy finds herself with a new group of kids (because they're all kids to her) crashing in her guest room and raiding her fridge.

Kate left town a few weeks after the funerals finished. She didn't go straight to New York but instead worked her way up the East Coast for about two years before she landed her meteorology job in New York 3 years before the start of the movie.

Javi drifted aimlessly for about six months before he served four years of active duty in (insert whatever military branch is the most likely to do whatever it was Javi was doing because I don't know how the military works) and is now an IRR for the next four years (I think this is how it works?). He got off active duty about six months before the events of the movie (based on his hair has somewhat grown out of military regulations at the start of the movie, but he still gives off military vibes).

Tyler and his team have been chasing unofficially for about six years, but it wasn't their full-time job until about two years ago, shortly after they brought Lily and her drone on-board.

They don't livestream every chase. Instead, they film for the majority of tornado season and try to get enough footage to be able to release weekly videos through the off-season, in addition to making more educational-type videos about tornadoes and what to do if one is coming for you, as well as showing behind the scenes kind of stuff, like what modifications they've made to the truck and stuff like that. The Wrangler's family dynamic is as much a draw for their audience as the tornadoes are and they know it.

Boone has absolutely stuck a Lego up his nose on a dare, and Dexter yelled at him the whole way to the ER when it got stuck.

Dexter thinks he's the only sane person on the team, but in reality, he gives off serious mad scientist energy when he gets going. He also thinks he's the Team Dad, but it's really Tyler. Dexter is the fun childless uncle that bought you toys your parents hated at Christmas and let you drive the ATV before you were old enough to.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: angst, culminating in murder

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— A/N: Following A Different Kind of Key, I got a prompt for breeding kink with Ominis. I decided to combine this with a fic idea I had included in a poll a few months ago, which was that Ominis kills his parents in revenge, and begins to appreciate the dark arts. I don't know yet how many chapters this will have, but get ready for a dark and manipulative Ominis, and smut 💕 Enjoy, my dears!

It wasn’t like Ominis to say Sebastian inspired him. But that was, in a strange twist of events, what ended up happening.

The day Solomon died changed everything between the four friends involved with it. Sebastian and Anne’s uncle was gone, Sebastian was the one who killed him and Anne was left distraught, their fifth-year-friend was there when it all happened, and Ominis was left feeling like the earth was pulled from underneath him, not knowing where he’ll land. During the following days, Anne buried Solomon and ran. He knew where she was, but was sworn to secrecy never to reveal it to anyone, particularly not to Sebastian. It was a difficult request, but Ominis expected it to be made easier by Sebastian’s inevitable indictment for murder, which was bound to come any day now — right?

Their friend, who even witnessed the murder, refused to turn him in. That left the weight of the choice to Ominis, but he was easily swayed. Why lose two friends when he’s already lost one? So he said nothing…

During the months that followed, the weight of all that happened hung over them like a sword, like a noose ready to drop, like a tipping avalanche. Yet nothing happened. They entered the sixth year, and then the seventh. Anne healed from the curse’s influence — it turned out that Rookwood was the real culprit — and Sebastian graduated from Hogwarts — with the commendations of all their professors — and it had almost escaped Ominis how surreal the whole thing was, but sometimes he reminded himself that Sebastian had gotten away with murder.

It was a struggle to push down just how impressed he was. Sebastian had gotten practically everything he wanted: Anne was cured, Solomon was out of the way in a permanent fashion, and their mutual friend, well, she was under Sebastian’s sway now as much as he was under hers. Complicity did that…

It wasn’t fair. His best friend had a brilliant career ahead of him in whatever field he chose, he had every opportunity now to look for his sister again, and his perfidious little friendship was blooming into a romance day by day — meanwhile, what did Ominis have to look forward to? A return to his parents’ clutches and some arranged incestuous marriage, no doubt.

It wasn’t fair. All his other classmates were cheerful to be done with school, optimistic, hopeful, happy. They had jobs and girlfriends and some were even due to marry. And Sebastian, disgustingly, behaved as if nothing had happened in fifth year, as if he wasn’t a murderer.

It wasn’t fair.

Ominis rode in the cabin with his two friends on the train back to London, where Sebastian was excited to go and apply for a position with Borgin and Burkes.

“You know you’d do better in the ministry…” their friend told him, the smile in her voice teasing but sweet.

“Funny,” chuckled Sebastian.

“You’re still afraid of them?” she goaded.

“I think they should be afraid of me,” said Sebastian quietly, leaning toward her over Ominis. “The score is still one-nill last I checked.”

“Yes, but they don’t know that,” she said, leaning toward him too so that they now hovered somewhere around Ominis’ chest.

“And I plan to keep it that way,” said Sebastian.

“Excuse me,” said Ominis, pretending not to know they were there and getting up briskly enough to knock them back.

“Omi—!”

“Hey, watch it!”

He grabbed his wand and went out of cabin, shutting the door behind him. He pretended to go to the restroom, and pretended to use it for the next 15 minutes, and pretended not to hold back tears of jealousy.

Things only got worse once he arrived home. His parents did not exactly welcome him with open arms, although he had excelled in his NEWTs and was among the best students of his year. No, they behaved as if he’d just been done with a silly distraction, that filthy school that took in mudbloods, and his filthy friends from lowborn families, and now his real life started, said his father, and the fun was over.

He lasted two weeks until he murdered them.

He considered doing it in their sleep, but he wanted them awake. It was the evening of the 17th of July, and it rained and hailed all throughout supper. Ominis pretended to retreat early for the night, leaving them all together in the dining room, tired and mellow with firewhisky.

The doors shut on their own as if by a gust of wind. The chandeliers and fireplace were frozen with a spell. And the dining room was plunged into utter darkness.

A decanter was knocked to the floor and his father was cursing, and his mother called out from the top of her lungs for the elves, but Ominis had sent them away. His sister was rambling something about the house being haunted. They were learning now what it was like for him, what it had always been like for him, although he didn’t imagine they could appreciate it. He cast off the disillusionment spell, he didn’t need it anymore, and summoned all their wands to him wordlessly. Disarmed and scared and in the dark, he picked them off one by one.

First, his sister. He surprised himself by not shaking at all as he did it. In fact, he had never been more calm — was this how Sebastian had felt?

Their mother became noticeably quiet when she saw the brief green light and heard a body fall, but it took a while until she found her, feeling around on the floor. She barely said her daughter’s name in anguish before Ominis killed her too.

His father was left, and by then he’d begun to suspect, calling his name and prowling through the pitch black in that lumbering way he did. Ominis allowed him to hear his footsteps coming closer.

“I know it’s you, you little rat,” spat Gaunt Senior, facing him but standing still. “I heard you say it.”

“And you’ll hear it again,” said Ominis coolly, “right before you drop dead.”

“If only your brother were h—”

“Avada kedavra.”

The flash of green enveloped his body as it collapsed to the floor, and then it was gone, and it was dark again.

Not that Ominis noticed a difference. All he knew now was quiet, and peace, and loneliness. He finally had a life work looking forward to.

The first order of business was to get rid of the bodies, which he accomplished by turning them into teacups and finding a place for them in the glass cabinet in the living room. Brushing his finger across one, he thought it felt different from normal porcelain — a bit more rough, less cold, like bone — but their shape and weight were otherwise quite perfect. He smiled as he put them away.

The next issue was what to do with his brother… Marvolo lived somewhere in London, and he had enough friends there already that his absence would be noted. And he would not come back to the Gaunt manor just because Ominis called. Even if he did, he’d inquire as to what happened to their parents.

Which brought him to the last and final point: how to explain their absence.

He spent the next hour packing their wands, their cloaks, a cauldron, a few ingredients, and a sacrificial dagger, and then he went off into the nearby woods. They sometimes went there to perform spells that called for incantations and ritual sacrifice of the local fauna, often not returning until morning, stinking of wet dirt and blood. He could say a spell went wrong, an animal attacked, and there was no trace left of them but a few less-than-savoury items.

It was quite a trek to make all on his own, even levitating the items behind him, which often snagged in the low branches and the weeds. When he thought he was far enough, he planted the cauldron in the middle of a clearing and stuck the dagger in the earth, scattering the other items all around in what might be a convincing pattern should anyone come look.

Morning found him in his bed, alone and dirty, but content.

Ominis smiled and turned on his back, and listened: quiet. No screaming, no fights, no one ordering him around, no threats of violence, no curses, nothing.

It took about twenty minutes for that to start to bother him.

His fingers toyed with the wand which rested on his stomach, and he thought about all the times he’d judged Sebastian for using the Unforgivables. A part of him still found it abhorrent, because Sebastian was never in such a situation as he had been with his family. However bad Solomon was, he wasn’t like the Gaunts. Meanwhile, another part whispered that he should feel ashamed.

“But I don’t,” he said to himself, speaking with nobody else to hear. “I’m not. I’m not sorry.”

And he wasn’t, for many days to come. When the house elves returned from the prolonged shopping trip Ominis had sent them on, he told him the same lie he had prepared — Mister Gaunt had gone with his family in the woods to perform a ritual but hadn’t yet returned, and Ominis was worried, oh but no need for the elves to go, they needed to tend to the house — and went through the coming days just as he normally would, and soon forgot he’d ever had a family at all. And yet the house seemed larger than before, and behind each corner he still suspected some malevolent force, within each sound a muttered curse or insult, and although he knew them to be safely dead, transfigured in the cabinet, he had moments in the night when he thought they had returned to take revenge.

It wore away at him, and he knew he had to resolve it with a change in circumstance: either he moved away, or he made the house livable again. He didn’t consider even for a second to write to his brother Marvolo, but he considered asking for Sebastian to visit together with their friend — until his thoughts settled strictly on her.

On a whim, he wrote to her, and her alone. The owl took a few days to return, and it brought to him a strangely mournful and yet exciting message.

Ominis had inquired about her health — she was well — and her search for work — not so well — and Sebastian.

“It pains me to say this,” she wrote, “but I do not know. Sebastian has been sent to recover something (I know not what) for Mr Burke. Part of his training, he said. As if he weren’t experienced enough in these sorts of things. I told him, as I’m sure you would have as well, that Mr Burke was only going to take advantage of him and gain a dangerous item at no personal cost, and is only using Sebastian’s goodwill and enthusiasm. He did not take it well and has yet to speak to me since. He said I called him ‘naive’, but I did nothing of the sort.”

Ominis chuckled as his wand vocalised the letter. It was blatant she did think Sebastian naive, just as it was blatantly true that he was.

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since, for various reasons,” she continued, “but I find my worries and upsets dwindle into something perhaps similar to what you felt at Hogwarts when Sebastian would get involved in these sort of reckless things — frustration.”

Ominis’ smile broadened. Her clear longing for Sebastian, her worry for his safety, her shameless affection, did not serve him — but frustration, he could work with. He picked up his dictation quill and a piece of parchment and sat down at his desk to write.

“My dear,” he started, “I am first of all happy to hear you are well and healthy, in spite of everything else seemingly falling apart around you. I am sorry, although not surprised, to hear about the novel way Sebastian has found to make a nuisance of himself. You have my full sympathies.

You have also, if you will not find it too forward, my invitation to join me at my parents’ mansion. I think it would be good for you. It is in a quiet and undisturbed area, close to London but surrounded by ancient woods. Without my family present, as they currently are — and we can discuss this too once you arrive — it is a most calming and comforting place, which sounds like just the sort of thing you need at present. You are welcome to stay for the remainder of the summer. It might help you find some balance in your life, perhaps even give you new energies to pursue employment — or other means of occupying yourself.

Please find the address enclosed.

Yours devotedly,

Ominis

P.S.: If indeed he does return in the interim, make no mention of this to Sebastian.”

[by-gray]

I invented names for the Doctor’s thirteen children.

Chi, Tou, Rho, Iota, Otto, Dana, Decim, Zayin, Befh, Aleph, Enea, Eksi and Eta for short. Full names and explanations for them down below.

Colour coding full names based on whether they were born as a “daughter” or a “son” by Earth definition, but of course Time Lords can switch genders when they regenerate, whilst others are more fixed in their gender.

1) Chicardinalblyledgeypomoní (neé Chiblyledgeypomoní) (Chi)

The Doctor’s first child is stated to have been Susan’s father, and he was meant to be a Cardinal – so I’ve decided that is also in his name.

2) Toublyledgetheta (Tou)

3) Rho Vel-blyledge (neé Rhoblyledgeypomoní) (Rho)

The Vel- here tells you that Rho was from the House of Blyledge, once upon a time, but she is not of the House of Blyledge anymore. This indicates in Time Lord names when someone is of important rank in foreign territories (e.g. the wider Universe). I’ve decided that Rho is similar to some sort of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.

4) Iotablyledgetheta (Iota)

5) Ottoblyledgeypomoní (Otto)

6/7) Danablyledgetheta (Dana) and Decimblyledgetheta (Decim)

A set of twins, so, to show they were born at the same time, same suffix.

8) Zayinblyledgeympomoní (Zayin)

9) Befhblyledgetheta (Befh)

10) Alephblyledgeypomoní (Aleph)

11) Eneablyledgetheta (Enea)

12) Eksíblyledgeypomoní (Eksí)

– Susan born –

13) Etablyledgetheta (Eta)

I’ve decided Eta (pronounced like Eh-ta rather than Eat-ah) was not only the Doctor’s youngest child, but born quite a while after the others, making her younger than Susan. I headcanon that she was a year off graduating from the Academy during the Time War, and so she couldn’t regenerate when she was hurt by the daleks, and she died in the Doctor’s arms. I’m so cheerful :)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Explanation:

All these first names are either Ancient Greek letters, Hebrew letters, Ancient Greek numbers, Latin numbers, and in some cases, a little made up. I thought these would be suitable names for children of someone called Theta.

Full Gallifreyan names are always made up of a:

1) Prefix – the short first name everyone calls them by (e.g. Romana)

2) The house they belong to and grew up in (e.g. the House of Dvorartre)

3) A suffix (e.g. Lundar).

Meaning, Romana’s full name is: Romanadvorartrelundar.

So far, no one has worked out what the suffix ending means. It is notable that suffix endings can be different in siblings. For example, the Doctor’s brother should be called: Irvinglungbarrowbraxiatel. Meanwhile, the Doctor: Thetalungbarrowsigma. I’ve decided that the suffix could be the first name of one of your parents. And because gender is not really a thing for Time Lords, parents tend to alternate which prefix they include in their children’s names. This would mean me headcanoning that the Doctor’s mother and Ulysses’ real prefix names are Braxiatel and Sigma (you can pick who is which).

This means all the above name end in either Theta or what I decided Patience’s Time Lord prefix is. If Patience is her nickname, I thought I’d give her a name meaning the same. I went with Ypomoní (pronounced ee-pom-o-nee) the Greek for patience in terms of endurance, because why not.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Link to amazing research post:

[rosewoodcafe]

I love you, I'm sorry

Ominis x Reader

Goodluck soldiers

I lowkey died while writing this

It's also on A03 and Wattpad :*)

"In all of my years being alive, never did I think I would be able to love someone as deeply as you. Everything felt right, complete, as if everything in this entire world could be fixed with the wave of my hand." She spoke, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "All I want is for you to love me as much as I love you, Ominis."

I kept a straight face, trying to control every emotion that was pulling at my heartstrings. I couldn't be with her, my family would kill her, damn the love I felt for her. My mouth was dry, every word sitting on the tip of my tongue.

"Say something. Please." Her voice was desperate, the sadness seeping through.

Merlin I hate myself for what I am about to do.

"I- I can't love." I said effortlessly, a lie the flowed so easily it was heartbreaking. "Gaunt's are incapable of love. I'm sorry but I do not return your feelings."

Her breathing stopped, and it felt as though time stood still, every movement she mad, every second memorialized in this horrible moment. Finally she took a breath, not saying a word.

"I love you." She choked out, the slightest whimper escaping her lips. She was holding back.

"I'm sorry."

After that day I lost her. 

Months after she didn't speak to me, her silence making me regret everything I have ever done. She laughed, even sounded happy when I would pass her. Sebastian would tell me how much he loved her, how he wished he could be with her. I encouraged him, hoping that with that my feelings would leave me. I hoped I would be okay, that I wouldn't dream every night of holding her in my arms.

Sebastian did ask her, and in my shock she said yes. In anger I stormed to the Undercroft, tears threating to burst out of me. The clockface door opened, letting me slip inside, tears starting to silently slip. The passageway was something I knew without my wand, and the iron gate slammed up letting me inside of my hidden sanctuary. I kept walking, I reached the middle of the room, feeling my body tremble. My wand dropped from my hand. I felt my knees hit the floor, and I screamed.

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" I screamed, my fists clenched and hitting the floor. They started to become warm with a think liquid. "WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME BE HAPPY?"

Every fiber of my body was on fire, and every part of me wanted to end it all. I wanted to simply be a tragic memory in the minds of everyone I knew.

~

Graduation rolled around, the last I would be around these people I have been near for years. It was a bitter end, Sebastian getting found for his Uncles murder, the only woman I ever will love completely unaware of my existence.

It is to be a Gaunt, to be alone.

The final ceremony ended, cheers ringing through the hall. I only felt hollow, an empty shell of an eighteen year old who had nothing ahead of him. Tears slipped from my eyes as I bowed my head down, attempting to disappear from this life.

Her laughter came carrying from a few seats down, an agonizing reminder that this would be the last time I can relish in the happiness her voice brought me.

I smiled. The pain of not being with her would be horrible, but at least I could have this one last moment.

I love her, more than anything.

~

Years have past. My wife sat across the table from me, eating silently. She was waiting to leave, to dismiss herself to the garden, where she would meet with her lover. I never stopped her.

Life had become dull, an everlasting pain stung into my heart. My wedding had been full of everyone who had never given an ounce of care, but you showed anyways, to give your good luck, blissfully unaware how badly I wanted you to be the one at the end of the isle.

"I don't know if I want to do this." I said to you that day. "I will forever be stuck within this Gaunt image."

"Then run with me." You said so casually, as if that decision would not ruin your life. "We can leave, never return and change our names. They would never find us."

"I..." The words were caught in my throat, just like that fated day. I couldn't speak.

"Ominis, I love you."

I felt my heart shatter and rebuild in moments. Of course you still loved me, but that never reduced the danger that I would put you in.

"I- I'm sorry." I said finally. I could hear you release a breath. Relief? Sorrow? I wasn't sure. "I can't run from this."

"I know." She said with acceptance. She knew I would respond this way. Her soft lips planted a light kiss on my hand. "I love you Ominis, always. I'm sorry I do."

Her footsteps leading out of the room haunted me, in my sweetest of dreams she always left. It also woke me.

~

I walked through the Ministry, heading to work. Amongst the crowd her voice carried, the laughter that lifted me out of that dark abyss more then once. I wanted to follow it, to tell her I want to run, that I love her as much.

Fuck it.

I followed the voice. Her voice. 

My wand carrying me, the noise of everyone else drowned out. She was right in front of me, I lightly held her arm, both of us halting in place.

"Oh Merlin! Ominis!" She said shocked. "You scared the hell out of me. How are you?!" 

I smiled by how out of breath she sounded, the way her hand moved over mine, warm and comfortable. 

"I'm wonderful," I said to her, "I heard your voice carry through the room. I knew I had to say hello again." I smiled. Everything about this was right. "How are you?"

"Oh, I am great actually. Headed to the family offices now actually."

"Family offices?" I asked puzzled at her response. Last I had known she was still unmarried. She moved my hand from hers, and placed it on her stomach. I felt every sliver of hope fade away, the dream of running gone.

"I am only about five months along, and I don't make enough money alone to support us." She said softly, my hand still over her belly. "I am hoping if I plead my case the Ministry will provide assistance."

"I can help." I said quickly, not thinking of anything but her. Her breath paused, then she moved her hand to my arm, stepping ever so slightly closer. 

"I will be okay." She laughed that wonderfully beautiful laugh. "Besides what would your wife think about you helping another woman."

I sighed. I assume she hadn't heard that my wife had run off, leaving my only child with me. His middle name shared with yours, as he became the light of my life like you are- like you were. 

"She isn't around... anymore." I said softly, gauging the reaction you had. "So by means, please, use my home to your extent."

"I- Ominis I'm so sor-"

"Don't be, please." I held her hand, just enough to try to communicate that I wanted her there. "Stay. With me."

"Okay, I will."

Without another word I began to walk us both to a floo station, heading to the home that had felt empty for so long.

I would get it right this time.

~

The sound of her cooing at the beautiful baby girl filled every crevice of my soul. You had moved in, taking care of little Oliver who was now barely a year old, and just recently having your own baby. 

A young girl, with the same silky soft skin. You told me that she had your eyes, I believed you.

I felt full, hearing my son who called you his mommy, and you, who didn't correct him. 

Life never felt better. 

~

"No you don't understand!" I yelled as she ran down the hall. 

"No Ominis! You don't understand!" She screamed out, anger flooding her voice. "I waited, for years, made myself forget you. Made myself move on. I tried everything. You expect me to just accept that you have loved me for just as long but you lied, to protect me! Bullshit!"

I felt her pain hit me, the anger like daggers against me. 

"I'm sorry lov-"

"You don't get to call me that." She snapped. "I forgave you. I let it all go, and hoped that with everything that I would never have to feel the pain that I felt because of you. Yet here you go again ripping my heart out and crushing it in front of me!" I could hear the sobs coming from her, her voice cracking as she yelled. "All I wanted was your love, and now that you are wanting to give it to me, I don't love you anymore."

Everything sunk.

My heart beating helplessly on the floor, bleeding out everything I ever had.

"I-"

"You what Ominis. Tell me how I am supposed to be okay with everything that has happened the past ten years."

"I don't expect you too." I said, tears dropping from my grief stricken body. The guilt from years of pain inflicted on her and myself finally catching up. A small smile tugged at my mouth.

"You were amazing Ominis, better then me in every way." She said croaking her response out. "But god you fucking hurt me, in so many ways."

"I'm sorry, I was horrible." I tried to hear her reaction, to know what she was thinking. "I can't change the past, but I can change now."

"I loved you! I loved you so much I was willing to loose you!"

"I lost you! It fucking haunted my life every day." I cried out, the years of pinning after your touch and laughter filling the void that was between us. "I loved you so much that I begged everyday to whatever god that there is to make you love me too. I loved you so much that I was willing to throw away the only person who made me happy for your protection. I loved you first, and that will never change."

"And I look back at those times to remind me why I can't love you again!" She shouted, her voice cracking.

"I look back at those times and remind myself why I spent years suffering." I sobbed. "I remind myself that everything I do is for you."

"I love you." She laughed, placing her head in her hands. Her sobs became muffled. 

"I- I love you." I whispered. Her breathing stopped, the slightest bit of hesitation.

"I'm sorry." She said, every emotion coming through. 

No words were spoken, but everything was communicated. The silence covering the gaps of miscommunication, showing that the two of us were broken beyond repair. We couldn't save what was there. There was truly no hope for either of us, the end drawing near. 

For in every life, a Gaunt couldn't love. A Gaunt was forever cursed to be alone. 

And Ominis was a Gaunt, a part of him he could never change.