#he my favorite because he reminds me of my best friend (the one mentioned in the post)

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[universefcb]

A BIRTHDAY WITH LANDO, LANDO NORRIS.

→ Summary: It's your birthday and he has a surprise plan for you.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: This picture of him is so...🫦

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

Waking up on your birthday used to be a common occurrence. A notification or two on social media, a call from your mother, maybe a quick message from a distant friend. But that day started differently. Even before the first rays of sunlight had penetrated the bedroom curtains, your phone vibrated with an unusual notification: a calendar reminder created by someone else.

Today: The most important birthday in the universe. Get ready for the best day of your life. Love, Lando.

She smiled to herself, still half asleep. She didn't even have time to reply to the message because, in the next second, the doorbell rang.

Dragging herself to the door with one of his hoodies slung over her shoulders, she slowly opened it. On the other side, Lando was smiling, hair messy, a kraft paper bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Happy birthday, my favorite person,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to show up here before seven in the morning. “Coffee from your favorite coffee shop and chocolate croissants. I’m outdoing myself, huh?”

She let out a low laugh and pulled him inside by the hand.

“Did you hack my calendar?”

“I broke in. I really hacked. And this is just the beginning.”

They spent the morning together, taking lazy bites of breakfast and making out softly on the couch. He insisted that she couldn’t make plans for the rest of the day—“You just have to trust me,” he’d say with a mischievous smile. And she did.

Around 10am, Lando handed her a small backpack and told her to wear something comfortable.

“Not a spoiler?” she asked, curious.

“Not one. But I guarantee there’s sunshine, blue skies and something you’ll remember forever.”

The car took them out of town. Along the way, he put on her favorite playlist, sang off-key on purpose, and made up absurd versions of the lyrics just to make her laugh.

Finally, the vehicle stopped in front of a large field full of sunflowers, with a picnic table set up in the center. A wicker basket, two light-colored wooden chairs, and a small radio playing Taylor Swift's Lover in the background. She put her hand to her mouth in excitement.

"Like you...?"

“I listen when you talk, you know?” he replied, leaning his forehead against hers. “You once said that you always dreamed of a picnic in a field of sunflowers, but never had the chance.”

With tears in her eyes, she threw herself into his arms. Lando held on tightly, as if he knew that gesture was worth more than any words.

They spent hours there, laughing, eating strawberries and cheese, telling stories and taking pictures with an analog camera he had hidden. Every detail seemed carefully planned: the smell of the flowers, the taste of the food, even the position of the sun when he suggested they take a break to lie down on the grass.

“Do you want to know my real gift?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the sky. “Because what you’ve seen so far has just been the warm-up.”

She raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Is there more?”

“Yes. But you need to trust me again.”

The way back was quicker. He led her blindfolded to the top floor of his own apartment. When he removed the blindfold, she found herself in a transformed room: soft lights, dozens of photos of them hanging with little clothespins, white rose petals scattered on the floor, and a dining table set for two.

But what caught his attention was the small screen at the back of the room. Lando had set up a mini movie theater at home.

“And now... the special session: Our best moments.”

It was a compilation of videos he had filmed himself over the months—some she hadn’t even known he had recorded. Little moments, smiles exchanged in silence, her dancing in her pajamas in the kitchen, the two of them laughing until they fell into bed.

When the video ended, Lando was silent for a while, just holding her hand.

“I thought a lot about what to give you as a gift. And nothing seemed good enough... until I realized that the best thing I can give you is my time, my attention, and every version of me. Because if you want me to, I want to be here for all your birthdays. Every single one.”

She didn't respond with words—she didn't need to. The kiss that followed said everything she felt: gratitude, love, and the certainty that this was the best birthday of her life.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[elllisaaa]

Would you be making a hard thoughts choi seungcheol from seventeen Bf choi seungcheol or any more hard thoughts Bf from any of the groups you write about?

i freaking love writing these bf!thoughts !! send me more omgg that's one of my favourite thing to write !!

BF!SEUNGCHEOL who is the embodiment of a green flag, who is the final boss of princess treatment because you're the love of his life and you only deserve the best.

you know how he spoils everyone he loves and how he bought a fucking dyson to jeonghan ? yeah, he does that for you too but it's even worse because he's literally crazy over you. no matter the price, if you want something, he's gonna get it for you. and don't ever think about paying for something when the two of you get out, seungcheol doesn't even let you bring your card or any cash with you, insisting that your purse should only carry your lipgloss. even when he's not with you, he wants you to use his card. it's late at night and you're hungry ? seungcheol orders some takeouts for you. you're going out with some of your friends and seungcheol knows you're going to do some shopping ? he hands you his card for the day. you never thought you'll be the kind of girl to let a man pay for anything, but it's not any other man, it's choi seungcheol and you happily let him spoil you.

"i'm going out, baby. i'm gonna do my nails." - "take my card then, and spoil yourself for me, yeah ?"

seungcheol always needs to remind you that he loves you, be that through his words or his actions. he's gonna confess his love to you everyday and everynight, whispering the words when you wake up and just before you fall asleep. as mentioned before, he often offers you gifts too but his main love language is physical touch. as soon as seungcheol gets home, the first thing he wants to do is to hold you close to him. you cannot spend a day without your boyfriend holding your hands, kissing your cheeks, your forehead or your lips. but his absolute favorite are back hugs. he literally engulfs you in his embrace and you feel so safe and protected, which is his only goal in life. he's not ashamed to show his love for you in front of his friends either. they can make fun of him as much as they want because of how down bad for you he is but he doesn't care as long as you're happy and you know how in love with you he is.

"baby, i don't care that my members are here, i haven't seen you in a week, i need to kiss you. so let me, please ?"

another thing about seungcheol is that he's going to praise you for anything you do. you could just tell him that you did the dishes and he would tell you that you're doing good. but he loves it too when you praise him in return, telling him that you're proud of him and everything he accomplished. that has him weak in the knees and he's immediately blushing. also, anytime you're the one initiating the physical touch between the two of you, he melts on the spot. he doesn't mind listening to you rant for hours because he hears your voice and that's enough for him. and the way he's looking at you with so much adoration is enough to make you fold like paper. you're the first one he comes to when he needs something, the first person that comes to his mind every morning when he wakes up. honestly, his members are tired of hearing seungcheol go on and on about how perfect and pretty you are, but they better be prepared because he intends on marrying you one day.

"i can't wait for the day you'll be my wife."

BF!SEUNGCHEOL who needs to remind you of how good he is everytime he fucks you. he needs you to scream his name for all the neighbors to hear.

his princess treatment extends in the bedroom because whatever you want you get. definitely a service top, the type to bury his head in between your thighs for hours if that's what you want. he needs to make you cum at least three times before he even pushes his cock inside of you, loves it when you're all wet and squirmy already by the time he lets you have his dick. seungcheol often brings you to a state of overstimulation without even noticing it, too entranced by the way you're clenching around his fingers and moaning so prettily for him. another thing he wants to buy for you is lingerie. he loves to see your body cradled in pretty see-through or laced sets, and knowing that he paid for them is driving him crazy. when you're telling him that you bought the underwear you're wearing with his money, he's spoiling you for the whole night, that you can be sure.

"fuck, you look so pretty for me… my girl is perfect, look at you. you were made for me."

i know we joke about calling him and daddy and all but i think he would really love it if you called him sir. you just need to look at him with doe eyes, bat your pretty eyelashes and call him sir and he's ready to give you everything you want. you were making fun of him at first, playfully calling him that when he was acting like your father, but it slowly sank down that he liked it a little bit too much and that you did too. when seungcheol is deep inside of you and asking who is making you feel that good, he goes crazy when you answer with "it's you, sir." you also love to call him that in front of other people just to rile him up, because you know he will fuck you harder when you've been a brat and you love it. most of the time though, you're being good and he showers you in praises that makes you shy.

"such a good girl, baby. your pretty pussy feels so good around me."

seungcheol also lives for the moment you're being bad because he knows it's calling for strict punishment. he's being so good to you and that's how you reward him ? not gonna happen. his go-to punishment is spanking you. he bends you over his lap, pushing up your skirt out of the way and landing slap after slap on your cute ass cheeks, until they're all red and you're begging for him. he makes you count how many he gives you too, and start from the beginning again if you lose the number. the best part is when he finally pushes your head inside of the pillow and holds your hips up to ruin you. unlike the sweet nicknames he's usually giving you, in times like these he calls you his little slut, his greedy bitch that always wants more and more. you both like it more rough sometimes, and seungcheol is not going to deny you.

"you're such a brat sometimes, i need to fuck some sense into you, don't i ?"

[nadvs]

out of bounds (part one)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

note i know most of my readers follow me for rafe fics so i hope y’all can bear with me indulging in a fluffy and angsty (and eventually spicy) summer romance with the sunshine character that is zach 🙂‍↕️ all my love to @juniebugg who inspired me to write about him ilysm 💘

» masterlist

Once you’re finally sitting down in the main lodge, a massive wooden cabin nestled in the center of the campground, you feel like you can take your first real breath since you arrived.

The morning was chaos. You made it to check-in just in time and met your cabin-mate Ami, who you learned is also new to the job.

Then, you quickly changed into your new bright orange staff t-shirt, which is so bright orange that it hurts to look at, and chatted with her as you rushed over for orientation.

Now, you’re settled on one of twelve wooden chairs facing the grand fireplace, set in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, which boast a cobalt blue lake under a cloudless sky.

Campers are set to arrive tomorrow morning and today is dedicated to preparation. You’ve already done countless training modules online before arriving, so today will be all about learning what’s left.

You hope you get a chance to explore the place before it starts teeming with preteens, because the photos on the camp website don’t do the grounds justice.

Your interviews were over video call and today is the first time you’re seeing the stunning campground in person. It’s stretched out on a wide expanse of greener-than-green pine trees, rustic buildings, and pristine soccer fields.

This job is your best case scenario for the summer. You can’t wait to spend seven weeks in one of the prettiest places you’ve ever seen and gain confidence in your athletic skills while coaching kids in your favorite sport.

As a center back on your college’s girls’ soccer team, you feel your best when you’re out on the pitch, but the pressure of the past school year was hard to navigate. You hope that teaching kids excited about soccer will remind you of why you like it so much.

As Zach sits in the front row, he notices the smell of this place never changes. It’s woodsy and brisk. It smells like comfort. But he’s pretty sure he’s biased. Camp Summit is sort of a haven to him and has been since he was a kid.

The chatter in the lodge has grown louder as more and more counselors settle into their seats, but once the camp directors walk up to the front, the noise wavers.

Tom and Ruby offer a kind welcome and then, like they do every year, quickly jump into training.

After two hours of going over the how-to’s on welcoming campers, facilitating activities, walkie-talkie etiquitte, and establishing rules, they announce that everyone can head to the dining hall for lunch.

“We won’t force you through any awkward icebreakers,” Tom says to the group, “so, we encourage you to get to know each other over lunch. We have a good mix of vets and newbies this year. We want you to be friends with your coworkers. But before you go…”

He looks over the room.

“We should mention,” the director continues, “that we have a strict policy against anything more. It can get unprofessional and inappropriate when counselors date each other.”

“Is that legal?” Ami whispers to you. “They can’t, like fire us for that, right?”

“You like someone already?” you amusedly ask your new friend.

“I might,” she says with a smile, her eyes on a dark-haired guy sitting ahead of you. You quietly laugh, glad you’re already so comfortable with the girl you’ll be bunking with.

“Aren’t you guys married to each other?” a girl behind you calls out.

The way that Tom and Ruby laugh tells you that they are, and that the counselor who shouted that must be a vet, already familiar enough with them to make comments like that.

“Yeah, but directors can do whatever they want,” Ruby jokes with a lighthearted shrug. You look down at their hands to see wedding rings. “In all seriousness, we hate having to enforce it, but please, no dating.”

Once counselors slowly rise out of their seats to go to lunch, your eyes land on a tall, messy-haired stranger standing at the front, who starts a conversation with the directors.

Maybe you shouldn’t tease your cabin-mate, because when you see his charming smile, you think you might have a crush of your own.

Tables are arranged in a neat grid in the dining hall, with a big buffet table prepared at the far wall.

You line up, noticing Ami a few people ahead, already striking conversation with the guy she pointed out to you.

You slowly inch forward with the line as counselors start to load their plates. You realize just how many people were in front of you when you get to the table and see one fork left.

You pick it up and turn to see only one person behind you. It’s the guy you noticed back at the lodge. His blue eyes sweep over your face. He’s even cuter up close.

“There’s only one left,” you say, holding out the fork with a small frown.

Zach stills when you look at him. You’re so pretty that it’s like he’s buffering. That’s the only way he can think to describe it.

You’re in the same orange shirt every other counselor is wearing and such a harsh color shouldn’t look this good on anyone, but it does on you. He reads your name-tag.

And then he realizes you said something. He completely missed it because he was too busy staring.

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes flit down to his name-tag hanging on his lanyard. Zach, in black marker, punctuated with a smiley face. His tag is worn and scratched up, a hard contrast to how new and shiny yours is.

“There’s only one fork left,” you clarify, a soft laugh in your tone. He looks dazed, a gentle crease between his brows, almost like he wasn’t expecting to see you even though you were standing directly ahead of him.

“Oh,” he says. He looks past you to the table, his lips screwing up. “It’s cool. You can have it.”

Zach gazes at you again, a smile on his face now that he’s feeling a bit more grounded.

“I’ll find one. I…” He crosses his arms, feigning pompousness. “I have connections around here.”

“Yeah?” you play along.

“Oh, yeah. I was a camper until I aged out,” Zach tells you. “And I’ve been working here since I was 16, so I have friends in high places.”

You laugh again. That explains why he seemed so comfortable with the directors back at the lodge. He’s clearly been here for quite a few summers.

“I can tell you’ve been here a while by the state of that name-tag,” you tease. He looks down to tilt up the worn out plastic rectangle hanging over his stomach, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Poke fun all you want, but you don’t know how impressive it is that I never lost this,” Zach replies. “Name-tags go missing all the time. I bet you’ll lose yours.”

“I thought staff were supposed to be friends,” you say. “You’re already betting against me?”

“You want some advice?” He leans just a little closer, his tone fake-serious. “It’s actually very cutthroat here.”

“So, the be friends with your coworkers stuff, that was all talk?” you say with a gasp, mirroring his playfulness.

“All talk,” he echoes with a smirk.

“Wow,” you half-whisper. “Thanks for the advice.”

You share another smile with him, already sure your crush on him isn’t going away. He’s friendly and kind of goofy and probably has all the girls after him. You wonder how seriously he takes the no dating rule.

Then, you turn back towards the table, surprised at how quickly your mind is running away from you.

After you load your plate with food, Ami calls you over to a table with a few other counselors. You get to know a decent amount of other staff, including Malcolm, the guy your cabin-mate is openly flirting with. He seems to be just as into her.

It’s a long afternoon of training and once you step out of the lodge, you feel like you can breathe again. It was a lot of information at once and the thought of wrangling nine campers on your own feels a bit overwhelming.

But at least for every activity for the first two weeks, newbies will be paired with vets. That gives you some relief.

The sounds of birds chirping and wind blowing through the trees fill your ears as you walk towards the staff cabins hidden behind the dining hall. Your shoes dig into the dirt and you breathe in the smell of pine and earth, feeling a sense of peace settle into the bones.

Despite the tinges of anxiety, you feel grounded here, like you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

As you finish unpacking with Ami, a coworker comes by to tell you that the counselors are going to have a bonfire after sunset. You set up your room and both head towards the lake once the sky starts darkening.

Zach is arranging logs in the fire-pit, kneeling on the ground while Malcolm leans close by. No other counselors have joined yet, and he’s glad because it’s taking embarrassingly long to set up the fire.

“Just let me know when you need the lighter,” Malcolm says.

”I could use some help on lining the kindling up,” Zach tells him.

“I think you’re doing great on your own.”

Zach snorts a chuckle. His cabin-mate and best friend of two years always tries to get away with doing the least amount of work.

“Is this the party?” Ami calls.

Zach turns to see you walking towards the pit. It gives him a chance to drink you in completely, the sight of your figure making his cheeks burn.

“Just getting it started,” Malcolm says. “This place would fall apart without us.”

You and Ami chuckle, settling on one of the logs.

“Us? It looks like Zach’s the only one doing any work,” you say.

“Thank you!” he says with a sarcastic sigh, looking up to smile at you. Your gazes hold a bit longer than they need to.

“Want any help?” you ask.

“All good,” he says. “I’m used to carrying the team.”

“Cold,” Malcolm says. “Strikers and their egos.”

“You’re a striker?” you ask Zach. It tracks. Strikers tend to be on the taller side, and you practically had to crane your neck to meet his eyes when you spoke to him before lunch.

“Yeah, you?” Zach asks.

“Center back,” you reply.

“Most important position,” Malcolm adds.

“Jeez, I wonder what you are,” Ami says with a laugh. “What was that you said about egos?”

The fire starts to slowly blaze and Zach stands up, exhales tiredly and scratches his forehead. It causes his shirt to ride up and expose an inch of his stomach.

Even under the dark blue sky, the flames only offering dull, flickering light, you can’t help but notice the v lines carved into his skin.

You look away. You feel like you’re practically thirsting over him at this point. You’re convinced that the fact that fraternizing between staff is forbidden is what’s making you even more tempted to stare at him.

The four of you continue to make small-talk as more counselors start to join. You learn that Zach and Malcolm share a cabin and that they play together on their college’s team, a school only an hour away from yours.

You also notice Malcolm jokingly calls Zach a nepo baby at one point, but before you can ask why, the conversation stirs in a different direction.

Soon after, a few counselors rough-house dangerously close to the fire. It’s only for a moment, but Zach perks up.

“Be careful around there, alright?” Zach says.

“Relax, dad,” one of the vets says. “We will.”

This is the only place in the world where people tell Zach to relax. He feels a sense of responsibility here. He’s sort of an unofficial babysitter, keeping everyone in check.

You notice his dimples dip into his cheeks. He’s obviously used to being teased for being the dad of the group.

You find it a good time to privately ask him about his other nickname, the staff chatter and wood crackling loud enough so only he can hear you.

“Why’d Malcolm call you a nepo baby?” you ask.

“Oh,” Zach says with a chuckle. “Ruby and Tom are my aunt and uncle. I’m not really a nepo baby, though. I don’t get any special privileges. The opposite, actually.”

“Opposite?” you ask, amused.

“They feel way more comfortable getting mad at me than any of the other staff,” he admits lightheartedly.

“Who would get mad at you?” you joke.

“I know, right? I’m adorable.”

It’s way too easy to flirt with him. This is going to be hard.

As the night goes on, you notice Ami and Malcolm slowly drift closer towards each other, laughing and talking. Eventually, they rush away into the dark.

Admittedly, the thought of sneaking off in the night with a cute guy is kind of exciting. You look over to see Zach noticed them leave, too.

“I think our cabin-mates are about to hook up,” you say quietly.

“On the first night, too.” He shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. “It happens every year.”

“Do they actually fire people for dating?”

“I’ve seen them get close,” Zach says. “But people hide it well for the most part. Honestly, I think most do it just because it’s against the rules.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” you say with a laugh. “It’s the whole forbidden part of it. Tell people they’re not allowed to do something, and guess what they want to do?”

“Something,” he says, earning another laugh from you.

You wonder if he ever has broken this particular rule, but it’d be too forward to ask.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” he offers, looking at the fire. You’re pretty sure he’s just giving you advice, but you take it as an opening, the curiosity killing you.

“So, you never have?” you ask.

“Nope.”

Over his many summers working here, Zach’s had crushes on other counselors, and he definitely has one on you, but a fling isn’t worth losing his job and letting down his family.

He owes a lot to his aunt and uncle. He wouldn’t disrespect their rules, no matter how pretty the new girl is.

When he looks over at you again, at the way the flames are casting shadows over your features, he corrects himself. Pretty is an understatement; beautiful is more fitting.

He almost suggests you don’t take the risk of dating either, but it’d be purely selfish. He doesn’t like the idea of seeing you in a summer romance with another guy.

And he feels insane for already feeling hypothetical jealousy, but he’s never clicked with a girl this quickly before. You’re sweet and interesting and you get his humor, and he feels like he couldn’t not like you if he tried.

“So, what brought you here?” he asks.

“Interview answer or real answer?”

“Real answer,” he says with a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Playing at the college level is a lot more pressure than I expected,” you admit. “I want the experience and obviously the pay with this job, but mostly, I just want to be reminded of why I like soccer so much. Honestly, I lost my confidence in my skills this past year and I’d like to get it back.”

You’re surprised at how open you’re being, but something about him makes you want to be. He gives you a sense of safety. You can tell he’s kind-hearted.

“One of the best parts of working here is that you get enough downtime to practice,” he tells you. “I’d be happy to help you on your defense if you want.”

Your stomach numbs imagining it. It’s such a sweet gesture, especially because you’d just learned that he’s on a full-ride athletic scholarship. You know he’s good.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“If you’re looking for a reminder of why you like soccer, you came to the right camp,” he replies, his smile bright and sincere.

“You really like it here, huh?” you ask, kind of in awe of him.

“I owe a lot to this place,” he says.

You make a note to yourself to ask him to elaborate on that later, as another counselor takes his attention with a question about tomorrow before you can reply.

You look back at the fire and you promise yourself that you’ll just be Zach’s coworker. At most, his friend.

You won’t risk getting even close to dating. You don’t want to lose your job. And you certainly don’t want Zach to lose his, especially because it seems important to him to follow the rules.

Besides, maybe he has a girlfriend already. You can’t imagine a guy like him being single. And maybe he’s not even into you like that. He could just be very friendly.

As the fire dwindles and counselors start to retire to their cabins, Zach leaves and returns with a bucket of water to extinguish the remaining flames.

You’re not sure why, but watching him be so hands-on with no expectations to be thanked for it makes you like him even more.

“Which cabin are you in?” he asks you, looking over his shoulder. You hope he didn’t catch you staring.

“Four,” you answer.

“We’re neighbors,” he says. “I’m in five. I can walk you back, newbie.”

There’s a chance he’s just being nice, but even though it’s against the rules, you hope it’s more.

You check your phone to see it’s just past ten o’clock. The moonlight is bright as you and Zach walk towards the staff cabins.

You’re chatting about how beautiful the campground is and he grins as he looks down at his feet. He loves this place and hearing someone else appreciate it feels nice.

When he looks up, he stops in his tracks. You follow his eye-line. There’s a shirt hanging on his cabin’s doorknob.

“Oh, man,” he whispers.

“Does the shirt on the knob mean what I think it means?” you ask.

“If you think it means walking in there would make me see something I can’t ever unsee, you’re right,” Zach answers.

You chuckle. You’re definitely going to ask Ami about the details of her hook-up with Malcolm later. And you feel an obligation to also remind her that the no-dating rule is serious.

“I’ll give them ten minutes, then I’m knocking,” he says. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

You know you should go to bed and get rested before the craziness of tomorrow. But being around Zach makes you not want to.

“I can keep you company,” you offer. “I’m pretty wired anyway.”

“Thanks,” he says with a sincere smile. It makes your heart flutter that he seems just as happy to spend more time with you.

“So, what’s there to do around here at ten o’clock?” you ask.

Zach rakes his hair back, gazing out at a soccer field in the distance as crickets loudly chirp around you.

“If you’re looking to burn energy, we can do some of that practice we were talking about,” he suggests. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

“You sure you’re not too tired?” you ask.

“Nah. Let’s go,” he says. “But be warned, when I coach, I’m ruthless.”

You laugh, already well aware of how far from the truth that must be.

“Consider me warned,” you joke. “Lead the way.”

(part two)

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[thestrangestthlng]

I want to challenge us all to step outside of our fan brains (some sometimes rot; it happens to us all) an watch the story that is being told to us explicitly. Remember, this show is not subtle. It is the very opposite of subtle.

The episode opens with Buck getting his stuff moved into the (not Eddie’s because Eddie was a renter) house by very unhelpful movers. He’s anxious and timid. We’re immediately reminded of the ghosts that haunt that narrative. Buck is just taking heaping slice after heaping slice of abandonment issues pie.

The opening emergency screams in our face themes of second chances (i.e. Buck getting a second change to save someone by just taking his hand, a nod to 1x02 where he lost Devin.)

He goes to stay with his sister and we get their first of two talks of the episode. [Here I want to note that the purposes of these talks are exposition. These serve as a direct line of interiority from Buck to the audience.]

B: … it doesn’t feel like my new place. It feels like Eddie’s old one, which is trickier than I expected. Everywhere I look its just one big reminder that my best friend is gone… and it sucks. M: As your big sister I’m going to have to give you some uncomfortable advice… make new friends.

Then we have Buck being awkward and weird with Ravi where it’s obvious that he’s trying to replace Eddie in a sense. That was Eddie’s favorite… etc etc Ravi fought for his life in that bar where Buck drunkenly continues to talk about Eddie. His best friend. This ties back into the opening emergency where Bobby kept calling Ravi ‘Eddie’. He is a stand in for Eddie. So Eddie would never do anything illegal, Eddie took me here, Eddie played quarters.

What happens when Ravi is over it? He took a second out to go to the bar and runs into Tommy. Ravi is like thank god, here’s my out. You know what stops being mentioned more than time? Eddie.

In the conversation Eddie is not haunting that narrative. He’s haunting the friendship narrative.

T: You know; I’ve been fighting the urge to call you for months…

This is a direct narrative parallel to Buck baking every time wants to call Tommy. A fact the audience has been reminded of every episode since the breakup. Every episode specifically mentions him except Sob Stories (which had a lot of other shit going on).

Buck shoots his shot and like a moth to a flame, Tommy was like lessgo. We see them Tarlos style tumble into the house (which as you know ended in an eh, it was cool, I’ll see you around, but we know how their story ended) and they were so wrapped up in each other that Tommy didn’t even realize they were in a house he had been in multiple times before they were physically in it.

Wham bam thank you ma’am.

The next morning opens with Buck thinking that Tommy left because the side of the bare ass mattress was empty. The kitchen scene opens with Tommy putting some bodega champagne in the freezer (likely for mimosas—regardless a celebration). A brunch spread large enough for a family spread out on that tiny counter. His coffee maker unpacked and set out. (Something is to be said about Tommy being the first person to unpack something in the house.)

Buck tells him that’s the best night he’s had in the house yet… even though it’s the first night.

They banter and they are so close to being back together, but Tommy lets his insecurities show and Buck, who has been emotionally dysregulated since November lashes out and immediately regrets it.

Tommy leaves, but this time it doesn’t feel final.

In the next rescue of the wife in the garden, he makes the assentation that “Long term relationships are hard,”—acknowledging that there are going to be hard times and miscommunications

We have our second sibling talk of the episode where Buck is back staying with her.

B: What is that even supposed to mean? I’m living in Eddie’s old house, therefore I must be in love with him (confused question mark)?? M: Are you? B: (Flabbers are ghasted) With Eddie?? M: It wouldn’t be so crazy. B: (confident and without hesitation) Except that I’m not. As much as everyone seems to want me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend. It just isn’t like that… does not having him in my life and in the field leave a big hole? Yeah, it does, sure. M: Okay, so did you explain that to Tommy? B: (visibly regretful) In the meanest way possible. I understand him feeling threatened by what me and Eddie have. But he seemed so relieved that he was gone.

(of note, it seemed like that to Buck, not to the audience. It was passing insecurity to the audience. But we know we can be really unreliable narrators of our own conversations.)

B: (continuing) It felt like he was accusing me of something. Is this what he was thinking the whole time we were together? M: I don’t know. (You need to use your big boy words and ask him yourself, bestie) B: It just it sucks. It was the first night that I was actually able to sleep in this place. M: Okay, maybe you shouldn’t be living there. You said that you haven’t even unpacked yet. B: Yeah, um. I think maybe I don’t wanna unpack because as soon as I do that it means Eddie and Chris aren’t coming back. For real. […] I should call him, huh. (Tommy, duh). M: That’s what I’ve been saying, its not like he moved to Mars. B: N-not Eddie. I mean, I will call him… Tommy. I should apologize, he’s probably right. I was using him as a distraction so I didn’t have to feel alone. M: Not the best reason to get back together with somebody. B: (sniffles) I know. (tries not to cry) M: Maybe its time you learn the lesson again: how to be alone. B: I hate that lesson.

The final montage before the crossover intro, is Buck coming to terms with the situation. He is happily unpacking his stuff and making the house his home. His home. This is all of about seven show minutes after telling his sister that unpacking means accepting they’re gone: Eddie and Chris and its not the end of the world or even his world.

He has accepted that they are gone. He’s ready to work on moving on from that part of his life. He is sad about Tommy and knows he didn’t end it well. We see that they are on the same page about wanting to be together. They are in a classic third act of the miscommunication romcom trope.

These are tropes for a reason: because they are predictable and they work.

If you took out the names Buck, Tommy, Eddie, and Maddie and put in random names into their story, not the characters that you have become attached to, you would read it as the wheels for a reconciliation in process.

[writesvani]

coming down | 01

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to-enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): emotional distress and anxiety, body image issues and weight-related comments, mentions of food, dieting, and restriction, verbal abuse and manipulation, self-harm ideation, substance use and abuse references, mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, insecurity), intimate situations and explicit language, abandonment and neglect, self-deprecation and feelings of worthlessness, bullying or being belittled

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

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wc: 4,7k // date: 5th of March 2025

CHAPTER ONE - The Morning; proceed with caution...

AN: okay, first of all, let’s talk about ren. he's liteeerally the only reason i'm posting this chapter earlier. REN. If you didn’t fall in love with him in this chapter, then honestly, i don’t know what to tell you because he’s an absolute gem. like i’m literally obsessed with him. he’s my favorite character HANDS DOWN. i’m talking top-tier, i would throw myself in front of a speeding bus for him if i had to. i mean, he’s got the charm, the humor, the flawless sense of timing. he’s a walking chaos machine and i’m here for it. can we please get a round of applause for ren? seriously, he’s out here living his best life, making questionable decisions, and somehow being the best friend anyone could ask for.

this chapter? oh yeah, it’s the introduction to the story, the one that sets everything on fire (in a good way, don’t worry). we’re finally giving you the ren experience in full force because he’s that important. his energy? unparalleled. his bad decisions? iconic. his ability to get people into ridiculous situations? absolutely legendary. and don’t even get me started on how much i’m loving writing for him. i know you can’t tell, but i’m literally typing this while holding back tears of joy. like, this man could ask me to jump off a cliff and i’d probably do it because i’m just so in love with his chaotic little soul.

stay tuned for more chaos, more fun, and more ren being ren.

love, [@writesvani] (ren's #1 fan)

No one ever told you opening your eyes while fighting a horrible hangover would be this hard—well, they did, and you’ve experienced it millions of times—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Fluttering your eyelashes, your eyes barely open as a blurry flash of sunlight enters your narrow line of vision.

Ugh.

Why did you drink so much last night? You don’t even know.

Never drinking again.

Noted.

Lying to yourself won’t make the situation any easier.

Noted as well.

Hardly awake, you shift, trying to lift yourself up to sit—except your bed isn’t yours at all.

And this isn’t your room.

Or your apartment.

Your head throbs as you blink away the lingering fog in your vision, forcing yourself to take in your surroundings.

A small studio apartment. Cramped, slightly chaotic, and definitely unfamiliarly familiar.

The sofa beneath you is worn, the cushions flattened from years of use. Next to it, a tiny coffee table is cluttered with splattered magazines and old computer science textbooks, their spines cracked and bruised from relentless study sessions. Among the mess, a dirty ashtray overflows, its stale scent clinging to the air.

Gross.

A ginger-scented candle sits beside it—maybe an attempt to neutralize the overwhelming stench of smoke, though it clearly isn’t doing its job.

Your eyes drift further, landing on the tiny kitchen area. Greasy, dimly lit, its sink overflowing with dishes that look like they’ve been abandoned for days. The counters are barely visible beneath the chaos of unwashed mugs, instant ramen cups, and a suspiciously sticky bottle of what you assume was once honey.

Unease coils in your stomach.

Where the fuck are you?

Your fingers clutch the blanket draped over you, a thin, soft thing that smells like cheap detergent and cigarette smoke.

And then—

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave, so strong it almost makes you dizzy.

Oh.

Thank God.

Thank God you ended up here.

“So my worst best friend is finally up! What a lovely surprise!”

A voice—far too loud for this hour, far too cheerful for your current state—pulls you from the lingering haze of sleep.

You groan, pressing your palms into your temples as if that could somehow will away the pounding headache splitting your skull. “Please, for the love of God, let me enjoy my peace and quiet for five minutes before coming in with your unnecessary comments.”

A dramatic gasp. Then, “Okay, bitch. Rude. I understand you’re hungover, but please just be civilized for a second there. You don’t have to throw your defensive mechanism in—I didn’t even start my lecture yet.”

You crack open one eye just to glare. “Cut the crap, Ren. I’m not really in the mood right now.”

Ren smirks, crossing his arms as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Oh babe, if I were into women, I’d already have gotten you in it.”

Your lips twitch despite the throbbing in your skull. Because no matter how much you despise him in this exact moment—for being loud, for being happy, for simply existing when all you want is to die a slow, miserable, post-hangover death—a wave of relief crashes over you.

You’re safe.

Safe from last night. Safe with him.

You’ve known Ren for ages. Just to be more precise, since you were eleven. He’s your other half, your soulmate in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with the fact that, if it weren’t for his overwhelming love for ass and balls and dicks/men, the two of you would already be married.

It’s a thought you’ve had more than once. A parallel universe, maybe. One where you’d be an old married couple on some tropical island, far away from the bullshit of everyday life. Where you’d smoke weed all day and piss him off, and he’d play The Sims 4 all night and piss you off right back—screaming at his Sim for cheating on their husband with some new guy, courtesy of Wicked Whims.

But that’s not this universe.

This one’s a little messier.

This one’s full of questionable life choices, painfully slow mornings, and an unspoken pact:

If neither of you find an unrespectably hot, respectable man by the time you’re 35—

The wedding’s on.

“How the fuck did I end up here?”

Your voice is raw, thick with exhaustion and regret. The world tilts as you sit up, and for a brief moment, you genuinely consider throwing yourself right back into unconsciousness.

Ren, ever the dramatic one, sighs as if this isn’t the millionth time you’ve asked him that exact question. “What do you think?”

You blink at him. “First of all, don’t answer my question with another question. Second of all, IF I FUCKING KNEW, I WOULDN’T BE ASKING.”

Ren groans, tossing his hands into the air like a cartoon character about to launch into a monologue. “Okay, calm your pretty ass down, missy. You were too wasted. Or high. Or probably both. And you got a cab to my place. Probably the only address you could remember, considering we all know you can’t remember your own after one shot.”

His words are a jumble in your aching brain, but the general gist is clear: you fucked up. Again.

You huff, crossing your arms, but the sudden movement sends a sharp pain straight to your skull.

Yup.

Yup.

Never drinking again.

“Oh, Rennie,” you mumble, pulling his blanket over your head and collapsing onto the silky mattress. “I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again.”

Ouch. Bad decision. Pain again.

You’re dizzy, disoriented, sinking into the pillowcase you got him for his twenty-second birthday—the one he pretended not to like but still uses anyway.

Ren sighs. Not annoyed, not even surprised. Just—accepting. Because this isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled into his apartment, destroyed beyond reason, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

You feel bad. You always do. But you can’t help it.

Ren is the last remaining fragment of the old you, the one you buried deep in the back of your mind, the one you so desperately tried to forget. But he’s Ren, and he’s been your Ren since you were eleven.

And you hate it—hate that you keep dragging him into your mess, ruining his perfectly fine days with your self-inflicted chaos. But for some unfathomable reason, Ren still loves you.

He loved you at your best.

He loved you at your worst.

And somehow, he still loves you in whatever the fuck this is.

“It’s okay, babe. I know you’re lying.”

Ren’s voice is steady, soft, almost knowing. He doesn’t call you out with anger or frustration—just that damn patience of his, the kind that makes your chest tighten and your throat burn.

“C’mon, don’t go all crocodile tears and fake regrets on me now,” he continues, settling down next to you. “You know there’s always a safe space for you here.”

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. His touch is light, barely there, but it still feels like an anchor. You lean into it instinctively, your head still pulsing with the aftermath of last night’s recklessness. Yet somehow, his presence dulls the ache, lulling your discomfort into something almost bearable.

Ren always had that effect on you.

“Now, now,” he hums, voice teasing but gentle. “Tell me what got you so worked up that you drank like a dog let off a leash last night.”

You tense, but before you can even think of an excuse, he sighs.

“Sorry for not coming, by the way,” he murmurs. “But you already know how I feel about Yumi and all your other friends.”

And just like that, if you thought you couldn’t possibly feel worse, Ren effortlessly proves you wrong.

Because the only person you actually wanted to spend time with on your birthday wasn’t there—and it’s all because of you.

Ren doesn’t like them. It’s as simple as that.

He doesn’t like your friends, your environment, or the people you surround yourself with. He thinks they’re a bunch of problematic teens trapped in grown-up bodies, incapable of making rational decisions. They seek validation from whatever reckless or idiotic thing they did just to be considered “cool enough” on campus.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s exactly what they are.

Ren isn’t shy about speaking his truth, especially when it comes to them. And you’re used to it by now. Hell, you wouldn’t want him to lie, to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. It’d be too toxic for your best friend to step out of his comfort zone just to match your lifestyle, to accommodate what you think you want.

He doesn’t need to.

Ren has been the only constant, the only good thing in your life for the past few years. And, in a way, that’s enough.

"It's okay, lovie. We’ll be together today," you murmur, your voice quieter than usual. "I tried to bail on the party, but you know Yumi—she just wouldn’t budge."

You shift, mind working at lightning speed, lips parting and closing as you try to piece together the mess of last night. It’s all a bit blurry, details slipping through the cracks of your memory like sand through your fingers. But one thing stands out.

Gojo called you cheap.

The words flash in your mind like a neon sign, burning hot, humiliating, cutting deeper than you’d ever admit. And, of course, you being you, there was no way you’d just walk away, let him have the last word like that. No, you had to strike back.

So you did.

In front of Geto, the guy you’d actually wanted to take home, you called Gojo out. Laid it all bare. Exposed your past, your messy, embarrassing, mistake-ridden history with him. Let the words roll off your tongue like venom, staining the air of Nanami’s pristine beige living room.

The degradation of admitting you’d once fucked the beautiful, white-eyed demon was almost unbearable. Almost. Because underneath that shame, there was something else—something undeniably satisfying about the way Gojo’s face drained of color.

Ha. Should’ve taken a picture.

The man was sweating.

But, of course, that satisfaction was short-lived. The moment passed, leaving behind nothing but a thick, awkward silence that hung in the air like a bad smell.

Mood? Ruined.

Horny? Not anymore.

Gojo? Pissed.

Geto? Not having it.

And honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Who the hell would still be in the mood after witnessing an argument that never should’ve happened in the first place?

Gojo left quickly, tossing a sharp, “This isn’t over” over his shoulder before disappearing.

And Geto?

He just sat there, staring at you, dumbfounded.

So, as any sane person would do, you decided to self-destruct with tequila and dance to the INNA Party Mix some random guy snuck into the playlist while no one was looking.

Gojo’s words didn’t touch you. Not even a little bit. And losing your dick of the night? Whatever. Hot guys were everywhere. Besides, it was probably for the best—you really didn’t need the extra drama of Geto’s girlfriend finding out about whatever almost happened.

So that’s probably how you ended up at Ren’s place.

Even though you have zero recollection of getting here in the first place.

“So it wasn’t just weed and shots,” Ren squeezes your hand, his voice softer now. “It was Gojo.”

Your throat tightens. No. It wasn’t Gojo. Of course, it wasn’t Gojo. You just wanted to let loose, enjoy the night, without anyone ruining it for you. Right?

Right?

“Who cares about that assface? I just wanted to get drunk and high, simple as that.”

“Okay, okay,” Ren lifts his hands in surrender. “I won’t mention it again. Promise on Charli XCX.” He nods toward the poster on his wall, and for the first time since waking up, a laugh escapes your lips.

His eyes light up at the sound, and in that moment, you swear you love him even more.

Because Ren never pushes. He never pressures you to explain yourself or dissect your feelings. He just lets you be.

And you love him for that.

What you don’t love is the flicker of knowing in his gaze—the way he reads you like an open book. Not many people ever managed to do that.

But it doesn’t matter. Because Ren never says it out loud.

It’s different with him.

Sometimes you wonder if things would be easier if you could have this kind of connection with anyone else. But then again, if you did, maybe what you have with Ren wouldn’t feel so rare and fragile and beautiful.

“Swear on BRAT,” you say, extending your pinky.

“I swear on BRAT,” he echoes, linking his pinky with yours.

And just like that, Gojo isn’t mentioned again.

Or last night.

Or Yumi.

Or Nanami’s obscenely expensive house.

"C'mon, babe. Let's go get some breakfast."

Ren tugs you out of bed, dragging you into the world of the living, and just like that, you’re not a mess anymore. It’s stupid how easily he does that—how he makes you feel a little less like a disaster with nothing but his presence. And maybe, just maybe, you love him a little more than you did mere seconds ago.

The place Ren takes you to is… odd.

Some kind of coffee shop-slash-restaurant-in-the-making. It’s close to his apartment, but it’s way too edgy to be a normal breakfast spot. But hey—a free meal is a free meal, and who are you to complain when he offered to treat you?

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating a little. It’s not that edgy. Just… offbeat.

It’s called Radio, and by some wonderfully bizarre twist, the entire place is literally filled with radios.

They’re everywhere.

The walls are made of them, stacked up like some chaotic art installation. Car radios serve as makeshift stands, holding the food and drink menus. The menus themselves? Coquette-coded, decorated with bows and big-eyed deer like they were plucked straight from some Tumblr fever dream.

And then there’s the rest of the decor—ripped anime T-shirts hanging in the corners, stickers on the counter with millennial-core quotes like Eat. Sleep. Coffee. Repeat.

The waitress who approaches your table looks dead inside, eyeliner smudged into a mess so perfectly disheveled it’s almost intentional. She definitely doesn’t want to be here. But then again, do any of us?

"Stop judging," Ren hisses.

You blink at him. Judging?

"I’m a broke college student, and this place is cheap enough to actually fill my stomach," he defends, crossing his arms.

"I’m not judging," you retort. "But you have to admit, this place is weird. Look around. The interior designer who made this was probably on coke. Or MDMA. Or both."

Ren sighs. Deeply.

"Not everyone has to get high to come up with weirdly fun concepts," he says, exasperated.

"Now that’s just a lie, honey," you shoot back, leaning on your hand. "All artists get their inspiration somewhere, and the good ones? They get it on something. Look at Van Gogh. Dickens. Bukowski—"

"That’s not something to be proud of," Ren interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Those people were addicts. They needed help. Jesus. There's no proof that they made their best works because they were high—who knows? Maybe their art would've been even better if they were sober."

You hum, pretending to consider his argument.

"Well, you can’t prove that, can you?" you say, smirking.

Ren narrows his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Checkmate.

You love throwing these hypothetical what ifs at him just as much as he loves throwing them at you. His argument about sobriety is well-executed, you’ll give him that.

But he’ll never understand the euphoria—the way inspiration thrums in your veins when you’re tipsy, or better yet, high. The way stories are born from that space between reality and delirium. You swear your best ideas only exist there.

(Not that you’ve ever tried making them sober, of course.)

"Let’s not argue about the lives and works of people we’ll never truly know," Ren sighs, finally relenting.

"Okay," you agree, lips twitching.

For now.

“So, we can’t talk about your Voldemort, but you can for sure tell me more about that black-haired hottie you met last night?”

Ren’s rosy lips curve into a playful grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement. And just like that, you can’t help but melt at how much he lives for the gossip. Some things never change.

“He has a girlfriend, you mentioned?” Ren asks again, clearly wanting the details.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I care,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t go after a taken man who didn’t want me—that’s just not cool. But this guy, I’m telling you, from the second he laid eyes on me, he was eye-fucking me. Like, full-on, taking my clothes off telepathically and sinking his cock into me. It was intense.”

Ren snorts, amused.

“And if you saw him—he was all black long hair, a bandana, A BANDANA hanging from his neck. Made me wanna strangle him and lick him at the same time.” You pause, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “And the polo shirt, okay, I thought it was kinda lame for a college party, but it gave me a peek at his abs and, oh my god, his happy trail. And his lips, babe, I’m telling you. Pink, soft, begging to be bitten. Ugh. I should’ve tried harder and just fucked him.”

“Wait, you saw his happy trail?”

“Yeah, his shirt rode up when he was stretching after playing billiards with the guys. I was already plastered, but trust me, I saw it. It was practically an invitation to drop to my knees.” You take a bite of your fries, half-listening to yourself as the images replay in your mind.

“Well, if it were me, I’d be licking that happy trail into the midnight and riding him ‘til sunrise, baby,” Ren quips with a grin, taking a bite of his crepes.

You can see the look in Ren’s eyes—the way he’s already imagining it all. It makes you laugh, feeling a rush of affection for your ridiculous, perfectly in-sync best friend.

“Got a pic of the hottie?”

You freeze.

Your horniness deflates to zero. You forgot. You didn’t even get his number, his Instagram, nothing. “I forgot to follow him. I’m so fucking dumb.”

Ren rolls his eyes.

“Follow him now, duh. Who cares?”

“I care,” you say quickly. “I don’t want him to think I’m some creepy-ass loser who’s randomly looking him up.”

Ren looks at you like you’re nuts. “He won’t think that. Plus, if he doesn’t follow you back, then he’s blind and needs a check-up.”

“Let’s just try looking him up on Insta. Maybe he has a profile pic so you can see him, but I am NOT following him.”

You whip out your phone and start typing.

And there he is. Geto Suguru.

And oh boy.

His profile pic isn't just a pic, he's shirtless, his shorts hanging low on his hips, and there it is—the happy trail, long, dark, and deliciously inviting. His face is perfectly smirking, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You feel a shiver run down your spine, practically drooling as you stare at the picture.

Ren, ever impatient, snatches your phone from your hands before you can even blink. His mouth falls open in shock.

“Sweet Jesus, oh my God,” he breathes, his eyes flicking between you and the picture, blinking rapidly like his brain can’t handle it.

Then he moves his thumb. And you know exactly what he’s doing, but it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.

Ren has just sent a follow request to your “almost fuck.”

You feel a panic rise in your chest. No. This is it. You’re going to strangle him. Watch as life leaves his annoying body and his breath gets lost somewhere else because you know—you just know—he did it. He followed him. From your phone and your goddamn Instagram account.

“Are. You. Fucking. Insane?”

You stare at Ren in disbelief, heart pounding in your chest as your brain tries to process what he’s just done.

“I did what had to be done,” Ren grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “This man is too fine and too sexy not to be tried out at least once. Honestly, pardon his straightness, but I’d blow him like my life depended on it. Since I can’t do it myself, you’re gonna take the sacrifice of doing it for me.”

You feel a mix of anger and embarrassment bubble up inside you. “Ren, I’m going to kill you. I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Relax, girl,” he snickers, waving you off like it’s no big deal. “And when you fuck him, pretty please think about me, so I can, by some miracle, feel it as well.”

You roll your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but there's that nagging fear lingering in the pit of your stomach. “What if he doesn’t follow me back?” you whine, your voice a mix of real concern and dramatic flair. “I’m too old for this humiliation. I don’t need more rejection stacking up on my list.”

Ren just shrugs, completely nonchalant. “He will. Trust. Now eat your food, ho, and let’s go shopping.”

You don’t believe him, though. Deep down, you know he’s lying—because by the end of your shopping spree with Ren, Geto still hasn’t followed you back.

You’re losing your mind.

Even after you’ve showered, eaten, and taken a power nap, you find yourself glued to your phone. There’s still no accepted request. No follow. Just a stupid pending ‘follow request sent’ sitting there, mocking you.

You panic. You called Ren probably ten times and sent him thirty messages, all containing some combination of death, you, kill, and didn’t follow me back. You’ve become a mess—unrecognizable even to yourself.

The worst part? You know he saw it. You just know it. There’s no way in hell he didn’t check his phone at least once in the eight hours that passed. He’s leaving you hanging, like some peasant who isn’t even worth the time to be acknowledged.

It stings. It fucking stings.

You were dramatic before, sure, but you were deep down thinking he'd follow you back. Everyone does. He was all over you last night, wanting you, practically undressing you with his eyes. There was no way that stupid little spat with Gojo could have ruined things with Geto. Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were just stupid.

How dare he?

How dare he act like you weren’t worth even a simple follow? You start pacing around the room, frustration boiling over as your mind spirals into overdrive.

Then it hits you.

Gojo. That bastard. He’s always meddling in your business, always making things harder than they need to be. He loves getting involved for no reason, just to mess with you.

Just like he did before.

18 years ago

It’s an usual Friday afternoon, and you’re sitting with your great grandma on the front porch, her wrinkled hands steady as she writes down the words you dictate to her. You don’t know how to write yet—not really. Yes, you know the alphabet, but putting words together, let alone sentences on paper, feels like an impossible task for your six-year-old mind. But you know how to speak, and that’s all that matters right now. So you speak, and she writes, and together, you create a poem. It’s about winter, and comfort, and there’s a line about soup cooking on the stove, messily tossed in there.

You swear, in that moment, you’ve never been prouder of yourself. You are creating something—your very first poem. And even though it’s messy, even though it doesn’t follow all the rules of the world that you’re still figuring out, you did it.

Gojo, your next door neighbor and self proclaimed best friend sits beside you, shyly drawing you, your grandma, himself, and his favorite teddy bear, Teddy (of course) on what he insists is a train, even though it looks more like a stinky snail. You laugh, but then your excitement gets the best of you, and you run to your dad to show him the poem you just made with Nana. You can’t read it, but that doesn’t matter because Nana’s going to read it to him, and you’re so excited.

You just know he’ll be proud of you.

Nana reads the poem out loud, and you watch your dad as he listens. He smiles, and you’re filled with warmth, because he’s so pretty when he smiles. His eyes crinkle in that perfect greenish light, and his mouth—those dimples—just make everything feel perfect.

But then, he speaks.

“Nana, it’s great you’re teaching her all that, but she doesn’t have to write about food. There are many more beautiful things to write about. Our little peach is already a bit too chubby, and we’ve really been trying to help her lose weight, so I don’t think writing or thinking about food is good for her right now, right?”

Your heart sinks. Your excitement crashes to the ground.

You don’t know what it is, but his words make you feel so small. Your eyes drop to the ground, and you can’t hide from the uncomfortable, overwhelming feeling that floods over you. You already feel too big in your skin, too big in your body. Too big in your dad’s mind.

And then you feel it—the rush of anxiety. It sweeps over you like a tide, drowning you in its force. The weight of his words, the weight of your disappointment in his eyes, it’s too much. You couldn’t even keep it together for a stupid little poem.

Again.

You’ve disappointed him. Again. And there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.Nana says something, her voice soft and reassuring, about you being a normal, healthy little kid. She shakes her head at your dad disapprovingly, but you can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. His words hang around you, clouding the air, and the warmth that had once bloomed in your chest shrivels up. The mood is ruined. And even though you fight it, even though you don’t want to, your eyes grow heavy and the tears that have been threatening to spill finally break free.

You try to hold them back, but they come anyway.

"I don’t think you’re chubby. You’re cute, and I liked your poem," Gojo whispers to you, his small, warm hand slipping into yours. He squeezes it gently and beams a pretty, innocent smile at you.

But instead of feeling better, you feel worse.

His hand is smaller than yours. And he’s a boy. He’s smaller and slimmer than you, and you’re a girl. You shouldn’t even be thinking about these things, but you can’t stop. He’s smaller and slimmer and better, and you're chubbier, and nothing about this is fair.

And then you hear your dad again, his words ringing in your ears, harsher this time.

“Satoru, you don’t have to lie to make her feel better. Y/n’s a big girl. She can take it. Besides, she knows it’s for her own good.”

You nod, but it’s sharp and harsh, the motion of your head quick and jerky. You pull away from Satoru’s embrace, feeling like you might break under the weight of everything. His eyes are sad. You can see it now. The pity. The pity in his eyes, in your dad’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes. It’s there, it’s so clear, and you hate it.

You don’t understand pity yet, not fully, but you understand how it makes you feel small.

You’re not a little kid anymore.

Satoru looks mad now. He gives you one of those looks—‘It’s okay, I’ve got you’—the kind that only makes you feel worse. You can’t stand it.

You want to run. You want to hide. You want to be alone, away from all of this, away from their pity, away from the shame building up in your chest.

So you do.

You run. You run to your room, and when you’re there, the door shuts behind you, and you fall onto your bed. The tears come in waves, and you cry until evening falls, until your eyes are red and sore. You don’t come downstairs for dinner.

“Tomorrow, I’m not gonna eat anything. Then all of them are gonna see.”

You whisper the words to yourself, not fully understanding the weight of them, but in that moment, they make you feel like you have control. Like you can make everything better. And that's how it all begins.

taglist: @heh123321 @kazupop @mintcheery @krispywhisperswhispers

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood. 

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all. 

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything. 

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in  Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on  asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway. 

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying. 

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear. 

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can��t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still. 

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent. 

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was. 

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it. 

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him. 

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?” 

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen. 

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2025]

[akindaflora]

Say it with Conviction

Bangchan (idol) x Reader (Fluff)

Warnings: Thoughts about depression, Insecurities in not being enough, Some kissing and some suggestive themes were mention. Bangchan is called Chan, Channie, and Christopher.

Description: Morning depression hits you hard as you awoke in your lover arm. He finds you crying and he comforts you with words of passion and truth expressing his love for you.

Author note: Hey gang was feeling major morning depression and I just couldn't help but think about Chan and how he might comfort a lover in deep insecurity about their relationship. Instead of mopping I wrote this. Now glad that I did because in a way it did help me feel less alone in my little delusional bubble. Hope this warms you as much as it did me when writing this story. :)

WORD COUNT 2,357

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have always dealt with deep depression since you could remember. Always sad on days you should be the happiest scared for the start of a new year wondering if worse things will come. But when you got together with Chan, you did your best to hide the sadness away. Afraid he would leave like all the others did when they found you crying over nothing or laying in your bed like the wakening of a funeral.

“You are always sad, why can’t you see the good in the world,”

“You are so self-centered it’s not always about your problems,”

“I can’t take it anymore Y/N it’s your birthday and all you can do is be anxious,”

“You need help and I just can’t be it,”

The phrasing of words from past lovers cut through your heart like a knife. Constantly afraid you were undeserving of love and constantly holding back to show only the best sides of yourself. It had been a problem with most of your relationships. And yet while you tried to build your walls so high only a few ever stood up to the test. Your close friends who'd never let you shut them out and to your surprise Chan.

That was the most surprising thing about your relationship with Chan. Every time you tried to push him away he’d do something unexpected getting a laugh out here and there. Finding the root of the problem before you could even find the words to explain. Even going so far as to wash you when the world was heavy. And he never said a word against it only that you should always feel comfortable talking to him about anything. He made it his purpose that you were to always feel love even if he was miles away. And when you simply needed space to process he would give you it but never stopped at making sure you eat by sending a few deliveries here and there. Sending a bouquet of your favorite flowers with simple love notes that remind you why he loved you.

Even when you felt alone he was always there. Apart of you was afraid that one day he’d wake up and leave. Walk through the door and never speak to you again but every day he found new ways to stay. Planning trips so you always had something to look forward to. Buying matching clothes or jewelry so you’d both have a piece of each other no matter the distance. He always did his best to respect your boundaries and still somehow pushed the limit that you didn’t know could be pushed.

But as you lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat you couldn’t help but to let a few tears slide down your face. If there was one thing Chan was scared of in your relationship it was your tears. “You never make a noise when you're sad, please find me don’t close yourself off, you don’t even have to say a word,” he would say as he would caress your head and hold you like it was all he was ever made to do. And while you wanted to wake him up you didn’t. The voices in your head had been growing these days. Reminding you of all the things he did for you but what did you do for him?

Nothing

The voice ranged deep in your head reminding you of feelings you did your best to talk yourself out of. As if he could sense your sadness in his sleep his hand that rested around you tightened pulling you closer to him, his spirit trying to remind you that you were his everything. Tears fell from your face even more like a damn breaking gushing from your eyes. You thought about getting up to whip your eyes before he woke but you remained frozen in his warmth more afraid to ruin the sleep that he desperately needed. No matter the painful thoughts telling you to leave him before he did. You couldn't, he is everything you could have ever wished for.

With that thought you carefully tilted your head to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep, your heart clenching at your lover. You slowly brought a hand to his face pushing away the wild hair that peaked towards his closed eyes. And softly you fell into a trace slowly running your hands on his nose. Softly touching around the shape of his lips. He slightly shudders at the feeling of your touch and his eyes slowly opening. His hand sleepily looking for your face but his eyes shot open at the feeling of your tears.

“what’s wrong baby,” he said voice groggy with sleep as he turned to face you not letting go of your waist. “did you have a nightmare?” he said whipping the tears from your eyes. You only smiled at him, your morning sadness slipping away at every touch.

“It’s nothing do you want breakfast?” you asked stroking his cheek as his eyes looked at you with worry frowning only a bit at your dismissal of your own emotions. He studied your face looking deep into your eyes searching for whatever may be the cause to make you cry so early in the morning.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you cry, tell me what’s wrong I'd find a way to make winter stop if it made you too cold or hid the sun away if it made you too hot. There is nothing in this world that’ll stop me from caring even about the simplest things that make you cry, tell me please so I can find a way to bring you peace,” he said with urgency. You only smiled quietly at his determination to bring you joy.

“but I'm happy right now see I'm smiling,” you said giving him a light peck to ease his mind. “your the reason I'm smiling now so you have nothing to worry about,” you said running you fingers over his furrowed brow you began to try and leave the bed. Key word tried. Chan didn't let go only pulling you closer. Rubbing softly at your back gliding up and down from your arms as he looked see into your eyes.

“Yeah but I found you crying, why didn’t you wake me what do I always say,” he said but as he started you said the words in sync, “Always find me” him giggling at your joking expression. “it’s nothing to worry about I promise,” you said after he still didn’t let go. He only pulled you in more in response. Your head back to his chest as he caressed your head. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Tightening your arms around his waist.

After what felt like hours only a few seconds he spoke again into your head. “You know when you say it’s nothing, I get afraid that you’ll leave. I’m afraid that I’ll never be your cure anymore,” he said quietly almost in a whisper. If you weren’t so close you’d probably miss it. Your head rose from his chest quickly as you looked into his eyes sternly. “I would never leave you, Chan, if anything I’m more afraid you’ll leave me thinking I’m too much or too little,” you said caressing his head softly. Trying to push away the fear from his mind.

“Is that why you were crying this morning,” he asked quietly. Putting your head back in his chest you sighed. He always found a way to wiggle the truth out of you. You both never being good at hiding from each other. It was always scary how well you both could see each other and how easy it was to confess your darker sides. But yet you never ran from it. If anything it brought you both closer like it did in this moment.

Tracing shapes on his chest you began to whisper out, “I’m afraid I don’t do enough for you,” you said quietly. He remained quiet as if giving you space to explain more as his grip tightened slightly. “You do so much for me love, you give me space when I need it, you buy me flowers and food and you even help me wash when I can’t. I’m afraid all I do is take from you. I’m worried I don’t add up to you,” you said with a bit more courage. He pulled back slightly pulling you both up to sit and look at each other but he didn’t let go. Fear ranged in your eyes as he did so worried that your words had woken him from this dream to a nightmare of reality.

He looked in the distance as if trying to find the words. This is it said the voice in your head he’s gonna finally break up with you.

He took a deep breath before looking at you carefully reaching for your face to rub away the tears that flowed with ease. And he softly kissed your forehead before he spoke.

“My love, you do more for me than you can even see,” he said with determination. “I’m never leaving you if anything you’d leave me. You do so much for me. When I’m sick you take care of me with such care. When I get hurt from practice you force me to rest and even go so far as to find ways to ease my pain. You make me lunches with cute notes that taste only of your love. When it’s my birthday you make me the most beautiful cake and get only the most thoughtful gifts that I don’t even think about. When I’m stressed from work you give me massages that help ease my mind. When I go to bed sometimes I get too excited to sleep because I can’t wait to experience another day with you. You fill my mind even when I dream it’s only about you. You’re so caring and kind and you have these moments of true bliss that I work hard to keep on your face. Hell, even now when you are crying you are more worried about me. You are my everything I'd never leave you.” In between every sentence that left his mouth, you couldn't help but smile gripping onto him as if he disappeared and he did the same looking into your eyes with worry as he said each sentence. But no matter how worried he was there was a fire of determination to prove his love was real and that you were his end game. “if anything I'm trying to find ways to keep you with me forever. I’d plead to the gods just to have you again in another life,” he said again rubbing your cheek as you laughed.

“Your obsessed with me aren’t you,” you said sweetly looking into his eyes. He only nodded smiling at your smile. “Good because I’m just as obsessed with you,” you said back. his smiling deepening as he rushed to take your lips.

“You’re forever mine,” he said in between pecks. You giggled at his possessives. “And your forever mind right,” you asked questioning. He looked at you with slight confusion a small pout. “Say it with conviction,” he said looking into your eyes studying your face as you smiled again, “Your forever mine,” you said this time with just as much determination as him. He smiled as he peck your lips.

“Louder,” he said simply. “say it again but louder,” he said again pleading running through his voice.

“YOUR FOREVER MINE,” you said again. Him slightly wincing at your loudness but he giggled as he pecked your lips again.

“And don’t you dare forget it,” he said going back in for a longer kiss. Deepening as your lips moved. You sighed happily feeling every loving thought every loving touch he tried to tattoo upon your heart your soul.

The kiss grew with urgency to help you remember this moment for the next time that stupid voice was in your head.

He suddenly pulled away but not before pecking the areas of your face. You giggled in response, “Channie” you said softly with giggles still slipping from your lips. He pulled back so he could kiss your lips softly only touch your lip as if stamping his love with approval.

He pulled back again this time picking you up in his arms as he led you to the kitchen. You laughed loudly and slapped his chest softly.

“What are you doing,” you said as he walked looking down at you with a smile.

“Oh nothing just taking the love of my life to the kitchen so we can have breakfast together,” he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your heart beating at his words and looking at his face for any lies or anything foul but as you looked you only found his love for you. You only leaned up kissing his cheek. “And what does the love of my life want to eat,” you said whispering in his ear. His cheeks blushing at your question.

He smirked a little something naughty brewing in his mind, “I’d say you but sadly humans have these things called stomachs and while I think you are more than enough I guess I can settle for some pancakes and maybe if you're keen I can have a little nibble of you,” he said setting you down on the counter. You looked away as a deep blush settled onto your face. Still to this day, you could never understand how he could be so sweet and charming to so devilish in a mere second.

“Christopher,” you said covering your smile as he only laughed kissing the side of your head. “chocolate or blueberry,” he said simply in response pulling your face back to his own smiling face.

“Chocolate,” you said back with your own smile. But as you tried to get off to help with the ingredients he shook his head keeping you there. “Nope not today,” he said rubbing circles on your hips with his thumb. “Today my love gets to sit pretty as I make them breakfast,” Your face forming to protest but he silent you with a kiss that linger only slightly before pecking again.

“If you're really itching to help you sit their and tell me hot I am when I mix the batter,” he said again. You only laughed at him, “your egos so big,” you said looking lovingly into his eyes. He only scoffed, “How could I not be when I get to wake up to the love of my life every morning,” he said inches away from your lips.

You only pushed him away before he could kiss you again, he looked slightly offended at you pushing him away but smiled as you blew him a kiss, “You dork just go make the pancakes and maybe I’ll cheer you on hot stuff,” you said jokingly his smiling winding at your words as he caught your kiss bringing it to his heart.

Oh yeah, you guys were definitely stuck with each other. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After reading notes: hahahaha I hope I didn't fill your delusions too much. But when looking for my own stores to read I can't help but feel a lack of soft Chan moments. He always written as the leader and this tough steam engine that could if you read the feugo like stories. And while I don't disagree with him being this hot dom, I can't help but to crave more of his softer sides that we get to see pop out every once in awhile when he decides to make his presence known in content. I treasure those moments because it reminds me that he still gets to feed into that inner child every so often. I just hope he feels as loved as he does with Y/N in this. Sorry brb gonna go write in my diary about being obsessed with some random Idol that doesn't know I exist. Ha very much feeling spain again. RIP :(: Hope you enjoyed, write again soon.

[starrieangel]

🎄❤️Mouthwashing Crew on Christmas💚🎁

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday ♡ Here's my present to you all: more headcanons!!

Features: Curly x Reader, Anya x Reader, Daisuke x Reader, Jimmy x Reader

rb's appreciated! 💚❤️

Curly☃️

I think Curly would love surprising you..!

He's up before you, already has the coffee (or hot chocolate or tea) ready for you when you wake up. 

When you finally get out of bed, there's extra presents under the tree, and the tree is even more festive and beautiful than how you left it!!

(Is Curly Santa..??)

He's not materialistic in the slightest, but a good gift means a lot to Curly if it shows you put a lot of thought into it..! It makes him feel special that you are thinking about him ^u^

He's a good gift giver, but bad at wrapping them XD He's trying his best ok !!!

After opening presents, you guys cuddle and watch your favorite goofy christmas movie while cuddled up in your new sweaters/socks/blankets :)

His favorite part of Christmas is Christmas dinner tho, and you guys whip up a big feast and invite all your friends and family !!! 

He’s the classic “my boyfriend only cooks meat” stereotype, like he cant cook but he will fuck up a christmas ham or a thanksgiving turkey or a barbecue.. let him cook fr

Bonus: Curly is definitely the Santa at the office Christmas party..!! Maybe you get to sit on Santa's lap ;D 

Anya❄️

Panicking because she's bad at getting gifts..!! 

She gets to the store and.. oh no there's too many choices

“I'm not sure what candy Y/N likes... I'll just get one of each.. oh dear..”

She would try making handmade gifts like sewing or knitting or crochet but she doesn't get them done til the last minute...

She dang near cries when you see the itchy, raggedy sweater she made you and you beam at her “I love it!!!” and you do! because she made it ♡

I feel like she likes peppermints and candy canes... just her vibe

You two make a gingerbread house together !!

Yes it falls apart a little, but it doesn't matter because you both had so much fun making it :) (and decorating it with all that candy she bought !!)

Bonus: She is a based eggnog drinker. And maybe she does spike her and Daisuke's eggnog at the office Christmas party ;D

Daisuke🎁

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party Winner 3 years in a row

(I like the popular headcannon that Daisuke likes thrifting, so) He loves going to the thrift to find ugly christmas sweaters (so you can match) and even finding cool antiques/retro items to give as gifts!

Always gives at least one prank gift, but otherwise he is pretty thoughtful! 

He doesn't get you a present unless it really reminds him of you! I feel like he gifts thrifted vinyls and jewelry, secondhand designer, like his gifts are honestly peak and they're always perfect for you

He's in charge of the Christmas party!! and he's committed to packing as many christmas themed activities into it as possible

Dedicated Christmas Movie Showing, gotta watch all the classics!

Hot chocolate bar, christmas cookie buffet, pin the nose on the reindeer, ALL OF IT 

Strategically ties mistletoe to ensure highest occurrence of Kissing You ;3 “Uh, oh, Y/N! Looks like we're caught under the mistletoe.. again! How unlucky.. guess we'll have to.. you knowww..” >:3c

Bonus: He would get tipsy at the office christmas party and would try to hug you or kiss you the whole time, and you’re like “plz ur embarrassing me”

Jimmy🎄

Jimmy is actually really good at getting gifts. Like, really good. Like, you mentioned this thing in passing 6 months ago, and he either remembered it or bought it for you and hid it for 6 months. He knows exactly what to get you!

He's not really a huge fan of the holidays

That being said: He enforces Mistletoe rules like it's his job

Everyone thinks he's a grinch, so he doesn't usually get the best presents from others. It doesn't help that he never makes a christmas list or tell anyone what he wants 

(mostly because he doesn't want to be disappointed when he asks for something and doesn't get it, or he's afraid to ask for something “dorky” that he actually really wants)

When you ask him what he wants for christmas, he just kind of shrugs and says he'll like whatever you get him

So it's extra special when you return the favor and get him a gift just as thoughtful as he gave you :) You get him the video game or album or band tee (idk what men like) that he offhandedly mentioned weeks ago :) He can't hold in his surprise that you remembered!

“Woah, babe! I can't believe you remembered.. This is perfect, thank you baby” And then he wraps you into a tight hug!

Bonus: Yea, Jimmy had to fill in as Santa one year when Curly was busy/sick....... He made a kid cry.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the replies what you think, send an ask if you have a request, and rb if u liked! Thanks for reading!💚❤️

Merry Christmas!! ☃️💚🎄❤️❄️❤️🎄💚🎁☃️❄️❤️❄️❤️🎄💚

[fccloveii]

Eren Jeager's Masterlist

🗝!! ✧✦. (¡¡Non of the works archieved here are mine!!)

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Hello!! I hope that everyone who read this are doing great!!

Today I decided to post a masterlist of all my favorite eren jaeger fanfics/one-shots I have ever read. I'm mostly doing this because I felt like some of this masterpieces deserved much more attention, moreover I realize that most of the writing under eren's hashtag were about smut, degradation, eren being toxic, etc. And it was getting quite tiring. Therefore I figured I could make my own masterlist and share to the world my amazing findings.

You’re free to comment recommendations if you have any too!! (not but fr I have read everything and I need more 🥲)

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• THIRTEEN by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

By far the best fanfic I have ever read. Not only because of the plot (which is amazing, the author is a genius) but the writing is to die for and the characters are soo well written. Everything about this book is perfect!! It covers from childhood friends to lovers, to enemies to lovers, to strangers to lovers and is just amazing!! And the way that the main 2 ache for eachother leaves with nothing but to wish that a love like that finds you.

• COMRADES by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

I love this author so much you guys have no idea, this was my favorite story for soo long. Like I said the writing is from another world. Emotions are so well descripted and the way that the author managed to fit the reader in such a complete way in the original plot from the anime is literally perfect. The relationship of the main 2 is such a roller coaster of emotion that you never stop to want more. Emefaerie never dissapoints.

• To love a liar by butterflytint (wattpad)

Kind of reminds me of parasite but is also so different at the same time. The writing is also spectacular and the emotions are so well descripted. The hurt/comfort in here is literally perfect and the slowburn is amazing.

• For you by simp4eren (wattpad)

Soo so good!! The slowburn is also amazing and the topics are also described perfectly. This one was like my second favorite fanfic of eren, literally perfect!!

• CAMGIRL by D1CKTATED (wattpad)

Sadly is not yet finished and the chapters are pretty short but the build up is exciting!! The relationship between the main characters is really interesting too and the plot leaves you wanting more.

• method acting by @seeingivy (tumblr and ao3)

Also a childhood friends to lovers (I'm a sucker for those). Perfect way to write emotions and her eren is literally one of my favorite one. The plot is soo good and jealousy is everything in this fic. Describes everything that happens in the acting industry so well that you feel like you’re in it. Soo so good!!

• Just a friendly kiss by princess_okkotsu (ao3)

Fluff, fluff and fluff. This one-shot heals every angst of all the books before mentioned. Is short but is worth reading. And is perfect because is a best friends to lovers (my favorite trope tbh)

• Easy, baby by prettyboykatsuki (ao3)

Childhood friends to lovers in all its glory (also a one-shot). So well written and the tension is just ughhh. I just wish he was real.

• Hate you too. by Kuro_no_Ai_Hime (ao3)

Enemies to lovers!! Mostly a two-shot centered in smut but the plot is also really good. The tension between the two is also to die for. I also love this one because is not a modern au and it happens during the scouts, and those are my favorite type of fanfic. (Can you believe that this was published before season 2 and 3 like omg)

• Serendipity by aspynxcea (ao3)

What a book, holy shit. The slowburn is perfect and it kind of like a “she felt first, he felt harder” but also a enemies to lovers. Emotions here are also pretty well written and the drama fits really well into the plot. Love this book!!

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Hope you all send love to this amazing authors and if you have any recommendation please let me know!! (Preferably a childhood/best friends to lovers)

🤍.

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩, 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | jack hughes

♡ ─ word count | 3.8k

♡ ─ summary | when you and jack had parted ways, somehow you both knew you'd meet again somehow.

♡ ─ warnings | second chance romance!! slight angst (nothing too crazy), fluffy as fuck!!! jack being a cutie patootie, bsf x luke hughes cus why not???? mention of drinking/bars but that should be it.

♡ ─ taglist | | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay, so this started off as sweeter than fiction fic but slowly turned into an invisible string fic, but its okay. they both slay and lowkey work well together!!

No matter how hard you tried to forget Jack, you never could.

The moment you both laid eyes on each other, each of you knew it was game over for everyone else. Everyone else was merely everybody else, and the other was just the one. From the first hello to the last goodbye, there was a connection neither of you could fathom.

Jack was more than just your first love or your first everything, he soon became the key to solving all your problems and the keeper of all your secrets. He was the funniest and kindest person you knew, no matter how long you'd been together. That never changed, even after you two parted ways.

It's been almost three years since you seperated but you can still how he made you feel, and all his favorite things: how he liked his coffee, what side of the bed he slept, his favorite soda and how to cheer him up. However, if someone had asked you where he was now, you couldn't tell them.

Well, not necessarily. You knew he plays some NHL team and he was doing what he's always loved, that's all you knew for sure. Some things never change, you guess.

Sometimes, you would wonder if he ever thought of you. Were you just a passing thought or a lasting memory? Did he remember everything or did he forget it? Those questions kept you up at night. But, at the end of the day, you realized that you were happy for him because he was out there, pursuing his dreams. Even if you weren't in those stands, wearing his jersey cheering him on, like he'd always promised.

──

"A hockey game?" You repeated, staring at your best friend Brie. She shook her head, a big smile on her face.

"My friend got tickets a few months ago but he got covid, so he gave them to me. And I knew you were a fan of hockey, so why not?" Brie explained as she leaned back into the couch.

"Not really-"

"Well you grew uo in Ontario so that makes you a hockey fan by association. You're going, end of discussion." Brie sighed exasperatedly, feigning annoyance as a smile enveloped your face. You had no choice now, you had to go.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Brie's determination. She always had a way of roping you into things, and this time was no exception. Despite your initial reluctance, the prospect of attending a hockey game stirred a sense of excitement within you.

A few days later, you found yourself growing curious about the experience. Memories of watching hockey matches with your family in Ontario flooded back, reminding you of the excitement that accompanied each game. One memory stuck out to you, you couldn't remember much but you do remember the warm feeling of his jacket and how your heart was beating- No, no. Focus on the now, Y/N. You reminded yourself as you forced yourself out of your head.

You navigate your way through the big arena and you both finally found your seats, settling in as the game was beginning. Settling into your seat, you let yourself soak in the atmosphere, the sights and sounds of the arena becoming a backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

The players take to the ice and the game begins, you find yourself swept up in the thrill of the moment. The cheers of the crowd fill the air, each goal and save met with loud applause and excitement. You missed this.

"Y/N, look! That's the one I was telling you about, the one who followed me. Isn't he cute?" Brie spoke with a warm blush on her face, pointing out a number 43. You nodded, watching him glide.

He looked slightly familiar but you couldn't place it. "Wait... Is that why we're here, Brie?"

"What? No. What do you mean? What?" Brie's blush spread to her entire face as she let out a giggle, a telltale sign of her lying. You shook your head with a laugh, of course there was an ulterior motive to coming here.

She let out a sigh and then continued, "Okay fine. He invited me to the game, with free tickets. You wouldn't say no either, alright?"

"Yeah, free tickets are free tickets." You shrugged with another laugh. "Is he cute?"

"You'll see, he told me to come to the bar after the game."

"And I have to come?" You sighed, leading back into the uncomfortable seat of the stands.

"Don't sound too excited, Y/N." She teased as you rolled your eyes playfully. "He has a cute brother and I heard the captain is hot, so... you won't be third wheeling entirely."

"Okay, fine. But what if they aren't cute?"

"This is hockey, babe, there is a very low chance of that happening." Brie said with a big grin as you laughed. That was true, they all happened to be very cute.

With each passing minute, the anticipation grew, fueled by the idea of meeting Brie's acquaintance and his friends. Despite your initial hesitation, there was an undeniable curiosity about what the night held in store.

As the final buzzer sounded and the game drew to a close with another win for the Devils, you found yourself caught between anxious anticipation and excitement. The promise of a post-game gathering lingered in the air, pulling you into its orbit with a magnetic force you couldn't resist.

Brie quickly took you out of your trance, grabbing your hand to rush to the bar. As you entered the busy bar, the atmosphere was electric, pulsating with the excitement of post-game celebration. The air was thick with the scent of beer and sweat as you nervously walked beside Brie to find her friend.

She pulled your sleeve and pointed to a curly-head in the distance before whispering, "That's him."

"Whoa, he's tall."

"I know." She whispered back dreamily as she stared before walking towards him, a confident smile on her face whilst you followed her.

He turned around and your eyes widened. He was familiar, you knew exactly who he was. Luke Hughes, Jack's little brother. Instant regret hit you as you hoped and prayed he wouldn't remember you.

Thankfully, he looked right at Brie with a huge grin. "Oh, hey. Glad you could make it."

He leaned in for a hug and your eyebrows rose, they were already on hugging terms? As they pulled apart, his gaze moved to you and his features changed into a knowing one. You plastered on the best smile you could and silently prayed he didn't remember you.

"Y/N?"

Shit.

But that wasn't Luke's voice, you turned your head to the side to see him. "Jack?"

As the name escaped his lips, your heart skipped a beat, the world around you seeming to slow to a crawl. Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with him, the familiarity of his gaze stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you. His blue eyes boring into yours, your heart racing.

In that moment, the weight of the past crashed over you like a tidal wave, memories flooding back with clarity. The sound of his smooth voice, the warmth of his sweet gaze—it was as if no time had passed at all, as if you were transported back to a time when the world was simpler, when your love felt like an unbreakable bond.

For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes to only the two of you. Memories of your shared past flooded back, the laughter, the tears, the love that had once bound you together, all laid bare in the space between you.

Jack's expression softened, a flicker of recognition dancing in his eyes as he took in your features. It was as if time itself had stood still, freezing this moment in eternity, the echoes of your past reverberating through the air like a haunting melody.

"Jack, buddy, you're about to spill the drinks." Luke's voice drew both of you out of your trance and back into the present moment and out of your head.

"Yeah, um, sorry. Here." Jack nodded to his brother and handed him the beer as you stared back at him, a troubled expression plastered on your face.

As Jack handed the beer to Luke, the brief interlude allowed a moment of reflection from the intensity of the small exchange. The tension lingered between you, a reminder of the emotions simmering under the surface.

You struggled to find the words to break the silence, the weight of your past weighing heavy on your heart. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the air thick with anticipation and uncertainty.

Finally, Jack turned back to you, his gaze searching, as if looking for answers to questions left unasked. The troubled expression on your face mirrored the emotions swirling in you, a storm of conflicting feelings that threatened to engulf you both.

"I... It's been a while," Jack began, his voice hesitant, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

"Yeah, it has," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The memories of your shared past lingered like a ghost, haunting the space between you with their silent presence.

Luke looked a Brie with a knowing look, taking her hand warmly and glancing between you and Jack. "I think me and Brie are gonna get some drinks, we'll be right back."

Before anyone could reject, Luke pulled away your best friend to the bar and she turned around with a sympathetic smile and a shrug. You cursed the younger Hughes as you sighed. Now you have to face Jack alone, without the comfort of your best friend.

You and Jack once again found each other's gaze, staring into each other's eyes with warmth and recognition. His eyes were still as blue as you left them but he looked more mature, facial hair growing on his chin and his hair a little longer but you thought it suited him. But he still has the boyish charm to him, the thing that made you fall for him in the first place. His mouth curved up into a small smile as he watched you observe him.

"How've you been?" His voice echoed and that was another that hadn't changed. You had forgotten his voice on the course of the couple years of separation, you forgot how sweet and smooth it was.

"I've been..." You trailed off, not knowing what to exactly. "I've been good. You?" You settled for a simple answer, not knowing exactly where you stood yet.

"Can't complain." He responded with a shrug, take a sip of his beer. Silence once again filled the space between you as you gazed at each other.

In the absence of words, your gaze held a conversation of its own. The warmth and recognition in Jack's eyes mirrored the emotions swirling within you. For a moment, it was like you were seeing him for the first time again—his features bathed in the soft glow of recognition, his smile warm in the rest of world's darkness. The years had etched lines of experience onto his face, sculpting the contours of his features into something familiar yet different.

And yet, beneath the surface, there remained a sense of familiarity—a connection that defied the time itself and the hurts of the past. It was a reminder of the depth of your shared history, the moments that had shaped you into the people you had become.

You couldn't help but wonder what thoughts raced through his mind, what memories stirred beneath the surface. Did he too feel the weight of the past, the pull of unfinished stories waiting to be told?

"You grew your hair out." He stated softly as he examined your new look. "It looks good."

"Looks like you did, too." You smiled softly and he let out a warm laugh, and it was infectious. The memories, rushed back into your mind at the happy sound and your stomach did a flip. Another thing that hadn't changed, the sweet sound of his laugh.

"Yeah, that's what hockey does to a guy." He explained, his eyes glowing beneath the warm light of bar.

You chuckled, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. "Guess it comes with the territory. You always did love the game."

Jack's gaze softened, a flicker of sentimentality in his eyes. "Yeah, some things just never change, I guess. Hockey's been a constant in my life and I don't think I'll ever stop."

The shared memories of watching games together, the thrill of victories, and the hurt of defeats lingered in the air, connecting you both in a shared history that time hadn't erased.

"I remember how you used to explain the rules to me, as if I was clueless," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Jack laughed, the sound a symphony of familiarity. "Hey, but you caught on quick. Besides, it was a good excuse to spend time together."

The mention of spending time together cast a gentle shadow over the present moment, a reminder of the shared past that had once been the foundation of your connection. The complexities of life had woven a tapestry of experiences, leading you both on separate journeys, yet the threads of your history remained intertwined.

"But hey, the hair suits you," you replied, your voice soft with sincerity. Despite the years that had passed, there was a sense of ease in the way you spoke to each other, as if no time had elapsed at all.

Before he could respond, you were suddenly pushed from the back and flew right into the arms. You were shocked and turned around to see a drunk man stumbling. Suddenly, Jack's arm twisted around your shoulder, a protective stance.

"Shit, sorry." He slurred before walking away into the crowd.

The sudden proximity between you sent a jolt of awareness coursing through your veins, the closeness igniting a spark of familiarity that lingered in the air like electricity.

As the chaos of the moment subsided, the realization of how close you two had been struck you with a sudden clarity, leaving your cheeks warm and your heart racing. You both stared into each other's eyes before Jack spoke softly. "Let's go somewhere quieter, yeah?"

With a nod of agreement, you instinctively reached for his hand, fingers intertwining in a silent pact as he led you through the crowd and out into the cool night air. The sounds of the bar faded into the distance, replaced by the soft murmur of the night.

He let go your hand, the cool night air hit the warm area that his hand once was. He gazed out into the night as you looked to the side of his face, a warm feeling filling your body in spite of it being cold outside.

"So, you play on the same team as Luke?" You spoke, breaking the silence between you two.

His lips curved into a smile as he nodded, "Yeah, isn't that funny? We always talked about playing together again but it's cool that we can actually do that now."

You couldn't help but marvel at the twist of fate that brought them together again. The bond between Jack and Luke was woven with shared memories and childhood dreams, all coming true.

"It's amazing how things come full circle," you remarked, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah and Quinn's finally got the captaincy, it's perfect." Jack continued. He looked happy and content with the way things were turning out with his career and his family, it made you happy seeing him happy. "What about you? Anything exciting?" He turned his attention to you, his blue eyes gazing into yours.

You smiled. "Not as much as you, definitely. But I'm about to graduate and get an apartment, all by myself up in New York. Found the perfect one yesterday and I'm driving up there to see it."

"Just like you always wanted, huh?" Jack's smile grew at that. He was comforted knowing that you hadn't changed too much and you were still same old you, despite how many years that had passed.

"Yeah, it's right in the middle of the city, with windows everywhere so I can watch the city move."

Like you had always wanted, Jack thought in his mind with a big smile. "So we are both chasing our dreams, then?"

"Yeah, something like that." You laughed and he joined along. The warmth of his laughter filled your lungs and you felt like you were out of breath just by laughing along with him. It was perfect. The laughter had died down and you both still were locked in gaze.

For a moment, it was as if the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the quiet intimacy of the night. The warmth of Jack's presence enveloped you like a comforting embrace, grounding you in the present moment amidst the chaos of the world.

His smile slowly dropped as he kept looking into your eyes. "Why'd we ever break up?"

The bluntness of the question had taken you aback. And you started thinking back to why you broke up. As you searched for an answer, the weight of the past pressed down upon you, a heavy burden that threatened to consume you whole. The reasons for your breakup lingered on the edges of your consciousness, fragments of half-forgotten truths waiting to be unearthed.

You were moving away to college and he was getting into the NHL, the only logical way to go about this about was to break up. Long distance wouldn't have worked and plus, you were both growing up and getting into new worlds, you didn't want him worrying about you while he was out there, pursuing his dreams.

But deep down, you knew that the choices you had made had led you to where you were now, standing face to face with the echoes of your past and the possibilities of the future. The memory of your break-up was clear in your mind, with all the anger and resentment both of you had in that one moment. But something you had said suddenly stuck out to you, "If we are meant to be, we will."

And we did. You thought to yourself as you stared into Jack's eyes. "We were both growing up and moving away, and I-I guess... I didn't wanna burden you."

Jack's expression softened. "Burden me?"

Silence filled the air once again but this time, you felt embarrassed. How could that have led to the break-up? It seems so small but it felt so big before, like it was the end of the world.

"Yeah," you admitted, your gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Jack's eyes again. "I was worried about holding you back, about becoming a distraction when you had this incredible opportunity in front of you. I thought breaking up was the right thing to do, to give you the freedom to chase your dreams without any restraints."

Jack's expression softened, his eyes reflecting understanding. "Y/N, you could never be a burden to me," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "We were in it together, remember?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," you whispered, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "I... I wish things had been different."

He immediately shook his head and slowly took your hand. "Don't apologize. If things had been different you don't know how that would've worked out, but right now, everything that led us here is perfect." He said sternly as you nodded slowly.

With a nod of agreement, you allowed his words to seep into the depths of your heart, a gentle reminder that the journey you had embarked upon together with twists and turns but ultimately, it had led you to this moment and that was enough.

"I believe that too," you whispered, your voice tinged with hope and conviction. "Every step we took, every choice we made, brought us here, to this moment."

Jack's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. "We found each other again for a reason, don't you think?"

You nodded softly as you gazed back at him, warmth filling your whole body. Before you could answer, you felt a buzz in your pocket and sighed. You were ripped away from this perfect moment and back to reality. You took your phone out and saw the caller ID: "Brie <3"

You answered it, "Hey, Brie."

"Hey, so where are you? I just remembered I have a 9am lecture tomorrow."

You sighed before shaking your head. Brie and her bad memory, "I'm, uh, outside."

"Great, I'll meet you at the car. We have a lot to debrief tonight."

"Oh yeah, a whole lot." You laughed as you stared back at Jack's face with a warm smile. "'Kay, love you."

"Love you."

She hung up and you were met with Jack's gaze, pulled back into the moment. Again, there was silence before you spoke up. "Well, I gotta go."

"I figured." Jack spoke as a smile curved his mouth.

"I'll... see you, then?" Your voice came out in a quiet whisper as he nodded.

You turned around and started walking before you stopped. You couldn't leave without anything, right? It wouldn't be right. You turned around swiftly with a warm smile. "Umm... when can I see you?"

Jack's eyes lit up at your question, a flicker of excitement dancing in their depths. For a moment, he seemed taken aback by your sudden boldness, but a smile quickly spread across his face, warming the space between you.

Jack's eyes lit up at your question, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "How about tomorrow? We could grab coffee or something, catch up properly."

Your heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, the prospect of spending more time with him filling you with a sense of anticipation and joy. The thought of reconnecting with Jack, of rediscovering the depths of your bond, ignited a spark of hope within your soul.

"That sounds perfect," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As you exchanged details and finalized the plans, the air buzzed with anticipation. The promise of tomorrow held the potential for new beginnings, a chance to explore the rekindled connection between you and Jack.

As you parted ways, each step carrying you closer to the promise of tomorrow, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the chance to rewrite the narrative of your story, to carve out a future filled with forgiveness and the prospect unfulfilled promises you once made, coming true.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[itsactuallylina]

YOU’RE ALL I WANT ꩜ ZB1

SYNOPSIS: spending valentine’s day with them <3

PAIRING: zb1 maknae line x f!reader

GENRE: fluff !

WORD COUNT: .6k, (.2k-.3k for each member)

check out the masterlist —> here! ; reblogs are appreciated <3

ricky: the day will be spend in the art cafe! enjoying each others company, while sipping your favorite drinks and drawing portraits of each other. best believe, ricky will rent out the whole cafe, so you two won’t be distracted by anyone else. since he majored in fine arts, he would love to help you if you’re struggling! if not, he will act like he is having a hard time just for you to come and help him!! not to mention, ricky would get you so many gifts, its adorable. even if you protest, saying you can’t accept it, he will pout. “i was reminded of you when i saw it, so please wear it? for me?”, he says, holding up a really pretty necklace with a bright pink heart, and with that adorable gaze , you realize you never stood a chance. —the rest under cut!

gyuvin: valentine’s day with him would be so chaotic, but fun. it would all start with him dragging you to the rollerblading ring. gyuvin would act so confident, but as he makes the first steps, he immediately falls. seeing you laugh at him makes him smile, but gyuvin still brings you down with him. “I suffer, you suffer”. he definitely would try to slow dance with you on the rollerblades!! after this, gyuvin would take you to the photobooth to take silly pictures. one with you having your tongue out, on the second picture, you doing puppy ears to each other, and the last one! him kissing you on the cheek, while you are smiling so sweetly! the day would end with the movie marathon — your favorite flowers standing on the bedside table as you rest in his arms.

gunwook: in the early morning, he would come to get you, choosing your outfit, just to make sure you guys match. then surprising you with a cute picnic date! the sun shining softly, casting a warm and romantic glow. all of your favorite snacks and drinks on the display. you would play board games he prepared, you losing horribly. but gunwook is a gentleman, so he lets you win<3 not a lot tho, he still has pride to uphold! for the desserts he would prepare something homemade, something he baked by himself, with the help of his mom. not too sweet, because “you’re the sweetest thing ever”. he’d take out the large bear plushie, hugging you. “you deserve everything in the world, but lets start with that”. walking you to your doorstep, sweetly kissing you and calling right away as you disappear from his eyesight.

yujin: oh such a cutie! yujin would pick you up, invite you to his dorm, and cook for you! he learned the recipe online a few days prior, just to make sure it would be perfect. stops you from doing anything, “you just sit pretty and yap my ears off, i love when you do this”. many would think he’s super shy, but as the relationship progresses yujin becomes so clingy and playful! always wanting hugs and kisses, not even shying away from you. after he successfully feeds you, you take a break, playing mario kart, you winning, so he distracts you with a kiss on the cheek. you forgive him tho, cause he is a cutie. you baking cookies together as the last activity of the day! the sweet scent of strawberry cookies fills the air, the one that you both-oh, so love! yujin would feed you a few before making a little mess and having a decorating session. so many hearts and bunnies, that end up being eaten by you two, you wouldn’t have it any other way though.

a/n: valentines special <3 hope you had a great one, bcs i did <3 my friends gave me cute valentines and we joked around a lot. me, my sister and my dad then ordered take out and it was tasty. no boyfriend ≠ no great valentine’s day. you’ll all meet someone perfect for you one day<3!!

[elixirfromthestars]

Hey Mel, I've been thinking about dad Bucky! Which one of your Bucky's do you think would be a girl dad?

Hello my lovely anon, do you understand how much I adore you for sending this in?? 😭🩷🩷 I want to give you the biggest hug because this immediately sparked something for me!! Please enjoy my moodboard and thoughts for my detective Bucky being a girl dad 🥹💖 And if you'd like to know more please let me know!! I had so much fun answering this!! 🥰

Contents -> detective bucky + lawyer reader, baby girl w/nickname Teddy 🥹🩷, mentions of life/work as a homicide detective, all the feels okay? like all of them

Detective!Bucky Barnes as a Girl Dad ��ྀི‎♡‧₊˚

Okay, so first of all, our precious Teddy was planned 100%. You’re one of the top prosecutors in New York, of course, your life is structured the most it can be and you knew you wanted to start a family with Bucky when the timing was right. Teddy came along after you were married and had moved into an apartment together. By this point, Bucky had moved up the ranks and passed his sergeant’s exam, allowing him more free time to be around and present.

When Teddy was born, best believe Bucky cried—you both did. She was just so cute and so tiny. You both marveled at how the two of you made someone so wonderful and so perfect. She looks like a mini version of you but with Bucky’s eyes and smile.

He honestly couldn’t wait to show her off to everyone. His desk at work is now covered in pictures of you and his baby girl. His lock screen? It’s a picture of you holding Teddy. You know that little pocket in a wallet where an ID should go? Yeah well, he has a polaroid picture of the three of you instead. He has those pictures there to remind him to be extra safe on the job since he now has you two waiting for him to come home safe and sound.

Teddy got her nickname not too long after she was born. She was a bit of a fussy baby and liked to cling to you or Bucky when she slept. With your careers, it wasn’t always possible to have Teddy with either of you 24/7. And then one day the teddy bear Bucky won you at the fair from your first date ended up in her crib. Teddy ended up keeping it close and hugging it the entire time she slept. Even as she started getting older, that bear went wherever she did. From the moment she fell in love with that bear, you decided everything Teddy owned had to be bear-themed.

All your friends and family love Teddy. Sam and Nat bicker all the time over who Teddy loves the most—Uncle Sam or Auntie Nat. You’d never tell them, but Teddy adores her Uncle Stevie the most. Whenever he visits, she won’t leave his arms which makes Bucky a little grumpy (which you always tease him over).

Bucky has always been protective of you (maybe sometimes a little overprotective) and that doesn’t change when Teddy comes along. If anything, he becomes even more protective of his girls—this man is a devoted husband and father. Dotting on you and Teddy whenever he gets the chance. Acts of service is 100% one of Bucky’s love languages and he’d do anything for you and Teddy. 

When the topic of daycare comes up, Bucky doesn’t want to hear it. He just can’t imagine anyone taking care of his baby girl better than you and him. No one else would take the time to cut Teddy’s food into the cutest of shapes—her favorite being stars, no one else would pick her up and play airplane with her when she gets fussy, no one else would sing twinkle twinkle little star with her for the millionth time just to see her happy, and there’s so much more others wouldn’t do for her that you and Bucky would. 

Daycare lasted a couple of days—Bucky just couldn’t do it. He was losing his mind wondering how she was doing. On the first drop off that man was damn near begging on his knees for you to change your mind. You were firm on your stance (neither of you could afford cutting back even more on work hours since you were saving up for a home). So as much as you hated being the one to do it, you had to be the one to put your foot down on the subject. That was until on what would be her last day at daycare, Teddy cried out Mommy with the utmost heartbroken voice as you were walking away and your heart just shattered. Needless to say, the daycare phase didn’t last long and instead you took the longer commute to drop off Teddy at Grandma Barnes’ brownstone. Bucky’s mom was over the moon at this decision because that woman adores her grandbaby. She spoils her rotten which sometimes backfires in the silliest of ways.

Being one of the top prosecutors in New York means you have many late nights. Bucky is always there to be supportive in any way he can be. Before Teddy, you used to work on cases together at home, but ever since she was born he has enforced a no work-at-home policy. He doesn’t want his baby girl hearing or witnessing anything from the homicide cases you and he work on. He wants to protect her from that world for as long as he can. 

Especially since he has worked on some cases that show him the worst of humanity. Now that he is a dad they hit him a little deeper. Whenever he works a case where a parent has lost their child, his chest feels tight the entire day and there’s a heaviness on his shoulders he can’t shake off. On those days he insists you two visit Teddy during your lunch break. And that night he holds Teddy just a little longer and a little tighter in his arms—like he’ll lose her if he lets go. After she falls asleep in his arms, he tucks her in her crib and goes looking for you. No matter what you’re doing Bucky coaxes you to drop everything and come to bed with him where he holds you just as tightly as you lay together. He promises over and over again that he’ll keep you and Teddy safe, whispered promises of how much he loves you both and how no harm will ever come to either of you between passionate kisses that seal the meaning of those promises into your very soul.

Bucky adores being a dad just as much as he adores being your husband. His life feels complete having you two in it and he'd be damned if he ever let anything or anyone ever jeopardize it (which in this line of work there have been a few close calls on both your ends that have tried, but those stories are for another day).

I honestly could go on and on all day over this, but for the sake of not going on for too long, I will end my little happy ramblings here 🥹🩷 Thank you again for sending in this request, I had so much fun with it!! 🩷🩷

[blushydiorrb]

BY blushydior

HOW I CHANGED MY LIFE WITH THE LAW OF ASSUMPTION

note: post inspired by @cinefairy (´͈ ᵕ `͈) ♡°◌̊ + brief mentions of sensitive topics

♡┊ my life before:

i dealt with immense abuse and toxicity. the whole works. i was in foster care, constantly traveling to different countries. i’ve been depressed and suicidal, failed attempt after attempt since i was 7. traveled city to city during hs to sleep, had to look for shelter at 19 because the abuse got too much, having to take care of children all my life & never having time to live for myself — it was for as long as i could remember to the point where feeling numb, empty, sad & hopeless was the normal to me. i was confident in myself, ill give myself that; only because ever since i was little i dreamt big. but that kept being pushed away the more i dealt with my circumstances. but i just knew— something inside me was telling me that i was special. after finding out loa, slump after slump, i did it. i never gave up. and im proud that i never did.

even after i renewed this blog, i had still been dealing with depression and was hospitalized for it but i. did. it. im here living my dream life and you can be too.

♡┊ my life now:

i have: financial freedom, my desired appearance from head to toe, buying the most luxurious houses in my desired states/cities, revised my name, semi socialite, model, elevated my interests into talents such as painting, drawing, singing, dancing, film, edit, writing, photography, i now own multiple businesses, a soon to be author, amazing intelligence, fluent in multiple languages, martial arts, desired friends, always being safe, friends with a few of my fave celebs, spoiling my nieces & nephews, and a dream bf literally as all of my favorite book boyfriends combined. he’s perfect. + so much more.

i still can’t process this sometimes but i seriously made myself the dream girl my younger self always knew was in me.

♡┊ how i did it:

simplified the law. made my own rules. decided what my new story was. left the old one to die out and most importantly: took it easy on myself. i was doing my best to live my dream life because i knew it was possible. so why be so hard on myself?

it took some time at first considering my circumstances but thats why we persist, my love. affirming and persisting. never giving up. kept the faith. that’s it. it didn’t take longer than a month!

💌 ┊ my note to everyone:

you can do it. it’s possible. and you deserve to live your dream life. it’s okay to have doubts, it’s okay to question yourself, the law, etc. what’s important is that you GET UP, be gentle and kind to yourself. i stg you better be nice to urself… 😤👹 and persist.

i love you, i love you, i love you. blushydior loves you!!!! so much. and is giving the warmest and tightest hugs to everyone who is reading thus far. it was a heavy topic considering how much of a private person i am but i had to make it. thank you for reading. it means so much to me. - 🧸

special thank you, hugs & kisses to @cinefairy @heraisgod — ♡ the most inspiring people ever. you were the ones who kept reminding me to keep pushing and to be strong. i owe you everything.

- blushydior ♡

[todosdream]

can I? | ony.eren (prologue)

10.6k wrds. flashbacks. angst.

warnings: bi!ony, bi!eren, miscarriage mentioned, sickness/death mentioned (minor character), grief, eren has a learning disability, and a potty mouth, repression issues, cursing, weed smoking, dealing with self-worth/comparison

a/n: the story of our boys before their lady is introduced. hope you enjoy <3

you can touch my heart and soul,

as well as my body, if you please.

the story of the sun and moon,

joined by both fate and destiny.

amari can barely hold her excitement in as she waits for her friend to arrive at their favorite cafe. the lighting is soft and welcoming and the smell of coffee grounds reminds her of all the times she’s sat in this very booth, either alone or with company. her husband chuckles and softly rubs her back as she all but dances in her seat, happy to be home, happy to see her friends.

he’s watching her with those eyes she loves so much, the ones that see her clearer than anyone else. his admiration for his lady is palpable from the other side of the room, eyes holding his heart and soul as he gazes at the embodiment of love and joy. “I love yo’ lil ass, you know that?” he asks fondly.

the woman smiles and leans into him, softly cupping his jaw as she presses a kiss to his cheek. then another and another because there’s nothing that could ever keep her from showing her love, not a person or location. “you better,” she grins, eyes lifting to meet his. “hate to bring a giant down in front of all these lovely people.”

armond’s head tilts back with laughter. he *loves* his wife, adores everything about her. especially her sense of humor and tendency to threaten. establishing dominance, he guesses.

“yeah, okay, love. look, here they come,” he says as he nods his head at the door. entering the cafe are carla, amari’s closest friend, along with her husband grisha. the doctor lightly presses on carla’s back to encourage her to sit while he places their order.

amari squeals and stands, holding her arms out to welcome the woman. it takes no time for the two to come together in the tightest hug known to man, swaying side to side dramatically as their jewelry jingles and clinks.

“oh, I missed you!” carla gushes as she squeezes her best friend. “tell me everything and don’t leave a single detail out!”

amari tugs carla to sit at the table, and after carla and armond exchange hugs and greetings, they all gather in their usual corner. grisha joins as amari begins the top to bottom story of her and armond’s most recent travels. she talks about the welcoming people, the beautiful culture, the water that stretched beyond what the eye could see.

her husband watches her with a tender gaze as he lets her talk, chiming in to remind her of small happenings she might’ve forgotten. the group is in their own bubble as they listen to her, her shine even brighter than normal.

“and…” she begins the ending of the story by lifting a bag that was previously hidden under the table. she slides it towards carla with a big grin on her face and the woman just rolls her eyes with a grin. “you better have gotten me a small gift this time. I’ve run out of space for all the souvenirs you’ve brought back!”

amari just bites her lip and pushes the bag closer, armond hiding his grin in his wife’s curls as they watch the other couple. carla digs in the gift bag and pulls out a piece of cloth.

her eyebrows furrow. amari usually doesn’t buy her clothes because carla’s quite picky.

her eyes widen and her jaw drops when the cloth unfurls. it’s a onesie with the words ‘you can stop asking now’ in cursive.

“shut. up. you are not!” carla beams.

amari and her husband nod with excitement in their eyes. they’d already privately decided that after this trip they’d be ready to welcome a bundle of joy. turns out said bundle was baking the whole time.

“yes, ma’am! we’re pregnant!” amari laughs joyfully.

carla wants to reach across the table and shake the woman with how excited she is. she doesn’t know what to do first, cry or scream or run outside to yell “finally!” even if it scares the people on the street. she’s going to be an auntie, and she’ll be spoiling this baby with all the love she can give.

well… as much as she can.

she and her husband look at each other with something in their eyes. “this is insane,” grisha chuckles in amazement. he nods his head at his wife in encouragement.

“what, what’s happening?” amari asks. she was expecting a big reaction, and although she can see the excitement in the other woman’s eyes, she’s surprised at how frozen they are. carla just purses her lips as she places her own gift bag on the table. she covers her mouth, speechless.

the two stare at each other.

“…you’re kidding,” amari mumbles, eyes widening. carla just shakes her head, tears building in her eyes.

after years of trying, an angel sent to heaven before they could bless the earth, and so much disappointment, carla is finally pregnant.

“we- we waited before saying anything. just to make sure nothing happened. but the baby is completely healthy and we’re so blessed,” carla sniffles. it was hard to keep the secret, but they just couldn’t take another round of what happened last time. bagging up all of the things they’d purchased in preparation, breaking the news to family and friends, dealing with a loss they’d prayed to never experience.

amari briskly stands and walks straight to her best friend. she takes the woman into her arms as her own eyes start to leak. “holy shit, carla. oh my God. I’m so happy for you, love.”

grisha and armond look at each other, communicating silently. the whole table is in shock, neither couple expecting the other’s news. there are blessings overflowing.

the two best friends are crying in each other arms, hug lovingly tight as they both absolutely ruin their makeup.

”I can’t believe it, mari,” carla sniffles. “I can’t believe it. we’re gonna be mommies.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” amari murmurs. little ony just won’t stop crying no matter how much she rocks him. he’s fed, changed, and just had his nap. she’s hoping nothing’s wrong with her baby boy, but her nerves are so frayed from the day.

her back hurts and her head is starting to show signs of an oncoming headache, but she perseveres. “c’mon, baby. what’s wrong?” she coos. “mommy’s right here. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

she jumps a bit when a hand starts to softly rub her back. she didn’t even hear her lover return home from work in all the noise and exhaustion, but as he pulls her into him, it soothes her in a way no one else can.

“I got it, sweetheart. why don’t you take a rest, hm?” armond asks tenderly. amari frowns with worry as she leans closer to her lover, her husband gently taking their son from her arms. she feels inadequate, like a bad mom. frustrated with her own incompetence, exhausted from the day and her sweet baby boy.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she murmurs. “I’ve done all the things, but he’s so upset and I don’t know why.”

armond places a sweet kiss to her forehead, then ony’s. “he’ll be just fine. you’ve done so good, you know that, right? you’re a great mommy, honey,” he mutters reassuringly. “lil man’s just fussy. go lay down and don’t get up until you feel rested. you let me know if you need anything and I’ll take care of it.”

amari sighs and rests her forehead on his shoulder for a moment. he’s her rock, her everything. she doesn’t know what she’d do without him. days like this, he’s like a cool breeze in the middle of june. “okay,” she answers softly. “I just- I wish I could calm him.”

“baby,” armond smiles down at his lover. reassuring, loving, soothing as always. “you gave birth to him. you take care of him. but you’re not doing this alone. I’m here for both of you. go rest up, mama.”

amari lets out a breath, shifting to rest her cheek against his bicep. her face is all cute squished against him like this, like a pouty little chipmunk. “I love you so much,” she says softly. armond hums as he presses another kiss to her forehead.

“I love you more than I can express. now go lay down, mister man done stressed my baby out.”

amari places a kiss to ony’s cheek, then her husband’s before heading up to their shared bedroom. she gets cozy on armond’s side of the bed to immerse herself in his scent, snuggling into the soft fabric. sleep immediately begins to welcome her after such a tough day, her body weak and mind tired.

before she dozes off completely, she hears ony’s cries start to subside in his father’s arms.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“alright, eren. if I have to change your diaper again, you’re sitting in the tub,” carla huffs as she sits with said boy in her lap. the boy, only seven months, just laughs and reaches for her hair.

amari snorts as she burps little onyankopon. “good luck with that. he’ll just be sittin’ and shittin’,” she chimes in. the little carla look alike is already showing signs of being more than a handful, but he’s just so cute and goofy and loveable that it almost excuses all of it.

ony’s a much more mild-tempered baby, though he does cry a lot. he’s a velcro baby through and through, always wanting to be in someone’s arms. all he has to do is pout his little lip and everyone in the room comes running with open arms. the two have adorable little personalities already and it’s hard to believe that they’re going to be watching two little humans that they birthed grow.

if carla and amari thought they were bonded before their little ones were born, they’re practically attached at the hip now. learning and experiencing motherhood together makes it just a bit easier to get through the tough moments, so they spend a lot of time together. it helps that they’re babies are only a couple months apart.

the two are sitting in amari’s living room with ms. rachel playing softly in the background. eren’s had his diaper changed for the nth time, and now he’s babbling nonsense as he reaches for his baby colleague. amari turns just slightly to where ony, currently on her shoulder, can see him.

“careful, baby,” carla mutters as eren tries to get closer. ony is staring wide eyed in wonder as carla’s mini-me reaches for him, grin on his face and babbles falling from his lips. ony lets out little sounds as he watches, a smile crawling across his chubby face. he squeals excitedly and starts to reach back.

“we made the cutest babies to ever live,” carla coos, eyes watering as she watches the two experience life through their little eyes. she’s so blessed to have her eren, so grateful that the two get to grow up together.

amari’s already imagined it all. they’re going to be close just like their moms are, always having a friend to lean on and have through life’s ups and downs. she’s excited to be able to have a front row seat for it all. “they’re literally gonna be best friends,” amari giggles.

“they have to be. that’s the only thing I’m forcing on this child,” carla snickers.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“eren, do not climb on that!” grisha scolds, lifting the young boy into his arms. the duo is waiting for armond and ony outside of the zoo and eren’s excitement for the day is high. so high that he needs an outlet now, and grisha can barely keep up. the little gremlin is always giving him a run for his money, and most times he can’t help his laughter.

he’s glad he brought the backpack leash, as embarrassing as it is.

eren starts to wriggle around in his father’s grip, tantrum imminent, but grisha can see armond walking up with ony in the distance. he sets his son down, maneuvering the backpack onto his body because he knows the little trickster will try to take off as soon as he sees his friend.

“you lockin’ lightning up?” armond calls out with a teasing grin, using the nickname he gave eren. they’re still a good few feet away and eren starts to pull against the backpack leash as he reaches for them. “set that lil man free!”

“can’t do that,” grisha chuckles as he watches his overexcited son. “not unless you want to chase after him all day. maybe say hi to the lion when he climbs the fence?” armond just snickers in response and pats the other man’s shoulder.

“rennie!” ony grins, barely being able to pronounce his r’s with his speech impediment. the two fathers watch as eren lets out some type of war cry before charging to hug ony tightly. with all of his energy, the brunette tries to lift the smaller boy in his arms. it’s a struggle because of his lack of strength.

“eren, be careful,” grisha chastises. him and carla are a bit overprotective as parents, especially after losing their first. it doesn’t help that eren’s got the energy of five kids. “did you even ask if you could do that?”

eren just pouts and hugs ony closer. as far as his little brain can comprehend, ony is his. if he wants to lift him, ony’ll let him. “my friend!” eren responds, tugging the other boy closer. ony smiles and throws an arm over eren’s shoulder. “best friend,” ony grins.

it’s adorable how close they are, precious even, but they need a bit of correction.

“I got it, grish,” armond chuckles, placing a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. it takes a village to raise a kid, and he never minds stepping in. “hey, boys, lemme talk to y’all real quick, yeah?”

the boys watch as armond crouches in front of them. “first, you have to be careful, okay? you don’t wanna get hurt or hurt someone else. I know you two are friends, the best of em all, but you still have to respect each other,” armond smiles warmly. “also, asking for consent is asking for permission. it’s very important because everyone can say ‘no.’ maybe they’re not feeling good and don’t wanna be touched. you guys understand that?”

he gets two cute little nods in return, eren pouting a bit because he feels like he’s in trouble. he just got excited, that’s all. little ony holds him tighter, hoping to hug his sadness away.

“hey, it’s okay, lightning. just be careful from now on,” armond ruffles the young boy’s hair. “just think of it this way: when you’re with someone you care about, they should get the most respect you can give ‘em. that means everything you do and say matters, even the smallest thing. it’s how you show you care and think about their feelings. you get me?”

the boys nod dramatically, always all ears when it comes to armond’s words of wisdom.

“good. gotta raise you boys right,” he grins. “now let’s go see some stinky animals.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“ony-ony!” eren gasps when he sees a car pull up into his family’s driveway. he’s been looking forward to having a playdate with his friend all week and he’s finally here! the little tike can’t help but giggle and bounce in excitement as he watches mrs. amari open the back door to her car.

carla smiles as she watches her son bounce around in excitement, the flopping of his hair a reminder that it’s definitely time for a haircut. she softly cards her hand through his strands and laughs to herself when he ducks her touch.

“mooom, stooop!” he whines. eren calls himself fixing his hair, his small hand ruffling the brown tresses, but it only looks worse. “ony-ony’s here! I get to show him my new toy, right? he’s spending the night, right?! how long is it gonna take them to walk to the door?” he rambles dramatically.

“relax, honey,” carla laughs. “they’ve got to get all of his stuff. and of course you can, you’ll have allll night to play together.”

she waits patiently as amari grabs ony’s bags, but she notices how her friend seems to be almost sullen. carla’s brows furrow momentarily, but she writes it off as the woman just being tired. she'd asked for ony to sleep over to “catch her breath,” so maybe she just needs some time.

the door opens when the two finally approach and both moms watch as eren almost jumps on little ony. he stops himself, always keeping armond’s words in mind, but ony grins brightly and opens his arms wide. eren grins and hugs his friend tight. “you’re finally here!” he cheers. squeezing his friend tight. ony laughs and hugs eren back just as tight. “hi, rennie, I missed you! hi, mrs. c!”

“awww, hi, ony,” carla smiles fondly as she watches the two. she can’t fight her motherly excitement, whipping her phone out and snapping picture after picture. “say cheese, you two!”

the two smile brightly, showing off their matching missing teeth. carla feels her heart squeeze at how adorable the two little best friends are, a reflection of her and her own best friend. ”so cute,” she coos as she looks at the photos. she’s definitely getting those blown up and framed.

carla hears a chuckle from below and looks down to see amari taking little ony’s shoes off. her curls are a bit flatter today, not as springy or vibrant, and it matches her weakened emotional state.

something’s definitely off with her friend, but she can tell amari’s putting on a brave face.

“hi, rennie. you lost a tooth too, huh?” amari smiles softly. usually, she’d be ruffling the kid’s frenzy of brown hair, maybe holding him upside down to make him laugh. her soft greeting doesn’t register as anything different to him in his exuberance. eren nods frantically, holding ony’s hand in his. “mhm! same tooth on the other side, see?” he smiles big and bright, and sure enough, both boys are missing their canines but on opposite sides.

she takes ony’s shoes and lines them up against the wall before patting her son’s head. “you two are so connected, hm? just precious. go on, I know y’all wanna play and talk about all the things,” she laughs. ony smiles up at his mom, rushing forward to give her a really tight squeeze. tighter than normal.

eren beams at his friend. “come on, I wanna show you my new stuff!” before ony can respond, he’s being dragged away by his unruly-haired best friend.

“be careful!” carla calls after the two. it’s mainly towards the overexcited eren because she knows how her son can rope the other little boy into doing just about anything. a sigh from her side catches her attention, and she looks over to amari. the woman is watching the two boys with a certain look in her eyes that carla’s never seen before.

“hey,” she nudges the other woman softly. “what’s going on with you? your sunshine’s dimmer today.”

amari’s not going to cry. she’s tired of crying. but, of course, there’s no end to the tears. she’ll have to deliver the news once again, deal with the way just thinking about it makes her throat clog with poorly restrained sorrow.

“I have… somethin’ to tell you,” she murmurs. carla’s eyebrows furrow in response as her gut fills with a tell-tale intuitive dread. something’s really wrong. she quickly wraps her arm around amari’s shoulders and pulls her close. with that, the two travel to the kitchen together and begin to talk in hushed voices.

the boys are in their own world.

eren is ranting and raving about all of his new toys, informing his friend of his updated rankings. his dinosaur that’s held the top spot has officially been bumped down after months. it’s being replaced by what he considers to be top notch gifts. ony’s watching, as always, and ‘wow!’-ing at all of the cool features of eren’s new number one toy.

“I don’t know what to do, carla,” amari mutters. she watches her son play with her best friend’s boy. the two are laughing blissfully, unaware of the trials and tribulations of life, and amari so wishes that they could stay that way. “we… we’re supposed to have a whole life together, maybe even have another kid. we worked so hard for this family, you know? I’m glad they caught it early, but it’s still so scary. I just have a bad feelin’.”

carla sighs and rubs her friend’s back. she’s never seen the woman so crestfallen. amari and her husband really have worked through so much just to have the happy family they’ve built, and his diagnosis is a huge shock to everyone. they were just planning their first family vacation since they had their little one, an amazing first adventure for him, but everything is scrapped now that they have to think about treatment.

“I know,” carla says softly, her heart hurting with the situation at hand. “I know, mari. I’m so sorry. I wish there was more I could say. you know I’m going to support you both every step of the way.”

amari let’s out a sigh, feeling another tiresome bout of emotions start to rise. she’s cried so much, she didn’t even realize she had any tears left. she keeps thinking about losing her lover, her baby boy losing his father, and it just breaks her heart. she’s grateful for her best friend being there through all of it.

on the other side of the room, ony and eren are now playing their favorite game of cars. ony has a mini car in his favorite color green and eren’s all a buzz about his new fire red one.

the young brunette is once again showing ony the car from all angles, looking excitedly at all the cool designs painted on the sides. he doesn’t notice how little ony’s eyes flicker to his mom’s frame, how his shoulders start to drop, and he doesn’t immediately notice when ony’s usually devout attention redirects to his toy car that he’s slowly rolling back and forth.

ony’s distracted demeanor eventually makes eren scrunch his nose up. it’s a new toy with cool colors and he was excited to show his friend and maybe even let the other boy play with it. but then he follows his gaze and… he understands.

“your mommy’s crying,” eren mumbles. it’s not something either of the boys are used to seeing. amari shines like the sun, bringing light wherever she goes, but her sadness has created a dull overcast now covering the entirety of the home.

ony’s not sure what’s happened in the past week, but even his young self can pick up on the fact that something’s wrong. the house feels quieter. no singing from his parents around breakfast time, no music playing when it’s time to clean… just sullen smiles and lots of really tight hugs. he won’t tell, but he’s heard crying too.

little ony looks back down to his toy car. if he were a puppy, his ears would be down and tail motionless. “somethin’s wrong,” he murmurs.

eren looks at his friend, emerald eyes taking in the furrowed look on his face. he doesn’t like it. not at all. “hey,” he pokes at the young boy’s greased up knees. “I don’ like when you’re sad,” he says. “feel better.”

ony’s lower lip pouts. “don’t know how to feel better if I dunno what’s wrong,” he mumbles, sadly rolling his car back and forth.

ugh, eren really doesn’t like this. he doesn’t like seeing his friend sad, and he doesn’t like how his friend’s sadness makes him sad. eren frowns, eyebrows furrowed and lip pouting. “you’re my friend. I want you to feel better, so I wanna help. can I?”

ony smiles a bit at his friend’s determination. he can always count on his rennie.

“yeah, rennie. you can,” he murmurs.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I got it, momma,” ony mumbles, taking the bags from her hands. she’d gone grocery shopping earlier that day, wanting– no, needing fresh air. life is trying to choke her fire out, it seems, but she perseveres.

or compartmentalizes.

“thank you, baby. didn’t think you’d be home. why don’t you spend some time with rennie? it’s saturday,” amari says tiredly. ony shakes his head and swats her hand away when she goes to reach for more bags.

“I got it , momma,” he smiles. it’s a tense smile, the one he gives when he doesn’t want to add onto her long list of burdens. he’s training himself to never be on that list, no matter what. she already has too much to carry. “wanted to keep an eye on dad. he’s… having a tough day.”

amari’s eyes close briefly at that. tough days are starting to increase in number and she’s barely catching her breath. she’s trying to hold it together. for armond, for ony, for herself. “nausea?” she asks softly.

“and neuropathy,” ony says quietly. armond tries to hide it, but he’s struggling. the nerves in his hands and feet ache from the chemo and he’s getting more nauseous and lightheaded the further he gets into his treatment. it hurts to watch.

the sigh amari lets out is heavy with exhaustion.

“go rest, ma,” ony says carefully. he hates when her shoulders fall like that, weighed down by the world. if he could carry it all just to see his mom smile, he would. “I know you exhausted. just take the day.”

“I can’t let you do that, ony,” amari smiles weakly. “let me handle it, okay? momma’s got it.” she starts to head inside as she mentally encourages herself.

ony bites his tongue, but only for a moment. he simply can’t watch his mom try to carry everything anymore. he can’t. he has to step up. “momma,” he calls after her, voice firm. “let me. I know, okay? you wanna protect me. but I wanna protect you just as much.”

amari turns to look at her son, seeing the look in his eyes. she knows. she understands. and as much as she doesn’t want to burden her son with anything a child shouldn’t be burdened with, she really needs this day.

“you’re so much like your father,” she says, voice tinted with pride but also pain. stubborn, caring, protective, always wanting to take care of things. she sees so much of her lover in their son, and she’s grateful, even if it hurts sometimes.

she reaches to caress her son’s cheek. he’s so tall for his age, just like his dad, and it won’t be long before he surpasses his mother. ony leans into her touch.

“we’re gonna get through this, okay?” she murmurs tenderly. “it’s hard, and there’s not much I can say to make it better. but I love you, onyankopon, and we’re gonna get through this.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

it’s a sunny day in the city of trost, a beautiful saturday morning. the spring air is fresh and rejuvenating for those out and about and many are thinking and planning a way to enjoy such a lovely day.

it’s a cruel twist of fate, the town buzzing and happy on the day ony lays his father to rest.

he wishes the sky would cry like he is, how his mom does every night and morning. he wishes the weather would reflect the storm he’s feeling inside. he wishes the clouds were overflowing like he is.

eren and his mother spent the night beforehand spending time with their respective friends. carla held amari as she cried rivers of sorrow and eren let ony rest his head on his shoulder as the younger boy struggled with the weight of both his and his mom’s hurt. it was a hard night. much like the years, months, weeks spent watching his father wither away. much like the day his father joined the ancestors.

“you gotta get up, ony,” eren mumbles. it hurts to watch his friend like this, but he has no intentions of looking away. he’ll be there for him in his need, searching for any way possible to soothe him.

“I can’t,” ony forces out. his throat is rough, his eyes are swollen, and his heart is heavy. he can’t do this day and he doesn’t want to. he can’t listen to his mom cry anymore as the pain of her sobs could bring him to his knees. he feels weak. physically, mentally, emotionally.

this whole process has changed ony’s life. his entire experience of this world is now tainted with grief. he’s had to deal with his own but also his mother’s who can barely find the strength to stand. he wants to carry them both, but he doesn’t even know how to keep from drowning in his own hurt.

eren’s eyes close as his heart aches for his friend. he’s tasted a loss that eren can’t relate to. they’re both so young and eren doesn’t feel like he can offer what ony really needs right now. he wants to do more, needs to be the friend that’s needed right now, but he doesn’t know how. he doesn’t know what to say or do.

“I’m… I’m gonna go get my mom. she can help,” eren chokes out. he can’t sit here and watch the younger boy suffer without knowing how to support him. he feels useless just standing by the bed, watching as ony sinks into the painful comfort of his depression. he turns to leave the room, only to feel a tight grip on his wrist.

ony’s feeling too many things all at once, and he can’t bring himself to fall apart in front of anyone other than eren. the brunette never presses him, never looks at him with pity in his eyes. he doesn’t want to bother his mom, doesn’t want her to use what’s left of her strength to lift him up. just eren’s presence is enough to keep him from succumbing to the impossible weight holding him down. he needs him to be by his side today, no one but him.

“I need you, ren,” ony murmurs. it’s raw and vulnerable and although eren can’t see the boy’s face, he knows he’s crying again. ony sniffles before speaking again, his words hitting eren right in his chest. “I can’t– I just… I need you. just you.”

eren maneuvers ony’s hand into his own, giving it a meaningful squeeze. those words fill him with a strength he didn’t know he had. ony’s asking. asking for him, for his comfort, for his presence. like hell he’s leaving now, not when ony needs him like he does.

“I’m here. I’ll always be here,” eren replies with renewed conviction. “scoot over.”

ony looks up, half of his face covered by his arm. his eyes are tired and red, so puffy from the oceans of tears that have escaped his honey-colored eyes. “huh?” he rasps.

“scoot over,” eren mumbles again. less confident, but still intent. “I just wanna… can I… hold you?”

ony doesn’t say anything, but his heart beats faster. he wordlessly scoots over to make room for his friend. his best friend. eren crawls in beside him, hesitant at first, but soon his arm loops around ony and pulls him close.

they stay there for a while, ony crying and holding onto eren tightly. they stay there until they have no choice but to get ready for the day ahead. but just like he promised, eren stays by ony’s side all day.

and every day after.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

”you thinkin’ too hard,” ony murmurs quietly, breaking the silence between the two. the best friends are sitting in ony’s living room, absentmindedly watching an old re-run of ‘living single.’. he nudges eren with his knee. his touch is familiar and welcome by the brunette, even if not expressed.

ony’s holding his baby sister close to his heart, responsible for watching her while amari makes a quick run. his thoughts are on his silent and broody friend, but his eyes are on maya. he’s making sure that if she so much as coughs, he can react in a couple of seconds flat. she’s using her inhuman baby strength to grip his shirt tight and she’s having the time of her life as she chews on her teething ring. ony couldn’t be more content.

except for the obvious dark cloud over his friend’s head.

eren scoffs quietly and rolls his eyes. he’s always thinking too hard, it’s nothing new. there’s always something tinkering up there, it’s why he’s always moving somehow. a shaking leg, a fiddling hand, a pen twirled between usually charcoal-stained fingers. it’s a habit he’s always had and something he can’t seem to control. or care to control.

the tan boy lazily rubs a hand over his short brown hair, ruffling it in a way his mother wouldn’t approve of. had she seen him, she’d be fussing and reaching for the growing boy’s mop of strands with a pair of scissors.

“yeah, well,” he starts, leaning back on the park bench. “I’m flunking english. I gotta cram a semester’s worth of shit for a retest or my mom’s gonna kill me.” he’s stressed, but it’s not an unfamiliar predicament. he’s been in this position many times before, and he hopes he can get by with the skin of his teeth to just graduate and be done with it.

ony sighs, eyes closing just for a moment to calm his nerves. he should’ve known.

soon, his eyes are back on maya. “told yo’ as–... told you to ask armin to help you study for that exam. you know you don’t do tests, e,” he sighs. the older boy’s pride is always keeping him from asking for help and it always takes the same expected turn.

ony’s just trying to help, but he hit a sore spot. eren’s face scrunches much too quickly, overly reactive as per usual. what he heard was: ”you’re stupid, ask your genius adopted brother.” not even close to what was said, but eren absolutely hates feeling stupid, and the mention of armin is an instant trigger in that regard.

“why does everyone think I’m incapable? that genius little fuck—“

“—watch your mouth, maya’s right here—“

“—that little twink—“

“—that ain’t much better?—”

“—armin isn’t the solution to all life’s problems. I can figure it out,” eren finally spits out.

ony’s not surprised, but it does make him realize the insensitive nature of his delivery.

armin’s definitely a genius, there’s no doubt about it. he’s skipped a grade, is in those college prep classes, and he speaks three languages. he’s student body president, president of the debate club, and already has three college acceptances.

eren’s been lucky to even pass to the grade he’s in now.

he’s not stupid, he just learns differently. apparently a way that no one cares to teach. his mom used to struggle teaching him his letters and numbers because they’d just get jumbled in his head. he’s had tutors since he was young, but all of them have been the most condescending, impatient, and compassionless people he’s ever had to deal with.

grisha’s salary has them both in one of the most prestigious schools in the city, so naturally, the comparisons are many.

it grates eren’s nerves.

he’d never hate the blonde. no, they’ve bonded way too much at this point. but he resents him to a degree. report card day, end of the year awards ceremony, test scores… it’s all drowned by a feeling of just not being good enough. armin always brings home a stunning report, always has a list of awards and recognitions. and eren…

well, eren’s passing. it’s an accomplishment that’s celebrated because his parents really are proud of him, cheering him on all the same. but standing next to armin in that moment just makes him feel small.

so no, eren’s not asking the cabbage patch kid for help.

ony’s silent for a moment. he knows what eren’s going through, he’s heard him talk about it time and time again. he was there when eren was first excited for a little brother, the thought of the boy’s parents adopting after being unable to have another kid something to look forward to.

he was there when eren first started talking about armin. how the blonde was really shy but warmed up when eren decided to be a good big brother and show him all his video games. the two bonded like they’d always been together, and ony had to shake off the ridiculous trickles of jealousy.

he was there when the admiration turned to acknowledgement. eren went from singing armin’s praises to saying how he felt dumb talking to him.

and he was there when the acknowledgement turned to comparison.

“can I?” he asks quietly, turning to hold eren’s emerald gaze. it’s unfamiliar for the current circumstance. ony keeps his eyes on his sister always, serious about his responsibility of watching over her when their parents are gone since she’s so young and close to his heart.

but now, he’s looking at eren with something in his eyes that he doesn’t see from many.

understanding.

his eyes are on eren. the boy who’s usually in his little brother’s shadow, the boy usually at the back of the line. he sees him, he understands him, and he doesn’t pity him. eren’s eyebrow raises and his stomach does something funny.

“can you what?” the brunette asks. ony tilts his head.

“can I tutor you? for your retest?”

eren blinks. ony watches him.

ony’s not at the top of the class, but he’s not far from it. the only reason he’s able to go to such an expensive school is because he’s on an academic scholarship. with his dad passing, he wanted to become the “man of the house,” but his mom quickly encouraged he let go of the notion. he wanted to make up for their loss, help carry her as she takes care of him. she told him his responsibility was to be a kid and focus on school.

so that’s what he focused on. he focused so well that he’s in this fancy ass school with all of these palm colored people, eating lunches that could quite frankly use a lot more salt to sound so complicated. he’s always been stubborn, so it didn’t take him long to start stepping up in the house too.

now his mom has a new job and fell in love again, like she promised her late husband she would. she’s married to mario now, a guy that’s actually pretty decent and a great father figure. the house is more alive now and he has a new responsibility of watching over his lovely little sister, who he’d do anything for.

they’re not rich, but they’re not struggling. now he sees that he can kind of just… do whatever, if he keeps going. nothing calls to him as a purpose quite yet, aside from wanting to be a good man like his father was. to make him proud and take care of those close to him.

he knows how to study, different techniques for remembering things, different ways of understanding the same thing. he could tutor anyone, really. but for eren… it’s a sensitive topic. the brunette gets embarrassed by the way he struggles with certain problems, gets frustrated at his own inability to learn the same as everyone else.

ony knows that.

“…you’d do that?” eren asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I’d do whatever for you,” ony mumbles. his eyes hold nothing but sincerity, the years together solidifying their bond like no other. eren’s been there for him through all of life’s toughest moments, the happiest too. he’s been his shoulder to cry on, one of the first people ony delivers good news to, and the younger boy will never forget that. he’ll always show how much he cares for his friend.

he turns to face forward again, letting maya’s little hand wrap around his finger.. “you know I’d do whatever for you,” he adds for good measure.

eren does know that. he’s known that for a long time.

he’s known it since ony’s been there for every rant, listening to all the words eren usually keeps to himself. he’s known it since the first time ony told him that he understood, the sincerity in his eyes then never changing over the years they’ve known each other. he’s known that through every hardship that the two have faced, every celebration and milestone, always together and leaning on each other.

he’s never felt more heard and seen than the moments he’s sat at the other young man’s side. he’s never remembered a time when that wasn’t his reality, doesn’t remember a life without their friendship.

“…yeah, okay. you can,” eren answers quietly.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

there’s confetti everywhere, stray graduation caps scattered across the football field as cheers ring from all over. people are searching for their families and friends in the crowd, tears and bright smiles on their faces.

ony feels his lungs fill with fresh air, feeling so light after years of hard work. it’s hard to believe, but he’s grateful for it. he hopes his mom is proud, though he’s sure she’s probably cried enough to fill a lake today. he hopes the sun’s increased brightness is due to his father’s pride. he hopes that he can keep going, that this isn’t all he can accomplish.

he tries to focus on the win, not the fear of the unknown trying to crawl into his skin.

two hands clasp onto ony shoulders, giving them a warm squeeze. “can you believe we actually did it?” eren grins. he’s more than glad to be free from the hell of high school, and he’s so damn excited that he got accepted into his dream art school. “come on, we gotta find our moms before they cry their eyes out or something.”

eren tries to pull ony away, but ony doesn’t budge. eren finds himself being tugged into his strong grip. ony’s hand presses against the older boy’s back as he holds him close, other hand cupping the back of his neck.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, eren,” he murmurs into the boy’s shoulder, who blinks in surprise. “of us. there’s no guarantees in life, but we did it. through everything, we did that shit.”

eren can’t help but melt a little at that. he’s right. in all the excitement and eren’s desire to just go home after this early ass graduation, he hadn’t taken the time to just… be proud and grateful.

eren wraps his arms around ony’s torso and squeezes him tight just like he always has. he’d try to lift his friend, but the boy’s solid muscle and probably wouldn’t even budge.

“I’m proud of you, too,” eren mumbles. “armond would be so proud of who you’re becoming. I know you’re gonna figure out what you wanna be, ony-ony. trust that.”

ony laughs at the old nickname, patting eren on the back before pulling away. the two look at each other, emerald and honey eyes meeting intimately.

eren clears his throat and looks away. “we should go, yeah? I’m hungry as fuck. stomach’s about to be touching my back.”

ony smiles fondly. “yeah. just… before we go,” he murmurs. “you goin’ to school miles away, chasing your dreams. ren, you’re gonna do big things. that art of yours is meaningful and it makes people feel and see you the way I do. I’ll always support you. just don’t forget about me, aight?”

eren rolls his eyes. ony’s been stuck to him like glue since birth almost. there’s no future in his eyes without ony. “I’d never. shit’s not even possible,” he shakes his head. “now come on. I want some of your ma’s mac n’ cheese.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

eren and his brother stand on the outskirts of their parent’s backyard. the space is abuzz with guests for their fourth of july celebration, streamers and fireworks that they know they’ll have to clean later strewn about. eren’s itching to sneak away to smoke a quick joint, maybe get his brother to take a hit or two for the vibes, but he’s on the lookout for a familiar face that he hasn’t seen in person for a while.

his best friend, his partner in crime, the man that stayed in town while eren went to a distant college in a distant city. the brunette’s been pursuing an art degree, using his privilege from his dad’s occupation to pursue the one thing that quiets his brain, but ony stayed in town to be close to his family and try to figure out what he wants out of life.

they haven’t lost contact, of course. they’re best friends. the two have stayed connected through facetimes and text messages, but eren still really misses him.

maybe more than he should.

this’ll be their first time seeing each other since last summer because eren stayed an extra few weeks away for an internship. he worked through all of his breaks to finish up his projects, always getting lost in the art of expression. he’s gained great opportunities working with and learning from the best, even as a rising junior. he’s passionate, chasing his dream of creating and expressing himself in a way that people can actually understand and connect with.

for what feels like the first time, eren is excelling in school.

but he missed his family, and that includes ony.

there’s an outbreak of obnoxious laughter from mario as he and grisha play some kind of game, the tall man always too loud when the drinks get flowing. eren actually likes him, but damn is he noisy. it makes him reach to check for the plastic tube and lighter in his pocket, wanting to make sure he has everything he needs before he slips away.

he stops in his tracks when he sees his best friend enter the backyard through the gate.

he looks straight out of a movie, really. eren’s phone screen didn’t do him justice. his hair is freshly cut, line-up impeccable and waves able to drown whoever looks too closely. his dark skin is glistening as the sun sets, cut off sleeves revealing muscular arms with new tattoos all healed up. eren feels a funny feeling tingle in his stomach when he sees just how ripped ony’s gotten, how his smile shines much like his mothers, how he’s grown.

but then his stomach drops.

“...who the fuck is that?” eren grumbles. his voice has way too much bite and his eye is threatening to start twitching from overstimulation and irritation.

armin looks up from his phone, pushing at his face out of habit of wearing glasses. contacts. right. “who’s wh– oh. oh. you… didn’t know?”

there, in all his glory, is ony walking hand-in-hand with someone.

a guy.

a guy eren’s never seen or heard of before.

he’s short, close to armin’s height, and most likely mixed with his light skin and curly hair. he’s thin, clad in some jean shorts and a tank top. eren can’t make out much of his features from the distance, but it doesn’t matter. he’s not unattractive by any means, but anyone pales in comparison to ony.

“didn’t know?” eren asks, eyes flickering to the blonde. “you did?”

armin’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to answer. his eyes flick over to jeremy, introduced to him at the beginning of summer. the young man follows behind ony as he greets people, smiling at some with familiarity and others with a soft shyness as he’s introduced. loose curls blow in the wind, dimples are revealed when he smiles a certain way, and eren wants to vomit.

there’s no way this is happening. first off, if ony was dating anyone, eren would and should be the first to know as his best friend. the two have been friends since diapers and have shared every secret, every life event, every frustration since the dawn of damn time. second off, a guy? ony’s never said anything about being gay. and again, if he were to come out to anyone first, it should be eren.

there’s a mysterious third thing ringing in the back of his head that he doesn’t acknowledge.

does ony not… lean on him anymore? do they not share that protective bubble anymore? what happened to talking about everything? being each other’s go to person? seems like eren’s the one being left behind. he’s never feared losing ony because he never thought he’d have to. he thought they’d always be side by side.

no, eren doesn’t like this. he doesn’t like how he can feel his whole world tilting. eren’s in shambles. spiraling. at a fourth of july party in his parent’s backyard.

“is this drink spiked or something?” he mumbles, even glancing down to his glass almost dramatically as he tries to come to terms with what he’s seeing and hearing and feeling. he just feels off and out of place, almost like he’s wearing two left shoes. he can’t make sense of it.

armin quickly tries to do damage control, knowing that eren’s mind is coming up with a whirlwind of thoughts that are more than likely moving way too damn fast. “um, maybe he jus–”

“what’s his name?” eren mumbles. his eyes are still on the stranger, but his usually vibrant irises are darkening with each thought. he’s picking him apart from afar.

“it’s jeremy, but–”

eren scoffs. “fuck ass name. what do you know about him?” it’s not like the boy has any control over his given name, and eren hasn’t even met him to form a true opinion about him. his hurt is clouding his judgement, not thinking clearly with such a sudden change in his life.

“well…” armin starts hesitantly. “ony introduced us when I got back. he didn’t say much, just introduced him as his boyfriend and left it at that.” it was weird at the time, side eyes all around on that day. no judgement for him being with another guy, but everyone had kind of grown to think that other guy would be eren.

“boyfriend?” eren asks, head snapping to look back at his brother. a few others close by look over at his volume as armin tries to shush him discreetly. “there’s no way in hell. how the fuck did he not tell me?”

“eren alexander,” he hears from his side. he frowns and turns to fuss, but the look in his mom’s eyes stops him. carla can send the fear of God through the boy with a simple look, and he’s feeling pretty fearful right now, despite his frustration.

she’d been walking over to give the two young men some popsicles from the secret stash she keeps hidden (eren will blow through the whole bag in a week if she didn’t) and overheard the conversation. even if she knows the depth of eren’s feelings better than he understands himself, she won’t let eren cause a scene in front of everyone, especially grisha’s colleagues. lord knows she’s been just barely dealing with their spouses.

“go cool down and take some breaths,” she states, holding the sweet treat out to him. she’s still got that look in her eyes, the one she passed down to eren, but hers is a lot more bone-chilling.

“but he didn’t tell me,” he presses, his eyebrows furrowed. he’s hurt, and it’s plain to see all in his eyes. they always tell the story of what he’s feeling, and right now? he’s struggling. blindsided by the one person he trusts with all of him.

carla softens at that. she knows why he’s hurting, even if he doesn’t realize the root of his own pain. if she’d had her way, she would’ve sat the boy down to have a conversation about ony a long time ago, but grisha warned against it. ”he’s stubborn, you know that. there are some things he needs to figure out on his own,” he said. and he’s right to a point.

she just hates to watch her son struggle through something he’s feeling so deeply.

“I know, ren,” she murmurs softly. “just… go sit, okay? don’t jump to conclusions. you can talk things out with a clear head.”

eren sighs and closes his eyes momentarily. it’s not that big of a deal, is it?

it is. but whatever. he’ll shove his feelings down since they’re too much for everyone else.

he grabs the popsicle and walks away, leaving his mom and brother to exchange glances. he can almost feel the metaphorical cloud gathering above his head as he makes his way to his secret spot in his mom’s garden. instead of sitting on the bench, he sits on the ground behind it, his hand instinctively reaching for the lighter and tube in his pocket.

his eyebrows are furrowed as he pulls the pre-rolled joint out. his mind is racing, racing, racing as he places it between his lips and lights it. he just can’t help but wonder what he did wrong.

the two have talked often but ony never mentioned any of this. he feels like the rug has been ripped from underneath him and his chest feels hollow. why the hell didn’t he say anything? and why the hell are eren’s hands shaking?

he’s supposed to be calming down. he’s supposed to be taking breaths like his mom said. the popsicle in his hand is melting as he takes hit after hit, mind whirling and coming up with scenario after scenario. he inhales quickly when he burns his finger, not even realizing that he’d been sitting so long that he smoked up his joint.

“shit,” he murmurs, quickly putting it out on the stone bench behind him. he forces himself to take a breath, trying to get his mind to center and stop running like crazy. he’s so distracted that he can’t hear the approaching footsteps.

ony’s quiet as he walks up. he dreads the coming conversation and the guilt that’s already bubbled up in his chest.

honestly, he didn’t think eren would be here since he’s always postponing coming home. eren’s been… busy. busy losing himself in his work, chasing his passions, and essentially leaving ony behind. he’s got his own life and future bright ahead of him and ony truly believes that one day, he won’t be standing by his side anymore.

he feels forgotten.

because unlike eren, ony just can’t seem to find his passion, his purpose. he’s going to a local university, spending time with his family, working part time as a security guard. he feels distant from everyone else, all his friends going after what they want in life. he pales in comparison.

that’s when jeremy entered the situation.

they bonded quickly, bumping into each other at a restaurant. ony had almost knocked the poor boy down and was more than apologetic for it. a couple of drinks in, jeremy used his temporary confidence to tell the taller gentleman to make it up to him with dinner. and he did.

ever the one to please, jeremy repaid him that night with his tongue, his touch, and his attention.

ony had tasted the experience of being with a woman before and enjoyed it thoroughly, but because of a pull to a certain brunette, he was always cognizant of the fact that he could be bi. that night confirmed it for him.

things continued to grow between the two. ony figured that with eren continuing to focus elsewhere, maybe this is where he’s meant to be. eren will do great things, just as ony always expected, and ony’s journey will take him down a separate path. he’d save himself the trouble of expecting anything different, shove that tug in his gut away, and continue to figure life out for himself.

“hey, e,” ony greets lowly. instead of sitting next to the artist on the ground, he sits on the bench behind him. he wouldn’t want to risk getting caught in the storm brewing in the brunette. it’s a bad choice. if anyone knows eren’s habit of taking even the slightest thing personally, it’s ony. because of course he takes notice of the empty spot next to him. it’s like salt in the wound.

“boyfriend, huh?” eren mumbles. his original excitement to see his favorite person has been replaced with hurt feelings, so fuck a greeting. “you never mentioned him.”

ony sighs in response. he hadn’t meant to blindside him, not at all. it’s a strange topic to approach considering his own complex feelings about the situation. he wonders what exactly has eren so upset. is it just that they hadn’t discussed it or is it maybe something more? he won’t make assumptions, no matter how deep the desire.

he tries to smooth it over with humor. if he can get the brunette to laugh, that’s all he needs.

“figured you wouldn’t care too much about my shit, mr. picasso,” he murmurs, reaching over to flick a tuft of brown hair. the look eren throws over his shoulder makes him feel dumb as shit, but he’s surprised when eren simply turns around to face forward again and mumbles a “whatever.”

ony doesn’t like that. at all.

in all their years, he’s never been brushed off by the brunette. if he’s angry, he’ll fuss. if he’s sad, he’ll cry. eren’s no stranger to shoving his feelings down, but not with ony. never with ony.

the dark skinned man fears he may have taken a fatal step. something in his gut sinks, screaming that he made a wrong turn that’ll cost him. he watches eren for a moment, almost frozen.

”when you’re with someone you care about, they should get the most respect you can give ‘em. that means everything you do and say matters, even the smallest thing.”

he feels like there’s something unspoken. eren’s not just upset about not being told. sure, they tell each other everything, but the hurt seems deeper. had he known his avoidance would come back to bite him in the ass, he would’ve forced himself to have the courage to communicate. “don’t be like that, e. I’m sorry,” he murmurs. really, he is.

eren can’t exactly put this betrayal into words. he can’t explain why he feels sick to his stomach about this whole ordeal. so his best friend is dating someone and didn’t tell him. what’s the big issue? he doesn’t have the bandwidth to figure this out right now. he just wants to be left alone.

“nah, it’s whatever. we can’t be up each other’s asses 24/7, I guess. happy for you,” eren shrugs. eren is indeed not happy, but he’ll say what he needs to in order to get ony out of his face. he needs to process. his fingers itch for some charcoal and a canvas.

he can’t explain to ony why his heart feels so heavy, and for the first time, he doesn’t want to.

“eren,” ony presses. he can tell the artist is shoving his feelings down, shutting ony out like never before. it’s unfamiliar and sickening in a way ony just can’t deal with. “just talk to me. I’ll listen, you know that. tell me I fucked up. tell me you’re mad. tell me what’s wrong.”

deep down, eren wants to talk. he wants to yell and scream and figure out why the hell his heart is wrenching in his chest. he wants to push ony away but also pull him closer. he wants war, but also solitude, but also a hug that squeezes his pain away. he wants to ask ony so many questions.

but the distant look in eren’s eye proves that the door to his heart and mind is shutting. whatever battle he’s fighting, he’s fighting on his own. there’s a wall building between the two that’s never been there, and it feels heavier than anyone can bear. ony can’t lift it on his own, and eren refuses to open up.

“it doesn’t matter, ony. you’re happy. you don’t need me anymore,” eren mumbles. it makes ony tense.

“what? no. I do need you. I always have and always will,” he presses. “I ain’t tell you. I’m sorry. you’ve just– you’re focused, e. you out living yo’ life, and I’m proud of that. I just… I have to figure things out for myself. that’s it.”

eren’s eyebrows furrow as he turns to look at his friend. “I’ve told you about every art piece, every showing. just because I’m focused, doesn’t mean I don’t wanna live life with you in it. I’ve invited you to come, or did you forget about that? what, did fuck-ass jeremy not wanna come?”

“don’t do that,” ony shakes his head. he wanted to go, he did. but between work and babysitting maya and school and the ever-living comparisons ony puts himself through, he couldn’t. it was never jeremy. “don’t disrespect my boy like that.”

“your boy?” eren laughs humorlessly, shoving up off of the ground. “yeah, this is bullshit. I’m going inside.”

“what’s yo’ problem, man?” ony fusses, standing himself. “I get it, I should’ve told you. but you’re acting like I—“

“just forget about it!” eren yells. he can’t deal with this. he can’t even understand for himself, let alone explain it to someone else. especially the person he feels betrayed by. “go to your boy. I don’t give a shit anymore. he can have you.”

he doesn’t think, the words just slip, much like the way he can feel eren slipping away. the fear, the feelings of not being enough, it’s all coming tumbling out in the worst way and to the one person he never wants to hurt.

“have me? like I was ever yours in the first place?”

eren freezes.

wow. wow, is all eren can think. he feels twisted up, discarded, left out to dry. there’s a hole building in his chest that makes him want to cry and scream. he was hurting before, but now it’s just too much. those words were too much.

“fuck you, onyankopon,” eren spits. he feels an arm wrapping around him, the scent of his mom’s perfume wafting through his nose as she tries to calm him. he doesn’t know when she got there, but he doesn’t care.

“so much for being forgotten, huh?” the brunette forces the words out with all of him, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. “fuck this. I wish you the best, ony. I’ll just excuse myself since it ain’t with me.”

carla tries to stop him, pleading with him to just take a breath and relax, think about what he’s saying. it’s all muffled in his ear as he storms away.

ony wants to chase after him. scream and say he was wrong, fuck jeremy if it means no eren, no sunshine from the passion that pours out of the boy like no one he’s ever seen. but he remembers that this was always going to happen. maybe not like this, but somehow.

eren’s meant to do more than ony could ever dream of. he was always going to leave. the dark skinned man never thought it’d be his own fault, but he figures the ending would’ve never changed.

so he lets him leave.

there was a shift that day between the two friends. what was once an uninhibited and safe connection slowly became an unbridgeable gap. words unspoken, emotions no longer shared, touch a distant memory.

you can have my heart and soul,

but only if you never leave.

the story of the sun and moon,

separated before the stars came to be.

a/n: me vs wanting to turn every idea into a chapter fic. I love writing with detail out the ass, wanted this to be like 20k. how we feelin’ chat? yay or nay? feedback welcome!

wanted to release everything at one time but it's just too much goin on. I’m swamped but the full shebang is still coming.

my updates are slow, no lie. but! taglist is open <3

taglist: @empressdede

[marksbear2]

Could we get a Peter Parker (Tom holland) x mentor reader? The reader is already an experienced hero and he’s taking care of Peter new injuries and giving him advice.

Peter Parker x Mentor male reader

Tom holland is my favorite Spider-Man so I loved writing this. I also added a title a friend of mine recommended it.

⚠️Warnings — Father figure reader, stitches, patching up, lecturing, canon Peter Parker, mentions of pain and etc.⚠️

Stitches and Lessons

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above, casting a cold, sterile glow over the cluttered room. Peter Parker sat on the edge of the worn-out couch, his Spider-Man suit peeled down to his waist, revealing a web of fresh cuts and bruises across his torso. He winced as you dabbed at a particularly nasty gash on his shoulder with antiseptic.

"Ow, ow, ow! Could you, like, *not* dig into my soul with that cotton swab?" Peter whined, squirming under your grip.

"Stay still," you said firmly, your voice calm but commanding. You didn't flinch as you pressed the swab deeper into the wound. "If you’d actually dodged instead of playing hero with your face, we wouldn’t be here right now."

Peter huffed, crossing his arms but obediently staying still. "I did dodge! Mostly. I mean, you try avoiding all those guys when their charging at you like a truck with legs."

"That's the point, kid," you said, setting the swab aside and reaching for the needle and thread. "The bad guys you’re fighting are brute. Their predictable. He charges, you move. You don’t have to be faster; you just have to be smarter."

Peter watched as you threaded the needle with practiced ease. His usually chatty demeanor gave way to a rare moment of quiet. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple," you replied, though your tone softened. "What’s not simple is you thinking you have to take every hit for everyone else. That’s not how this works, Peter."

You started stitching the gash, your hands steady despite Peter’s occasional flinches. He bit down on his lip, suppressing another yelp. "I can't just let people get hurt," he said after a moment. "Isn’t that the whole point? 'With great power...' and all that?"

You paused, needle hovering mid-air, and looked him in the eye. "That quote doesn’t mean you have to destroy yourself to save everyone else. Great power, great responsibility—it means knowing your limits. Knowing when to fight and when to step back. You’re no good to anyone if you’re out of commission because you thought you could take on everything by yourself."

Peter's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, but... what if stepping back means someone gets hurt? What if—what if I fail?"

You finished the last stitch and tied it off with a firm knot. Setting the needle down, you rested a hand on Peter's uninjured shoulder. "You’re going to fail, Peter. It’s inevitable. No one saves everyone, not even the best of us. But it’s not about how many people you save or how perfectly you do it. It’s about trying your best, learning from your mistakes, and coming back stronger."

Peter looked down at his hands, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his suit. "How do you deal with it? Failing, I mean."

You leaned back, letting out a soft sigh. "You remind yourself why you started. You let the people you save—the ones you can save—be your anchor. And when it gets too heavy, you lean on the people who’ve got your back." You gave him a pointed look. "Like me, for example."

A small, sheepish smile tugged at Peter’s lips. "Thanks... for patching me up. And for the pep talk. Even if it did feel like a lecture.""Anytime, kid," you said, standing and stretching your arms. "But next time, try to get fewer holes punched into you, alright? My stitching skills aren’t for free."

Peter laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ll try, but no promises. It’s kind of my thing, you know?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the first aid kit to clean up. "Yeah, yeah. Just remember: you’re not alone in this. You’ve got a whole team—and me—to help you figure it out."Peter’s grin grew a little wider, a little brighter. "Got it, mentor dude."

You shot him a mock glare, but the warmth in your eyes betrayed you. "Go home and get some rest, Spider-Man. The city can survive a night without you swinging through it."

As Peter slipped his mask back on and headed for the window, he paused. "Hey," he called over his shoulder. "You’re not as scary as you look, you know." Before you could respond, he shot a web at the nearest building and disappeared into the night, leaving you shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

"Kid’s going to be the death of me," you muttered, though the faint smile on your face said otherwise.

THE END