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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

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MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening.

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised.

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you.

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own.

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so.

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body.

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from.

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man.

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!”

“No, it’s alri–”

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat.

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out.

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help.

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there.

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help.

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment.

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop.

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help.

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you.

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult.

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back.

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those.

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice.

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!”

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own.

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet.

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else.

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting.

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this.

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to.

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness.

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head.

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along.

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation.

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist.

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you.

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again.

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier.

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily.

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice.

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier.

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him.

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate.

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry.

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably.

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him.

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive.

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him.

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public.

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow.

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather.

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours.

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside.

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you.

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen.

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else.

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic.

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future.

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good.

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana.

“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had.

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery.

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips.

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement.

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies.

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second.

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time.

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery.

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit.

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him.

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms.

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal.

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention.

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you.

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white.

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one.

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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apollogeticx · 5 months ago

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✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ PEOPLE YOU KNOW ♡·˚

— [♡] ; the name "gojo satoru" felt foreign and awkward on your tongue after months of calling him "gojo-sensei" ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: fated feud, fem!reader, betrayal, angst, found family, trust issues, dark past, second chances, clan rivalry, hopeful ending, gojo collecting traumatized students 101.

wc. 5K

You were never supposed to know peace.

From the moment you took your first breath, your fate had been sealed by those who surrounded you, hands already stained with the blood of generations lost to the Gojo clan’s power. You were born into a cage made of their ambitions and hatred, their fear of Gojo’s supremacy shaping you into a tool—a weapon crafted for a singular purpose.

“Your life isn’t your own,” they reminded you, again and again, in the cold, dark halls of your clan’s compound. Each bruise, each scar you bore from training was a reminder of that truth. You weren’t meant to live beyond your mission; you weren’t meant to become anything more than the one thing they needed: Gojo Satoru’s downfall.

Day after day, you were sharpened. They taught you everything, everything but the chance at a life free from their shadow. Theories upon theories of how Gojo’s Infinity could be pierced, how his Six Eyes could be blinded, flooded your lessons. Every possibility was drilled into you, every failure punished. You learned to move silently, to breathe in the malice they planted deep inside of you.

They made you believe this was all you were ever good for.

The clan elders whispered of his power like a dark omen. His Infinity—a barrier no one could cross—and the Six Eyes, those cursed techniques that made him untouchable. You were to be the antithesis to all that. Where others had failed, you were supposed to succeed. They stripped you of your name, your identity. You were nothing but the weapon to strike at the untouchable.

“Gojo Satoru,” they would say, the syllables laced with bitterness. “He will fall. You will make him fall.”

But no matter how hard they drilled those words into you, a part of you—buried deep beneath the years of pain and manipulation—questioned whether you were truly capable of such a feat. Whether you were capable of anything beyond being a mere vessel for their hatred.

Infinity. Six Eyes. Words that loomed large in your life, despite never having encountered him in person. It was always about him. From your earliest memories, they drilled it into your head—he is invincible, untouchable. Your existence, they claimed, was the only thing that might tilt the balance. You had no identity beyond that.

When the time finally came, they sent you to Jujutsu High. After all, what better way to study the enemy than from within? Months of training culminated in this infiltration, hidden under the guise of a normal student.

But it wasn’t like what you imagined.

You thought he’d be different—distant, cold, untouchable like the legends described him. But Gojo Satoru was nothing like the stories.

On your first day, you felt his presence before you even saw him, his energy radiating through the hallways like the sun at high noon. It was overwhelming, suffocating even, but not in the way you had expected. You anticipated his aura to be a fortress of power, a wall you’d have to break through. Instead, it was na aura of warmth. He was... bright.

You wanted to hate him. You tried to maintain your focus, to remember the cruel purpose that had been etched into your bones since birth. But how could you, when he was so... friendly? His smile was disarming, his laugh loud and full of life. And the way he treated everyone—not just his students but even you, the supposed weapon sent to destroy him—was effortless. Casual, like he had no idea of the burden you carried.

“Hey, you must be the new kid!” Gojo’s voice had snapped you out of your thoughts on your first day. He tilted his head down slightly, even though he was much taller. Those eyes—those cursed Six Eyes, hidden behind his blindfold—seemed to pierce right through you. “What’s your name?”

Your name. Something so simple, yet you hesitated. The response you gave was mechanical, devoid of feeling, as you introduced yourself. Every syllable was heavy with the weight of your mission, the expectation of your entire clan on your shoulders.

But Gojo’s grin didn’t falter. “Well, welcome to Jujutsu High! We’re a pretty small group here, so I’m sure we’ll get to know each other real well.” He said, as though he had no clue who you were, what you were meant to be.

It was frustrating. Infuriating, even. Every interaction was supposed to bring you closer to understanding him, to finding a weakness. Instead, all it did was throw you into confusion. How could someone so powerful also be so... human? You were meant to tear him down, to be the undoing of this untouchable figure, yet it was him who was breaking you. Not with force, but with kindness.

He was too bright. Too... Gojo.

Days turned into weeks, and still, you struggled to reconcile the man before you with the target etched into your soul. The more you saw of him, the harder it became to remind yourself of your mission. He laughed at your awkward attempts to avoid his attention, teasing you playfully when you stammered through conversations. At times, you caught yourself almost enjoying it—almost forgetting.

But you couldn’t forget. You weren’t allowed to forget.

Your nights were sleepless, haunted by the faces of your clan, the cold voices of the elders reminding you of why you were there. You were their weapon, their creation. You had no right to lose focus. Yet, every time you closed your eyes, it wasn’t your mission that plagued you. It was him—Gojo, with his blinding smile and easy demeanor.

How were you supposed to fight someone who didn’t even seem to care that you were a threat?

Weeks passed at Jujutsu High, and despite your best efforts to keep your distance, you found yourself inexorably drawn into Gojo’s orbit. It wasn’t by choice, not really. He was just… everywhere. He seemed to appear out of thin air—his boundless energy always circling around you, pulling you into conversations, dragging you into group training sessions, or forcing you to spar when all you wanted was to retreat and focus.

“Hey, kiddo!” Gojo’s voice rang out from across the courtyard, cutting through the calm morning air like na explosion of sunlight. You tensed, the instinct to brace yourself for his overwhelming presence kicking in as you glanced over your shoulder. There he was, in all his glory, strolling over with that easy smile plastered on his face.

Kiddo. He’d taken to calling you that almost immediately. You hated how casual and comfortable it sounded, as though you were just some other student—just another kid under his care.

But you weren’t. You couldn’t be.

“Gojo-sensei,” you replied, your voice stiffer than you intended. His name felt awkward in your mouth, even now. Every time you addressed him, you could hear the echo of your elders reminding you of who he was—not a teacher, not a mentor, but the man you were destined to defeat. Still, the way he grinned at you made it feel like you were just one of his students. Nothing more.

“You seem tense,” he remarked, his voice playful as he folded his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Training too hard? You’re not supposed to carry the weight of the world, you know. Leave that to the old guys.” He winked, knowing full well the irony in his words.

You didn’t respond, hoping your silence would end the conversation, but Gojo wasn’t one to let things go. He slid in closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

“Come on, kid. Lighten up a little, will ya?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of it, solid but not heavy, grounding you in the moment. There was an ease to his touch, a warmth that contrasted with the rigid formality you had been taught to expect from him. “You’re doing great. Really.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. It wasn’t just na empty compliment—he genuinely believed it. And for the briefest moment, you felt a flicker of something deep inside, something dangerously close to... pride.

But that feeling was quickly quashed as the memory of your mission came crashing back, pulling you down like na anchor. You weren’t supposed to enjoy his praise. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him beyond what your clan had drilled into you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your eyes fixed on the ground.

Gojo’s hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re a tough one, huh? That’s good. You’ll need it.”

You glanced up at him, confused by his words. “Need it for what?”

“For dealing with me,” he said, smirking as if that explained everything. “I’m a handful, or so I’ve been told.”

Under normal circumstances, you might have rolled your eyes or brushed off the comment. But there was something about the way Gojo’s presence lingered, something about his carefree attitude that made you want to stay, to hear more.

Despite everything you knew, despite everything you were supposed to be, you felt the faint stirrings of... trust. It was ridiculous, you knew that. Gojo Satoru wasn’t someone you were meant to trust. He was your target. The reason you were here. And yet, every time he called you “kid” or “kiddo,” it chipped away at the wall you had built around yourself.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Gojo suddenly said, his voice softer, his teasing demeanor dialed down a notch. “You’re strong. Smart. Got a good head on your shoulders. You remind me of myself when I was younger.”

The compliment hung in the air, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Was this a trap? A test? Did he know? Could he see through you and the purpose that had shaped your life from the start?

“I’m not like you,” you blurted out, the words sharper than you intended. Gojo blinked, taken aback for a split second before that disarming grin returned.

“Eh, maybe not,” he said, shrugging. “But that’s not a bad thing. The world doesn’t need two Gojos running around, anyway.”

There was a twinkle in his smile when he said it, and you could almost laugh at how absurd it all was—this man who was supposed to be untouchable, invincible, speaking to you like you were equals. But you couldn’t laugh. Not when your every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to build back the barriers you were letting crumble.

Gojo tapped your shoulder lightly, pulling you from your thoughts. “Anyway, don’t be a stranger, kiddo. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his retreating figure leaving you standing in the courtyard, more confused than ever. His words echoed in your mind, louder than the commands of your clan, drowning out everything you had been taught.

You had a purpose. You knew that. But with every passing day, Gojo’s light grew harder to ignore, and with it, the lines between duty and something else blurred just a little more.

The day it all fell apart, you had known something was wrong. The air at Jujutsu High felt different, heavier. You felt it in the eyes of your fellow students, in the whispers that followed your steps like shadows. But you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to be paranoid, not when your mission was still incomplete.

Then, they came for you.

The higher-ups descended upon you like vultures, swift and merciless. You were cornered before you could even react, their curses restraining you, leaving no room for escape. There was no explanation, no warning. One moment, you were walking through the quiet halls of the school, the next, you were shackled, powerless to move.

“Traitor,” one of them spat, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

Traitor. The word hit you like a physical blow, even though you knew this moment was inevitable. They had found out. Somehow, the secret you had been born to protect, the purpose that had been hidden deep within you, had unraveled before you could even make your move.

“Wait—” you managed to choke out, but the words were cut off as a curse tightened around your throat, rendering you silent.

It didn’t matter what you had to say. They wouldn’t listen.

Without hesitation, they dragged you through the halls, past the familiar places that had once been a reluctant sanctuary. Your heart pounded, not from fear, but from frustration, from the injustice of it all. You hadn’t betrayed anyone. You hadn’t even acted yet. But that didn’t matter to them. The mere existence of your mission was enough to condemn you.

You were brought before Gojo. His figure loomed in the doorway as you were shoved into the room, your body weak and trembling from the restraints. His face was unreadable beneath the blindfold, and for the first time, the usual warmth he carried was nowhere to be found.

“They’ve told me everything.” His voice was flat, no longer laced with the teasing affection he had once directed at you.

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but nothing came out. What could you say? How could you justify your existence, when you had been molded to destroy him? You saw no sympathy in his stance, no compassion in his expression. Gojo Satoru, the man who had once laughed with you, called you “kiddo,” and made you feel like a person—he wasn’t there anymore.

“Take her away,” one of the higher-ups ordered, and without a word of defense, you were dragged from the room.

The arrest was swift. Brutal.

For days, you were left in the darkness. Deprived of food, of water, of any semblance of humanity. Your once-sharp mind dulled under the crushing weight of hunger and thirst. Your body bore the marks of countless interrogation sessions, each one harsher than the last. Bruises lined your arms and legs, dark and angry. Your skin was caked in dirt, your clothes torn from the repeated brutality.

They wanted answers—answers you couldn’t give them. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t have them. The mission had always been shrouded in secrecy, known only to the highest echelons of your clan. You had been a weapon, nothing more, trained to follow orders without question.

But that didn’t stop the interrogations. The demands for information. The relentless accusations.

“You were here to kill him, weren’t you?” one interrogator sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “To kill Gojo Satoru.”

You said nothing. Your voice was too hoarse, too broken to respond, even if you had wanted to. And what could you say? That you were born for it? That every step of your life had been carefully crafted for this singular purpose?

They wouldn’t care. They had already made up their minds.

Hours turned into days, and you lost track of time. The pain became a constant companion, dulling your senses until you could barely feel it anymore. Your body was weak, battered, and your spirit was crumbling under the weight of it all.

But the worst part wasn’t the physical pain.

It was the silence from Gojo.

There was no rescue, no sudden reprieve. The man who had once filled your days with light and laughter hadn’t come for you. He hadn’t defended you. You were nothing more than a mission now—a failed one at that.

In your darkest moments, you thought about the way he had smiled at you, the way he had made you feel like you were more than just a weapon. But it was all na illusion, wasn’t it? A fleeting lie you had allowed yourself to believe.

You were no one. Nothing. Just a tool that had outlived its usefulness.

And now, you were paying the price.

The room was cold. Sterile. The light above flickered faintly, casting weak shadows across the bare walls. You had been left alone for what felt like days again, your wrists raw from the restraints, your body aching from the strain of hunger and exhaustion. The silence was unbearable, almost worse than the interrogation. It gave your mind too much room to wander, to dwell on everything that had happened, on how completely you had failed.

You didn’t expect him to come. Not after all this time. Not after the accusations and the punishments that followed. Gojo Satoru wasn’t someone you thought you’d see again—not after the higher-ups had laid bare your betrayal. But when the door opened, and the familiar white-haired figure stepped through, your heart sank.

He was here.

The Bearer of the Six Eyes.

There was no familiar grin, no teasing lilt in his voice as he stepped into the room, his tall frame dominating the small, confining space. His blindfold was still in place, but you knew he could see you with perfect clarity—your disheveled hair, the bruises on your arms, the dirt staining your once-clean uniform. He could see it all, and yet he remained silent for a long moment, taking in the sight of you in chains.

“You’re a hard one to track down, you know that, kid?” Gojo’s voice, though light as ever, carried na edge you hadn’t heard before.

Kid. It stung now, more than it ever had. It felt like mockery, like a reminder of the bond you had lost—the bond you had destroyed with your silence and your deception. You looked up at him, your gaze bitter, hollow. His presence was still too much, too bright even in this dismal place. You swallowed the bitter taste that rose in your throat, refusing to allow any weakness to show.

“It’s Gojo Satoru now, isn’t it?” you said, your voice raw but firm. “Or maybe you’d prefer Bearer of the Six Eyes?”

The shift in how you addressed him was palpable, heavy with resentment. It wasn’t Gojo-sensei anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to call him that now—not after everything. The title you had once used with some semblance of warmth felt foreign, twisted in your mouth. Gojo stood there, unmoving, the weight of your words hanging between you like a wall.

He frowned, just barely, but enough for you to notice. “Gojo Satoru, huh?” His tone was soft, almost questioning. “That’s a bit formal, don’t you think?”

You didn’t answer, keeping your gaze on the floor, refusing to meet his eyes—Six Eyes, the very thing that had marked him as untouchable. The reason you had been made. You felt sick with anger, with the weight of everything that had been forced upon you, the mission that had led you here, to this moment of utter defeat.

Gojo moved closer, the sound of his footsteps reverberating in the small room, and you felt his presence looming over you. His voice came again, quieter now. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to talk like that.”

You let out a bitter laugh, hollow and strained. “What does it matter now? After everything, do you think I could still call you Gojo-sensei? I’m not your student. I never was. I was a weapon, designed to destroy you.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. You could feel his eyes on you, even behind the blindfold. He was studying you, seeing through your bitterness, through the layers of anger and betrayal you had wrapped yourself in.

“And yet, you didn’t try to kill me,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “If you were really just a weapon, you would’ve made your move by now.”

You clenched your fists, your body trembling with the effort to stay composed. “I couldn’t. I—” The words caught in your throat, too tangled with emotions you didn’t understand. “You don’t get it, Gojo Satoru. You were never supposed to be… like this. You were too—too bright. Too human. It made everything harder.”

For a moment, Gojo said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the tension between the two of you—the unspoken things hanging in the air, the weight of your mission pressing down on both of you. Then, without warning, he crouched down in front of you, bringing himself to your level.

“I don’t know what your clan told you, what they made you believe,” he said quietly, his voice almost too soft, “but you’re not just a weapon. I saw you, kid. I still see you.”

You flinched at the word ‘kid,’ but there was no teasing in his tone now. It was just Gojo—Gojo, who had once laughed and joked with you, who had treated you like a person, not na enemy. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to see you. He wasn’t supposed to care.

“You don’t get it,” you repeated, your voice breaking. “This is what I was made for. My whole life—it was all for this. For you.”

Gojo was silent for a long moment, his expression softening. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle but firm. “And now that they’ve thrown you away, what are you going to do?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They used you, kid. They molded you into something to fight me. And now that the higher-ups know, they’re done with you. They don’t care what happens to you.”

His words hit harder than any physical blow. You had always known, deep down, that your clan saw you as nothing more than a tool. But hearing it spoken aloud—hearing Gojo say it—felt like a knife twisting in your gut.

“You don’t have to keep living like this,” Gojo continued, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “You can choose something else.”

You stared at him, disbelief flickering in your eyes. “Choose? What choice do I have left?”

Gojo tilted his head, his tone softening. “You could stay. Stay here, at Jujutsu High. Be my student. For real this time.”

The suggestion hit you like a punch to the chest. Stay? After everything? You shook your head, the weight of the offer too much to bear. “I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Not after all this. Not after what I was meant to do.”

Gojo remained silent for a moment, as if considering your words. Then he stood up, his tall frame once again towering over you. “You were meant to do a lot of things, kid,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But maybe it’s time to figure out what you want.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone once again. But this time, his words lingered in the air, heavy and full of possibility.

What did you want?

For the first time in your life, you weren’t sure.

Days passed, and with them, the cold, unfeeling walls of your confinement started to feel like a prison not just for your body but for your mind. Your thoughts swirled endlessly in circles, replaying the words Gojo had left you with. His offer to stay. To be his student—for real this time. But after everything you’d been through, after the torture and betrayal, it felt like a cruel joke. How could you possibly belong here?

Yet there was something in his voice that made it hard to dismiss. Something genuine, as though he saw a future for you where you couldn’t.

Late one night, the sound of voices broke through the stillness of your cell. Raised, agitated, echoing down the hall.

“Are you out of your mind, Gojo? She’s dangerous! Her entire purpose is to be a weapon against you!” one of the higher-ups growled.

“That was her clan’s decision, not hers,” Gojo’s voice shot back, sharp as a blade. “She didn’t ask to be born into that. You can’t punish her for what she never had a choice in.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Gojo was fighting for you?

“She’s a liability,” another voice chimed in. “We can’t risk keeping her alive. If she turns on you—”

Gojo’s laughter was cold and bitter. “Turns on me? You’ve already turned on her. You locked her up and tortured her for something she hasn’t even done. And now you’re talking about killing her? You think that’s going to solve anything?”

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension palpable even from your cell. You didn’t know what to think. Gojo was the last person you expected to go against the higher-ups, to stand between you and their judgment. And yet, here he was, doing exactly that.

“You don’t get to make this call, Gojo,” one of the higher-ups snapped. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”

“My emotions?” Gojo’s voice dropped, cold and dangerous. “If you think I’m doing this out of sentimentality, you’re more delusional than I thought. She has potential. If you kill her now, you’re wasting a resource that could be used to our advantage.”

“Potential?” The disbelief in their tone was unmistakable. “You think she could be of use to us after everything? She’s too unpredictable.”

“That’s because you’ve given her no reason to trust you,” Gojo responded, unyielding. “Let her train. Let her join Jujutsu High. I’ll take responsibility for her. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be the first to know.”

Another long pause followed, thick with hesitation. Finally, one of the higher-ups spoke, his voice clipped. “Fine. But if she steps out of line, she’s dead.”

The weight of their words settled over you like a lead blanket. They were giving you a chance, but only under Gojo’s watch. And the moment you made a wrong move, you’d pay the ultimate price.

Moments later, the door to your cell creaked open, and Gojo’s figure appeared in the doorway, his face obscured but unmistakable.

“Come on, kid,” he said, his tone softer than before. “You’re getting out of here.”

You hesitated, your body weak from confinement, but you pushed yourself to your feet. Every movement was painful, your muscles protesting after days of inactivity, but you forced yourself to stand tall as Gojo led you out of the cell. The air in the hallway was cooler, fresher, but it did little to ease the tension coiled in your chest.

As you walked in silence, following him through the winding halls, the weight of everything crashed down on you. Why was he doing this? Why was he fighting for you?

“You really fought for me,” you muttered as you walked beside him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo shrugged, his expression unreadable behind his blindfold. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let them throw you away just because they’re scared.”

“But why?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression softened, though you couldn’t see his eyes. “Because if you’re a weapon,” he said, his voice low and steady, “so am I.”

You froze. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, so simple yet so profound. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, was admitting that he, too, was a tool—someone shaped by forces beyond his control.

For the first time, you didn’t have a response. You simply stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you.

Gojo didn’t wait for you to recover. He started walking again, his tone shifting back to its usual teasing lilt. “But seriously, just stop calling me ‘Gojo Satoru.’ It’s way too formal, and it makes me feel old.”

Despite everything, you felt a small, reluctant smile tug at the corner of your lips. “What should I call you, then?”

He grinned, though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in his voice. “Gojo-sensei has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not happening.”

He laughed, the sound light and carefree, as if the darkness of the last few weeks had never touched him. “Fine, fine. Just don’t be so stiff about it, okay?”

The playful tone felt strange after everything, but it was oddly comforting. This was the Gojo you knew, the one who joked and teased, who acted like nothing could ever touch him. And somehow, even after everything, he was still the same.

When you reached the gates of Jujutsu High, Gojo paused, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You can stay here. Train. Learn. Be a student for real this time. But you have to choose it.”

You looked up at him, your chest tight with uncertainty. “What if I can’t? What if I fail?”

He smiled, that familiar, infuriating grin returning at last. “Then we’ll deal with it when it happens. But for now, just focus on being yourself. You don’t have to carry that weight anymore.”

The sincerity in his voice took you by surprise. After so long of being treated as nothing more than a tool, hearing someone speak to you like this felt foreign, strange. You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to say anything.

As you stepped through the gates of Jujutsu High, leaving behind the darkness of your past, Gojo walked beside you, no longer na enemy, no longer a rival, but something else. Something you couldn’t name yet, but for the first time in your life, you felt the faint stirrings of hope.

“Gojo-sensei,” you muttered under your breath, testing the word.

He immediately perked up, flashing you a triumphant grin. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile found its way to your face. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. Maybe it was the beginning of something new. And this time, you had the choice.

#— [♡] by gigi #jjk #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo oneshot #jujutsu kaisen

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ukiyowi · 1 year ago

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Channelled Messages 💌

Channelling messages from your: Future Spouse, Closest Friends, Spirit Guides, and Future Self

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♡ Future Spouse

♡ Closest Friends

♡ Spirit Guides

♡ Future Self

Future Spouse

💌 Pile 1

My Love,

I imagine us walking hand in hand through the seasons of life, supporting each other through every victory and challenge. Together, we will create a collage of memories, painting the canvas of our shared life with love, laughter, and endless adventures.

I promise to be your biggest cheerleader, your confidant in times of doubt, and your unwavering support through thick and thin. I vow to cherish and respect you for the unique individual that you are, appreciating both your strengths and your vulnerabilities.

You are scarred right now but theres no reason to be. You are so filled with love and light and everything good, just because someone else cannot see it does not mean it doesnt exist. If I could bring you the moon and the stars I would in an instant. I don't think there has ever been or will ever be someone who is as bright as you.

Please take care of your health, you cannot make excuses for bad habits and keep living life like that, no matter how stressful work or life is please make time for yourself. We still have a while to meet so take care of yourself for both you and I.

Song: It's a Shame - The Spinners

💌 Pile 2

Hey Darling,

Our connection, I believe, will be deeper than words can express. It will be built on trust, respect, and a genuine desire to see each other flourish. While I can't predict the future, I am steadfast in my commitment to cherishing every moment we have together.

We have met before, I don't think you remember me, but I do. your beauty had me stunned and so did your mannerisms. I admire the way you carry yourself, with so much dignity and poise, as if the personification of grace itself were standing in front of me, sweeping me off of my feet.

I will shower you with anything you want, praise, adoration, gifts, love, time, energy, and be there whenever you need. Life is probably fun for you right now, unfortunately for me the road is a little rocky. Enjoy this time with your friends and family, your loved ones truly care about you and want what's best for you even if they can't articulate it well.

Stay strong butterflly and look for me in your dreams, I promise to be a frequent visitor. hope you likfe sunflowers, lillies, and magnolias angel.

Song: Mango bananas - Flyana Boss

💌 Pile 3

Hi sweetheart!!

I have a feeling that when we finally meet, there's going to be a bell that rings making us instantly know like it did in Your Name, also hope you like animation because I love it, I also really like drawing and art, do you? Please say yes!

Life seems to be going too fast for you right now so you need to make sure that you don't lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Calm down and do things you enjoy, maybe you'll like pottery!

But beyond the laughter and silliness, I want you to know that I'm dead serious about creating a remarkable life together. We'll support each other's dreams, even if they involve opening a cat cafe or becoming professional trampoline testers (hey, it's a thing, right?). We'll navigate the ups and downs of life hand in hand, and I promise to be your rock when you need it most.

Song: Glue Song - beabadoobee

xoxo

Closest Friends

💌 Pile 1

Life has been quite the rollercoaster lately, filled with its usual ups and downs. I've had my fair share of challenges, but there have also been some incredible moments that I wish I could have shared with you in person.

I often find myself reminiscing about the good old days when we used to spend hours talking and laughing about anything and everything . Those memories are some of my most cherished, and I truly miss you.

Please know that no matter where life takes us or how much time passes, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Your friendship has been a source of strength, laughter, and endless support, and I'm incredibly grateful for that.

Let's make a promise to catch up soon, whether it's over a cup of coffee or a long, heartfelt phone call. I genuinely look forward to hearing how you've been and sharing all the stories we've missed out on.

With love,

Initials may include: R, P, W, Q, L

Song: Window - Still Woozy

💌 Pile 2

Leaving behind the place we've called home for so long is both exciting and bittersweet. While new opportunities wait and adventures call, it's hard not to feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of being farther away from you.

Although physical distance may separate us, please know that you will always hold a special place in my life. Our bond is not defined by geography but by the strong connection we share.

And the internet exists so we'll be fine right? You promise to not lose touch with me even when we're both busy? I promise I will remember to call you, if not daily then weekly, please don't forget me.

I wish you could join me and we could embark on this together but life has its ways of separating the best people we've met so that we are forced to widen our horizons and social circles lol, hope it's not too much for either you or me.

Will miss you,

Initials pulled: A, J, M, S, K

Song: Missin something - Zach Templar

💌 Pile 3

I love the days we've shared and I wish to share so many more with you in the future, god I am so so so excited for everything thats to come!

Do you remember that time we decided to go on that impromptu road trip? No plans, no GPS, just a car full of snacks, good music, and an unshakable belief that we'd find our way eventually. We got lost more times than I can count, but it was so much fun and truly unforgettable.

And how about those late-night conversations that somehow turned into early-morning confessions? We've solved the world's problems over a cup of lukewarm coffee more times than I can recall. The neighbors must have wondered if we were running a 24-hour café.

As I sit here reminiscing about these and countless other memories, I can't help but smile. Our friendship has been a rollercoaster of laughter, silliness, and genuine connection. And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it for anything in the world.

Sending you a virtual high-five and a whole lot of fond memories, here's to hundreds more, and don't forget about the promise we made about the weddings okay?

Your platonic soulmate,

Initials may include: G, H, B, L, T

Song: Right Here, For Now - Bakar

xoxo

Spirit Guides

💌 Pile 1

Embrace change with an open heart and a curious mind. Life is a series of shifts and transitions, and it's in these moments of change that growth and self-discovery thrive. Trust in your ability to adapt and evolve, for you possess the resilience needed to navigate uncharted waters.

As you progress in your career, always remember that your passion and purpose are the compass that should guide you. Pursue work that aligns with your values and fulfills your soul. Don't be afraid to explore different paths and take calculated risks. Each experience contributes to your growth and wisdom.

Learning is a lifelong journey, and each lesson learned is a stepping stone to your personal and professional development. Stay committed to your goals, and never underestimate the power of continued learning.

There may be moments of doubt or uncertainty along the way, but listen to your heart's desires and the quiet whispers of your soul, for they will guide you toward your true purpose.

Above all, be patient and compassionate with yourself. Success is not defined by a straight path but by the lessons learned along the way. Embrace each setback as an opportunity to grow stronger and wiser.

Song: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

💌 Pile 2

In matters of the heart, we see the longing in your soul for a deep and meaningful connection. First and foremost, we urge you to be patient with yourself. Love is a delicate dance, and it often takes time to find the right partner who truly understands and appreciates you.

As you seek love, remember the importance of self-love. Nurture your own well-being, both physically and emotionally. Don't be insecure about your quirks and imperfections, for they are the qualities that make you beautifully you. When you love yourself wholeheartedly, you become a magnet for the love you desire.

When it comes to romantic relationships, let go of preconceived notions and allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised. Love can appear in unexpected places and forms. Stay open to meeting new people and exploring connections that may not fit your usual "type." Sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones that defy expectations.

Communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship. Be brave in expressing your feelings, needs, and desires. Equally important, listen to your partner with an open heart. True intimacy is born from understanding and genuine connection.

Whoever, you're thinking of, is not the one, set the standards high and do not settle for something that does not align with what you can give as well.

Song: Scared - Jeremy Zucker

💌 Pile 3

Know that you are never alone. We are always by your side, watching over you, and guiding you in subtle ways. We see your potential and your inner light, and we are here to help you recognize and nurture these gifts.

Trust in your intuition, for it is the voice of your soul and the channel through which we communicate with you. In times of uncertainty, turn inward and listen to the whispers of your heart, for they will lead you toward your true path.

Embrace the lessons that life presents, for they are opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Challenges are not obstacles but stepping stones on your journey to becoming the best version of yourself.

Surround yourself with positive influences and kindred spirits who uplift and support your journey. Let go of relationships that drain your energy and hinder your growth. Create a circle of love and support that nurtures your soul.

Find joy in the simple pleasures of life. Take time to savor a cup of tea, watch a sunrise, or feel the grass beneath your feet. These moments of presence are where true happiness resides.

Song: July - Noah Cyrus

xoxo

Future Self

💌 Pile 1

Darling, I cannot even start to tell you how good life is right now for me, and eventually for you. I know you are currently going through a rough patch, and as cliche as this sounds, I want you to know that every storm you're weathering now is bringing you closer to the sunshine that awaits you.

In my time, I've seen how the challenges you're facing today have shaped you into the resilient, compassionate, and wise person I've become. The setbacks you're experiencing are not roadblocks; they are stepping stones leading you to the life you've always dreamed of.

You may feel lost, uncertain, and at times overwhelmed, but trust me, these moments are your greatest teachers. They are guiding you towards a deeper understanding of yourself, your purpose, and the incredible strength that lies within you.

One day, you will look back on this period of your life and realize that it was a transformative journey, a cocoon in which you underwent a profound metamorphosis. You'll emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more in tune with your inner self.

The relationships you're nurturing now, the lessons you're learning, and the self-care you're embracing will all become pillars of the beautiful life that awaits you. You'll find yourself surrounded by a supportive and loving community that cherishes you for exactly who you are.

Song: See you Again - Tyler, The Creator

💌 Pile 2

I am sorry, but things are not going the way you would have hoped they would. However, rejection is just redirection, okay? Although things are looking rough for me right now, which, for you, is in the future, I want you to know that this tough phase will lead you to a place of strength and growth.

Life can be incredibly challenging at times, and I wish I could spare you from some of the hardships I'm currently facing. But remember, every setback, every disappointment, is an opportunity for growth and learning. It's through these tough moments that we discover our resilience and develop the wisdom to make better choices in the future.

I want you to hold onto hope, even when it feels like all hope is lost. Believe in yourself and your ability to overcome adversity. Surround yourself with supportive friends and loved ones who will help you weather the storm.

Stay patient and kind to yourself. It's easy to be critical during challenging times, but self-compassion is crucial. Treat yourself with the same love and understanding that you offer to others.

I am working on something thats a dream of ours right now, and I am seeing signs that it may end up succeeding soon or at least kick off, and I still love designing and art as much as you do right now, although I barely have time for myself right now.

Song: Not in that way - Sam Smith

💌 Pile 3

Okay, so maybeee we should reel it in a little with how much you are overworking yourself because it is having a bad effect on me, aka future you. Yep, I'm here to tell you that all those late nights, skipped meals, and stress-induced hair-pulling moments are not doing us any favors down the line.

I get it, you're hustling, chasing dreams, and making things happen in the here and now, and that's commendable. But trust me, I've been there, done that, and I can assure you that I'd appreciate a little less burnout and a lot more balance in our past.

You see, life isn't just about reaching goals; it's about enjoying the journey too. So, let's make a pact to take breaks, breathe deeply, and relish the simple pleasures. Remember, it's not all about the destination; the detours and pit stops are just as important.

And don't worry, I'm not trying to cramp your style here; I just want us to have the best possible adventures together, full of energy, laughter, and great stories. So, let's find that sweet spot where hard work meets self-care, and where the future "us" can look back and be happy about the past "you" for making wise choices.

Also please stop pulling all nighters its not doing any wonders for our skin, and even an extensive 10 step skincare routine does not do as much as a good nights sleep can.

Song: While we're yound - Jhene Aiko

xoxo

#pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot daily #tarot #intuition #pac #readings #intuitive readings #intuitive #tarot readings #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reading #divination #daily tarot #tarot spread #🩵 PAC 🩵

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itacats · 2 months ago

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Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Emotional detachment and isolation, Conditioning and dehumanization, Mentions of violence and combat situations, Subtle introspection on trauma and identity, use of code name for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: You are thrust into an unfamiliar world filled with new faces and unspoken challenges. As you navigate the tension between duty and something deeper, questions begin to surface—about loyalty, purpose, and the bonds that tie people together. Change is in the air, but whether it’s for better or worse remains uncertain.

A/N: This story is my attempt to blend introspection with action, exploring the psyche of someone forged into a tool but yearning for something more. Rain’s journey is both literal and metaphorical, as they navigate the challenges of missions and emotions alike. Also, writing Soap's quips was dangerously fun, and if you can imagine his voice while reading, you deserve a biscuit. 🌧️🪖

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 1 - A New Assignment

A familiar coldness curls around your heart, a constant presence you’ve carried for as long as you can remember. It doesn’t stab or ache—it suffocates, a frost that numbs the shards of longing you don’t fully understand. What is there to long for when you’ve been raised to forget?

Your earliest memories are a patchwork of harsh fluorescent lights, echoing orders, and the sterile tang of disinfectant. The concept of a childhood is as foreign to you as warmth or family. Those luxuries were stripped away before you could form an attachment, replaced with a relentless regimen of drills and exercises designed to carve you into something beyond human. A weapon. Efficient, unyielding, and devoid of unnecessary emotion.

And yet, in the quiet spaces between missions, that hollow ache lingers. It’s not enough to distract you—distraction is a failure in your line of work—but it gnaws at the edges of your purpose, whispering of something missing.

Your code name is Rain—chosen with precision by those who forged you. Fluid, relentless, unobtrusive. Like the rain, you move quietly, leaving destruction in your wake. But unlike the rain, you bring no renewal.

The sky above the training grounds burns with the last remnants of sunlight, the horizon painted in bruised hues of purple and gold. Shadows creep over the facility, deep and sprawling, mirroring the ones within you. The whispers of your handlers cut through the stillness, sharp and deliberate, carrying the weight of yet another mission.

This one feels different.

Task Force 141.

The name carries an air of infamy, even among the circles you operated in. Their reputation is sterling, their methods unorthodox, their success rate unparalleled. They are a unit forged in battle, bonded not just by skill but by a camaraderie you can’t begin to comprehend. And now, your handlers have decided to throw you into their ranks.

It’s not the first time they’ve embedded you with other operatives, but there’s an unfamiliar edge to their instructions this time—a hesitation, perhaps, or an unspoken expectation. You don’t bother speculating. It isn’t your place to ask questions, only to obey.

Captain John Price stands at the forefront as you approach, his silhouette backlit by the fading sun. He doesn’t move like a man weighed down by rank or responsibility. Instead, he carries himself with an ease that speaks of experience, of surviving where others didn’t.

His face is lined, weathered by years of battle, but his eyes remain sharp, assessing you with the precision of a tactician. You’re used to being appraised, but Price’s gaze feels different—not cold or clinical, but weighted, as if he’s not just measuring your skill but your soul.

“This is Rain,” Price announces, his voice steady and commanding. “They’ll be working with us from now on. I expect you to show them the ropes—and learn a thing or two in return.”

There’s no fanfare, no embellishment in his tone. It’s clear that, to him, you’re a soldier, not an experiment. The thought is… unusual. Unsettling.

Before you can dwell on it, another figure steps forward, breaking the tension with a grin as wide as the horizon.

“Show ‘em the ropes?” says Soap—John MacTavish, his Scottish accent curling around the words. “I was thinkin’ more like throwing ‘em in the deep end. Sink or swim, eh?”

Soap radiates energy, his mischievous expression framed by a mess of auburn hair. He doesn’t seem to view you as a threat—or if he does, it’s in the way one warrior sizes up another before a friendly spar.

Beside him stands Gaz—Kyle Garrick, his posture more subdued but no less confident. His dark eyes sweep over you, assessing with quiet intensity. “Don’t underestimate them just because they’re new,” he says, his tone measured but edged with a subtle challenge. “You might be the one sinking.”

The banter feels alien to you. Familiarity between teammates is not something you’ve been taught to expect—or value. Among the operatives you’ve worked with before, loyalty was transactional, fleeting. Here, it feels… genuine.

And then there’s Ghost–Simon Riley.

He stands apart, a silent monolith in the gathering shadows. The skull-patterned balaclava he wears is stark against his dark uniform, lending him an air of menace that seems almost deliberate. His posture is relaxed, but his presence is anything but.

Simon doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but you feel his eyes on you, cold and unyielding. Unlike Soap’s teasing or Gaz’s quiet scrutiny, Simon’s gaze feels like a scalpel, peeling back layers to expose what lies beneath. It’s unsettling, but not unfamiliar.

You’ve been watched your entire life—studied, measured, judged. And yet, Simon’s scrutiny feels different. It’s not clinical or calculating. It’s… human, somehow.

As Price continues to speak, laying out expectations and protocols, you find yourself glancing between the men who will now be your teammates. They laugh and rib each other with a warmth that feels out of place in the world you know. You wonder, briefly, what binds them together. Shared experience? Mutual respect?

When Price mentions camaraderie, the word catches in your mind like a thorn. You’ve read about it, observed it in others, but never felt it yourself. It’s a bond that doesn’t fit into the cold, efficient world you inhabit.

Soap nudges Gaz with his elbow, whispering something you can’t quite make out, and the two share a quiet chuckle. Simon doesn’t join in, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture, a tilt of his head that suggests he’s listening. Even in their silence, there’s an understanding between them that you can’t begin to fathom.

For the first time in years, a flicker of doubt worms its way into your mind. These men are not like your handlers, nor like the operatives you’ve been paired with before. They don’t see you as a tool to be wielded, a weapon to be pointed at a target.

You don’t know what they see.

The thought lingers as the sun disappears completely, leaving you standing in the growing darkness with strangers who might one day call you their own.

If you would like to be tagged in this story, let me know!

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

#bt extra #call of duty #fanfic #cod fic #cod #simon ghost riley #gn reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #rain of shadows

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ahqkas · 8 months ago

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♯ HIS LOVE’S CREATIVE HEART ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the love of his life was a creative soul and who was he to deny your nature? (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing, crafty reader, muggleborn reader, lovesick mattheo

NOTES! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

YOU'VE ALWAYS LOVED THE ACTIVITIES OF CREATIVITY. From a young age, you found joy in the simple act of making something with your own hands. Crocheting, with its interesting patterns and soothing repetition, was one of your earliest passions. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a ball of yarn transform into a cozy blanket or a delicate sweater under your fingers. Each loop, each stitch is a small act of creation. The rhythmic movement of the hook, the texture of the yarn slipping through your fingers, and the memories of your Grandmama were too cherished by you to forget them.

Baking, too, became a beloved creative outlet you shared with the sweet old woman. The kitchen was your laboratory, a place where you could freely experiment. You relished the process of measuring and mixing, the way simple ingredients like flour, sugar, and eggs could be transformed into a mix of flavors and textures. The smell of freshly baked bread or cookies wafting through the house was a comforting reminder of the magic you could create by your own hands. The process is both strict and freeing; one must follow certain rules, yet there is always room for imagination. A pinch of spice here, a dash of flavor there, and suddenly, a simple recipe becomes his personal favorite.

Painting, on the other hand, offered you a different kind of creative fulfillment. With a blank canvas before you and a palette of colors at your disposal, you felt a sense of freedom that was really exciting for your young heart. Each brushstroke was a gift of your inner world, a glimpse into your thoughts and emotions. Whether you were capturing the vibrant hues of a sunset or the delicate details of a flower, painting allowed you to see the world through new eyes and share your unique perspective with others.

In all these activities, you discovered not just hobbies, but a way of life. Creativity became a pair of sunglasses through which you viewed the world.

Your grandmama always believed in the magic of your creativity. From the time you were old enough to hold a crochet hook, she supported your talents with a guiding hand. Together, you spent countless afternoons creating intricate patterns and baking delicious treats in her warm home. Her kitchen became your comfort place, the rhythmic hum of the oven and the soft clinking of your crochet needles made you unbelievably happy. She celebrated each finished piece, every golden-brown loaf of bread, and every delicate painting as if they were masterpieces.

When your Hogwarts letter arrived, the old woman was overjoyed. As a muggleborn, you were stepping into a world she could only imagine. "Think of all the magical things you will create," she had said, her eyes sparkling with pride. Though the idea of leaving her was haunting you, her open love made the thought easier. She promised to write often, and you did your best to send her letters filled with detailed descriptions of your magical adventures and the new wonders you were creating with your wand.

But letters could only do so much, and as the years went by, you missed the simple joy of her daily encouragement and the warmth of her presence.

Six years passed in a blur of potions, spells, and problem making. Your creative spirit never died, but the absence of your grandmama's physical presence was a constant ache that seemed to linger in the depths of your heart. It was around this time that Mattheo Riddle entered your life. He saw the passion in your eyes, the same spark your grandmama had always seen. At first, he was fascinated by your creativity, watching with awe as you seamlessly blended magic with your muggleborn talents.

01 - CROCHETING

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the flickering light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls. The warmth of the fire created a comforting atmosphere, slushing off the chill of the evening. You and Mattheo were nestled on a plush, overstuffed couch, its worn fabric bearing the marks of countless cozy evenings like this one. The air was filled with the soothing crackle of burning wood and the occasional 'pop' of a log as it settled deeper into the flames. Evenings like these were your favorite.

You sat cross-legged at one end of the couch, your crochet hook moving rhythmically through a skein of deep blue yarn. Each loop and stitch seemed to flow effortlessly from your fingers, years of practice and the love poured into the new project. Your eyes were focused, yet relaxed, as you followed the intricate pattern in your mind, your hands working almost of their own accord.

Mattheo sat at the other end, his body turned toward you, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His gaze was soft but concentrated, his dark eyes following the movements of your hands with a mixture of admiration and fascination. He loved watching you create; there was something almost magical about the way you transformed simple yarn into beautiful designs. It was a side of you that he cherished deeply, a glimpse into your soul that he was privileged to witness.

The common room was quiet, save for the sounds of the fire and the occasional rustle of yarn. Mattheo shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. "What are you making this time?" he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with genuine curiosity as his irises never left your movements.

You glanced up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's a blanket," you replied, holding up the growing fabric for him to see. "For my dorm. I thought it could use a bit more color and warmth."

Mattheo reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric. "It's beautiful," he murmured lowly, his eyes meeting yours. "Just like everything you make."

Heat crept up your cheeks at his words, and you looked back down at your work, your smile widening. "Thank you."

As you continued to crochet, Mattheo's gaze never wavered. He was captivated by the way your fingers moved, the delicate dance of the hook and yarn. He loved these quiet moments with you, where time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away. Everything was okay for once again.

After a while, Mattheo shifted again, moving closer until his knee brushed against yours. He reached out and gently took one of your hands, his touch warm and reassuring. "Can I help?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed softly, the sound a sweet melody that mingled with the crackling fire. "I don't know," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever done this before?" You knew the answer, but you wanted to mess with him a little bit.

His lips stretched into a grin at your words and his hand squeezed yours lightly. "I think I can manage. Just show me what to do."

You shifted closer to him, the blanket pooling in your and his lap. "Alright," you said, holding out the hook and yarn toward him. "First, you need to make a slip knot." You demonstrated the simple loop, your fingers deftly moving with practiced ease. Mattheo watched intently, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mimicked your movements.

"Like this?" he asked, showing you his attempt. It was a bit loose, but it held.

"Perfect," you praised the Slytherin boy, eyes sparkling with encouragement. "Now, hold the yarn like this and make a chain stitch." You showed him how to wrap the yarn around the hook and pull it through the loop. He followed your instructions carefully, his movements tentative but eager.

With each new step, you guided him, your hands occasionally covering his to correct his grip or adjust the tension. "You're doing great," you said, watching as he completed a row of chain stitches. "Now, let's try a single crochet."

Mattheo's initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a steady rhythm and his confidence grew with each stitch. He glanced up at you, a mixture of pride and joy in his eyes. "This isn't so bad," he admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Although his side of the blanket was a little more messy than yours, it was adorable to see him trying out your activities.

You laughed, the sound filling his chest with warmth. "See? I told you. And it's even more fun when you get the hang of it."

The two of you continued working together, your hands moving in sync as you crocheted side by side. As the night wore on, you and Mattheo fell into a comfortable silence, the rhythm of your work and the steady crackle of the fire lulling you into a peaceful state of mind.

02 - BAKING

It was well past curfew, and the usual bustle of Hogwarts had given way to a hushed stillness.

You and Mattheo crept through the hallways, stifling giggles and casting glances around to make sure you remained unseen. Finally, you reached the entrance to the kitchens, a place where the house elves bustled about during the day and night, cooking and baking the delicious meals that filled the Great Hall every day.

You tickled the pear in the portrait, and the entrance swung open to reveal the warm, inviting space of the Hogwarts kitchens. The room was a hive of activity by day, but now, in the late hours, it was quiet in here. The house-elves, always so helpful and friendly, had agreed to let you use their space for your baking adventures. Their big eyes (they were the size of a tennis ball!) and cheerful smiles greeted you as you entered, and a few of the elves lingered to offer assistance if needed, but most retreated to give you privacy, seeing you had arrived with your boyfriend, hand in hand.

The kitchen was vast, filled with long wooden tables, towering shelves stocked with every ingredient imaginable, and gleaming copper pots and pans hanging from hooks on the walls. The scent of spices and baked goods from the diner lingered in the air. The hearth, usually roaring with flames, was now a gentle glow, casting a warm light that added to the cozy atmosphere.

You and Mattheo set to work. "Alright, Chef Riddle," you said with a teasing grin on your face, helping him to tie an apron around his waist, "let's see if you can keep up."

He shook his head at you and offered you an arrogant smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just try to keep up with me," he retorted, grabbing a flour sack with a dramatic flourish.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you began gathering the ingredients for your chosen recipes. Tonight, you had decided to bake a variety of treats: cookies and pastries that had been on your mind for weeks. The house-elves had thoughtfully provided fresh ingredients, and the counters were soon laden with bowls of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

The first task was to prepare the dough for the cookies. You measured out the ingredients, your movements practiced and efficient, while Mattheo attempted to follow along, his competitive nature driving him to match your pace.

"Don't forget the vanilla," you reminded him, adding a splash to your own bowl.

He nodded, carefully measuring out the extract. "Got it. How do you know so much about baking anyway?" he asked, his tone curious but impressed.

You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "Years of practice with my grandmama. She taught me everything I know."

As you mixed the dough, the rich, sweet aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the lingering scents of past meals. You stole a glance at Mattheo, who was diligently working beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, usually so busy with his wand, were now covered in flour and sugar, a sight that made you giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked, feigning offense but unable to hide his smile. There was no way he could. Your smile brought out the best in him.

"You," you replied, leaning over to swipe a bit of flour onto his nose. "You're a natural baker."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just don't expect me to start wearing one of those frilly pink aprons."

With the cookie dough prepared, you moved on to the pastries. Rolling out the dough, you instructed Mattheo on how to fold in the butter to create flaky layers. He listened intently, his usual loud temperament now tempered by a genuine desire to learn by your side. You worked side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you passed ingredients and tools back and forth. The house-elves had left a pot of hot cocoa on the stove, and you poured two mugs, the rich, velvety liquid a perfect complement to the cozy atmosphere.

"Cheers," Mattheo said, raising his mug to meet yours with a wink.

"Cheers," you replied, clinking your mug against his. The cocoa was rich and creamy, warming you from the inside out.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, Mattheo’s deep gaze lingered on your face. "You’ve got a bit of flour . . ." he said softly, leaning in. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

His hand lingered there for a moment longer, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. The playful atmosphere shifted, and the well-known tension filled the space between the two of you. Time seemed to slow as he moved even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Before you could fully process the moment, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, tasting faintly of cocoa and the sweetness of the evening.

You responded instinctively, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pulling you even closer than you were. The kiss was both gentle and urgent, warming your soul and mind.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. The kitchen, with its warmth and golden light, felt like a different world, one where only the two of you existed. Mattheo’s dark eyes searched yours, a mixture of vulnerability and affection hidden in his irises.

"That was..." he began, but you silenced him with another quick kiss, smiling against his lips as your fingers gripped the hair at the back of his nape.

"Perfect," you finished for him, your heart full to bursting.

In that quiet, golden-lit room, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of your sweet boyfriend, you knew you had found something truly special. The baking, the laughter, the stolen kiss – it all came together to create a moment of pure magic, one you would cherish forever.

03 - PAINTING

The art room at Hogwarts was a hidden gem, tucked away in a lesser-known corner of the castle not so many students knew about. It was a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with the scents of paint and canvas, the walls adorned with student artwork from years past. The large windows let in the afternoon sunlight, casting a warm glow over the space. Easels stood ready with blank canvases, and tables were laden with paints, brushes, and palettes.

You and Mattheo had decided to spend the afternoon here, taking a break from the usual hustle of school life.

"Alright," you said, setting up your easel and arranging your paints. "Remember, every five minutes, we switch."

Mattheo nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Got it. But don’t expect anything too impressive from me. I can barely draw a straight line."

You laughed, squeezing a bit of blue paint onto your palette. "That’s the fun of it. Just go with the flow."

With everything ready, you both took your places in front of your easels. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustle of brushes on canvas and the occasional clink of paint jars. You started with broad strokes, laying down a wash of color to form the background. Your movements were confident and sure, years of practice guiding your hand.

Mattheo, on the other hand, approached his canvas with a bit more trepidation. He dipped his brush into the paint and made his first tentative strokes, glancing over at you occasionally for inspiration. You smiled reassuringly, giving him a thumbs-up. Despite his self-professed lack of skill, there was something endearing about the way he threw himself into the task, determined to make the best of it.

The first five minutes flew by, and soon it was time to switch. You moved to Mattheo’s easel, examining his work with a thoughtful smile. He had started with a simple landscape, a few rolling hills under a blue sky. It was basic, but it had potential. You picked up a brush and began to add your own touches, blending colors and adding a bit of story to the scene.

Mattheo moved to your canvas, eyes widening at the intricate swirls of color you had already laid down. "Wow," he murmured, "how am I supposed to add to this?"

"Just do your best," you replied, a playful challenge in your voice.

The next five minutes passed in a blur of color and creativity. You found yourself getting lost in the process, enjoying the way your styles melded together. When it was time to switch again, you couldn’t help but laugh at the changes Mattheo had made to your painting. The Slytherin had added a few playful touches, turning a serene sky into a playful scene with cartoonish clouds.

"Nice touch," you said, grinning at him as you moved back to your easel.

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "I figured it needed a bit of character."

As the afternoon wore on, Mattheo grew increasingly confident. With each switch, he added bolder strokes and more imaginative elements to the paintings. His hesitation gave way to a sense of pride and enthusiasm that was too difficult to not return. You found yourself enjoying the challenge of working with his unpredictable thoughts, the paintings slowly turning into mosaics of your combined efforts.

By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the art room, you both stepped back to admire your work. The canvases were a glimpse of color and creativity, showing the teamwork you put into it. The landscape Mattheo had started was now a dreamlike scene, with white clouds and pretty flowers woven into the hills and sky. The painting you had begun was equally transformed, full of charm and ideas.

Your boyfriend crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad for a guy who can’t paint, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not bad at all. I’m impressed."

He tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I’m more talented than I thought. Perhaps I missed my calling as an artist."

"Don’t get too full of yourself, Riddle. But I have to admit, you did better than I expected," you rolled your eyes playfully at him. That was your man, after all.

"Better than expected?" he repeated, brows furrowed as he brought a hand to his heart. "I think you mean I was brilliant."

You reached up to brush a stray bit of paint from his cheek, your fingers lingering for a moment. "Alright, Picasso. I’ll give you that. You were brilliant."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Thanks for teaching me. I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "We should do it again."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. "Definitely."

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aheathen-conceivably · 7 months ago

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Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it.

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in.

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

Previous / Next

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

#1934 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #Zelda Darlington #Antoine Duplanchier #1930s

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https-evan2 · 2 years ago

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heard you were suffering from writers block so I am here to ask for a fix :)

imagine:

being Pavitr’s friend for YEARS. I’m talking since diapers. Only to see him run after the same girl, Gyatri. You encourage him, of course. But, one night when he comes home with flowers, you attempt to cheer him up, assuming Gyatri rejected him. When in reality, he bought you flowers with her help and even prepared a little speech so he can finally tells you how he feels.

(I have a Hobie idea that is similar to this as well that’s more abt babysitting Mayday.)

i love this idea so much

since you didn’t request gender it’s gonna be neutral

no pronouns used for reader (as usual)

btw English isn’t my first language so it might be some grammar and spelling errors

• You’ve been his friend for as long as you could remember your earliest memory is when you were 5 and your and his family were having a dinner together

• there’s even pictures of when you two were in diapers together

• and you might have developed a teeny tiny crush on him

• but you’ve never acted on it bc of his crush on Gyatri

• Tbh it was a little sad seeing him being so hopelessly romantic for her but you were his best friend (sorry Hobie)

• You didn’t want to end your friendship bc of a stupid crush

• So no matter how sad you were you were always by his side

“Tonight is the night I’m going to tell her how i feel” he said

“Yeah at least I’ll finally catch a break from you straight up simping for her” you said jokingly

”I’m not simping” he said jokingly offended

“whatever help’s you sleep at night” you said and Pavitr slightly elbowed your side

• little did you know is that the person your best friend had been obsessing over was you and Gyatri had helped bim trying to confess to you

• but he made sure never to lie

•whenever he said that he was gonna tell her how he felt he meant tell her how he felt about you

• It was the next day aka Saturday

• he picked this day so he could confess to you during the sunset

• he had called you to sit by your favourite place

•it was a tall rooftop with an entrance that was almost secret

•you first thought that he was rejected bc he sounded a little more nervous and shyer on the phone

• never in a million years would you imagine that he was there with flowers…. For you!

“What the heck is all this” you said with a small chuckle

“Hi there, Y/N,

I've known you for what seems like an eternity, but even in all our time together, I've never been able to put into words how I truly feel about you.

Every time I see you, you make my heart skip a beat. Your presence alone makes me feel at ease, no matter what troubles I face in life. Being with you is like being in a warm embrace; I feel safe, protected, and loved.

I cherish every moment we've had as friends, but what I really want is to explore something more with you. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to be your partner, your lover, your everything.

No matter what happens, I promise to always be there for you. Whether we live on the same planet, or in different galaxies, my love for you will never fade.

Will you be mine?”

• You looked at him blushing like crazy

“y-you were into me this hole time!”

“Y-yes heh suprise!”

“please don’t just look at me like tha-“

•you interrupted him by hugging him

“Yes, I’d love to be yours” <3

#spiderverse x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr my beloved #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #atsv x reader

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99hook · 5 months ago

Text

Heartbreak Diaries

A/N: it’s been a minute y’all. This is something I wrote a little while back about the lovely stages of heartbreak. Sorry if you relate, and as always I hope you enjoy babes, and remember that healing isn’t linear.

For months, she was trapped in a fever dream. A realm border lining delusion, and anyone could’ve told her that but it was no use. She wasn’t going to listen when all her mind was wrapped up in were thoughts of him.

Despite how many times she had to lie to the ones that she loved, trying to convince everyone that he wasn’t who he appeared to be. He wasn’t as bad as what he may have seemed.

Despite all the tears she’d cried for him, always over the same thing because he’d made so many empty promises to change for her, and for some reason she believed him every single time.

Despite all the red flags waving directly in her face every time he got angry, caught up in his own lies, or he spewed dishonesty so smoothly that he could convince anyone of anything imaginable, and she knew that.

She still stuck with him, holding on as tight as she possibly could’ve. The equivalent to wrapping your bare hands around barbed wire until you eventually lose all feeling, and the damage leaves you numb to it all. Only then did she finally let go.

There’s only so much that one person can take before they finally decide to break the chains that are binding them, but all the memories come flooding back and it’s hard to decipher if you genuinely miss that person, or just the person that you wanted them to be.

It wasn’t her fault that she had seen the good in him. He was amazing at putting on a face, but eventually the mask started to slip and what lied beneath the soft brown eyes and charming smile, was never something that she had expected.

Anyone else probably could’ve seen it coming from a mile away, but they didn’t know him in the most intimate moments. There was a delicacy to him that he’d shown her, almost as if he was an old soul deep within, but he covered all of that with a hard, cold shell.

She’d asked him why he rarely showed that side of him, he’d always say, “It’s easier this way.” But in the earliest hours of the morning, when they would be cuddled up underneath her bedsheets just talking about anything their minds could muster up, she’d get that side of him.

Even though when the sun would rise his cold exterior would activate like clockwork, she would hold onto that little sliver of hope that maybe she could break down those walls once and for all. The empath in her was drawn to the darkness within him, and the little shimmers of light that shined through a few cracks in his shell.

Looking back now, she knows that was her first mistake. Thinking you can heal someone who doesn’t want to be healed. Thinking you can teach someone how to love when they never got to see what it truly meant to love or to be loved correctly.

But at the time, you couldn’t tell her that. She was content where she was at, wrapped up in his strong arms with her head on his chest listening to him tell her stories about his childhood and his high school best friend until they both drifted off to sleep. That’s where she wanted to be, but she wasn’t the only one.

The same fingers that were tracing little hearts on her back belonged to the same hands that would be wrapped up in another woman’s hair the night before. The same lips that were kissing her forehead were the same lips that were leaving patches on another woman’s neck.

She didn’t know it at the time, and he didn’t have the nerve to tell her until his guilt got the best of him. His stories rarely added up when he had planned to stay with her for three days and suddenly had to be back home a day early for work.

She had a weird feeling in her gut, which she tried to fight against. He’d look her in the eyes, cradle her face and kiss her with so much passion before he’d leave, promise to call her as soon as he lands and she believed him.

She never would’ve expected that he’d be making a stop to another woman’s house as soon as he left her. While she’s checking her phone, waiting for a call, wondering if he’s okay, he’s letting someone else kiss him, touch him, taste him with her fresh on his lips.

When she finally found out, she felt like a dumbass. The signs had been there, even her best friend had called them out multiple times. She just didn’t listen. She wanted to believe that the man she thought he was, was the man she was truly falling for.

He groveled and he begged for days for forgiveness. He swore it was all a mistake, and he would never do anything like that again. He came clean about everything, and made so many promises that if she gave him another chance, he would show her just how much he loves her.

So she did, and for a little while, he did keep his word to her. He started to open up to her about all the things that he kept locked deep inside. He gave her all his time and his attention, surprised her a couple times just to see her smile when she opened the door and he was standing there with a bouquet of white roses and a boyish grin on his face.

She struggled to put everything behind her though. Maybe it was because of how easy it was to trust him at first. He had something about him that just made her feel so at ease, like they’d known each other for so many years already.

Once that trust was broken, they could never be the same again. She couldn’t help but to ask him about his plans just to see if his story was going to change. She questioned everything he said. She compared herself to this other woman, wondering why she wasn’t enough for him herself. Truth of the matter is, she was going crazy and he didn’t like it too much.

They started fighting a lot. It went from being so excited to see each other, making up for lost time to immediately glaring at each other as soon as their eyes locked.

He used to have a gleam that shined in his eyes every time he looked at her, but it died. She noticed that when they were getting ready to go out on a date, and the silence in her room was speaking volumes.

He used to compliment her every chance he got. He’d say something like, “Do you know how gorgeous you are?” Before he’d wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips.

He stopped doing that, and she missed it but her pride was always her biggest downfall. She put on a nice outfit, probably not a coincidence that it was one of his favorite dresses on her, but when he looked at her, his eyes were practically lifeless.

She stood a few feet away from him, smoothing down the end of her dress while she watched his eyes slowly roam her body, just for him to tilt his head to the side and stuff his hands in his pockets, mumbling “So you ready?”

She started to realize that things were only getting worse from that point on. He didn’t kiss her the same, touch her the same, even look at her with any sense of love or adoration like he did before.

It started to eat away at her, and that only fueled her craziness, or so he called it.

One night they were sitting on the couch watching a movie in silence. He was sitting a few inches away from her and the small space between them was enough to make her feel like they were a hundred miles apart. He used to always have his hands on her somehow, but that all changed so quickly.

In an attempt to try to feel closer, she turned towards him and said, “Hey, can we talk for a second?”

He didn’t immediately respond. He was silent as he paused the movie and dropped the remote on his lap. He didn’t turn to face her, and only hummed back to her.

She avoided the pain that it caused, and pushed forward with the conversation anyway.

“I just feel like we haven’t really been as close as we used to be.” She started, and already saw the tick of his jaw.

“Yeah?” Was all he said, lolling his head to the side to finally look at her, his eyes casting pure boredom.

“Yeah.” She whispered back. “I miss you.”

“You don’t act like it.” He told her, and she felt a jab in her gut because she knew it. She knew that she was the biggest reason why they were having so many arguments and so many problems, but she was still hurt by what he did, and she still had too many questions left unanswered.

“I want to.” She sighs. “But I’m still struggling with everything that happened.”

As soon as he heard those words, he was getting off the couch with a huff, storming to the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. She sat there dumbfounded, staring at that door and waiting for him to walk back out, maybe after he cooled down he’d be ready to have a conversation, but thirty minutes went by and he never came back.

She found him sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He didn’t look up at her when she walked in.

“I don’t want to fight, Tyler.” She told him in the most gentle voice she could manage in hopes that it would dissipate the tensions, but it didn’t.

“Then why do you always start your shit with me?” His eyes snapped up to hers, and she could see the anger bursting through them.

“I don’t try to start a fight but there’s still some things that bother me-“

“And how many times am I supposed to say I’m fucking sorry?” He snapped back. “How many times have I told you that already? If you’re still stuck on that shit and you can’t get over it then maybe you just don’t need to be with me anymore.”

That was the last thing she wanted though. She just wanted to know that he wasn’t going to betray her trust again. She wanted to trust him and for things to go back to the way they used to be.

So that’s what she tried to do. She apologized for all the times that she brought it up, and from that point forward she never brought anything related to the other woman up again. It still fucked with her, but she wasn’t going to let him see that.

And surprisingly, they started doing better again. They started laughing with each other again, going out and having a good time with one another. He started complimenting her and kissing her every chance he could. Things had gotten better again, and even though she still couldn’t fully trust him, she acted like she did.

And then, he ruined it once and for all.

It was completely out of the blue when she woke up one morning with a text from him. It was a long paragraph but she only got through the first couple of words before she realized that he was breaking up with her.

He had said so much about how they had hurt each other and needed to grow apart in order to come back stronger in the future, but her heart told her it was all bullshit. She knew it, her best friend knew it, he just didn’t have the guts to give it to her straight.

She was exhausted by this point. She didn’t try to fight for him or what they had, even though she really wanted to. She just let him have it his way. Summer was coming up and she had the feeling that he just wanted to have a fun little summer without being tied down. Everything else he said was just a way of letting her down easy.

The craziest part of all of that was the fact that when she accepted it, and she didn’t try to fight for him, suddenly he wanted to be with her again.

He showed up to her house in the pouring rain with wet puppy dog eyes like he thought it was some kind of movie. He sent her letters when she blocked his number and found every little way to communicate with her.

Of course, she gave in to him one night when all the memories came flooding back. He came over and they danced to a couple slow songs in the kitchen. He told her he loved her and he’d do anything to make it work with her, but he just wanted to get her back underneath the bedsheets, and unfortunately he knew all the right ways to do it.

The way he looked at her in the morning, like he was conflicted and didn’t know what to do. She asked him something that had been weighing on her heart since he left her, and for once, he gave her honesty.

“Are you trying to choose between me and someone else?” The words burned when they danced on her tongue. She knew the answer, because why else would he be in her bed trying to figure it all out otherwise.

He looked at her with eyes that softened, a hint of sympathy glazing over them before he looked down at the sheets draped over his stomach.

His silence was the confirmation that she needed.

It hurt like hell to be sitting next to the man that she loved, knowing that he didn’t love her, but he knew just how to make her think he did.

It killed her inside knowing that when he leaves, he’ll just be running into someone else’s arms. He’ll be weighing his options, writing out a little pros and cons list in his head and seeing which one of the women checks the most boxes.

Never in her life had she felt so destroyed emotionally, mentally and physically. She couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t deserve it and he didn’t deserve her.

“I’ll just make it easy for you.” She whispered, waiting for him to look back into her eyes, but he couldn’t.

“It’s not like that.” He shook his head, but she didn’t believe anything else he said. She couldn’t allow herself to.

“If you’re choosing between two women at once, just let them both go. No woman deserves to be in competition for a man. If a woman is the love of your life, then it wouldn’t even be a question for you.”

His lips parted but he didn’t speak. His chest heaved and he stared down at the sheets, unable to conjure up anything to say back to that.

It remained silent in that room for a while, until he finally looked over at her and grabbed her hand.

“I wanna be with you. Just you.” He said, but as soon as he leaned in to kiss her, she turned her cheek.

He froze, his lips grazing her skin. His hand slowly slipped out of hers and he dropped his head down to her shoulder.

She had to fight back the tears. She couldn’t look at him. Even the feeling of the ends of his hair tickling her skin made her want to burst into tears, but she knew what was best and she knew she had to let him go.

“I’m not an option anymore.” She whispered. “I never should have been in the first place. If you wanted me and only me, then you never would’ve gotten with anyone else.”

He sighed heavily, reached up and wiped a tear off his cheek before he picked his head up. His eyes were tinged red and eyelashes wet, a sight that cracked her heart in two, but she couldn’t let that change her choice.

They looked into each others eyes for the last time. All the memories they made, all the late nights they shared, all the promises they never got to live up to. It all came crashing down on the same bed they used to make so much love in.

He sighed once more before he tore his eyes off of her and silently got out of the bed. She didn’t watch as he slid on his sweatpants and grabbed his keys and his phone off her dresser. She didn’t want to watch him walk out of her life, making it look so damn easy while she was internally crumbling to pieces.

All she did was wait until she heard the front door close, and she buried herself in the same sheets that smelled like him, crying and sobbing and feeling sorry for herself until she finally fell asleep.

And then, when she woke up, she stripped the bed of all of the sheets and the comforter and the pillows and she threw them in the washing machine with way too much laundry detergent.

She took those white roses off the kitchen counter and threw them in trash. She did her best to erase every trace of him, and even though she knew his memory was going to be the last to go, she wasn’t going to let herself sink any deeper than she already had.

It was time to heal and move on, and hope that one day he’d just be a boy she dated in her 20s.

————

Taglist: taglist: @madhatterbri @730hook @multi-fandom-things730 @willowgreens @shawtys-things @justdamnpeachy @wickedval l l @730bliss @theworldofotps @madds-97 @gethooked @benjaminka @5secondsofmoxley @cypherpart15 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @littlemissbliss06

#hook aew x reader #tyler senerchia

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yaksha-lover · 2 years ago

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Malleus isn’t the type to fall in love at first sight. His curiosity might be peeked by the mysterious new prefect, but it’s not as though he knows you. No, his interest is simple, and having any significant relationship with you isn’t something that even enters his mind during your earliest encounters. You’re merely a fleeting thing, something friendly and amusing to sometimes brighten his walks around Ramshackle. As a human, you’ll dance in and out of his life quickly, just as they all do.

Before, Malleus had never really concerned himself with aesthetic beauty; he’d never really understood the concept of attraction beyond a superficial level. Although he could recognize conventional attractiveness, he couldn’t really see the appeal in it himself. He’d felt the same way during the early days after meeting you. Malleus didn’t think much about your appearance or really anyone else’s.

It catches him off guard one day when he finds himself noticing things about you. It’s your eyes that draw him in. Pretty eyes, he thinks for the first time while you tell him about your day. He’s unsettled by the way he can’t bring himself to look away, and it shakes him so much that he quickly excuses himself away from you.

Human bodies were just lines and edges to him before, arbitrary shapes. As Malleus walks with you, he notices your form next; the curves of your shoulders, your exposed collarbone. It feels like you transform before him from an abstract painting to a portrait lovely beyond life. The feeling of uncertainty comes again, and this time it’s accompanied by a pit in his stomach that Malleus doesn’t quite know how to deal with.

Now, he knows you. You’ve spent more time together than he could’ve imagined when he first met you. He knows the beauty of your eyes because they tell your story. He knows the kindness of your heart by tracing a lifetime of memories across your shoulders and down your back. Malleus feels drawn to your lips because he knows what sweetness they sing. He knows you, and thus he loves you.

#malleus x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #k.concepts

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ramyeonzwithspam · 11 days ago

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Our Song - Yang Jungwon

You and your boyfriend, Jungwon, on a roadtrip

idol!bf!fungwon x f!reader

fluff, established relationship

authors notes: another one inspired by an old writing I did! i rlly enjoyed writing this one. imagine whatever song is meaningful to you

!!not proofread!!

You stirred out of a midday nap, feeling the uncomfortable rub of a seatbelt and the tight feeling in your legs from being cramped in the passenger seat of a car for hours. Going on a roadtrip with your boyfriend to get away from fans and company restrictions was your idea, but the drive was getting a little boring.

Pulling your seatbelt out to allow yourself room, you turned your body sideways, tucking your legs underneath you in the passenger seat. This angle allowed you to watch your boyfriend as he drove, drumming his fingers to the beat of the faint radio. The sun, about 20 minutes above sunset, cast a subtle light over Jungwon’s silhouette. A smile settled on your face as you admired the man next to you.

This didn't go unnoticed, as Jungwon glanced over at your face, “What is it Love?”

“I just love you,” you sighed back, turning your body to face forward again.

“Okay.. weirdo” he laughed, rolling his eyes playfully before taking one hand off the steering wheel to settle it on your thigh. He drew slow, comforting circles into your skin as the road flew past.

For a while you sat in silence, listening to the playlist you had created specifically for the two of you. It was composed of cheesy love songs and music you two listened to together during the earliest stages of your relationship. The next song that came on was one you had danced to the night he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you giggled at the fond memory. Distracted by the music, you barely noticed Jungwon checking the position of the sun every few minutes.

With no warning, Jungwon swerved the car onto a side road, causing you to yelp at the sudden movement, “What are you doing?” you asked.

Your boyfriend didn't answer, simply kept driving deeper into the country fields. When you finally came to a stop he unbuckled and hopped out of the car, running to pop the trunk open. You slowly followed, still confused about his behavior.

When you rounded to the back of the car, you saw Jungwon laying a blanket on a short patch of grass, before tossing some pillows onto it and a small cooler.

“Wonie.. what is this,” you smirked

“We are watching the sunset, baby” he responded, giddy from successfully surprising you. Your heart swelled at the genuine smile on his face. Your boyfriend was clearly planning this, timing it so that you didn't have to wait long. Glancing up at the sky, you could tell it was only minutes before sunset. As you walked towards the blanket and settled yourself on the plush surface, Jungwon scurried towards the car.

“One more thing,” he said, turning up the stereo inside the car so you could hear the playlist still running.

He then came to sit next to you, setting up the pillows behind his back before pulling you against him. You relaxed into his chest, laying your head again his neck and kissing his jawline.

“Thank you Wonie, this is beautiful” you muttered, watching as the sky melted into pinks and oranges. The warm lighting cast a glow across your boyfriend’s skin, and you smiled at the sight before he leaned down to capture you in a kiss.

One of his hands ran up your neck, slowly coming to rest on your jaw, deepening the kiss. There was nothing needy or wanting about the way he kissed you, it was purely love.

You smiled in the kiss before playfully pushing him away, “stop distracting me, we are going to miss the sunset,” you whined. Jungwon simply chuckled and pulled you further into his lap, this time nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and leaving small pecks on your skin.

The sky was now an array of dark oranges and pinks, followed by the purple of early night. It was breathtaking, watching the stars slowly come into view above the setting sun. So far out into the country, there was nothing to disturb the sky or nature surrounding you. You could hear nothing but the wind, your music, and Jungwon’s contented breathing behind you. It was peaceful, a sort of feeling you could only experience with someone you loved as much as you loved Jungwon.

“Baby,” your boyfriend’s voice broke you out of your thoughts

“Hm?” you hummed

“Listen..” he chuckled, tilting his head back towards the car. Playing faintly from the radio was an all too familiar melody. The song you had introduced Jungwon to when you were only friends. The song that had been playing the first time he kissed you. The song you intended to dance to at your wedding, “It’s our song,” Jungwon explained, even though it needed no explanation.

“Our song..” you sighed, tears welling in your eyes as you let the music wash over you.

#ramyeonzwithspam #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon #enhypen

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shannonallaround · 9 months ago

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When you love your friend's au so much that you write fanfic for it

Based on @punkinspice's @shadouge-family-au ***

Everyone froze as the glass shattered on the floor.

Then little three-year-old Monty started crying because it scared him, quickly followed his twin sister Mabel, who cried because he was crying. Chase (who was five, almost six) simply looked at the glass mess and said “Oh oh.”

Amy tiptoed around the kitchen table to reach the crying twins, soothing them with gentle hugs and soft words. She glanced up at her husband.

Sonic stood exactly where he’d been when the glass had left his hand (by the kitchen sink). He stared at the floor, expression unreadable; a rare moment of him being perfectly still.

He’s normally fast enough to catch things like that, Amy thought to herself. “Sonic?”

No answer.

Any hid a worried purse of her lips, instead turning to her oldest. “Chase, you still have your shoes on—can you grab the broom for mama so she can clean up the mess?”

Sonic then seemed to jerk awake. “Sorry. I’ll get it.” He quickly left the room, not meeting Amy’s eyes. Amy heard the shutting of a cupboard, followed by Sonic returning with a broom and dustpan in hand.

“Let me help, Dad!”

Chase had gotten down from his chair and now stood by his dad amid the mess. Sonic looked down into his son’s eyes, and managed a smile—small, but grateful.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Chase chatted away about what he wanted to do after dinner while diligently holding the dustpan in place. He made Sonic chuckle once or twice, oblivious of the tightness in his dad’s shoulders. Eventually, he and his twin siblings left the room to play. Amy stood and took the broom from Sonic.

“I’ll finish here,” she said, gesturing with her head at the living room. “Why don’t you go relax? It’s been a long day. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Sonic looked at her, his eyes somewhat distant, but he gave her a half smile and nodded. Amy heard him sigh as he left, noticing him shove his hands behind his quills as he plopped down on their woven pink couch.

A few minutes and a vacuuming job later (just to be safe), Amy came into the living room and sat beside Sonic. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning at nothing.

If Amy was going to get anything out of him, it was now or never.

“What’s on your mind, Sonic?”

Sonic sighed through his nose. He closed his eyes as if thinking of what to say. In the end, he gave a defeated shrug. “You’ve seemed on edge for a few days, now,” Amy said carefully. “Ever since our last fight with Eggman.”

Sonic’s eyes flew open. “I hate that man,” he spat out. He sat up, face scrunched with more choice, but unsaid, words. Amy stared at him, surprised at his strong language. Certainly it was universal knowledge that Sonic didn’t like Eggman (and frankly, Amy hated the man too), but to hear her husband say it outright in such frank terms was… unusual.

“Are you upset about the forest he ruined?” Another sigh. “Yes… and no.” Sonic leaned forward, pressing his mouth against folded hands. He took a deep breath.

“Do you… ever think about us as kids?”

Amy tilted her head. “How so?”

“You know… all the stuff we did.” Sonic stared at his shoes. “How… crazy it was that we were kids?”

Amy took a small breath, understanding his meaning. She bit her lip. “Yes. All the time.” She waited for Sonic to continue, but he went quiet then. He began tapping his foot at the base of the couch—a nervous habit when he was thinking.

“My earliest memories are running,” Sonic said finally. “I was, I dunno—maybe four? Five? Chase’s age. I didn’t know where I came from or where I was going, and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. I thought I was fine. I was fine! I couldn’t even talk yet, and I was fine! I just ran wherever the wind took me.” He took a shaky breath. “But imagining our kids in the same position just-!”

He cut himself off, burying his head in his hands. After a moment, he dropped them into his lap.

“We were so young.”

Amy nodded slowly. “We were very young,” she echoed. After a moment, she asked “Does that scare you?”

Sonic’s face scrunched again, but not in anger this time. “I was never afraid for myself growing up. I knew I’d be fine. But I was afraid for Tails, when he came into the picture. Some days I was so scared I didn’t know what to do with myself. And I guess, now… I’m afraid for them, too.” He ran a trembling hand down his face, forcing a laugh. “Heh… Guess things don’t change as much as you think they would, huh?”

“No,” Amy said, watching him, “I guess they don’t.” She put a soft hand on Sonic’s knee, leaning into him. “But I think that’s a good thing. It means you love them.”

Sonic sighed, his hand going to his forehead. “I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Raise our kids! Especially when we’re practically badnik magnets! It’s a miracle Eggman doesn’t send a squadron after us every week!”

Amy rubbed his knee reassuringly. “Even if he did, you know Tails’ security system would warn us long before anyone was in danger.”

“I know…”

Amy thought a moment, then she leaned forward, trying to see her husband’s face. “You know, you know how to do this better than you think you do. You forget that you raised Tails.”

A husky laugh, almost desperate. “I didn’t know what I was doing then, either! It's a miracle that kid's even alive! I pulled him into so many things without even a second thought, and I had no idea how to raise a kid, I—!”

Sonic felt Amy’s hand on his chin then. It rested there for a moment, and then he relaxed just enough to let it guide him, lifting and turning his head so he could meet her gaze. Amy beamed at him, eyes soft and gentle. “And look how well Tails turned out.”

Sonic stared at her. Then suddenly he realized his cheeks were wet, and he went to wipe them with his gloves. Instead, Sonic found himself sinking into his hands. He gasped.

Amy started as her husband began to sob. A second later, she slid over again on the couch and encircled him in her arms, leaning her cheek against the side of his head, rubbing a soothing hand along his back between his quills.

“I don’t deserve you,” Sonic coughed out from behind his hands.

“I don’t deserve you,” Amy whispered back. She continued to rub between his quills. Then she kissed his head, feeling him tremble beneath her touch.

“Do any of us really know what we’re doing?” she eventually murmured in his ear. “We’ve never done this before, and that’s scary. I’ll admit, I worry about our kids sometimes too.”

She continued as Sonic struggled to catch his breath. “We don’t know what the future holds. But,” she said, a soft smile in her voice, “you don’t have to do this alone. You won’t be alone—I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’re in this together.” She kissed his head again. “It’ll be another grand adventure.”

A few more shuddering breaths from Sonic, and he gradually began to still. Then he nodded, though his head still rested in his hands. “Another adventure,” he whispered. “Like it’s always been.”

“Like it’s always been,” Amy nodded affirmative. She moved her hands to hug him around his shoulders.

They sat there for a few minutes, neither willing to move. They could hear their three little ones playing in the other room. Monty laughed.

“You know what I think?” Amy eventually asked. “I think that, with our kids along for the ride, it’ll be even more fun. More so than it’s ever been before.”

At that, Sonic finally smiled. “Yeah…” He lowered his hands, revealing it, then he glanced her way. “The more the merrier, right?”

Amy giggled. “Right!”

She stroked Sonic’s cheek for a moment. Then she stood and took Sonic’s hand. Surprised, he followed her outside onto their balcony. It had been built directly onto the tree that had become their literal treehouse, overlooking their backyard. Sonic stopped beside Amy.

“Woah…”

A vibrant explosion of oranges and deep pinks greeted them as the sun set over the distant mountains. They stared at the glorious sight, still holding hands.

“The beauty still gets me every time,” said Sonic.

“Yes,” Amy sighed.

After a moment, Sonic cleared his throat. "Sorry that I—"

“No. It’s ok.” Amy looked away from the sky and into her husband’s eyes. She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you told me.”

Sonic’s cheeks tinged pink as he smiled, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “Tryin’ to be better.” Then he met her eyes. “Thanks for listening.”

Amy grinned. “Like I said: we’re in this together.” Then she pecked him on the cheek, which made Sonic laugh and blush harder. He squeezed her hand in return. He pulled her into a hug, his arms around her waist, head resting on hers while facing the sunset.

“You know… I may still be scared silly,” he said, “but there’s no one else I’d rather be with on this crazy new family adventure than with you.”

Amy now felt herself blush. “Oh, Sonic.” She leaned into the fur on his chest, smiling as the sun ducked behind the horizon. “Me too.”

#hehehehehehehehehehe #this was so fun to write #for you my friend I was possessed to write this #NOW GO CHECK OUT MY FRIEND'S WHOLESOME AU #spoilers ahead:#I hope it's not OOC #sonic being vulnerable like that in front of others is super rare #but as he's gotten a little older plus been married to Amy for several years I think he's gotten a little better about not hiding everythin #plus he's realized he's a little traumatized ya know #we love him #amy's there for him as he's there for her #shannon's writing #sonamy #sonic fanfic #sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #fankids #shadouge family au

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dinotoro · 1 year ago

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i just knew

pairing : myung jaehyun x reader

genre : romance

subgenre : fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers

word count : 1.1k

summary : jaehyun and you have friends since the time big bang happened. you always felt that you two could be more than that. however, jaehyun's perspective on the situation was a bit different.

warnings : none

disclaimer : all character depictions are fictional and in no way represent or depict the actions of the real people.

permanent taglist : mochamvgz , nyxvrse , luvistqrzzz , hyhees , sngvhs

footnotes : this fic is dedicated to my lovely baby sis cinny aka mochamvgz. this was inspired by that one scene in s8 of b99. this was not proofread. i hope you like it <3

release date : October 26th, 2023

The earliest memory that you had featuring Jaehyun and you were when you two were five years old.

It was a pleasant spring day, and your families had decided to host a picnic in the nearby park. Little Jaehyun was told to share his candies with you. Even though he was reluctant, he pushed a lollipop towards you. You smiled widely and accepted it, thanking him softly.

At that moment, Jaehyun felt happy that he shared it with you.

You, on the other hand, were not so compassionate. Since childhood, you hated sharing your things. So when you noticed Jaehyun staring at your last piece of french fry, you felt protective over it. His lips formed a slight pout as if imagining himself eating that. With pleading and puppy eyes, he looked at you.

You just turned your head away and quickly ate the last piece.

You had turned around to see Jaehyun’s reaction and saw that his eyes had turned glassy with tears. Even though something tugged in your heart, you just walked away and sat somewhere far away.

Cut to middle school, when both of you were a bit closer to each other than before. You used to sit beside him and would love to annoy him. He used to say that the purpose of your birth was to be a menace (you could not disagree with that). He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the little shenanigans.

The banter continued till high school. You would present him with a muffin, only to take a bite out of it before him and giggle. He would pout, but would secretly enjoy it. He would let you eat the rest of the muffin while tugging your stray hair strands behind your ear.

You would feel your heart racing, and wishing something you had been wanting for a long, long time - that Jaehyun would become more than just a friend.

When college started, both of you almost stopped meeting. Your heart would hurt, but the situation was out of your hands. Jaehyun was pursuing his dreams of becoming an idol, and you were ecstatic to see him excelling in the field he had always wanted to go in. However, a small part of you yearned to be back to those days when it was just two ordinary friends and not a successful idol and his boring best friend. The insecurities would build up, slowly crumbling your confidence to ask him out.

It was your twenty-fifth birthday and Jaehyun wanted to surprise you. He was in charge of driving, but won’t tell you where he was taking you. You were feeling curious and impatient, but he would only smirk. Seeing you fidgeting restlessly and behaving like a little baby, he kissed your cheek and kept driving. That was an effective method, for your insides were churning and you were feeling warm.

He parked his car a little far away from the location and told you to close your eyes. He kissed your cheek gently again and led you to the place.

When you opened your eyes, it looked vaguely familiar. Jaehyun could see the gears clicking in your head, and replied, “This is the place our parents brought us to for a picnic. It was our first meeting.” Your eyes widened, and you wondered what he had in store.

He handed you a lollipop, and suddenly all the memories started to flood back. You thanked him softly and started eating it. Jaehyun asked, “When were you going to confess to me?”

You froze. He smiled gently and said, “When we were in high school, I remember that you had written a small note where you had confessed. You thought you had discarded it, but you had kept it on my desk. At first, I was confused, wondering if it was an accident or whether that was your way of confessing. But when I saw you not saying anything or even anticipating any reaction or reply, I understood that you did not mean for that note to reach my eyes. However, the cat was out of the bag.”

You turned towards him, your teeth holding onto the lollipop like it’s your emotional support. Embarrassment coursed through your veins, and your palms started to sweat. You took the broken lollipop out and said, “I am sorry. I was…scared. I did not want to ruin our friendship.” The sunset looked beautiful, the breeze gently blowing Jaehyun’s hair askew. The last rays of the sun illuminated his face, giving him a golden sheen. He looked perfect, and you felt something heavy pit in your stomach.

He kept looking at you, a small smile adorning his face. He was waiting for you to continue, and expression encouraging you to do the same. You said, “I mean look at you. You are so perfect. You are a great son, a great friend, a great idol, a great leader… I could never compare. How could I even ask you for something, when I knew I was not worth it? Look at your status and look at mine. Wouldn’t it be a harsh joke? Wouldn’t my rash decisions and feelings ruin everything?” As you were telling him about your feelings, you could feel tears rushing into the corners of your eyes. Jaehyun noticed this and hugged you gently, to which you rested your head on his chest and cried. It felt good to finally confess, but at what cost? Did you lose everything now? Did you lose him?

Jaehyun kissed the top of your head and hugged you tightly. It felt like he had returned home, in the arms of his loved one. He said, “Y/N, you should not jump to conclusions like that. You know I love muffins, but I always let you eat those. I love french fries, but you love them more. I would gladly sacrifice all my french fries for you because I love you more, and seeing you happy after eating them is better than eating them myself. I know that for you, it might have a slow realisation, but for me, it has been you. It has always been you. It will forever be you. I love you.”

You looked up at him, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. He was slightly teary too, but those tears were of joy. He kissed your forehead and smiled widely. He knelt on one knee and asked, “M’lady, will you be my girlfriend?” You nodded, and he got up and hugged you again.

You might have taken some time to see the blooming love between you two, but for Jaehyun - he knew. He always knew.

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