#it had to be meant for his close friends story

[honeyncherry]

taste me now - bfb!rafe

summary in which rafe can’t help himself around his little sister’s best friend, especially after what happened last week

content 18+, suggestive

masterlist

Sarah’s laugh rang out across the backyard as the two of you sat by the pool. She was mid-story, something about Kiara’s latest terrible date, or maybe it was JJ’s? You weren’t sure. Her words blurred together, punctuated by exaggerated hand gestures and little bursts of laughter. 

You were doing your best to listen — really, you were.

But you could feel him. 

Rafe was up on the deck, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. A cigarette balanced between his fingers, the faint trail of smoke curled lazily into the air drifting in soft, spiraling ribbons. And while his gaze stayed mostly fixed on the horizon, you knew better.

He wasn’t looking at you, not overtly, at least. But the occasional flick of his gaze in your direction was enough to make your stomach twist.

The memory of that kiss burned hotter than the relentless summer sun. You’d told yourself it was a mistake. An impulsive, heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment. You were Sarah’s best friend, for goodness’ sake!

There were rules about these things. 

Rules you’d shattered the second his lips touched yours.

And yet, even now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the way his hand had lingered on that sliver of exposed skin between your top and too-short skirt, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that refused to fade. How his other hand settled at the curve of your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek with a quiet, consuming intensity. As though he were mapping every contour, committing it to memory. And most of all, the way he’d breathed out your name, his voice deep and reverent, like it was something sacred. Something meant to be cherished by him alone.

You shifted in your chair, skin prickling under the weight of your own thoughts. The guilt coiled tight in your chest, its grip almost suffocating. You told yourself again and again that you shouldn’t be looking at him. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him.

But you couldn’t stop.

“Ugh, one sec,” Sarah said suddenly, cutting through the haze in your mind. She glanced at her phone, frowning. “It’s Wheezie. If I don’t answer, she’s gonna call like, five more times.”

She stood, her hair swaying behind her as she made her way toward the house, already pressing the phone to her ear. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

You nodded mutely, not trusting yourself to speak. The moment she disappeared inside the backyard seemed quieter somehow. All sounds around you faded into an oppressive stillness.

You focused in on the pool, trying to steady your breathing while watching the water ripple in the light breeze. Trying to remind yourself that there was nothing to worry about.

But you felt it before you saw him.

A shift in the air. A weight pressing down on your senses. The faint smell of smoke lingering even though the cigarette had been long gone.

His sudden presence made your pulse quicken, and you wondered how he’d gotten so close without you noticing. “Hey baby,” he husked, his voice soft and hurried as he glanced behind him, checking to make sure Sarah wasn’t returning.

“Rafe—” you started, your voice faltering as you looked up. But he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned down abruptly, one hand gripping the armrest of your chair, the other sliding to the back of your head in one swift, almost desperate motion. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck without hesitation, and before you could utter another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours.

Once again, you found yourself succumbing to Rafe Cameron far too easily. The kiss was reckless, charged with the heat and tension that had been brewing between you for weeks. Rafe’s teeth teased your lips, his breath warm and beyond intoxicating.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. Instead, they froze, clawing at the fabric of your chair as if anchoring yourself would somehow steady the whirlwind inside you. Your heart clenched, and a shaky exhale escaped against his lips.

Your heart raced, its pounding so fierce it silenced everything else, leaving the world around you a distant blur. Guilt clawed at your mind even as your body betrayed you, leaning ever so slightly into him, just enough to feel his hard chest brushing up against your tits. Rafe groans, pulling away and looking down as they spill out from your bikini top.

He licks his lips, glancing up and shooting you a sleazy grin. He stares just long enough for the both of you to catch a single breath, before muttering two words that would echo in your mind for the next week: “Missed this.”

He kisses you again, lips and tongue all over you. Your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. They move frantically from your ear to your neck. You gasp as a new flood of emotions crashes over you, threatening to pull you under while your hands reach up to grab him. To touch him. To feel him.

“Rafe,” you whispered again, this time more of a plea.

But he’d already pulled back. His movements were measured, almost like he was savoring the moment.

His smirk lingered, curling at the corners of his lips like he knew exactly what chaos he was leaving behind. His gaze flicked to your lips one last time, a shadow of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned his head.

He glanced over his shoulder, pausing for the briefest moment as Sarah’s voice floated faintly from inside the house.

Then, with maddening composure, he straightened. Every movement exuded an infuriating sense of calm, as though nothing just happened.

With his hands slipping casually into his pockets, he turned and headed toward the docks, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his profile before he disappeared from sight.

You were frozen in place, breath hitched in your throat. Leaning slightly forward, you were still caught in the lingering pull of where he’d held you just seconds ago. Your fingers brushed against your lips, as if needing proof that it had really happened… again.

A weight pressed against your chest, the same dangerous pull from last week, but now it hit harder. It was stronger, deeper, and even more impossible to ignore.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps jolted you back to reality. Your gaze snapped toward the house just as she stepped outside, phone in hand.

“Ugh, finally,” she groaned, dropping into her chair with a dramatic sigh. The legs scraped faintly against the concrete as she slouched back, completely unaware of the storm still raging inside you. “Wheezie wouldn’t shut up about this jacket she found on sale. I swear, I’m blocking her next time.”

She trailed off, her nose wrinkling as she sniffed the air. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the space around you, “wait. Does it smell like smoke out here?”

No.

Your body went rigid, heart slamming against your ribs like it was trying to break free. “Uh, I don’t think so?” 

Sarah turned sharply, her gaze locking onto you. “Are you sure?” she asked, leaning in closer.

The moment stretched unbearably, your pulse roaring in your ears as you forced a shrug, silently begging her not to see the guilt etched across your face.

“Well, whatever,” she said at last, leaning back in her chair with a dismissive wave. “I swear, Rafe stinks up the whole house when he smokes. So gross.”

You swallowed hard, your tongue brushing over your lips. The faint taste of smoke lingered there, branded on your skin.

You hated how much you liked it.

[joemama-2]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a symphony of silence

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: if you want to know what it’s like to love someone who was never yours, ask gojo satoru.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: angst, unrequited love, crying, happy ending, talks of soulmates

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 5.5k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: thank you all so much for 1k followers!! I appreciate every bit of love and support I have received and I hope with this new year, I can make you all happy with my work. :) this is just a little thing, but I really hope u guys enjoy it. as always, have a wonderful day and eat well!

The days feel brighter with you. 

No amount of paperwork, miscalculations, messed up orders can change the light you bring into his life. The moment he met you, he knew it was strange. Feeling himself being reeled in like a fish too quickly scared him. But if you asked him that question, he’d never admit his fear. 

His smile had a mind of its own, curling up in a subconscious way whenever you so much as spared him a fleeting glance. And when you smiled at him? He was on cloud nine. His heart beat faster and stomach fluttered like a little schoolboy when he was in your vicinity. 

But he was always careful. So careful, too careful. Like the way someone treads lightly around a fragile thing they can never keep. You were so full of life, so innocent in your joy, and he was nothing but a darkened silhouette in the background.

He knew what you deserved, and it wasn’t him. Not a man like him, burdened with secrets and a past he couldn’t shake off. And you? You were meant for someone who could offer the world, not someone like him who could barely provide anything but a fleeting moment of warmth.

He had a way of slipping into your presence unnoticed, his longing buried deep within the corners of his chest. When he laughed at your jokes, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing through him, of knowing just how badly he wanted to be more than a passing acquaintance. He wanted to reach out, touch your hand, but the words always died in his throat, swallowed by the fear of your rejection.

He knew the truth, though. You would never see him as he saw you. You would never feel that electric pull, that magnetic force that lured him to you in ways he couldn’t explain, ways he would never allow himself to. Because it would hurt too much, to love someone who didn’t even know.

The days grew brighter with you, but in the back of his mind, he could feel the darkness creeping in. He was just a shadow in your life, and nothing more. And it was enough for him, even if it meant living in a love that would never be returned. As long as you were happy. As long as you smiled. That was all he could ever ask for. He sometimes joked with himself about just saying ‘fuck it’ and getting down on one knee for you. He would. 

Too bad his best friend had the balls to do it before he did. 

He saw it coming, of course. You and Suguru have been together for five years. He was there through every phase of your growing relationship, a background character in a main couple’s story. It’s why he felt guilty about his feelings—his thoughts. But he always justified it with a he knew you first. 

He watched the way Suguru could make you laugh with the simplest words, how your eyes lit up when he held you close. It was the kind of love that made the world feel like it had all the right answers—answers he never had. He shouldn’t be pining after you. You were Suguru’s, and the world had made that clear. But there was always a part of him that entertained the what ifs. He was there before Suguru, before the smiles and the promises, before the certainty of love that seemed to hold you two together like a force stronger than gravity.

And yet, here he was, helpless. Watching you slip further away, like sand through his fingers. You were so easy to love, and so impossible to have.

He’d gotten good at keeping his distance. At laughing along with Suguru’s jokes, at pretending to be happy for the both of you. But inside, it was a constant ache, a pain that never went away, no matter how many times he buried it under a mask of smiles and camaraderie. He wondered if you ever noticed the way he looked at you. The quiet longing that always seemed to flicker in his eyes when you spoke. But you never did. How could you? You were too wrapped up in the love you had with Suguru to ever see the way his heart twisted with every word you spoke, every touch you gave.

But maybe, just maybe, he could keep pretending. Keep pretending that your happiness meant more than his own. Because that’s what love was, right? Sacrificing for the one you cared about, even if they never knew the weight of it.

“Are you happy, Satoru?”

Your question was simple enough, but you really had no idea just how much weight it held. Not like he would tell you. His head tilts, playfully smiling. “Happy? Why do you ask, hm?”

“I’ve just been wondering…” you mutter, tracing your glass rim with a manicured nail. Looking up at him in such a way that makes him want to wrap his arms around your body and hold on tight. “I don’t want to be invasive, but sometimes it just feels…faked.”

Huh, so you’re not as oblivious as he thought you were. 

But your words hit him like a cold wave, a shock to his system. You had no idea. You never would. The smile on his face falters for just a moment, yet it’s enough. Enough to make him feel like he’s exposed, vulnerable, like you might see right through the layers he’d spent so long building up.

Faked.

That word stings more than anything else you could’ve said. Because, in some twisted way, you were right. He had spent so long pretending, so long wearing a mask that even he had begun to forget what it was like to feel anything real. What it was like to want something for himself, to let someone in without fear.

He takes a slow breath, his gaze softening, eyes flicking to the side, pretending to consider the question. “I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice is casual, a practiced indifference, but inside, his heart is pounding.

You don’t buy it. You never did.

“I don’t know, Satoru. You always seem so… distant. Like you’re somewhere else, even when you’re here.” There’s a hint of concern in your tone, but it’s laced with a careful distance, as if you’re treading around something fragile.

He swallows hard, the weight of your gaze digging into him. You see it, don’t you? The cracks in the armor he’s so carefully constructed. The loneliness he hides behind every joke, every flirtatious smile.

But he can’t tell you the truth. Not when your words have the power to break him, to shatter everything he’s built up around himself. He can’t show you how deeply he cares, how much he wants to reach out and make you see him for what he truly is—just a man who’s afraid of losing something he’s never had.

He laughs, a little too loud—a little too involuntary. “I’m just a little busy, that’s all. Life’s a bit chaotic, but I’m fine. Really.”

Even so, you still don’t look convinced. And for a split second, he wonders if you’ve figured it out. If you can see the way his heart aches every time he’s near you, how badly he wishes things were different. How badly he wishes he could be the one to make you smile, make you laugh, in a way that wasn’t tainted by his unspoken feelings.

However instead, you just smile softly, a quiet understanding in your eyes. For just a moment, he thinks maybe you’ve known this whole time. Of course, he’ll never make you aware of how much that question, those few words, broke him inside. Not now. Not ever.

He can feel the cold of your engagement ring pressed against the back of his palm, looking over at you with parted lips, raised brows. Your expression is soft—too inviting. He almost can’t take it anymore. 

Your entire being brings him in, wrapping around his soul like a warm blanket on a cold night. Your eyes can hold a thousand different meanings, but so can your touch. The world blurs into a fade when it’s just you and him, like it always does. He can see the fireworks, feel the softness of your skin against his. 

He wants you so much. 

It’s a quiet ache, a longing that starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads like wildfire, burning him from the inside out. He’s so close to you now, the air between you two charged, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires.

Your breath catches as you watch him, and it only makes things worse. It’s as if you’re reading him, sensing the intensity of the pull that draws him to you, even though you shouldn’t. Even though you’re promised to someone else. But for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this space, and everything else ceases to exist.

His heart races as he subconsciously leans in, just a fraction of an inch. Like a man on the edge of something dangerous, something he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway. His fingers twitch against your wrist, the ring there a painful reminder of the distance between what is and what could never be.

You shift slightly, a small motion, but it’s enough to send a jolt through him. You’re so close now, your warmth seeping into him, your scent intoxicating. In a single brief and fleeting instant, he wonders if you feel the same pull, if you’re as caught in the web of longing as he is.

Just then, you blink; and the spell is broken. You pull back just enough. The correct amount of room to create a sliver of space, he feels his heart sink. “I…” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if you’re struggling with the weight of the moment too. But he knows what’s coming. You always have that hesitation, that gentle reluctance when it comes to him.

He swallows, the words caught in his throat, but the truth is too painful to speak. He can’t admit how much he wants you. He can’t admit that, despite the ring on your finger, despite everything that keeps you apart, he’s falling for you in ways that have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with his heart.

“I know,” he whispers finally, his voice low, barely audible, because it’s the only thing he can say without completely shattering the fragile barrier that keeps everything in check.

When deep down, in the part of him that refuses to let go, he wishes with everything he has that you could see him. That you could feel what he feels.

That you could love him, just once, the way he loves you.

He puts on his usual smile. He knows you see through it now, but there’s no point in hiding it. There’s no point in hiding anything anymore, is there? “I know,” he repeats. 

The words fall heavy between you, thick with unspoken truths, and yet, they feel like a fragile lie. He laughs again, but it’s different now. Not the carefree expression he usually wears, but one edged with something raw—something too real for either of you to ignore. He knows you see the cracks. He knows you feel the tension and the weight of everything he doesn’t say. It makes him ache in ways he can’t describe. You’ve always seen him, better than anyone else, better than he ever allowed anyone to. And even now, when the distance between you is palpable, when everything about this moment screams to turn away, neither of you can.

You’re still staring at him, your eyes warm but searching. You want more. You want to know what’s behind that smile, what’s behind the guarded words, the silence that screams louder than anything he’s ever said. You want to see through the layers, even when he’s terrified of what you might find.

Except that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? He’s terrified. Terrified of losing you, terrified of the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so completely. Terrified that you’ll slip away from him, like everyone else does.

“Satoru…” Your voice trembles slightly, hesitation lingering in the air like an uninvited guest. You want to say something, but you don’t know how. You want to reach for him, but you know the consequences. The space between you both feels endless, a chasm that neither of you can cross.

He really can’t keep pretending anymore.

His smile falters, his eyes dimming as he finally lets go of the pretense, removing the silence hanging in the air. He feels the weight of your gaze on him, steady and knowing, and something inside him breaks.

You know. You always knew.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he admits quietly, his voice strained, his chest tight with the confession. It’s not a declaration of love, not yet. However, it’s the closest thing he can give you right now—the truth, raw and painful. He’s not sure what you’ll do with it, if it’ll push you further away or bring you closer, but the honesty feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time. He waits for your response, his heart hammering in his chest, terrified of the silence that follows. Because no matter what happens next, he knows that something between the two of you has irrevocably shifted. And there’s no going back.

When you look away from him, he gets his answer. With that, he laughs softly to himself in understanding. Not even needing to hear your soft words—whispered apologies. Because at the end of the day, he knew what would happen. 

He’s not mad at you for it, how could he be?

You’ve always been his anchor, even if you couldn’t see it. Even if he was just the one who stood in the background, quietly waiting, hoping for a moment like this. He knew that in the end, it would never be him, and somehow, he had accepted that. But it doesn’t make the ache any less painful, the hollow feeling in his chest where something once burned bright.

You’ve always belonged to someone else.

The way you look away, the way your fingers subtly twist the fabric of your shirt as if you’re gathering the courage to speak, tells him everything. You don’t need to apologize for anything. He knows. He always has.

But it doesn’t stop the weight from pressing down on him. It doesn’t stop the way his heart cracks, just a little bit more, with every moment that stretches between you both.

He should leave. Walk away before it hurts too much. Yet something keeps him there—something that’s always kept him tethered to you, even in your silence. Once more, he chuckles quietly. The sound is bitter in the back of his throat. He puts his smile back into place, masking the storm brewing inside. “It’s okay,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reassuring himself as much as you. “I get it.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a quiver that betrays him, a flicker of pain he can’t hide. You’ll never know just how much it stings. How it feels like something vital is slipping away, piece by piece. But he won’t show you that. Not now. Not when he knows you’re already carrying your own weight.

And so, he stays. Silent, distant, as you both continue to navigate the space between what you want and what you can’t have. No matter how much it hurts, he loves you. In the quietest, most agonizing way possible. And that’s enough for him, even if it will never be enough for you.

“Just…don’t leave me.” He mutters, almost like he doesn’t want to get the words out. He’s aware of the fact that he’s pushing more than he should—biting off more than he’s being given. 

You gulp, biting the inside of your cheek. A silent second passes before you nod. “I’d never let you go.”

When he’s walking back home that night, the air feels more suffocating than usual. His apartment—too big for one—is cold. Walking to his bedroom, not bothering to strip himself of his clothes as he plops down onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling with a melancholic smile. Feeling a prickle of tears hit the corners of his eyes. They don’t fall—not yet. He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat won’t budge.

He should be happy, right? At least you didn’t leave him completely. Nonetheless, the promise in your words doesn’t feel like solace; it feels like a bandage over a wound that will never fully heal. He chortles, a hollow, bitter sound that fills the emptiness of the room.

That’s probably the nicest way he could’ve been let down. For some reason, it hurts more. 

Extremely more than he thought it would. Somewhere along the lines, he may have even somehow convinced himself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. But of course, they weren’t. They never could be. The optimism in him is dying. 

The silence in his apartment is deafening, and in the quiet, his mind runs wild with every memory of you, every moment that he convinced himself meant more than it did. The way your voice eased when you spoke to him, the way your eyes lingered just a little too long. He had built up those fleeting moments into something real, something that could have existed in another life, in another world. However now, reality has slammed into him with brutal force, leaving him breathless and broken.

He curls his fingers into the sheets, his chest tightening. He wants to scream, but the words stick to the back of his throat. Instead, he lets out a long, shaky breath, the weight of everything settling deeper into his bones.

Tomorrow, he will smile again. Tomorrow, he will pretend everything is okay. So tonight, in the darkness of his room, it can just be him and the stabbing pain of unrequited love.

It’s so difficult because it’s more than he can bear. Even dreaming is not an escape from you. 

He lies there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room closing in around him. His thoughts are a whirlwind—too much, too fast, all at once. He feels like he’s drowning in them, unable to pull himself out. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling the covers tighter around his body, as if they could shield him from the cold ache in his chest. The memory of your words, of the softness in your voice, keeps echoing in his mind: “I’d never let you go.” You hadn’t meant it the way he wanted, the way he had hoped. You had meant it in the kindest way possible, but all it did was reinforce the distance between you two. You couldn’t love him. You couldn’t be with him—not the way he needed you to be.

He tries to push away the thought, but it lingers, gnawing at him. The weight of knowing that you would never truly leave him, that you’d always be there. Still, never in the way he wanted. It cuts so much deeper than he could have imagined. It’s like a constant reminder that some things just aren’t meant to be.

A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes. He’s tired—so tired. Not physically, but emotionally. It’s exhausting, pretending. Entirely consuming it is to feel something that can never be returned the way it’s given.

He presses the back of his palm to his nose, inhaling the faint remnants of your scent. The tears finally fall, slow and quiet at first. Soon, they’re coming harder and faster. But he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t want anyone to hear, not like anyone would. He doesn’t want it to be known the way his heart is shattering, piece by piece, while he lies alone in the shadows of his apartment.

For a moment, he wishes you could feel this—this ache, this longing that gnaws at him until there’s nothing left but the hollowed-out shell of someone who will never truly be enough. He wishes you could understand how it feels to love someone so deeply, to want them more than anything, and yet know that your love will never be enough.

He laughs again, a bitter, empty sound, this time not hiding it. It’s a dull laugh that tastes like defeat. He wipes at his eyes, sniffling quietly, the tears continuing to fall. Then, he forces himself to take a deep breath, to stop.

He can’t let himself drown in this. Not now.

But the truth is, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep pretending. The weight of everything—the smiles, the casual conversations, the “I’m fine” that he spits out like it’s nothing—feels too heavy now. He wonders how long you were able to tell. If you saw through the facade when you first met him, if you noticed the cracks starting to form around him immediately. Maybe he was the oblivious one. 

He tells himself over and over again: you have your own life, your own love, your own future.

He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, the emptiness of his solitude swallowing him whole. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself, I’ll wake up, and I’ll be fine. He’s done this before. Pretending, masking the pain, wearing the boyish smile he knows so well. It’s easier than facing the truth, than admitting how much it hurts.

For now, in the quiet of his apartment, the only thing he can do is let the tears fall, and let himself grieve for the love he’ll never have. 

However, one day…something changes in Satoru. He doesn’t even expect it. It’s subtle at first. A shift, almost imperceptible, like the first breeze of spring after a long, bitter winter. He’s standing at the edge of the room, watching as you and Suguru stand hand in hand at the altar, your eyes locked with his in a way that is nothing short of reverent. Your smile—so soft, so full of love—shines through the quiet moment as Suguru vows to stand by you, to love you through everything. Maybe it’s the way you seem so at peace with yourself while looking his best friend in the eyes at the altar, or the way you're radiantly glowing when you two have your first dance. Or the way you still regard him with the same tenderness you did from day one. 

The ache grows quieter. 

As you look at him, there’s a quiet contentment that blooms in Satoru’s chest. It’s not pain, not jealousy, not longing. Just peace. Something about seeing you so at ease, so sure of yourself, brings a strange sense of clarity to his heart.

He doesn’t know what it is—perhaps it’s the way you carry yourself now, with confidence, with the kind of joy that was never there before—but he feels something relieve within him. The old throbbing pain, the one that had been gnawing at him for so long, then pauses just a bit. It’s like the final breath of a storm passing, leaving behind only calm.

 Later that evening, as he watches the two of you share your first dance, something settles in his chest, something he can’t quite explain. You’re  glowing under the soft lights, and the way Suguru holds you so gently, his fingers pressing into the small of your back, is enough to make Satoru’s throat tighten. There’s no regret, no bitterness. Just a quiet acceptance.

He knows, deep down, that this is your moment. And he’s finally okay with that.

Satoru’s gaze drifts to you as you laugh, your head tilting back slightly as Suguru twirls you in his arms. Your eyes meet his, just for a second, and he sees it—the same look you’ve always had for him. His eyes don’t move from you one bit throughout the night, feeling something drift into the air. His shoulders feel lighter. Now, it’s just… comfort. A quiet, steady beat that comes from knowing he’s been a part of something meaningful in your life, even if it wasn’t meant to be forever.

He smiles to himself, the ghost of his old longing fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, Satoru feels like he’s no longer holding onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. The pieces have finally clicked into place. So, in that moment, he realizes something he hadn’t anticipated. 

He’s free.

As the night winds down, and the last few guests start to trickle out, Satoru stays behind, quietly watching the empty dance floor. The lights are dimmed, the music faded, but the feeling of the day still lingers in the air. He knows that things have changed for him—deeply, irrevocably.

It’s not that he’s given up on love. Not at all. But something in him has shifted. It could be that his understanding is that love isn’t always about holding onto someone forever. Sometimes, it’s about letting them go—allowing them to find their happiness in their own way, even if it’s not with you.

You and Suguru have your own story now, and Satoru is finally okay with that. In fact, he’s grateful for it. Because without your happiness, without you finding peace with him, he never would have found peace with himself. 

He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all—of everything that’s passed, of everything that’s been said and unsaid—and it’s fine. It’s more than fine. He’s not angry. He’s not resentful. He’s content.

And that’s enough.

The days that follow are gentle. There’s no rush or no pressure. Satoru slowly moves forward with his life, embracing the little things—his work, his friendships, his quiet moments. There’s a stillness in him that wasn’t there before. The pain that had consumed him for so long doesn’t disappear completely, but it becomes more manageable. More bearable.

Of course, maybe one day, in another place, with another person, there will be a love that’s his to hold onto. But for now, he’s happy with this. He’s happy with letting go—with moving forward. Because in the end, he’s learned that love doesn’t always look the way you expect. It isn’t always a fairy tale. Sometimes, it’s just a silent acceptance, a letting go, and knowing that everything will be okay in the end.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru believes that.

Finally, he just sees you. Someone’s wife.

Satoru stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. The woman he once loved, now married to someone else. The years have passed, but you’re still the same in the most beautiful ways. Your smile is just as bright, and the warmth in your eyes is still the same, no matter how much time has passed.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft, a little hesitant. It’s been a few years since he last saw you at your wedding to Suguru. He assumed, with time, that he would somehow grow less attracted to you. Less drawn to your presence, your laughter, and the way you seem to light up the world just by being in it.

 How wrong he was.

You meet his gaze, and Satoru feels that familiar flutter in his chest, something he thought had long since faded. You haven’t changed. He’s never been able to forget the way you made him feel. The truth is, he probably never will. “I’m great,” you reply wholeheartedly, your smile so genuine it catches him off guard. The apples of your cheeks rise, and he can’t help but notice how much more beautiful you’ve become. There’s a glow about you, one that comes from happiness and contentment. The familiar glint in your eyes beams brighter than he’s ever seen before. It’s the same one that once made him think maybe he could be the one to make you smile like that forever.

 Prettier than any star.  

“Things have been well,” you continue, a slight tilt of your head as you study him. “How are you?”

Satoru swallows, his heart hammering in his chest, but he smiles. He’s not sure why it still affects him this way. Maybe it’s because he knows you’re happy, and that should be enough for him. But hearing you speak with that warmth, that sweetness, it still stirs something deep within him. “I’m good,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. He wants to tell you everything he wasn’t able to before—how much he’s missed you, how much he’s struggled to let go, how he’s still a little haunted by your absence. But he can’t. You’re someone else’s now. His best friend’s. And he can’t take that from you. He doesn’t want to, either. 

“Life’s… busy,” he adds, trying to change the subject, but he knows the words are empty. He’s never been able to lie to you. You always see through it.

You nod, as if understanding more than he’s said. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not awkward. It’s familiar in a way that brings him a strange sense of comfort. You’ve both come so far, yet here you are, still standing before him.

Satoru wants to say something—anything—that will make this moment last. Yet, he knows better now. He knows that some things are meant to pass, to be remembered only as bittersweet memories. “I’m happy for you,” he finally says, his voice quieter than before. His eyes meet yours, searching for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you might feel something too.

And there it is. A flicker. A brief, imperceptible flicker in your eyes. You’re still the same woman he once knew, the one who captured his heart and never quite let it go.

He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He can see it in the way you look at him. You’ve both changed, in ways that neither of you could have predicted. Really, that’s okay. You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.

“I’m glad to see you doing well, Satoru,” you say with that same warm smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?” The weight of the unspoken words lingers between you, yet it’s not painful. Not anymore. Satoru nods, his own smile genuine, even if it’s laced with sadness. He doesn’t need to hold onto the past anymore. You’ve found your place in the world, and he’s finally at peace with that.

“I will,” he says quietly. “You too.”

Staying in your presence feels nice, no words having to be spoken when your actions do it all. Fleeting looks, warm smiles, hushed chuckles. He can’t stop his body from reciprocating. Every time your fingers brush against his by accident, a jolt of electricity runs through him. When your voice dances in the air, light and carefree, it takes every ounce of control he has not to reach out and pull you closer into a hug. Your presence is a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed, a peace he’s been missing, even after all these years.

He’s missed you. That’s okay to admit, right?

“Are you with someone now, Satoru?” You ask, sipping your coffee with an innocent eyebrow raise. 

He shakes you off with a chuckle. “Nah, no one. I’m a lone wolf, remember?”

Playfully, you roll your eyes. “Right. Well, every lone wolf needs his mate, doesn’t he?”

“Please don’t use ABO logic on me.”

You kick his shin under the table and he dramatically responds with a frown. Looking at him from the large window that displays the warm morning of Saturday. Speaking with such integrity that it’s hard not to believe you. “I’m serious, Satoru. When it happens, I want to be there for you. Your soulmate is just walking around everyday life waiting for you, I look forward to you finally getting to experience that.”

His heart melts, smirk softening into genuineness. He can’t find it in him to say how wrong you probably are, to crush your dreams of him finding his one true love one day. How could he? You just want what’s best for him, and that’s why he loves you so much. 

“Soulmate…” he repeats to himself lowly, watching you laugh gingerly before looking back out at the window. His eyes glance down at his left pinky finger, flexing it. 

Red string of fate. 

He can imagine the circle around his pinky, red and bright with intensity; glowing like a beacon of everything he’s always wanted and dreamed for. He looks back up at you, your side profile so perfectly structured in the warm light. The way your features align effortlessly like they were meant to be there. He can’t help the crinkle of his eyes when his smile grows wider and more genuine. The time he spent longing for you, it all seems to fade away when he looks at you like this. He lightly jerks his hand.  

And for a brief, suspended moment, he catches the sight of your left pinky twitching, being tugged just barely in his direction before you adjust your grip on your coffee. 

He follows your gaze, hiding a snicker behind the rim of his cup. 

Yeah, she is just walking around, isn’t she?

a/n: hiiiii! i really hoped you guys enjoyed this, while writing this i didn't feel very confident and I still sort of don't, but I really hope it satisfies u all <3 as I said b4 thank you so much for 1k followers, I didn't expect this to happen lollolol but your support has been so appreciated. with this new year, I hope to put out more works, and I hope u all stay along for the ride. have a great day!!!! love and kisses

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Something Else Entirely

Thanos / Choi Su-Bong X Nonchalant!Cold!Reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.005 - Something Else Entirely]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Something Else Entirely" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Notice: Entry Continuation of Archive Entry No.003

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》 Summary: Where, somehow, Thanos kept choosing you over his others without hesitation more often in the 3rd game, which led to confusion and feelings to be said. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS TO EPISODE 5 / GAME 2 AND 3, Change of story(Both during possibly after the entry), Reader is player '457', Thanos chose to recruit you instead of Se-mi and Min-su in the 2nd game, Blood, Violence, Mentions of Drug Use, Spilled Confession(He screamed it out), Shouting, Swearing, slight not-so nsfw(PDA), Reader chose 'x' twice. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

The next day in this damned place seemed to have passed by quickly as you and other players were now being transferred and walked towards the second game. Of course, this meant yesterday's voting system ended with continuing to the second game.

You knew everyone here had decided to play the games due to their debts, but unlike them, you didn't have that much debt in you to surpass the millions like the, but you dislike the thought of spending your hard-earned money on debts you barely even recall now. So the rounded-up cash after the first round was closely enough for you, making you choose to leave the games immediately.

But, of course, that didn't happen as you all entered a new room you deciphered as where the 2nd game would occur.

As the doors you all entered from closed, the first instruction was announced. To find a team in groups of 5.

Being the unphased person you are, you just waited for someone to ask you if you can join their team. As everyone scrambled to find people to join them, you walked around the area, awaiting for someone to ask you to join them.

Of course, that happened as someone shouted your number.

"457!" A voice called out from behind. You turned to see player 230, giving you a wave. You raised an eyebrow and asked, "Want me to join you guys?" You said, turning your full body torwards them.

Player 230 nodded with a big smile, clearly ignoring the 'x' patch on your jacket. "Sure is, do you know who I am?" He replied, pointing at himself as he asked the question. You raised your eyebrow again at this, "The infamous rapper, Thanos?" You answered, earning a thumbs up from Thanos and his two friends before freestyle rapping who he was.

After that, he asked for your name, in which you gave him a nickname instead, not wanting to give out anything that much yet. He then patted my shoulder and winked at me. "Don't worry, baby. I'll protect you," he said, giving me a finger heart. I just scoffed at his action, turning away as I noticed there were only four members. But soon after that, one of Thanos' friends found another player to join.

The announcer later spoke, telling everyone about the 2nd game's mechanic, the six-legged pentathlon. The mini-games given were said out, and you looked over to your teammates as they listened before settling on who would play which game. Luckily for them, you played gonggi in the past, so that game is yours to play once your team is up.

"Okay, you good with gonggi?" Player 124, which you now know as Nam-gyu, asked, earning a nod from you. They then started picking out their own games to choose and play later.

■■■

"Goddammit, a lot of people survived," Nam-gyu groaned as we noticed another batch of players enter the room again. All five of you finished the 2nd game, now waiting for every player to either lose or win.

You hummed in return as the thought last group entered the dormitory. You leaned back into the bunk's metal stands, deep in thought. However, it was soon diminished by Thanos slinging an arm across your shoulders.

He said your nickname and praised you for your game earlier, "You did amazing there!" Thanos exclaimed before imitating how you did in the 2nd game.

Soon, the 2nd game came to an end as the pink guards entered the room once more to announce the new amount.

You looked up at the piggy bank in the ceiling before darting back onto the screen above the pink guards, the price of money doubling its amount. To you, it was far more than enough for you.

■■■

"457, just one more round, 'kay?" Nam-gyu said, shaking you by your shoulders as he spoke. He took notice of the red patch, but you pushed him off, your mind had already decided from the start.

Thanos, of course, noticed this and stood between you and Nam-gyu, earning a confused look from Nam-gyu, but deciding on shrugging it off as Thanos being high on his ass again.

But little by little, you've noticed how close Thanos was to you, even back at the 2nd game, he sat close to you, and even during the games, he attempted to have a hand on you from behind.

You, at first, thought of it as him on his drugs, but soon, you started thinking otherwise. And those thoughts continued further as he seemingly blocked you off from Nam-gyu's persuasions despite wanting the same thing.

The voting commenced with player 001 being the first to vote, who chose 'x' this time around. Other players were soon called one-by-one.

As it continues around the halfway mark, player 001 suddenly disrupts the players, causing a scene throughout players that inevitably pushes players to play one more round, adding things like the games are for kids and it's that easy.

You just groaned at this scene, knowing well it will not end well for those who chose 'x'.

■■■

"... Shit..." you cursed out as you pressed 'x' with the voting barely reaching the 'o', making the games continue once again.

Of course, those who chose 'o' cheered in joy, including Nam-gyu. Meanwhile, Thanos slightly frowned, you still chose to choose to leave the game already. Knowing his gaze as well as Nam-gyu's, you decide to instead join those who also chose 'x'.

Meanwhile, on Thanos' side, Nam-gyu cursed at you as they watched you enter the bunks of the 'x's.

"... That bitch," Nam-gyu said, somehow earning a back slap from Thanos, "Oi, don't talk to them like that..." Thanos replied to him, yet still slightly upset how you didn't choose the same as them. Nam-gyu gave another look of confusion towards Thanos, he thinks he was acting a lot stranger than before, even if the excuse or reason was the drugs, it was still a little too out of character of him to act this way towards another player.

As you all do your things, the announcer sounds in to say night's out in half an hour, cue players to go, or find a relatively good bed in the bunks to sleep in.

You found a relatively good one in the middle, not too close to the middle but not too close to the walls as well as it was right next to one of the staircases in the bunks.

Soon, the lights started to dim, with players starting to cosy up under the covers of their bunks. You, as well, cosy up under the covers and sleep, escaping the world for a little while.

■■■

Later on, you stirred for a moment as you hear footsteps towards you. You were close to the stairs, so that's that, but you couldn't help but feel like the person was coming towards you.

And then, you heard someone call your nickname, "Oi, baby, you awake?" You recognised the voice as Thanos. You groaned at him in return, "I am now, thank you very much," You retorted as you turned away from him, "Leave me alone, I know you wanted something because I chose 'x'..." You added, noticing how he always screamed for 'o' in the votes.

He scoffed at that, if only you could see the smitten look on his face as he shook his head, "Not about that, but why did you leave our group, huh?" He asked, lightly shaking your shoulder, you groaned again and yanked his hand off.

"Really? An 'x' with four 'o's, you fucking high right now? And get back to you bunk, they might notice and eliminate your drugged ass," you retorted, slightly turning towards him before you noticed him moving towards the bed above yours and looking back at you, "There, better?" He asked, elbows propping him up as he placed his head on his palms. He was lucky with the darkness hiding the smitten look on him.

You scoffed at him before attempting to go back to sleep.

As you do so, Thanos kept looking at you. Sure, he may be getting questions from his friends the next day, but did he care? Something about you kept pulling him back to you, not like what he felt towards the dead 196. No, it was entirely different. Like the drugs he took, something he can't fully get away from, but unlike the drugs, it was something he would be unable to let go of.

■■■

The next day came by, and you awoke to see Thanos who actually slept on the bunk above yours. Damn, you thought to yourself, thinking whether this man has something towards you or he'd just like this towards new friends.

The time went by, and now you and the rest are being walked to the 3rd game with Thanos, of course, tailing behind you. Again, you were weirded out by this as his friends were somewhere else in the lines.

As you all entered the new place, a large area with 50 rooms surrounding it with a higher platform in the middle.

The 3rd game is about to begin.

■■■

"Going to leave us again, boss?" Nam-gyu called out to Thanos, approaching the purple-haired man. Two rounds in, Nam-gyu took notice of how Thanos' first instinct after each round was to find you as you always try and find other groups than theirs.

Thanos ignored Nam-gyu and continued to look for you. Then he did. He immediately bearhugged you and ruffled your hair.

He cheered your name, saying how glad he was that you're alive like him. You replied his actions by a pat of the back, continuing to be weirded out by the noticable difference in dynamics between how he acts around you and his friends.

Soon, the carousel started to slowly spin again, along with the same music to sang out.

"3!" The announcer said. The player then started to find players to complete the said amount. You immediately got into one and ran towards one of the rooms, not noticing Thanos calling for you. With that, Thanos kicked one of his friends out before screaming towards one of the rooms.

The half a minute timer came to an end, followed by rounds of shots and screams of those who didn't manage to get into a room.

■■■

"Fucking hell..." You cursed out, after another round, the players remained decreased as the 6th round of the game commenced, the platform below spinned slowly.

You were already exhausted from all the adrenaline and running from the previous rounds and games. You hoped this was the final round.

Meanwhile, Thanos kept a close eye on you, blatantly ignoring Nam-gyu once more, not wanting to hear another avertion coming from his friend. Of course, he noticed your exhaustion, and deep down is concerned. Even under all those drugs, he had a concern for you.

"2!" The announcer said, earning you mentally cursing at it. 50 rooms and over 100 players. If you won't die due to not being able to find a partner, then you might as well be eliminated for the inability to secure a room.

About to give out, you felt someone tug on you by the wrist and pull you out of the platform, followed by Nam-gyu's voice screaming out for Thanos. You looked to see the man, Thanos, holding your wrist as you both ran towards the rooms.

"The fuck- Hey!" You called out, but it was unheard as other players ran to get into their own rooms.

"What the fuck-!?" You cursed out, trying to free your wrist as you both entered one of the rooms. He finally lets go of you, "The hell is really wrong with you?!" You cursed out, "You've acting weird this entire time. The hell are you on 'cause that's not drugs," you added, extremely confused and weirded out by his actions. He remained silent. Only the sounds of players outside could be heard.

He mustered something but you couldn't quite hear it, "What was that?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, I said what-" "Because I love you for fuck's sake!" Thanos let out, grabbing your shoulders and shaking, "God, every since! Just... Something in you are different, and it makes me insane!" He said.

Like the drugs he took, something he can't fully get away from, but unlike the drugs, it was something he would be unable to let go of.

You stared at him in slight shock, "What...?" You asked, wondering if you heard that right.

"Dammit, I fucking love you, alright? You're fucking intoxicating," he replied, lowering his head as if ashamed of the words that spilled his mouth.

Finally understanding his words, you tapped his cheek, making him look back at you before giving a small smile at him.

Forgetting the world around us, the door unlocked as the game finished. Slightly relieved at this, you looked back at Thanos before giving him a peck on the lips, ignoring the slight tang of iron from the blood that splattered on his face from previous games.

You exited the room after that, leaving the jaw-dropped man in the room as you attempted to blend back in the remaining players.

■■■

As your entered the dormitory once again, you felt someone tackle you once more, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you close.

"You shouldn't have left me like that, baby!" He whined, pulling you towards his original place in the bunks on the other side. You slightly felt a bit out of place considering your patch and the players surrounding you, but Thanos soon pushed those feelings away as he proudly exclaimed you at his friends, earning glances at Nam-gyu that speaks "So that's why he was acting like that," before nodding.

Soon, another voting would commence, but now getting close to Thanos, you wondered if you could continue this without him dying because of another game.

Now you have another reason to leave the games entirely.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

》 Archiver's Notes: As the winner of the voting log with no more than 2% more than another option, a continuation entry is done for the chaotic purple-haired man, Thanos.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Cariad | Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader | One shot 2.3k

After a forced night out with your fellow fae ‘friends’ ends in a trail of your fairy dust, it’s your werewolf roommate who takes the blame.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of violence, blood, bad friends and bad ex boyfriends. Bucky is a cutie pie puppy (werewolf) and reader is a fae with wings.

A/N: Very loosely based on the story of Beddgelert. Cariad - darling in Welsh. 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Come on, you can’t stay cooped up in your flat all night.”

Your friends pounded their fists on the door of your apartment, calling through the keyhole and begging you to come out with them.

Friends might be too generous, women who also worked at the shitty diner down the street and also happened to be fae was more accurate. That seemed enough license for them to come and bother you, but it was never quite enough for you to really open up to them or for them to offer you a place to stay when you left your disgusting ex, John.

“I don’t want to, I’m fine here,” you shouted back, lounging against the arm of the sofa, your feet in your roommate, Bucky's, lap and a bowl of popcorn on your own. You tossed a kernel across to Bucky and he caught it with a snap between his preternaturally sharp teeth. You giggled and he grinned, flashing his long canines, before returning his attention to the terrible reality show you were both watching. 

The two of you had been watching the series from the start and had become increasingly close over the last six weeks since you moved in. Bucky always made sure you had popcorn, a blanket, which he spread over your legs, and something fun to drink, either a cocktail, a glass of wine or, one week, a huge hot chocolate covered with marshmallows.

Despite your reservations about moving in with a were, he was really a lovely roommate. He kept mostly to himself apart from your TV nights, which you looked forward to more and more, enjoying the feel of his warmth so close to you, the heady scent of his musky cologne and his ringing laughter that always made you smile.

 In fact the only downside seemed to be that he shed hair like a large dog, but then you left fairy dust everywhere so it worked out evenly in the end.

Plus after living with John and his volatile nature, being able to predict Bucky’s mood around the moon cycle was actually more reassuring than scary. You’d expected him to be grumpy, snappy, even a little mean when the moon was full, but instead he just stuck around the flat and, if anything, was friendlier, touching your elbow or the small of your back, brushing his leg against yours on the sofa and, as he was now, massaging your feet after a long day at work. His instinct was to nest and seek comfort, following you around like a lost puppy, a huge, muscular, lost puppy.

“You can go out if you want, doll, don’t stay in on my account,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Bucky liked to stay in around the full moon. It wasn’t that he was dangerous as a wolf, he could still control himself, but everything felt so much…more. He was always a little more territorial when the moon was at its fullest, seeking the comfort of a familiar space and, increasingly, wanting to make sure that you were protected.

In reality, he’d have liked to keep you exactly where he could see you and keep you safe, but he’d never been the kind of guy to trap someone like that. He liked seeing you smile. If going out made you smile, then he’d try and suck it up… okay, he’d be a grump, but he certainly wouldn’t be letting you know that, even if it meant you wouldn’t be here to scratch behind his ears to keep him calm when the moon rose. 

“I like staying in with you.” You poked him with a fluffy sock covered toe and earnt his fingers tickling you in return. 

“Well, that’s settled then. Go away!” he shouted at your friends, still banging on the door. 

Quiet reigned for all of two minutes before your phone started pinging.

You’re allowed to leave,you know?

Tina, of course, was always starting the arguments about Bucky.

He can’t control you

Morgan, desperate to be the ringleader of the group, but falling very far short. 

So that was two of your friends chipping in, that just left Jenny.

Leave the dog at home and come out with us, I promise we won’t see John. 

She was the biggest barrier to your friendship. Their personal attitude towards Bucky went way beyond the suggestions that he kept you trapped in the flat somehow and ended up in slurs. She’d use any opportunity to take a dig at him, especially if she knew he could hear. 

No.

You text back, slamming the phone down on the arm of the sofa, but they continued to text and text and text until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Ugh, God fine!” you bellowed across the room, your wings glittering and flashing red with fury, sprinkling fairy dust in your wake as you stomped across the room and yanked the door open.

“One fucking drink and then I’m coming home, just to prove that I can leave whenever I want.”

You glowed with anger as you slammed your bedroom door, emerging a few moments later with a crumpled dress on and a pair of heels. On your way past the mirror, you rubbed a finger below each eye to tidy your makeup.

“Have fun, Fairy, see you soon.” Bucky smiled, squeezing your hand over the back of the sofa. “I promise I’ll watch something else so we can see who gets voted out together.”

Dutifully, he flicked the TV off. 

“Let’s go,” you said, allowing your friends to drag you out of the door while Bucky waved them off. 

There was no way Bucky was really going to let you go out alone on the full moon. Although you’d have that gaggle of fae around you, he didn’t trust them not to abandon you at the first sign of trouble and, despite his lone wolf status, he knew that there were plenty of other wolves and shifters about just waiting to pounce should the opportunity arise.

Waiting until you’d at least left the building, Bucky sprang up from the sofa, looking out at the last of the sunset before he shook off the blankets, then his clothes and then his human form. Dragging his nails along the hardwood he clambered out the window and onto the fire exit. Scenting your perfume as you rounded the corner onto the next block, he couldn’t help but let out a howl, leaping onto the roof of the adjoining building and beginning his watch. 

Fairy dust.

It was everywhere, sparkling like glitter, the scent of vanilla frosting, but twice as sweet. It glimmered a path towards the alley way and, as Jenny rounded the corner, it was all she could see.

Despite the sparkling impairment, she could still hear your scream, ringing in her ears.

Tina and Morgan fell out of the side door of the nightclub, stumbling on their heels and dominoing forwards until all three fae were piled together on the cold, filthy ground. The golden shimmer of your fairy dust was all that let them know you’d been there. 

Sometime after the third round of shots and your fourth complaint that you wanted to go home, you’d edged away from them, towards the exit. That’d been fifteen minutes ago, when a were approaching Morgan at the bar had prompted the conversation to turn to Bucky again and what a disgusting, unsuitable, roommate they all thought he was. You rolled your eyes. If only the knew how bad John had been. 

Tina had only stopped when they’d all had a chance to complain about his taste in clothes, his solitary nature and even his smell, when she noticed that you hadn’t said anything in a while and their hunt for you began.

Eventually, trailing a story of you and a tall man with dark hair from the bar to the back doors, they had ventured outside.

“Look!” Jenny declared, spotting a spec of blood higher up on the alley wall. She fluttered her yellow wings and got closer to inspect it, running a finger through the smear, blood. “It’s blood! Call the Police!” 

Tina immediately started to dial as the three fae set off as fast as their wings could carry them, following the trail of blood. 

The trail wound between each block from the club to your street using the darkest back streets and alleyways. Morgan had conjured a ball of light to follow, but the three fae were still anxious to be back in the street lights or, better yet, back inside their own locked homes. 

It was a full moon after all, a foolish night to be out, drunk and alone.

Everyone they met confirmed that an injured fae had passed by with a brunette man and the trio’s imaginations ran riot, thinking of all the horrible things they were sure Bucky was doing to you for leaving the flat. 

As they turned onto your street, the blood seemed to stop but, at a run, they continued towards your apartment building.

From the outside, it looked as if Bucky was still watching television, the blue and white flashing of the screen lighting up the window and the patch of ceiling they could see from the doorstep below.

Then a figure appeared, a huge figure with pointed ears and long arms ending in claws that seemed to go on forever, elongated by the shadows cast across the walls. It reared up and then, just as quickly, it ducked down. No doubt to complete whatever awful ritual it was that weres enjoyed on the full moon, killed and eating fae no doubt.

Jenny screamed and began running up the short steps to the foyer, forcing her way past your confused looking neighbours. 

In the street, Morgan, rooted to the spot in horror, watched as the werewolf lifted a body in its arms and moved away from the window. Tina grabbed her hand and dragged her up the stairs to follow Jenny. 

Blood. Blood. Blood. That was all Bucky could think as he paced the living room, his fur matted with it, the scent filling his senses, stinking and hot and foul. He took a deep shuddering breath, willing the wolf inside of him to quiet. It paced in his mind, snarling and growling at any thought he sent its way, the thought of another man’s hands on you, the thought of you at the bar, unprotected and alone. 

Blood. Blood. Blood. 

He heaved a breath in and dropped his head into his hands, groaning as his body calmed. He tried to stay still, not wanting to cause anymore damage or spread the blood any further than his stumbling body already had. 

You were covered in it too, your wings heavy and drooping down your back. The iridescent shine was dulled, your breath coming in shallow, rasping sobs.

But no sooner had Bucky caught his breath than the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his senses telling him that danger was still approaching.

Looking up, he finally saw Tina, Morgan and Jenny standing in the door, staring open mouthed at his blood covered body. His fur, where it was longer across his head, was matted together and his paws left red marks against the white walls when he pulled away, shrinking back, ears flat to his head and tail tucked between his legs.

Jenny screamed, a blood curdling, piercing scream causing the neighbours to open their doors. Bucky’s ears twitched, and his soulders slumped, his hearing enhanced by his current form. 

“He killed her! He killed her! Look at that blood!” Jenny screached.

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, unable to do anything but let out a low howl of pain at the thought of doing anything to hurt you. 

“We know it’s her blood, on you!” Morgan shouted. 

Bucky was shaking now, the wolf desperate to fight back while Bucky tried to tame him. He knew being aggressive would make it worse, but he was having a hard time keeping his body in check in such a small space. He backed his way to the wall and slid down onto his hackles, the hair on his neck still raised, and gave a sharp bark of warning. 

“We knew you’d turn on her, you were mad she went out!” 

He shook his head again, his howl now a constant, pained, wail. 

Then he couldn’t hear anything.

Tina, Morgan and Jenny had brimmed with magic as they cornered him, but now he was behind a wall of light watching your friends and neighbours back away, forced out of the door by your power. 

Bucky grabbed around your waist so he could get close enough to press his muzzle into your neck, scenting you roughly in the hopes of calming the wolf. 

You fell back into his arms, spent from using the last of your energy on defending Bucky, but safe in his arms. 

“I’m okay, Buck,” you whispered, tired and breathy, digging your hands into his fur.

He scooped you up into his arms again, the same way he’d carried you home after John’s attack just an hour before and held you close.

“I’m with you, I’m okay.” You gave a weak smile, placing your hand on his muzzle as the fur faded and the wolf disappeared for another month, leaving your hand on his stumbled cheek. He turned into your warmth, placing a delicate kiss on your palm and kept you there for a moment, your eyes locked and then he dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours.

[tinytinyblogs]

You Don't Need Anyone Else But Me

They wouldn't allow you to think of them as just a friend or let anyone else have you.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 First story post of 2025—hoping it’s good enough!

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

Han was always effortlessly charming, the kind of person you couldn’t help but trust. When you began telling him about the person you were texting, he seemed genuinely interested. His questions were casual, his demeanor lighthearted, and his laughter infectious. You felt comfortable sharing everything—it was natural, especially since you were so close. But behind that warm smile and playful laugh, Han’s mind was racing. He hid his panic well, nodding along to your stories while plotting. The more he learned about this person, the more determined he became. Han pretended to care, to empathize, but it was all part of his calculated act. Once he had the information he needed, Han sprang into action. He processed everything meticulously, replaying each detail until he knew how to dismantle your connection with this person. What you didn’t realize was that Han already knew far more about you than you’d ever imagined. Long before you confided in him, he’d been quietly observing you, tracking your habits, your preferences, your vulnerabilities. Stalking wasn’t new to Han.

It was a skill he’d perfected, something he was patient with. He ensured that every step he took went unnoticed. Now, with this person as his target, he worked to disrupt every plan, every meeting between you two. He’d make sure nothing went according to plan. Maybe their car would break down. Maybe they’d suddenly fall ill. Or maybe something urgent would pull them away. Han’s methods were subtle, nearly invisible, but the outcomes were undeniable. Every time something went wrong, he’d be there, appearing just in time, like a knight in shining armor. As time went on, you relied on him more, drawn to his comforting presence, to the way he always seemed to appear when you needed him. “How do you always know when I need you?” you’d ask, half-joking, and he’d laugh it off. “I’m just lucky, I guess,” he’d say, his tone casual, making it seem innocent. But Han wasn’t just lucky. He orchestrated everything. He ensured that you saw him as your hero, and in reality, he was a monster hiding behind a charming mask. He didn’t care what it took to win you over, as long as the end result was you by his side. One evening, after another disrupted plan with that person, Han made his move. You were sitting together, the tension in the air palpable. He turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Can we try to be... more than friends?” he asked, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “I don’t like the idea of losing you.” You hesitated, caught off guard by his confession. His sincerity, his raw emotion, made it difficult to question him. It felt like something out of a drama—an emotional whirlwind you couldn’t process. What you didn’t know was that Han had planned this moment long before it happened. Every word, every look, every gesture was part of the story he was crafting for you. To him, your life wasn’t yours—it was a play, and he was both the director and the star. Step by step, he guided you along the path he’d designed, ensuring you followed without realizing it. Every coincidence, every twist of fate, was his doing. He played the role of the supportive friend so well that you never suspected him. To you, Han was your confidant, your rock, the one person who was always there when you needed him. But to Han, you were so much more. You were his world, his obsession, and he’d stop at nothing to keep you by his side. As you smiled at him, unknowingly stepping deeper into his web, Han’s heart swelled with satisfaction. This was exactly how he wanted it—how it was always meant to be.

Felix

Betrayed. That was the only word running through Felix’s mind when he discovered you had been meeting someone else. It felt like a knife to the heart to realize that, despite everything he had done for you, all the time you had spent together, you only saw him as a friend. The realization left him feeling crushed, but Felix wasn’t the type to let his pain show—not at first, at least. He tried to hide his turmoil behind his usual sunny demeanor. With his bright smile, he casually asked why you felt the need to meet someone else when he was always there for you. “What’s so special about them?” he joked, though there was an edge to his voice that you couldn’t quite place. But when you gave him the same answer again and again, that you only saw him as a friend, something inside him began to change. You didn’t realize it at the time, but you were pushing him too far. Slowly, the cheerful Felix you thought you knew began to slip away. The radiant warmth he always exuded started to darken. His smile became forced, and his eyes seemed to lose their light. Then one day, without warning, the mask he wore so well crumbled.

His hand shot out, gripping yours firmly—too firmly. It wasn’t playful or gentle like before; it hurt just enough to make you flinch. His grip was like steel, unrelenting. His voice, usually so soft and soothing, came out sharp and biting. “How dare you,” he said, his piercing gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I do everything for you,” he continued, his voice filled with frustration, “everything to make you happy, to see you smile. And yet, you still choose someone else? You think I’ll just let you go like that?” Before you could respond, Felix moved swiftly, shoving you against the nearest wall. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to make your heart race. His presence loomed over you, suffocating and overwhelming. This wasn’t the Felix you thought you knew—the sweet, carefree boy who made you laugh and feel safe. This was someone entirely different, someone whose obsession was beginning to consume him. His voice dropped even lower, each word deliberate and chilling. “Let me make one thing clear,” he said, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “We’re more than just friends. I won’t let you walk away from me and into someone else’s arms.”

Your voice caught in your throat, unable to form a reply. The intensity in his eyes and the darkness in his words left you frozen. He studied your face, as though memorizing every detail, before speaking again in a softer, almost pleading tone. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret. Because I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me.” For the first time, you saw a side of Felix you never imagined—a side that was possessive and obsessive, willing to cross any line to keep you by his side. The sweet boy who had once made you feel so special now felt like a stranger, someone you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Felix stepped back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, though the tension in the air was suffocating. His expression softened ever so slightly, but the fire in his eyes didn’t waver. “Think about it,” he said, his tone quieter but no less intense. “Why would you need anyone else when you have me?” The room fell into an eerie silence as his words lingered, heavy and unshakable. Deep down, you knew Felix wasn’t bluffing. He was no longer just a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could escape the path he had decided for the both of you.

Seungmin

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seungmin’s voice was calm yet sharp as he stood in front of the door, blocking your path. His figure loomed, his usual gentle demeanor replaced by something unreadable. You froze, your hand still on the doorknob. “I’m just going out,” you said lightly, brushing off the tension. “I’m meeting someone, Min—” Seungmin stepped closer, cutting you off mid-sentence. His eyes flicked to the necklace around your neck—the one he had given you. His lips curled into a humorless smile. “You’re going to meet someone who makes you smile like that? And you’re wearing the necklace I gave you?” His tone was deceptively casual, but there was an edge beneath it that sent a shiver down your spine. You instinctively stepped back, suddenly aware of how different he seemed. This wasn’t the Seungmin you knew—the one who always teased you playfully. This version was colder, his presence heavier, suffocating. “You said it looked pretty on me,” you said hesitantly, trying to defuse the moment. Seungmin let out a low laugh, the sound devoid of warmth. He mirrored your step back, closing the distance. Reaching out, he pushed the door shut behind you. The sound of the lock clicking made your heart race.

“I did say that,” he replied, his tone dark and steady. “But don’t think for a second that I bought it for you to wear on a date with someone else.” His words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your mind scrambled for something to say, but before you could speak, he took another step forward, his presence consuming every inch of space between you. “Seungmin…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head, his gaze piercing and unyielding. “Do you have any idea how much I like you? How much I think about you? And yet, here you are, acting like we’re just friends. Like you can just walk out that door and be with someone else.” His hand reached out, gently but firmly grabbing your chin. He tilted your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. They burned with intensity, a mixture of frustration and longing. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, every word hitting you like a weight. “You should’ve figured that out by now.” Your breath hitched as his grip tightened ever so slightly, enough to make you feel his control. “Min, we’re—” “No,” he interrupted sharply. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say we’re just friends.”

His gaze softened momentarily, but the intensity of his words was unrelenting. “I don’t want to hear it. Because I’m not giving you a choice.” His words sent a chill down your spine. The Seungmin you thought you knew—the kind-hearted friend—was nowhere to be found. Instead, this version of him stood before you, unrelenting and terrifyingly sure of himself. “You’re not going anywhere,” he continued, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that might have been tender if it weren’t for the context. “Not to them, not to anyone else. You belong here—with me.” His hand dropped, but the tension in the air remained, so thick it was hard to breathe. He stepped back just enough to give you space, but his presence still loomed large. “You should know by now,” he said, his voice softening, though his words carried the same weight. “I’m not going to let you go. So stop trying.” The room was silent except for the sound of your unsteady breathing. You could see it in his eyes—Seungmin wasn’t bluffing. Whatever version of him you thought you knew was gone, replaced by someone who had no intention of letting you slip away.

Jeongin

As Jeongin watched the man stumble away, his steps unsteady and his face pale with fear, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. The confrontation had been brief but effective, leaving no room for doubt about Jeongin’s intentions. With a quick glance down, he noticed a small streak of blood staining his knuckles. It wasn’t his. He wiped it off casually, as though it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, before pulling his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered over the screen, scrolling through his contacts until it landed on your name. "Friend," the label read. He scoffed, the word feeling like an insult. His grip tightened on the device as he stared at it, his thoughts spiraling. "What should I do to you?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and tinged with frustration. The mere thought of you calling him just a friend after everything he’d done for you was infuriating. Did you truly not see it? Or were you just pretending, clinging to the safety of that label while unknowingly fueling the fire inside him? Jeongin let out a bitter laugh, shoving the phone back into his pocket. "Friend," he repeated to himself, the word dripping with disdain.

"After all this time, sticking by your side, thinking we’re just friends? How foolish of you." He began walking, his pace steady as he headed down the dimly lit street. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain. The path was familiar—it always led to the same place: your place. He had walked this route countless times, each step bringing him closer to you, to the one person he had claimed in his mind long ago. His hands slipped into his pockets as he hummed a soft melody, the tune oddly cheerful for someone who had just chased off a rival. His mind, however, was anything but calm. Thoughts of you consumed him, intertwining with the lingering adrenaline from his earlier encounter. "Friendship isn’t in my dictionary," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that was a little too wide. The streetlights illuminated his face as he looked up at the starry sky, the expression on his face one of twisted satisfaction. He thought of the man who had dared to text you, dared to think he had a place in your life. That man wouldn’t be bothering you anymore—that much was certain. Jeongin had seen to it personally.

"You won’t be hearing from him again," he said to himself, the words carrying a quiet finality. He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the empty street. "In the end, the only person you’re going to see is me." As he approached your building, his steps slowed, his mind already crafting the narrative he would present to you. He didn’t need to rush; after all, he had all the time in the world to make you see things his way. Standing in front of your door, Jeongin took a deep breath, schooling his expression into one of boyish charm—the one that always made you laugh, always made you let your guard down. But beneath that smile lay something far more dangerous. To him, this wasn’t just about affection—it was about possession. You were his, whether you realized it yet or not. And Jeongin wasn’t the type to let go. As he raised his hand to knock, his heart pounded with anticipation. He could already picture it: your surprised face when you opened the door, your soft voice greeting him, unaware of the lengths he had gone to ensure you’d stay by his side. "In the end," he whispered to himself, his grin widening, "this story only ends one way—with you and me."

[bratminksstuff]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯ᯓᡣ𐭩

Reader x Azriel | You confess ur feelings for Azriel but he rejects you cause he has feelings for Elain

warnings: slight angst, rejection, sadness

a/n: This is my first story so I'm sorry if I made alot of mistakes

word count: 598

The stars shimmered faintly overhead as Y/N stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She clutched the edge of her cloak tightly, summoning every ounce of courage she had. Tonight, she would tell him—Azriel, the shadowsinger who had somehow crept into her heart.

She turned at the sound of his quiet footsteps, his presence as soft as the breeze. Azriel stepped onto the balcony, his golden-brown skin glowing faintly under the moonlight, his hazel eyes unreadable as they met hers. His shadows whispered around him, darting close before retreating, as though they, too, were wary of what was to come.

“You wanted to speak with me?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble, carrying the gentleness that always made her feel safe.

Y/N nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “I did. Azriel, I—” She paused, her breath catching. “I need to tell you something.”

His gaze softened, his head tilting slightly as he waited. The silence stretched, and Y/N realized there was no going back.

“I care about you,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “More than I ever thought possible. I know you might not feel the same, but I needed you to know.”

For a moment, Azriel’s expression was unreadable, his shadows curling tighter around him. Then, with a sigh so quiet it was almost swallowed by the night, he spoke. “Y/N, you are kind, brave, and more extraordinary than you realize. But…” He hesitated, his eyes dropping to the ground for a fleeting moment. When they met hers again, they were filled with a sorrow so deep it nearly broke her. “I can’t give you what you want.”

Her breath hitched. She had expected rejection—prepared herself for it—but the weight of his words still struck her like a blade. “Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His shadows swirled as if to shield him from the rawness of his own emotions. “Because my heart…” He paused, as though searching for the right words. “It belongs to someone else.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, and she knew without asking who he meant. She had seen the way Azriel’s gaze lingered on Elain, the softness in his expression whenever she was near. She had known, deep down, but some part of her had hoped—prayed—that she could change his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said, stepping closer but keeping enough distance to avoid giving her false hope. “You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart. And I… I’m not that person.”

Y/N forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. You can’t help who you love.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his regret evident. “I wish things were different.”

“So do I,” she murmured, her voice cracking.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the distance between them feeling wider than the entire Court of Nightmares. Finally, Y/N straightened her spine, summoning every bit of strength she had left. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he nodded. “If you ever need a friend, I’m here.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she could bear to see him again so soon. Without another word, Y/N turned and left the balcony, her footsteps echoing in the quiet night. She didn’t look back.

As she descended the stairs, her heart aching, she whispered to herself, “I’ll be okay. Eventually.”

And she would be. Though it would take time, Y/N knew she would find her own path—one that didn’t lead to Azriel’s shadows but to her own light.

[lennadanvers]

The Heartbreak Chronicles

Eddie Munson x Reader

Edward The Freak Munson was your first love.

(He preferred to be called Eddie).

(That’s why you called him Edward. It was his father’s name, too).

He was also your first heartbreak. And the worst one yet.

It started in Hawkins. All the bad things in your life had started there. You couldn’t have been more than five years old, and Edward was almost adorable back then. He was fun, had an amazing imagination, and loved playing with you. You loved him, too.

You slew dragons and fought in the name of Queen Buttons- your stuffed hippo- for years, so when his first actual battle came, you expected to be by his side.

He didn’t, apparently. His mom was gone and his father abandoned him. Eddie ended up living with his uncle in a place that held little resemblance to a castle.

Of course, he didn’t tell you any of that. Instead, he described the infinite garden he had in his new home; how it was full of adventures and characters out of a tale. He told you about the dangers he faced- the monsters in the hallway, the darkness wanting to take him, the fae that stole his lunch. He explained that the way to his abode was long and full of traps and risks. He didn’t want you to venture into such a dangerous path.

So you didn’t. With Eddie, imagination and reality were always too close to see the difference. Besides, he was just as energetic as always. He even gained some weight; it was easy to tell.

There were other changes, though. Ones that happened slowly. Seamlessly. His favorite color went from red to black. He said once it reminded him of his mom, and proceeded to ask what colors you liked best in the same breath. His childlike interest for shiny things evolved into a collection of chains. They started appearing clasped onto every pair of jeans he owned. His laugh was louder every time you said something even remotely funny.

And his eyes were weaker and weaker.

They used to have a wild spark. Two dark bonfires, the promise of well-intentioned mischief. But his laugh was a gush of wind, and every time he opened his mouth it was like blowing at the agonizing embers.

It was a dark spell, a silent curse that poisoned him- or so you thought. He bailed on you one time, and you forgave him instantly. Who woulnd’t? He said he was sorry. And did it again a couple weeks later. Nothing to worry about. He hadn’t bailed in literal years; you could cut him some slack. Until there weren’t any more sleepovers or playdates, no more walks to find treasures by the forest or cheap ice cream listening to his stories.

Then came the summer break, and Edward disappeared. Not really, of course. You saw him once with his uncle at the grocery store. Once. He was alive and healthy, as far as you could tell. Then where had he been? Why hadn’t he been with you, as usual? You didn’t even remember summers without him.

The last day of vacation, you found a silly little dragon ring. It was most definitely made out of plastic, but it was gold and has two fake diamonds as eyes. With a little bit of imagination, it could pass as a dragon rider’s ring. It was meant for Edward, of course. Who, if not him, would wear it with pride?

But he never wore it. Not even to try it on when you gave it to him.

It was the first day of school, and, after years of friendship, the first day you sat alone in class. Which was stupid because he also sat alone. His hair was gone, and his eyes looked even bigger. It just made it worse when he smiled and nodded as a thank you, because there was no light in them. The fire had gone out, at last.

You had tried, alright. Over and over. But if the princess didn’t let his hair fall, then there was no way for you to climb the tower and save him.

You made friends with other people, life went by. It never stopped for things like this.

That was the first time Edward Munson broke your heart. At least, that time he had the decency to do it slowly, carefully. A death by natural causes. He didn’t have the same consideration the next time.

A/N: new series!! A little old, actually, but new for you guys! Hopefully it's at least entertaining. Chapters will be short but bitter, just the way I like my writing ;)) If you want me to, I can make a taglist (I have one for Pure Imagination, but I don't know if anyone will be interested in being tagged for this one), just comment or send an ask and I'll add you. Have a nice week! ♥️

[seriouslysam8]

Selcouth Sneak Peek

Chapter Eight

They stepped out onto the balcony. Sirius placed a hand on her lower back, steering her away from the rest of the party goers. His hand dropped when they found a secluded corner away from all the drunken wizards and rich snobs that had more money than they knew what to do with. He turned, leaning his side into the railing. Tegan mimicked him, her head cocking to the side. 

“Tell me everything I should know about the Weasley family,” Sirius said, his eyes searching her face. 

“They are the nicest and warmest family I have ever met,” Tegan replied with a soft smile. “My daughter is best friends with Ginny and she’s also dating Ron. I’m invited to every single event that family holds, which, trust me, is a lot. They have ongoing Friday night dinners where almost everyone always shows up. They are invested in each other’s lives. Ginny actually lives across the pond from her parents’ house.”

Sirius nodded. “Any entanglements that came to life after the war?” he pressed. “Even if it’s a third cousin twice removed, I need to know.”

“No,” Tegan said in a sure tone. “They’re a good family, Sirius. Extremely loyal to one another. If you’re lucky enough to enter their orbit, they’re fiercely loyal to you as well.”

Sirius shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “So, I’m being a paranoid git for nothing?”

Tegan’s brows lowered on her face. “Definitely,” she replied with no hesitation. “Was that really a question?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. “Harry wants to move back to England to be closer to James and Ginny.”

Tegan smiled. “That’s great!”

Sirius’ face pulled. 

“You don’t want him to?” Tegan asked. 

Sirius swallowed, his gaze flickering to the sky. “I just worry for his safety in England.”

Tegan touched his arm, causing him to look back at her. “It’s not like it was before,” she assured him, her thumb brushing against the fabric of his suit jacket. “Voldemort’s followers aren’t causing issues.”

“Yet,” Sirius stressed, his eyebrows shooting up. 

Tegan dropped her hand from his arm. “Sirius…”

“You don’t believe he’s actually dead, do you?” Sirius pressed, his lips thinning into a straight line. 

“There was a body,” Tegan replied as though that meant something. 

“I’ve heard stories from people who attempted to kill him and spells that should have done the trick barely made him flinch,” Sirius said in a low tone, his eyes flickering around them to ensure no one would overhear.

Tegan sighed. “Those are all stories.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t think so,” Sirius added, his arms crossing over his chest. “He believes it’s only a matter of time before he reappears.”

“So, what? You think Harry goes back to England and some Death Eaters will reincarnate Voldemort?” Tegan asked in an incredulous tone, her head shaking. “Do you know how mad that sounds? No magic can bring back the dead.”

“They could if he’s not actually dead,” Sirius explained.

Tegan frowned deeper, her dark eyes boring into him. “And the body that was burned was what? An illusion?”

Sirius stared at Tegan. Knowledge was a dangerous thing to have. Trust between two people seemed nearly impossible to maintain. Except, Tegan kept the secret of Harry being in England. She contacted Sirius first instead of saying James looked like a Potter to people she was extremely close to. Having an Auror like Tegan in his corner would be beneficial. Dumbledore always said it was good to collect strong allies, ones who could obtain knowledge and have skill sets that you may lack. 

Sirius wasn’t stupid. He knew what he brought to the Order all those years ago. Knowledge of pureblood circles, who were friends and who were enemies. He knew their secrets. He heard their gossip. Being a Black was beneficial in that way. Sirius grew up with the very wizards that had been rallied and radicalized by Voldemort. He understood what motivated them, what enticed them. 

While over the years Sirius lost access to that information, now he had an even more important connection that Dumbledore wanted access to: Harry. Sirius allowed it, needing Dumbledore’s resources and knowledge to keep his godson safe. Sirius doubted that Harry would even be alive at this point if it hadn’t been for Dumbledore’s connections. Watching Harry waste away at such a young age from the Horcrux slowly chipping away at him had been the worst years of Sirius’ life. 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I'd love to know your thoughts on the Gaunts in Hogwarts Legacy. I loved Ominis as a character, and the story of his family was interesting, but I'd really love an in-universe explanation for how they get to the state they are at when Tom is born in less than what... 40ish years? At most? How exactly do they go from multiple family members functional enough to attend Hogwarts to barely able to speak English (or seemingly use magic) that quickly?

So, the reason I didn't put Ominis and the Gaunts in my big canon contradictions in the HL post, is becouse I can in fact headcanon my way into Ominis' existence making sense (kinda). We only need one big factor that would allow for a very fast decline and we have one — inbreeding.

I mentioned this already here, but Marvolo speaks like he remembers the influence his family once had. Not only that, but he's different from his kids. He acts more like a person who can be somewhat reasoned with than both his barely more than squib children who don't seem capable of much intellectually.

How this might've happened is, say, one Gaunt got obsessed with blood purity and around the 1780s married his cousin.

His children turn out okay since it's just one generation of cousin marriages, but then his son also marries a cousin in the 1810s.

Their children would still seem reasonably fine and marry cousins again. And they have children in the 1840s.

By this point, most of them would be losing prestige and money and many other purebloods would want nothing to do with the Gaunts. This pushes them to keep marrying just a bit too close and shrink down the family to only the main line and maybe another one.

So, these children born in the 1840s would have their own kids with their cousins around the 1870s.

Now, these kids are Marvolo and Ominis, another brother (since Ominis mentions having older brothers), and at least one sister (for the sake of this theory to work). By this point, inbreeding would start to be a problem after 4 generations of first/second-cousin marriages in a row, which would work with Ominis being born blind, for example (which is a possible result of inbreeding).

Now, while both Ominis in the game and Marvolo in the 1920s talk a big game about their family influence, by the 1890s, it's a lie. I think they started falling from grace earlier throughout the century (as I mentioned), losing money and prestige and holding onto their position in the wizarding world by the skin of their teeth. Ominis' posturing about his father knowing the headmaster in HL always came off to me as just that — posturing. His father may have met Phineas Nigellus Black, but they weren't close by any means. Ominis is just threatening you the way he knows and can — which is some of the connections still left for his family since the money ran dry years ago.

The fact we don't see other kids in Slytherin trying to win Ominis' good graces for the sake of his family's influence (blindness or not) again suggests a lot of said influence is posturing more than the real deal. I mean, he's only friends with Sebastian and Anne, two students who are definitely outsiders within Slytherin (even if there's no way they live in Feldcroft, since there's no way that hamlet doesn't exist in the books).

Also, Ominis mentions his brothers and father tortured muggles. There's a non-zero chance that in 1890 most of his family is in Azkaban and he really is just lying and he has nothing he can do against anyone with his connections. Basically, it's a bluff.

I think seeing them like this adds an interesting reason as to why Noctua (Ominis' aunt) would want to look for Slytherin's Scripturium (though I don't think the Scripturium exists in the books, so let's say she looked for the Chamber of Secrets and was eaten by the basilisk since she wasn't the heir it was meant to obey in the 1880s). Becouse she's trying to bring the family back to its place of influence as descendants of Salazar Slytherin in a different way from her brother.

By the 1890s, Noctua is dead, there are no Gaunt cousins, just the main line with Marvolo, Ominis, unnamed brother, and unnamed sister.

Ominis is likely disowned at some point, and it fits his character to decide not to have kids and not pass on Parseltongue, which he sees as dark. I can see his character making that decision. But for this theory to work, he has to die before Tom is born, so he doesn't live a long life unless he left Britain and is living happily in the US or Australia or something.

The unnamed brother might be in Azkaban for crucio-ing a muggle, getting him out of the picture in an in-character way and making sure he has no kids.

Marvolo is where it gets interesting becouse with the state we see with his kids, and the nosedive off a cliff the family took in his time, my theory is that he had his kids with the aforementioned named sister. It would explain why Morfin and Mereope are like that. It would explain why they were completely shunned from wizarding society. How they lost even the measly amount of influence they had so quickly. It would fit with Marvolo's view of blood purity and the Gaunts' blood in particular, being purer than the rest.

So, this is my answer as to how I can headcanon my way into the Gaunt family's fast decline making sense. That being said, do I think Ominis is canon for the books' universe? Probably not, but I can make up shit to make it work, as I illustrated here.

[flameleads]

At his request, Maes brought him back up to stand. Roy couldn’t shake his smile as his gaze lingered on hazel eyes. Was it silly he wanted to laugh? To sing? To run through the streets of Central while holding this man’s hand? One kiss, and he felt like the world was his for the taking.

He was alive. Breathing. In love. 

He knew he said they needed to talk, but God did he want to skip that conversation for a minute or two. Maybe five. An hour? They had years of kissing to catch up on. No, they didn’t have to cram it all into one night, but if Maes wanted to cram his tongue into his mouth, Roy wouldn’t mind. Caressing his cheek like this made the thought all the more tempting—and Maes let him. 

Later. There would be kissing later.

“I’d still like you to state the obvious,” he replied with a smirk. Obvious attraction, right? Or, was he missing something? 

Six words, and he felt himself plummeting into the sea. 

Saltwater was quick to adorn his cheeks as it left his eyes. It filled his lungs, and his breath hitched. The frigidity of it all made him shiver. He didn’t move, unsure if he could—oh, but he wanted to wrap his arms around himself to keep this fragile body together. Had he not put himself back together with fire not too long ago? He was supposed to be stronger, not this—this—whatever this broken mess of a man was.

Maes Hughes loved him. He was in love with him for as long as they knew one another. Therein lay the tragedy. 

He realized this after he married Gracia. He had no idea his friend stood before him that day with his heart in pieces, smiling to hide the fractures. No idea that it broke for the first time on the day he chose never to tell the cadet who stole his quiche that he loved him. No idea how many times he had to repair it when he heard stories of his best friend’s family. No idea what sort of sounds emitted from his throat when he learned the only one he ever loved no longer walked this Earth.

The days he bowed in front of his grave like Achilles, clutching Baby’s breath and gardenias and hoping no one knew what they meant. The nights he woke up screaming, sobbing, or at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey as he tried to drown in something other than salt water. Maes knew none of that. 

Alas, Roy remembered. Even as Maes put their foreheads together, saying and asking things he always longed to hear, he couldn’t bring himself to smile. Instead, his entire body quaked, including the clenched fist at his side. The dam broke as the tears poured out of closed eyes. His head tilted downwards, bowing before the grave of the love he thought he lost. Wails escaped his mouth before he could think to stop them and ask why they occurred. Why was he crying at a good thing? He didn’t understand.

Words couldn’t come out. Nothing but wails did, ones he needed to silence. Planting his face in Maes’ shoulder solved that problem, both hands now clinging to fabric as if it was the only piece of wood in the middle of the sea, but it gave them both new ones. He didn’t answer any of what Maes said, particularly his question. He went from smiling to an ocean of tears with no explanation, which had to be confusing. He was loud, probably hurting this man’s poor ears. He couldn’t talk, a problem that simply didn’t occur before because he was Roy Mustang of all people. 

How could he tell Maes that he wanted him more than anything in the world? Forget the Presidency. If he didn’t have the one man who believed in him first, what was even the goddamn point? 

Time moved, yet it didn’t feel like it did in the moment they shared together. Maes felt his heart beat ringing in his ears as he pulled away slowly. Hazel eyes staring back down at onyx ones. Noticing the tears that were on Roy’s cheeks, realizing that it was tears of joy, not sadness.

Everything was different now. They could no longer go back to what they were after realizing each other’s feelings. Maes knew that he didn’t want to go back to being just friends anymore, not after that kiss.

He couldn’t help the smile that adorned his feature when he felt Roy’s hand move to caress his cheek, leaning into it. He knew the feelings were returned and now they were going to talk about them. He hears how long Roys been wanting to do that and the feeling was definitely mutual on Maes end.

“Me too…” He’s been wanting to kiss those soft lips for so long. All the way back when they were in the academy together when Maes was single. He just didn’t understand why and thought it had been a fleeting thought.

Hearing the other plead to pull him back up, Maes did so slowly as he kept the smile on his face. He didn’t let go of his hand though. They stood up together as he looked back down at him, wanting to know what this meant for the both of them. “We can talk about it. It’s obvious what I was trying to tell you, right?” He’s not afraid to say it out loud now knowing the feelings were mutual.

“Roy, I’m in love with you.”

The words came out so easily, he couldn’t keep them to himself any longer, not after he felt the feelings in that kiss they both felt. It was like he could finally be honest about what he felt now.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as we’ve known each other. I just didn’t realize the fact till after I got married.” He admits squeezing his hand. “When I realized it too late I had to… bury those feelings because I had a family. I should have seen the signs sooner because I kept thinking of you in ways not many friends are supposed to think about their close friends when we were in the academy.” He sighed, his head leaning against Roy’s forehead, smiling.

“You make me so happy, you make me feel safe, you make me feel whole. Even after I had found out about Gracia seeing another person, you were there to pick up the pieces of me and I felt, I felt better, I healed quicker than I thought I would.” He admits cupping Roy’s cheek this time caressing it.

“I want to be with you, Roy Mustang. I want to be yours, that is if you wish to be mine?”

[sophisticatedswifts]

Harry Styles posting this on his instagram story and then deleting it immediately is sending me

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

"Jason was the happy robin" this, "jason was the angry robin" that. Let's all be fully honest here Jason was the lonely robin

[tiredgeekgirl]

fellas it has been three months since the beach episode and thinking about neil and eva in any capacity still makes me ILL

[stomach-rental]

Kin aasign Will or I explode immediately /j

William James Rowe is... Lorethan "Reth" McKinely! 🍰🌿

Both of them are so, so kind and sweet to others. Will has an engineering degree and has a background as working to be a medic in rescuing people, while Reth himself does quite a bit of his own engineering and learns how to create his own machines and tools to survive outside of the society he lives in. He also ends up having to figure out a way to save a child's life who was badly injured, and ends up eventually adopting her as his own little sister. They both have deep connections to the earth and the environment, and do a lot of work to try to save it from other people's destruction.

They are both a bit unstable emotionally in their own ways, though Will's nervousness and self doubt stim directly from the Eating Louis issue (as well as his betrayal from his past partners, but that's not relevant here). Reth isn't really nervous about a Single Thing and instead has general worries about...almost everything, being easily emotional and wanting to make sure people are safe, but second guessing everything until he becomes overwhelmed.

One thing is for sure that Reth has a leg up on, though, and that's that his society (Katterax) actually...does the whole eating people semi-regularly. It's not done ALL the time, but the fact that drakath bodies are made of shifting substance that is incredibly durable means that they can easily change to be able to be eaten by another and be completely safe through the whole process! It's actually something done by some especially disabled Drakaths whose bodies cannot easily live outside of specific environments because they can't form the organs that other Drakaths do. While this whole eating process can be done in many ways and for many reasons, it's most commonly done as a way to be close and intimate with another, without it really being sexual (think a form of deeper kissing, cuddling, etc.), so...Reth would not be nearly as phased or worried about Will's issues and honestly would be a bit confused about what the big deal was.

William James Rowe belongs to @peachnewt and her series, Getting in Deep! The lanky noodle of a guy belongs to me and my story, Their Scattered Hosts.

[imminent-danger-came]

I really am so sad I don't like isat. The themeing was very good

[astrxealis]

making myself suffer looking thru ffxiv stuff on tumblr when i could be playing ffxiv rn but i eternally love and miss ffxiv