#it’s been so long since i’ve had to talk to a friend and be like hey i think i am falling in love with you

[illbegottenfaith]

kiss me better, love

as the two of you stumble into bed after a Valentine's dinner date, theo realises it's not fair how much he loves you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - valentines fic #2 !!!! thought of this idea in a class literally 5 hours ago and idk if its the sleep deprivation but this is sooo self-indulgent writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet frfr 😭 all I have to say is if this isnt me and my future partner I dont want him I send him BACK

tropes/warnings - physical touch as a love language, angry theo but also soft theo 🥰🥰 no (read: minimal) proof reading we die like men etc etc

word count - 1.5k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @ebriton @thaliashifts @friedfreyfries @allie-sturns

The door shuts behind you both, plunging the room into near-darkness. You barely take a step before bumping into Theo, your knee knocking against his thigh, your hands flying to his shoulders as you stumble.

"Merlin,” he mutters, steadying you with a grip at your waist. “Can you - ”

“You're the one barging into me,” you shoot back, tucking a lock behind your ear as you tighten your grip on Theo’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Anyway, like I was saying, it hasn’t even been a week since Missy - ”

Theo exhales sharply, blindly reaching for the zipper at your back. “Is this something I really need to be hearing right now?” he asks somewhat waspishly.

“Yes.” You barely register his tone, still preoccupied. “So I walk into Charms in Tuesday, expecting to find Josh understandably distraught and/or in mourning. But who do I see him chatting up instead?"

"Hair."

You gather your hair up in one hand to hold it up and go right on talking. You barely notice Theo's largely ineffective attempts at pushing your sleeves off your shoulders.

"Pansy Parkinson! Pansy flipping Parkinson. What, does he think he's a free man now or something? Melissa's halfway across the world, she's not dead."

"Mhm."

You sigh exaggeratedly at his lackluster responses.

“Well? Don't you have to anything to add?"

“Yeah - hold still.” You This is just ridiculous, Theo was thinking. What kind of dress needed buttons and a zip?

You huff, switching your hair to your other hand. “Honestly, Theo, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been saying the past hour?”

Theo groans, still fumbling at your lower back. He had figured out the buttons were decorative, bless him, but your dress was on the more delicate side, and if he ripped it, he'd never hear the end of it. “Uh, yeah, that Abernathy guy...he’s two-timing Melissa?"

“He is not,” you say, peering over your shoulder to see what was taking Theo so long. Seriously, what was going on back there? It doesn't help, though, not when you can barely make him out in the dark. “not yet at least. He might. And if he's going to, well, isn't it better she finds out now rather than ten years down the road? Or am I an awful friend for thinking that?"

"Thinking what?" Theo asks distractedly.

"Willing my best friend's boyfriend into cheating on her."

Before he can formulate a response, your stubborn zipper finally decides to cooperate and moves down an inch - snagging at his finger. A sharp hiss cuts through the dark, followed by some emphatic, muttered swearing.

You pause.

“…what was that?”

Theo slips his injured finger out of his mouth briefly, his voice strained as he struggles to keep the pain out of his tone. “Nothing.”

You shift slightly, trying to catch his expression in the dark, but he’s suspiciously still now, his hands nowhere on you anymore.

“Theo.”

“I’m fine.”

Your brow furrows. Then, his suddenly subdued demeanour and oddly neutral tone clicks in your head.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

There’s an immediate rustle, followed by Theo’s very delayed attempt at nonchalance.

“…no.”

Oh, you could throttle him. “Was it the zip again?”

“You keep saying that like I do it intentionally - I never mean to-”

“And now you're trying to suck the pain away like a child?”

“Would you rather I bleed all over your dress?”

“I’d rather you watch what you’re doing so you don’t get maimed by a bloody zip in the first place!”

Theo exhales sharply, his frustration palpable. “I keep telling you - I don't-”

“You never mean to, but here we are.” You cross your arms. “Third time in two weeks, Theo. This is getting ridiculous. Should I hire a nurse for our dates? A medic? Do you need to start taking my clothes off under medical supervision? Is that what we've come to?"

Theo glares at you (or the shadowy figure he was mostly sure was you), trying to pull his attention away from the stinging pain. “Oh, don’t start - ”

“You don’t think before you do things.”

Theo groans. “I think plenty.”

“No, you rush plenty. Really, it’s a miracle you still have all your limbs -”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“First, you burn yourself on my curling iron -”

“Okay, one, you shouldn't be leaving your things out like that.”

“Then you cut yourself opening a tin of biscuits -”

Theo tips his head back in exasperation. “You sh - you literally shoved it at me!”

“ - and now my zipper is out to get you?” You throw your hands up. “What are you telling me, Teddy? That every item I own has a personal vendetta against you?”

"Mattheo agrees with me, you know," you continue smugly, in a so-there kind of tone. "He told me about that time you nearly broke your neck falling down that flight of stairs on the way to Transfiguration, which wouldn't have happened if you weren't - "

"Rushing, I know." Theo steps back as if to escape. “Merlin, you are insufferable - ”

“And you are reckless.”

“I don't need you to lecture me.”

“You’d be fine if you just listened to m - show me your finger.”

A brief struggle ensues.

You lunge; he sidesteps. You fumble blindly for his hand; he twists out of reach.

“For fuck’s sake -”

“Stop being so difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, you’re being a menace.”

“At least I don't get mauled by zippers.”

“I'm telling you, that zipper has it out for me."

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always in such a bloody rus - ”

“Enough with the rushing!”

“I can't help it if you never learn - ”

“I do learn,” he snaps, stepping back further - only for you to grab onto his wrist and pull.

There’s a shuffle, a scuffle as Theo stumbles back into the dresser with a thud.

“Oi - ”

“Oh, stop squirming, you big baby.”

“You stop grabbing- ”

“Theodore, you are injured. Act like it.”

“I am n- ”

“Then give me your hand.”

A long, heavy pause. Then -

“No.”

You groan, exasperated. “Merlin, you are the most - ”

“And you are relentless - ”

But at last, in an impressive show of determination, you manage to latch onto his wrist, wrenching his hand towards you before he can twist away again. Theo groans in frustration, but you’ve already found the wound—his fingertip, warm and damp against yours.

“Oh, for - ” You tighten your grip as he tries to pull away. “You are bleeding!”

Theo tenses, his entire body bristling. “It’s nothing.”

“On my zipper,” you say incredulously. “Again.”

He exhales sharply as if this is somehow your fault. “You don’t need to make a whole production of it - ”

“I told you to be careful - ”

“And I was - ”

“Clearly not enough!”

Theo groans, tipping his head back against the dresser. “I’m buying you a tear-away dress next Valentine’s.”

You bite back a smirk. “I’d like to see you figure that one out.”

He mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re already bringing his hand up, brushing your lips over the wound.

He stills.

The fight, the irritation, the tension - all of it dissolves instantly under your touch.

You press another kiss there, softer this time. Through a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, he sees your face - your impish expression, your eyes, alight with amusement and plain adoration. You watch his face too - his furrowed brows relaxing, the slight part of his lips, his sharp features softened by something indiscernible.

His eyes flick to yours.

And Merlin, it’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair how you can drive him to the brink of insanity one second and then look at him like that the next, like you could never get your fill. It's enough to make him think you're worth all the trouble you put him through. It's enough to make him want to slow down. Merlin knows the last thing he wants is to rush through his days with you.

“…better?” you murmur against his skin after a moment.

Theo exhales, rolling his eyes as though he isn’t already relenting. "It's a start," he says grudgingly.

Your smile widens as you bring his hand up again, pressing another kiss there, then another, then another.

Theo groans, tipping his head back again, his frustration dwindling with every sympathetic brush of your lips.

“You like this,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his voice has softened, his body relaxing into yours.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Then his palm.

Theo groans again, for reasons unrelated to his earlier irritation, his fingers curling at your waist.

You laugh softly. “Want me to kiss you better everywhere?”

Theo smiles weakly, pulling you closer. “That's the best idea you've had all night."

[lipglossanon]

Until the End

Real son!Leon S. Kennedy x real mom!reader (one shot)

Warnings: incest, dead dove, mom/son, simp Leon, cnc (reader’s “not” into it at first 😉), kissing, dirty talk, teasing, oral (f receiving), just the tip 😩, unprotected sex, creampie, mommy kink to the extreme

not proofread ✍️ it’s been a while since I’ve worked on anything so hopefully this doesn’t suck lmao the ending is just kinda meh

shoutout to the discord; I posted some of this WIP and they gave me the inspo to finish 🤭

title from the Breaking Benjamin song

It’s a quiet affair when you sign the divorce papers. Your husband—of twenty four years—deciding that he’d rather live overseas with his secretary instead of sticking it out; it’s not something you would have foreseen, but as they say hindsight’s always 20/20. It upset you at first but once the indignation died down, you realize you feel more relief than anything. Things have been strained for years and then in the last five, he’s barely been home long enough to chat about your days. 

The one who took it the hardest out of anyone is Leon. Your husband offered him a place to stay, but he chose to live with you (being a mama’s boy through and through). After his father left, Leon angrily refused to speak with him anymore and instead focused on his work and trying to pick up any slack around the house. Not that you hadn’t already been doing that for years, but it’s sweet of him to want to take care of you. 

He dotes on you now, making sure you’re eating and drinking and taking care of yourself. His friends tease him about it or rib him about having a milf (which you had the unfortunate chance to overhear as you walked into the living room). Meeting Leon’s mortified gaze, you smile tightly and walk through to the kitchen. He kicks them out and apologizes profusely to you, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he murmurs how sorry he is and promises it won’t happen again. 

Things go back to normal for a while. The absence of your husband is something you don’t even notice anymore. Leon is more than capable of moving out and living on his own, but he says it’s closer to work and easier to keep an eye on you if he lives at home. Besides, he told you with a serious face, he doesn’t have a girlfriend to make things awkward so for now you just need to chill out and let him take care of things. 

He gets a promotion at work, no longer relegated to being just a traffic cop, and you couldn’t be more proud! Your offer to take him out to a nice dinner gets turned down; in its place is an evening of take out and drinking. Since it’s the weekend, neither of you are worried about being hungover the next day, so you both end up drinking more than you usually would. 

Later, Leon walks with you from the dining room to the living room, each of you laughing at some silly joke that you can’t even remember. 

Settling together on the couch, he tucks into your side, face nuzzling against your neck like he used to do as a little boy. You giggle and run your hand through his hair. 

“You’re so sweet, Leon,” you murmur, “but aren’t you a little too old to be cuddling your mom?”

“Uh uh,” he whines, making you laugh harder, “always need you, mama.”

“Okay, okay,” you pat his head, slumping further into the couch, the alcohol buzzing through your veins, “my little boy’s all grown up.”

Feeling maudlin now at remembering that the passage of time waits for no one, you sniffle and it draws Leon’s attention.  

“What’s a’matter?” He mumbles, hazy blue eyes sharpening to see your tears, “mom?”

You smile and cup his cheek. Neither of you have shied away from physical affection; however, you remember on more than one occasion you thought Leon went overboard with cuddling and snuggling with you. Now that seems like a silly thought, he just missed you during his long hours on duty. 

“Nothing, just so proud of you,” you smile, dropping your hand to rub his shoulder. 

He kisses your cheek and you coo softly. Moving closer, he lands another soft kiss to the corner of your lips. Blaming it on the alcohol, a warm thrum of heat sings through your stomach. 

“Mama,” he whimpers, lips clumsily landing on yours. 

You freeze, body heavy and thoughts slow. Leon presses his mouth more firmly against yours and you gasp, lips parting under his and he eagerly kisses you harder. Whining, you try to tug your head away but he follows you, kisses becoming rougher while pressing you deeper against the couch. 

Your hands come up and tangle in his hair, but instead of pulling him back they scrape against his scalp, making him groan deliciously. He shifts, pulling away to tilt his head at a better angle before pressing another hot kiss against your lips. You sink into it, clit pulsing in arousal, mouth tingling from each sloppy kiss from your son.

Finally, you twist away, panting heavily while Leon rests his forehead against your jaw. 

“Mama, why’d you stop?” He presses a soft kiss under your ear, making you shiver.

“Leon, this—this isn’t right,” you plead, eyelashes fluttering as he nips and sucks your neck.

“Just this once,” he murmurs, lips dragging against your skin and sending chills down your body. “Let me show you how much I appreciate you, mommy.”

His words and actions are muddling your mind… and you’ve been lonely for so long. Swallowing, you breath out a shaky breath, mind made up.

“O-okay,” your body feels hot, muttering that out loud.

Moaning, he bites your jaw then kisses your cheek. “Thank you.”

He shows his appreciation by kissing the breath from your lungs; your son’s excitement ramps up your own, cunt pulsing with need as slick fills your panties. Wet, drugging kisses pass between you until you completely lose yourself to the feeling, making out with Leon until your lips are swollen. 

You jump, feeling his fingers trail along your thigh, slipping under your skirt and brushing against your panties.

“God, you’re so wet. Wanna bury my face in your pussy.”

You moan, and he teases your cunt through the soppy fabric.

“You can’t,” your hips grind down into his hand.

“Okay, promise I’ll behave,” he chuckles.

Without another word, he flips your skirt up and slips your panties down your legs to bunch at your ankles.

“Oh mommy,” he moans, fingers tracing your slit up and down before circling your clit, “your pussy’s so soft. Fuck me.”

Your hips buck and he bites his bottom lip, fingers rubbing up and down your pussy lips. 

“So, so soft,” he whispers, eyes glued to where his fingers are touching, “my stubble’s gonna feel so rough when I kiss her, mama.”

You whine high and reedy but shake your head, “No, no, this is all I’m allowing, Leon. You promised.”

“Just a kiss or two,” he murmurs, voice low and smoky, “she needs it, look how soft and sweet she is, just begging for my mouth. C’mon, mama, just let me have a couple of kisses.”

Your resolve cracks at his pleading. 

“Just a couple, then we stop,” you try to sound firm but your voice comes out breathier than you’d like. 

“Mmhmm, thank you, mama,” he kisses the side of your cheek then the corner of your lips.

You feel a little disappointed that he stops to kneel between your legs. He brings his hands up to spread apart your cunt, slick dripping from your hole as his mouth hovers over your mound. 

“Oh fuck, mom,” Leon whines, tongue lapping at your clit, “so fucking wet. Am I making you this wet? God, your pussy’s so fucking sexy.”

Another groan and he’s fluttering his tongue across your pudgy bud before sucking it gently into his mouth. He pulls back and kisses the hood of your clit. You moan softly and cant your hips up. 

“W-we shouldn’t, baby,” you plead, fingers tangling in his hair again, but not pushing him away. 

“Been wanting to do this forever, dreaming about how I wanna lick your pretty pussy til you cream all over my face,” he pants, dilated eyes watching your face, “gonna make you cum over and over tonight.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy, walls clamping around the slippery muscle, “Leon! 

He hums and grinds his nose against your clit as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, spit dripping down your ass onto the couch cushions. Your eyes flutter as your orgasm winds tight in your abdomen. 

“Need to eat you out everyday, mama,” he pulls back, slick shining across his lips and chin, “treat this pussy like she deserves. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

He sucks your clit back into his mouth, hot tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. It only takes a few more teasing licks before your climax breaks over your body like a tidal wave. Toes curling, your hands tug on his hair making him moan, tonguing at your fluttering cunt until he finally pulls away with one last sucking kiss. 

He crowds you on the couch, thick forearms hooking under your knees to keep you spread open. He nods down to his jeans; your eyes flit from his face to the bulge pressing obscenely against his zipper. 

“Pull it out,” he murmurs, blue eyes nearly black. “Take my cock out so I can stuff your cunt, mommy.”

Shaking your head, your voice cracks, “No, baby. That’s going too far.”

He whines, “But it hurts, mama. You’re being so mean. At least jerk me off.”

Biting your lip, his pouty mouth has you reaching forward, undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs. You gently ease his dick from his briefs, uncut head sticky with precum. You both moan when you grip his stiff cock, the blood hot skin against your palm turning you on more than you ever thought. Thumb pressing against the slit, you smear the pearlescent sheen across his tip until he’s whimpering. 

“Mommy,” his hips thrust forward, “it’s sensitive.” 

He sags forward, and your legs slide up his arms until your calves press against his biceps. This new position has his dick grinding against your swollen cunt, the head grazing across your pudgy clit. Your fingers loosely circle the base of his cock, the backs of your knuckles brushing against his balls. 

“So good, fuck,” he chokes out, humping your pussy. “Just let me cum like this, let me mark you up, mama. Yeah, just coat this sexy fucking pussy with my cum.”

Keening, you let go of his cock to feather your fingers against his heavy balls. “You can, you can cum all over me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, pink lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as he watches his cock slip between your pussy lips to rub against your hole. “Mommy, just let me put the tip in, please? Promise it’ll just be the tip. Please.”

You know you should say no, but then again you should’ve put a stop to this before it even started. Just the tip wouldn’t be so bad, you think, eyes greedily taking in his fat, drippy tip. It wouldn’t hurt to let him try it out.

“Just the tip, Leon,” you murmur, flicking up to meet his blown out gaze. “But only this once.”

“Thank you,” he groans, “love you so much, mama.”

Moving one hand from his hold on your leg, he grips his cock and guides the head to your clenching hole. His thumb presses down on the head as he rocks forward, slipping the tip into your wet cunt. You suck in a deep breath at the same time he grunts. The other hand gripping your thigh tightens, fingertips tightly digging into the soft skin. 

Leon blows out a breath, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “You feel so good.”

He ruts the head of his cock in and out of your pussy, the wet schlick loud in the otherwise quiet living room. Your hands move over your head to drape over the back of the couch, fingers grasping at the cushions. 

“Can I—,” he cuts himself off, eyes squeezing shut. “Can I go a little deeper, mommy?”

Your slick hole clenches down on him and he whimpers. 

“H-how much deeper?” You hear yourself say, mouth running away from you. 

“Just an inch or two,” he gasps, feeling overwhelmed by the heat of your cunt. “Pretty please, mommy.”

You nod, eyes unable to look away from where he’s splitting you open, dick driving deeper and deeper—going so much farther than a few inches—into your pussy until he’s completely buried in your pulsing walls. 

“Leon!” You cry out, head falling back as your cunt stretches around the fat girth of his cock.

“Sorry, mama,” he practically slurs, pussy drunk already. “Didn’t mean to, it just slipped.”

You whimper at the pleasure pain of his tip kissing your cervix as he grinds himself against your cunt. Clit rubbing against his pelvis makes you squeeze and clench around his dick, in turn making him groan from deep in his chest. He barely pulls out before fucking back into your sopping wet hole. 

“So perfect,” his face pinches in pleasure. “God, mom, your pussy—gonna make me cum so fast.”

You dig your hands into the couch and roll your hips down into his thrusts, “You need to pull out, baby. It’s bad to cum inside. You’ve gotta pull out of mommy’s cunt.”

He makes a broken sound from the back of his throat and drives his cock into you with harsh, pounding thrusts. 

“No, I’m gonna cum in you, make you nice and full,” he bites out, sweat dripping from the straight line of his nose onto you. “Stuff you so full, mama.”

You can’t hide how his words make your pussy clamp down on his cock, his own hips stuttering as your cunt tries to milk his cock. 

“Yeah, mommy, squeezing me so good, so fucking good,” he pants. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

He reaches down, hot palm a brand across your mound as his thumb teases your clit. You thrash against him, but it’s no use as he strums your swollen bud in rough little circles that makes your thighs tremble. 

“Leon,” you moan, a second orgasm quickly building in your core. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop the frantic pumping of his hips, fucking his cock into your squelching heat while he rubs your clit—his blue eyes jumping between your face and your pussy. Mouth dropping open, he groans, mumbling praises and promises under his breath. Pinching your clit between the knuckles of his first and middle finger, he gives pulsing squeezes to the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re cumming loudly. 

Your back bows, fireworks going off in your brain, dimly realizing that Leon’s gripping your hips as he wildly fucks your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, mom,” he chokes on the word, burying himself balls deep in your soft, wet walls and spilling his thick cum as deep as possible. 

You whimper, squeezing down on him as the hot splash of his spend fills your cunt. He eventually stills, hips still snugly pressed against you as close as possible. Slick and jizz begin to slowly leak out from around his softening cock. He hisses when he pulls out, then immediately whimpers, fingers playing with his cum dripping from your hole.

“Leon, stop, it’s sensitive,” you gasp, eyes slipping closed when his fingers slide up to rub across your fat clit. 

“Sorry, mama,” he pulls back only to drop to his knees, eyes dark, mouth hovering tantalizingly close to your sloppy cunt. “Let me kiss it better.”

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

You break down into tears and tell them: "It’s been so long since I’ve felt this happy, I think I just got overwhelmed. You make me happy.” 

Heartslabyul dorm; Savanaclaw dorm; Octavinelle dorm; Scarabia dorm; Pomefiore Dorm; Ignihyde Dorm; Diasomnia Dorm (here)

Malleus Draconia – You two had walked this path a dozen times before, and he admits it’s a bit of an impulse to carry the both of you to the tops of the trees in order to see the starts better. The stories of the constellations of your world never fail to impress him, and it’s even better when the both of you simply start making up your own stories.  

This isn’t the first time you’ve leaned against him as he speaks, but when he looks down, he’s initially scared. Did he’s tail squeeze too tight? Did he nick you with his claws?  

He can’t say he has ever felt so overwhelmed with joy like this, but he understands overwhelmed at least. He looks around quickly, an instinct from his childhood, before draping his coat over your head and allowing you to have your moment, pulling you into his lap for a hug. He can give you this, in a way that he rarely over received.  

“I’m happy.” he simply says, “I’m happy that I can do this for you. Not as a king, but as a friend. As your friend.” 

Lilia Van Rouge – Lilia much prefers to be on the move, seeing all the new sights and sounds the world creates. Humanity changes so quickly, he’s got to stay on top of things! But for you, he’s more than happy to visit the vintage markets and thrift stores, talking about the different pieces you found, their functions, how it’s changed over the decades.  

You had disappeared for only a moment, though it isn’t difficult to find you again. Even your explanation as you try and stop the tears makes perfect sense to him. He felt the same watching Malleus hatch, Silver grow up, even friends long past.  

“Silly, hiding away when you feel happy!” He chuckles, using his sleeves to squish your face. “You must know that it only gets better from here?”  

Sebek Zigvolt – When you had approached Sebek about books to learn more about culture, especially Briar Valley since so many were biased, you had found a different side to him. He was still loud and opinionated of course, but knowing that you were learning seemed to soften him a bit. He was quite a good conversationalist when speaking about his books, and his insights into tradition was something that couldn’t be offered in a text.  

He was sketching out the field of a battle when one of your tears drops on the page. Initially he panics, almost scolding you for such an emotional outburst. But as you explain, he seems to stop himself. He remembers feeling the same the first time Malleus congratulated him on his improvement, or when he finally was able to wield his grandfather’s magearm.  

“While I can...understand, you must collect yourself.” he says, using a tissue nearby. “Afterall, there is plenty more to be found if you simply forge it for yourself. Don’t give up, human!”  

Silver Van Rouge – Silver is a quiet sort, though you know that he can be delightfully witty and sarcastic when he has the energy. That’s the side of him that you get to see deep in the forest, with him leading Samson through on a trail he knows well. Afterall, he’s the one who cut it out.  

He remarks on Diasomnia as a whole, his father, and he speaks about Malleus more as a brother out here than he ever would in person. There are expectations that he can’t escape under watchful eyes and he needs to practice that now before he becomes a guard for him.  

Both of you go quiet as you see a buck pull down a branch for his young fawn to eat, although they startle when your voice hitches.  

Silver bends forward to see you, and you try and hide away the tears. Your explanation makes sense to him, in an odd way. He can remember the first time Lilia complimented his swordsmanship, or the pride in Malleus when he stood up for him in front of the Council. He was ‘scolded’ for it, but he knows better.  

“I know that time feels fleeting and that moments like these seem rare.” He squeezes your middle, Samson breathing steadily underneath the both of you. “But I hope they aren’t for you. I hope they come in abundance, as consistent as the dawn.”  

[jinmindeulle]

vulnerable | k. mingyu, j. wonwoo (3)

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 kim mingyu x fem!reader x jeon wonwoo

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff | friends-with-benefits!mingyu, neighbor-and-highschool-crush!wonwoo | you decided! wonwoo is your choice.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions about sex i guess?

mingyu is taking his time. wonwoo stays by your side.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

Your heart hurt. It really did.

But Wonwoo was right in front of you, and Mingyu had taken his damn time. You knew from a friend in common that his routine hadn’t changed much. He still met with his friends and attended his after-office get-togethers. He was doing fine.

But you weren’t. You opened his inactive chat at least six times a day. Sometimes you typed and erased, sometimes you just stared at it, hoping Mingyu started typing by the force of manifestation. It never happened.

“I can’t help but ask you, is everything alright?”

Ever since you got closer to Wonwoo, you would regularly visit each other. All it took was a minute-long walk from one corner of the first floor to the other. Now that he had a tiny and fluffy companion, you had more excuses to stop by when you got home from work.

“It’s complicated” you sighed, gently scratching the kitty’s neck.

“I like complicated” he chuckled, bringing his can of beer to his lips as he looked at you with attentive eyes.

“Well… I’ve got this friend who has been my best friend ever since college. We met when he banged on my dorm’s room at two in the morning because he was drunk and thought that was his dorm.” you giggled, reminiscing about that crazy first week as a college student. “He was everywhere I looked, and he seemed to like talking to me. We became close and he has been my rock for more than eight years. But last year, things changed a bit between us”

“You fell in love, right?” Wonwoo’s eyebrows rose.

“Kinda?” you shrugged, giving an awkward laugh “We started as friends with benefits, with some rules to follow. We could kiss and have sex. We could make it stop when one of us asked to. We banned jealousy and we were not exclusive…except-”

“You were being exclusive” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t see the problem, though. If you two were fine by how things were going…”

“He was not” you sighed, taking a sip of your can so you could continue the story with a little bit more courage “He asked me to start seeing other people so we could follow that stupid rule, and he explicitly said ‘I don’t want us to be a couple’”

Wonwoo seemed to be contemplating where the narrative was heading before he asked “But he still wanted to fuck you?”

“We were not having sex every time we met up — that was what bothered him the most, I guess. Not because of the act in itself, but because he felt we were practically a couple when he came over, cooked with me, and cuddled to sleep instead of being all over each other”

“So…”

“We fought and he finally came over to apologize. But now we’re in this weird position where he doesn’t know what he wants and I’m waiting for him as if I were Rapunzel trapped in a tower. He knows I don’t see him as a friend anymore. But I don’t want to lose him if he chooses to make this end” you looked down to your lap, eyes welling up. Wonwoo shifted from his side of the couch and scooted closer, hugging you with his right arm so you could place your head on the crook of his neck.    

“You won’t lose him. It might be weird at the beginning, yes. But he needs you as much as you need him. Do you think he is willing to cut ties with you if he doesn’t choose commitment?”

“I guess he’s not” you mumbled, taking in Wonwoo’s scent to calm down your hiccup. 

“If he is the one, and you are his one, there’s nothing to worry about,” his low and calm voice had a magical effect on you, and as you felt the vibrations of his voice through his neck, you began to soothe your worries “ If you still think he’s the one when he’s still not ready to treat you as his girlfriend, maybe time will eventually bring you two together. And if time doesn’t, then… I’m still gonna be here” 

“You are an angel” you mumbled, feeling your eyes heavy. 

“Only for you”

. . . . . . . . . .

Three weeks. Exactly twenty-one days had passed, and Mingyu was still nowhere to be seen, or heard of.

Day twenty-two was your limit. You had to make a decision, even if he hadn’t made up his mind yet. It was killing you to know that he could come and destroy everything you had built over eight years, and you would remain with a broken heart until he decided to either mend it or turn it into ashes. 

You had to prioritize yourself.

We need to talk.

It physically hurt to finally type and send the text instead of erasing it. Your heart started pounding and you thought that it was about to explode, expecting an answer that took three and a half hours to come. And after you read it, you regretted even having the thought of sending that text.

I’ve got plans.

Hot tears traveled down your cheeks, frozen in place, holding your phone close to your heart. Who was that person? Mingyu would never, could never.

And yet he could. He sent those eight years of precious, heartwarming moments to the trash. All those nights you had stayed awake to help him on his projects, while you could have been working on yours. All those events you had been his plus one to help ease his nervousness when you could have stayed at home to study for your postgraduate course. All those kisses that had felt so real, so caringly true. 

It was over.

Dinner is ready!

I don’t know if you are coming but if you are, you better hurry.

[Picture]

Homemade, just how you like it 😌

At first, you thought that there was no way you could go in that state. You were just going to ruin that Friday night for Wonwoo. 

But after you rubbed your last set of tears away, you took a look at yourself in the mirror and decided that it was not too bad. Wonwoo had seen you worse back then. Also, you needed him. More than anyone else.

Even more than Mingyu.

So you answered.

On my way!

And left your apartment.

“Hi! Oh… What did he do?” the concern in his eyes made yours flood up with tears once more.

“I think he dumped me? I don’t even know if that’s accurate to what happened”

“Come in” Wonwoo mumbled, taking your frame under his long arm and embracing you as soon as he closed the door behind him. “Let it out”

“But the pizza is turning cold” you cried, face buried in his collarbone as he held you close, ruining his shirt with tears. 

“We’ll reheat it later,” when he kissed your temple, you felt how your heartbeat got faster, and how relaxed your breathing turned out. His scent always had the effect of a tranquilizer on you, and you were beginning to feel it little by little, from head to toe “Wanna talk about it?”

“I just need to forget him” 

And you were determined to do it. 

Plus, Wonwoo was making it so easy for you.

When you felt that you had no more tears to shed, he led you to his sofa, and Bomi, his cute kitten, quickly rested himself comfortably on your lap. 

“He knows you’re sad” Wonwoo smiled as he came back from the kitchen, a wooden tray with the two yummy-looking pizzas on top.

“He’s too cute” You kept yourself busy petting Bomi as you waited for Wonwoo to bring the wine he had promised.

“Is it too out of place on my part to say ‘Cheers’?” the man asked, giving you your glass and extending his your way.

“You’re the only one I would allow to do that” you softly giggled, clinking his glass with yours “Cheers.”

“Cheers” he chuckled, looking at you in the eye. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Six days after your now ex-best friend/ex-friend-with-benefits cut you off, he decided it was the right time to reappear in your life. And you thanked whoever or whatever was above that Wonwoo was holding your hand from the other side of the table when the phone lit up with Mingyu’s notification.

“He’s back” you mumbled absentmindedly, taking the device with your other hand and reading the text aloud “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long. I’m ready to talk now”  

Wonwoo’s face fell.

“What…what will you say?”

You sighed, and the first thing your eyes landed on was your and Wonwoo’s intertwined fingers. He was caressing and holding them with so much care that your heart skipped a beat. You raised your gaze to his eyes and laid your heart before you, just for him. For the one who deserved it.

“I told him to take his time, and I must own up to that. However, I never said anything about waiting for him to decide. He will understand that my thoughts and my heart belong to someone else now. Even if it’s soon, even if it has just started. I mean it when I say that I want you. Hell, I have wanted you ever since I was twelve”

“Wh-what?” he squished your hand, and you had to giggle at his response.

“I might have taken a break from being in love with you a couple of years ago. But ever since you came back to my life, it has felt the same, Woo. You might have changed a little, yes, but your kindness, your responsibility, your sensibility, and sensitivity are still the same — I fell in love with you because of those traits of yours. Not to mention your handsomeness.” 

It felt right. Wonwoo felt right.

“Why didn’t you say something back then?” he looked cute in that state. He looked as confused as happy. 

“You were not as straightforward as you are now” you shook your head “Woo, you ran away from all those girls. How would I assume I had a chance?”

“You were the only one I would have stayed for” he mumbled, and your heart melted. “I’m sorry I never showed it to you. I was the one who assumed it was too obvious on my part”

When your phone lit up again, you decided it was time to let Mingyu know that you were not waiting for him. That you had a right to move on.

“Let me take care of this,” you said, moving to the corner of the table “Proceed with your drink, please” you smiled, softening at his expression. If he was a cartoon, a question mark would have appeared over his head.

You angled your phone and after a couple of shots, you were content with the outcome.

[Picture]

I’m the one who’s busy now. And for real. 

When you left the café hand in hand, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if Mingyu had reached out sometime earlier. 

Maybe, just maybe…

But he hadn’t, and you were truly happy with where your life had headed. Right across your door, Wonwoo appeared when you least expected him to. He was there to hold you, to caress you, to care for you — for your meals, for your sleep schedule, for your working hours. He was there when no one else had been. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” the reason for your many sleepless nights and enamored sighs during your teenage years asked, squishing your hand as he led you into your building’s elevator.

“You”

As the doors closed, Wonwoo wasted no time and pressed his lips to yours, gently cupping your face with his large but soft hands. You steadied yourself by gripping the sides of his black t-shirt, angling your head to let him have you. All of you.

His kiss felt even better than you had imagined all those years ago. He showed hunger and patience at the same time, he wanted to feel what he had missed for so long and also save it for later. 

“You’re amazing” he mumbled over your lips, a gentle smile on his face.

“You are”

“I’m too happy to argue right now.” he pecked your lips again, just in time to get out of the elevator. “But I might do it later”

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

epilogue: wonwoo as your boyfriend

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

part 1 | you decide... mingyu (2) or wonwoo (3)

please like and reblog!

[disaster-writer]

Uncovered Part 3

Alpha!Bakugo x Omega!Reader

A/N: surprise! Have another part today

Summary: Alpha!Bakugo finds out that you’ve secretly been an Omega all this time

Part 1 Part 2

Bakugo stood with his fist poised, ready to knock on the front door to your apartment— that was until he dropped his hand to the side for the umpteenth time that night.

”Fuck— this is so fucking stupid,” he growled, yearning to just punch a goddamn hole in the wall and just leave already.

It was late anyway, you were probably asleep by now. He could just come back tomorrow morning.

He took a step back and turned… that’s what he’ll do, he’ll come back tomorrow morning before you’re meant to report to the agency for work—

He stopped. 

“FUCK—“ Bakugo slammed his fist hard against your front door three times. 

After a few beats he was greeted with the door being swung open and you standing exasperated on the other side.

Almost immediately you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “No. Go home—“ you went to shut the door but Bakugo shoved his foot in the door before you could.

”We need to talk,” He muttered gruffly, peering down at you with hard eyes.

Your nostrils flared as you stared back up at him with an indignant look, “I have nothing to say to you—“

”Have you been crying?” The words flew past his lips as he took in your appearance. You were dressed in pajamas, no doubt already in bed for the night when he came, and your eyes were swollen and watery as if you had just finished sobbing your eyes out.

You huffed, “Go. Home.”

The two of you stared each other down for another moment before Bakugo forced himself forward and shoved himself inside, throwing you off balance and stumbling backwards, unable to stop him.

Bakugo glanced around your apartment. It was nice— expensive. It was expected of a hero of your notoriety, but even more so due to the fact you were a legacy hero. He wouldn’t lie, despite being relatively close friends ever since Raccoon Eyes all but adopted you into the group during first year, he always did chalk you up to just being another rich kid from another long line of heroes that got everything handed to them on a silver platter. 

He realized with faint recognition that this was the first time he had set foot in your place. You never invited anyone over, always assuming you just liked your privacy but now… he was sure it was more than that.

Bakugo heard the click of the door shutting behind him, followed by a defeated sigh.

“Why are you here Bakugo?” You asked, clearly exhausted, walking past him and deeper into the apartment as you made your way to the kitchen.

”Hah?” He sneered incredulously, following in tow, “You’re really going to ask me that after what happened this afternoon?” 

“I’ve been watching the news all day— you haven’t told anyone yet,” you muttered, reaching the top of your fridge for a bottle of sake.

”Of course I didn’t tell dumbass.”

You threw him a resentful glance over your shoulder, “Well why not?” You spat before unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig before finally seating yourself down at the kitchen island.

Bakugo rounded the island, slamming his hands down on the counter across from you, “How low do you think I am—?”

Your head snapped up, locking your gaze with his once more, ”Pretty fucking low considering I found you going through my shit!— I mean, who even does that!? What were you even trying to find—“

”You’re changing the subject!” Bakugo rushed, ears tinging pink knowing the truth of why he even looked in the first place was embarrassing enough. 

There was a pregnant pause before you finally rolled your eyes and took another swig— it didn’t even matter at this point did it? Your life may as well be over anyway… 

“What do you want?” You finally sighed, resigned to whatever the rest of this interaction was going to be.

”I want to understand,” he replied, more even and controlled than his previous outbursts, “How have you hid this for so long? —And who else knows about you.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, fingering the rim of your sake bottle in thought. “Why should I even tell you?” 

”I’m not going to say anything.”

“That is until you change your mind.”

”I won’t.” He hissed, “I’m not going to get your license revoked— now will you just answer me.”

You continued to remain silent, making him huff in frustration.

”The cold.”

Your eyes slid to his, confusion painting your face, “What?”

”The cold,” he reiterated, clearly annoyed, “It’s my main weakness.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I already know that—“

”I’m just saying— if I tell… then you tell. I have a lot of enemies that would pay for that kinda information.”

You were quiet once more, eyeing him and weighing his words. His own gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in your seat. Bakugo was many things but you never really knew him to go back on his word…

”You’re the only one other than my family, doctor, and trainer that knows,” you sighed, taking a swig, “That’s how we’ve kept it secret, parents that hired a doctor and trainer to mix up the perfect cocktail of drugs and regimens to pass me off as an Alpha. That and a whole lot of hush money.” You muttered sarcastically.

”Why?”

”Why?” You scoffed, “Because I’m a (Y/L/N). We don’t have Omegas, everyone in my family has been born an Alpha and then has trained to become a hero for generations.”

”But you guys do have an Omega.”

You shot him a glare, “Yeah, I’m well aware asshole.”

”So what? Making you a hero was going to somehow save your family name?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is. And I was doing a fine job of it too until you decided to stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Bakugo finally took a seat, “You all actually think you can keep this a secret?” He asked incredulously.

You quirked a brow, “I am.”

He pursed his lips… technically that was true, but more so because it would have been unthinkable that an Omega would have managed to get as far as you have in this field. 

Honestly it was a goddamn miracle you even managed to get into class 1-A to begin with. 

If it wasn’t for that he probably would have believed you were at least a Beta if not an Omega, especially as your scent gave no indication…

Bakugo perked up, “Why don’t you smell like an Omega?”

“Drugs,” you shrugged, “My brothers also scent me to mask whatever’s left.”

”And what about—“ heats, Bakugo caught himself before he could say it, the realization hitting him over the head like a ton of bricks. You experience heats. A blush spread across his cheeks, mind suddenly clouded by images of you locked away in your bedroom  and—

“What about what?” You asked him impatiently, “Are we done here yet? You already get the gist and if I still have a job in the morning then I need to go to bed now.”  You stood up, rounding the kitchen island back towards the front door with Bakugo following behind hesitantly. He still had so many questions but was suddenly and actually aware that you were an Omega… he had never been very tactful around Omegas before.

You stood by the now open door, waiting for him to leave.

And so he did, but not before you stopped him with one final thing left to say. You had stopped him with a grip on his bicep, peering up at him with serious eyes, “You need to be aware of how you treat me in public going forward. If you start pulling some Alpha bullshit and favoring me on missions or doting on me in front of our friends I will make sure every one of your enemies finds out Dynamight can’t handle the cold. Understood?”

He bared his teeth and in a low whisper said, “Don’t get such a big head— you’re still an extra to me.” 

With that he had tugged his arm from your grasp and headed out.

He would never admit that what you had said was exactly what had been weighing on his mind since he found the pill bottle.

[azzifudd]

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?” 

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips. 

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word. 

“Oh, where in Minnesota?” 

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.” 

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.” 

“You’ve heard of it?” 

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.” 

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed. 

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster. 

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty. 

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.” 

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.” 

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands. 

“Please, please, please?” 

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife. 

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.” 

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.” 

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel. 

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky. 

“Paige? Are you okay?” 

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!” 

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?” 

“You wanted to.” 

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top. 

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin. 

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.” 

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe. 

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands. 

//

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?” 

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world. 

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name. 

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.” 

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again. 

“Oh, babe. What happened?” 

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself. 

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.” 

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.” 

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her. 

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight. 

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches. 

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible. 

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco. 

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside. 

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched. 

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time. 

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in. 

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots. 

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses. 

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once. 

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her. 

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.” 

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin. 

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her. 

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi. 

“You wanna?” 

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt. 

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows. 

“Go ahead.” 

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?” 

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales. 

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs. 

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.” 

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers. 

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy. 

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again. 

//

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!” 

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room. 

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?” 

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat. 

“Of course.” 

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously. 

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.” 

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth. 

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face. 

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country. 

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before. 

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi. 

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply. 

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?” 

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.” 

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.” 

“Okay!” 

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up. 

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it. 

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box. 

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.” 

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart. 

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek. 

“I love it. I love you.” 

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.” 

//

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game. 

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug. 

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try. 

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team. 

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes. 

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest. 

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.” 

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge. 

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her. 

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.” 

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely. 

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate. 

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her. 

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes. 

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.” 

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here. 

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige. 

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes. 

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.” 

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.” 

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep. 

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face. 

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee. 

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows. 

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.  

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her. 

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

//

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!” 

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.” 

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years. 

“Azzi-” 

“Paige-” 

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes. 

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out. 

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.” 

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous. 

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.” 

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.” 

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her. 

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back. 

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere. 

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers. 

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena. 

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her. 

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?” 

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.” 

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments. 

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.  

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most. 

“What do you want, Paige?” 

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach. 

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.” 

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige. 

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls. 

“I-” 

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media. 

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully. 

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away. 

//

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!” 

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy. 

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court. 

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down. 

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.” 

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them. 

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide. 

This time, she doesn’t hesitate. 

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter 6: Pink Camellias - Longing For You

Summary: Andy stops by on a particularly stressful day, and a different favorite customer gives you a bit of a rude awakening.

Word Count: 2442

Author's Note: Hey my lovelies! Thank you all so much for the positive feedback I've received from so many of you since the last chapter. Enjoy this chapter, this one and the next one are going to be on the shorter side to prepare for an upcoming behemoth i have planned ;)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @wub-wub-wub-wub-wub @padfootblackswh0r3 @axel-the-boy-witch

fic under the cut <3

So far, your day was terrible, which meant it was on par with the rest of your week.

Everything you had detailed on that late night phone call to Andy a few weeks ago had only gotten worse. The date for foreclosure was slowly approaching, your debt nearly canceled out by the sheer amount of customers you were getting recently. You could only imagine it had just become an online trend to… be nice to your partner? Whatever the incentive was, it was helping out the business, but not so much your wallet.

You often brought your frustrations to Andy, and he was so supportive it made your heart ache. Even though he’d explicitly stated often that it was completely fine for you to vent to him like this, you apologized profusely every time. This is how talking to him would start, though after a few minutes they diverged to a million other topics.

This was exactly the kind of conversation you were planning on having when he visited you today. And you couldn't wait. A countdown of the seconds until he walked in was playing in your brain.

One, two, three.

You needed the break from your life that talking to Andy offered you.

_Four, five, six._

You craved the stability, how even if your life was crumbling before you, you would always be able to find him in the rubble.

Seven, eight, nine.

He wasn't your sole motivator to keep going, but he definitely helped.

Ten—

"Hey there.”

Uncharacteristically perfect timing.

You pulled your attention away from the clock on the wall to catch your first glimpse of him for the day. For the first time since you’d met him, he was wearing a hat, a black baseball cap with some logo on it you didn't recognize. His hair was tied back into a bun. Though he had his attempts at being stylish from time to time, today was not one of them, his zip-up hoodie and jeans making it evident that today was not a day where he felt like trying. Maybe he was having as crappy of a day as you were. Just in case he was, you greeted him with more enthusiasm in your voice than usual.

“Hi! How's it going?”

“Pretty alright, actually,” he started, before continuing his sentence with a question that seemed to give you a headache simply by hearing it. “How are you?”

You sighed before you spoke, grimacing just at the thought of your emotions.

“I am so stressed that talking about how stressed I am will only make me more stressed. I need a change of pace. And topic.”

He picked up what you were putting down immediately, something that had become almost like second nature to him. A good distraction.

“There was something I’ve been meaning to ask you, now that you've reminded me.”

Oh no.

The thoughts of what he could possibly have to ask you began to cloud your mind, and some of the various possibilities made your heart beat much faster than it should. When he started so say something again, there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Unusual for you, since you’d grown so accustomed to him being more confident in your presence, but you let him speak.

“So… ehm… my birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks. To celebrate, some of my friends and I are gonna go to the pub and I was wondering if you'd like to come along.”

To say you were relieved was an understatement. The wide smile on your face was an answer in itself, but you responded anyway.

“Andy, I’d love to.”

“Great! Grand. I’ll mark you down as saying ‘yes’.”

“There’s no way I’d say no. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

A smile, almost the same as your own, grew on his lips.

“By the way, this will be a genuine get-together. You’ll get to meet some of my other friends, as well.”

You feigned shock.

“So it's not just me and this Alex fellow you talk about?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I do have more than just two friends.”

You both let out your own laughs, almost in unison with one another. To be joking around with someone you trusted and kept so close… for a moment, it helped you believe everything was alright.

“I’m excited to celebrate with everyone,” you said, sincerity returning to your tone. “Get ready for a present for the ages. For the history books, even.”

He shook his head in denial, stopping your excitement in its tracks.

“Y/N, you don't have to get me anything . I’m a grown man, I’ll live if I don't get a birthday present.”

“Well, I’m a grown woman and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't get you anything. So let me-”

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door ringing.

You peeked behind him at who had just walked in. You had to look down to meet her gaze, and when you realized you recognized her weathered face, you smiled.

“Violet! Great to see you! I’ll be right with you.”

Andy tilted his head at your exclamation.

“Violet?”

“Remember when I said you were tied for the title of my favorite customer with a little old lady? I wasn't joking. Meet your competitor.”

You watched as he looked over his shoulder, his head turning to be met with a small, older woman with gray hair and possibly the warmest smile you’d ever seen. Clutching onto purse with one hand like her life depended on it, she gave him a small wave.

“I think I’ll shut myself up for now. You have actual clients to get to.”

“Alright. I’ll come by your work tomorrow. Oh, and about your birthday. Just text me the time and the address and I’ll be there. With an amazing present because you can't stop me.”

A small smile, the kind that barely showed his teeth, spread across his face.

“Thank you. I will see you then.”

He waved goodbye, and you could’ve sworn you saw ink smudged on the side of his hands.

Both of you watched as he left, though with different intentions behind your gazes. You pulled your eyes away when he left, almost afraid to keep your gaze on him. Violet's eyes, however, seemed to linger, from shock more than anything else. Once he was out of both of your fields of vision, you returned to facing each other.

Violet had become part of your routine, and you slowly became part of each other's lives. Every time she came in, she talked to you about anything on her mind. Yet for the chatterbox that she was, she managed to be an enigma for you. She came in monthly, on the first day of the month, always ordering flowers as a centerpiece for when her “group of ladies” came around. You couldn't tell if she was in a book club or a coven, but neither answer would surprise you. In as sweet a tone as ever, she initiated your conversation.

“I’ve been here a thousand times, but I don't think I’ve ever seen that man before. Who was that?”

“Oh, that's Andy. He's my…”

You couldn't quite find the words to complete that sentence. Andy was your friend, obviously, but the word felt so odd, almost bitter on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. To save yourself any pain, you tiptoed around it.

“He works at the tattoo parlor a few blocks away. He visits me sometimes.”

“He seems like such a sweet young man.”

“He is! He really is.” You nodded.

Violet, despite her years of living and likely unlimited wisdom, found nothing wrong with her next sentence.

“I don't mean to pry, but I had no idea you were dating someone! How long have you two been together?"

Your eyes widened so much you were afraid they would pop out of your skull. What in the world could have made her ask that? Why did your palms get so clammy? Had someone turned up the heat?

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “No, no, no. Andrew and I… we aren't dating. We're just friends.”

The older woman raised a quizzical brow, as if she didn't believe you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Violet. I’d know if I was in a relationship.”

“Then, is he sure?”

“He's sure. too. We're not dating. We're friends. Friends.”

Were you trying to convince her or yourself?

She shook her head, accompanied by a tsk, tsk, tsk.

“What is it?”

“Dear, I’ve been around for… I’m not even sure how many years. I know a look filled with love when I see it. And the way that boy looks at you is the same look I’ve seen in loves that last lifetimes. It's the same look my wife gives me every single day. One of you should do something about that look.”

Her thorough analysis left you stunned. You attempted to put the pieces together in your brain, trying to mask your confusion as you did so.

“I’d never noticed that before.”

“Youth is wasted on the young. What’s the point of eyesight if you're not going to use it?”

You chuckled at that, though you also used it as a way to ignore the truth behind the statement. Did he look at you a certain way? Were you so deep into your oblivion that you just never noticed before? Or so deep into your own infatuation, too busy staring at him through your own eyes, to pay attention to how you might look through his? With all your newfound. overthinking all you could do was reply with a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you for that. I appreciate the advice.”

Violet was capricious in her conversation, easily distracted if you could get her back on the right track. In this moment, you utilized her fickleness to steer her back on track. Or at least, get the conversation back on the track you were comfortable with.

“Do you have a bouquet request?”

She thought for a moment, giving you a slow nod before she verbalized her answer.

“Well, it is starting to be spring time, and the girls and I just finished reading a Jane Austen novel, so love is in the air. Maybe focus on pink. I’ll let you handle the rest. I’ll be back later on to pick it up."

She placed the same vase she used monthly on the counter. It bounced back and forth between you two, exchanged each time you created a new arrangement. The only thing that changed was the color of the bow on the exterior.

“Sounds like a plan. Have a lovely day.”

“You too, dear.”

One last warm smile crossed her face before she went to leave. She shuffled her way out the door, leaving you room to get started.

Violet’s lenient instructions were perfect; it gave you a guideline, but mostly the creative control was in your hands. The only thing you had to keep in mind was pink.

The first idea your mind went to was pink camellias. They were in season, and with spring on the horizon, they were perfect. And you couldn't turn down adding them in when their meaning was so poetic. Longing for you. It tugged at your heartstrings just to think about it — how people from hundreds of years ago felt the same emotions, the same deep want or need for a person, as people do today. A feeling so strong they couldn't put it in words, or didn't trust themselves to say it. So they let a flower take its place.

Pink camellias had to be the focus.

Using the vase Violet had left behind, you worked the rest of your suggestions, mixing and matching until both beauty and semantics aligned. Pink roses, perfect happiness. Magenta zinnia, lasting affection. Mix in some white carnations for sweetness and innocence to break it up, and it was finished. The ladies were sure to love it, whether they were casting a spell or reading Jane Eyre.

For the first time in a few days, you wanted to feel calm. You had been too many things going on in your life for you to focus on being present.

There was so much stress looming over you recently. You were unsure just how much longer you would have your place of work. Your family and your friends all seemingly wanted you to be more ahead in your life than you were. You had a huge, almost debilitating crush on Andy, and he probably didn't reciprocate.

Andy. He had been there for you whenever you need to talk about all that was on your mind, his kindness never wavering. Even though he was receptive to you, there was still a sense of guilt for spilling your guts to him like that. You were there for him as well, of course, though he didn't have as many complaints about his daily life as you did. All his kindness and his attention only made you like him even more, only making you more nervous and stressed about liking him. It was a downward spiral, and an exceedingly dizzying one at that.

The flower shop was the only refuge you could have. When you weren't in a state of worry over orders or foreclosure, it was the part of your day that provided you the most comfort. You had the opportunity to make these beautiful works and showcase your creativity and here you were, taking it for granted. You needed to ground yourself, to take a breather, to be in the moment.

So in your moment of desperation, you turned to your flowers for comfort.

Being so exposed to the scent of the flowers every day for years meant you got used to them over time. You slowly got accustomed until you eventually couldn't even detect the unique aroma of your workplace.

You took a pause, and leaning over the arrangement, you took a deep breath.

You had literally stopped to smell the roses.

The more shocking part was that it worked. You had successfully grounded yourself by stopping to appreciate your surroundings. Surely that had to be a metaphor for something.

You were snapped out of your tranquility. Of course you were.

You heard a voice, slightly judgmental and maybe a bit concerned, from the other side of the room.

“What was that?”

You perked up at the sound of the bell above the door, and quickly pulled yourself away from the flowers.

“Nothing! How can I help you?”

[tillysketch]

Songbird in a Cage

Spawn Astarion x Female! Reader Oneshot (4k)

Summary: You've been thrown in jail, and its there that you meet a dear old friend of yours. This first part can stand alone, but the second will be 18+ fair warning.

@clericblood and I have been going insane in our dm's over writing ideas, and here is one of them. There will be a part two to both stories eventually, so be on the lookout.

Here is their fic! :)

Things are only getting worse each day in Baldur’s Gate. People are disappearing. Murders in broad daylight. Enver Gortash suspiciously rising to power, and his Steel Watch becoming a menace to society. You’ve even heard rumors of a mind flayer or two being seen in the sewers, and in the old windmill outside of town. People are becoming restless, and even trying to flee the city, but most choose to ignore it all.

Not you. 

You’ve always had a knack for music. You’ve been playing songs in the winding streets of the Gate for years. You even still perform at the Elfsong Tavern some nights. You decide to turn to the peoples’ ear with sweet unsuspecting melodies about the corruption and dangers happening beneath their noses. At first, it seemed to be working. The right people are noticing, and word is spreading about the odd goings on. And, you’ve been able to make a bit of coin in doing so. The Elfsong and its patrons have always been good to you. 

Now, there’s talk in the streets about a small band of adventurers that have caused quite a stir. Among them, a pale man with white hair who killed a clown at the circus in Rivington. Some people say it was a provoked attack, some say he lashed out after a bad joke on his own behalf… But when the fighting was over, some claim the body of the clown had transformed into a grotesque monster. You have to giggle to yourself about the whole thing. 

It stirs a memory of an old friend you had years and years ago. Another man who also had white hair, and too had a hatred for clowns. You’d teased him about it mercilessly back then. Even  dressed up as one, makeup and all, just to get a rise out of him one night. How he screamed and how you laughed, clutching your sides after jumping around a corner and spooking him half to death. 

That was over two hundred years ago, and you couldn’t believe it had been so long since you’d last seen your friend… He’d died tragically, too young. He’d been practicing law, and was murdered, you always suspected, by a mob he’d been at trial with but there was never any final pinned cause. 

He always came to the Elfsong on nights you were performing, said your voice was like a siren song luring him there. He’d drink, listen to you sing, and try to forget about the mountains of paperwork waiting for him back at his office. You were both so young, and naive; gods how you missed him, even now. 

This troupe, however, is gaining attention, and you are thoroughly intrigued. You start to sing songs about the group, calling them the Heroes of The Gate, here to save the city from the rising horrors.

‘These heroes though fearless be

Must also be cunning and witty

Though their actions bring some glee

Others find them quite shitty’ 

“Eh… could be better. I’ll work on it later.” You tuck your small notebook away in your coat pocket, and walk home from the park. You always did your best writing there. 

It’s only a few days of your little performances in the square when the Flaming Fist gets word of your little musings and performances, and you’re abruptly taken to Wyrm Rock Prison- quite a harsh punishment for someone just singing songs…

———

“What am I even in for? You can’t do this, I’ve done nothing wrong!” You demand, as your shackles are let loose, and you’re thrown into a damp stone-wall cell. The only light comes from the torches lining the edges of the cell block, but even with the small bit of glow, you can see illuminated beady eyes staring back at you from the edges of the darkness. 

Oh gods, you shiver. Rats. 

“That’s what they all say… ‘Let me out, I’m innocent!’ Or, ‘please I’ve got a family!’ But I know your type, troublemaker. You’re trying to cause unrest amongst our citizens.”

“I was just singing songs! You have no grounds to keep me here!” You plead through the bars, gripping them with both hands, if only you could pry them apart. 

“Tell that to the Archduke Gortash- the order to put you in here came directly from him. Now, shut it! Or I’ll cut out your little tongue, see how well you sing after that.” The guard snarls and turns on his heel. 

‘How the hells did my songs reach him? I must be more famous than I thought… Though, I should have made a fair bit more coin if that was the case.’

Alone, you retreat back into the far corner of your cell. Curling your knees up to your chest, you rest your head and softly hum to yourself to try and calm your racing thoughts. Surely you won’t be in here for long… right? That’s what you tell yourself anyway. You try to block out the sounds of small scurrying feet and hushed squeaking. 

———

The loud clanging of metal on metal wakes you with a start. Your mind scrambling as your heart jumps in your chest, pounding painfully against your ribs. 

“Meal time.” Through a small gap on the floor, one of the guards pushes a plate of bread and a cup of water towards you. 

Food… Your stomach twists and you leap towards the plate, snatching the bread and chewing greedily. It’s impossible to tell how long you’ve been down here- there’s no sunlight to indicate the passing of time. They give you water every couple of hours, but measly scraps of food- once a day. Maybe… when they remember. 

“Please, sir, what day is it? How long have I been down here?” You beg the guard.

“You’ve been here for five days. You have another twenty-five before you can leave,” he leans on the bars and gives you a look. “but, I could always arrange for you to be let out earlier, on account of good behavior.” He gives you a greasy sort of smile and a wink. He looks like he hasn’t seen a bath in weeks. Smells it too.

You’re not desperate enough to have any sort of ‘arrangements’ with a man that smells like he fucks mud covered pigs and likes it. 

“I’ll take my twenty-five days, thanks.” You sneer.

———

At every meal, (can you even call a simple roll of bread a meal?) you ask the guard what day it is. 

And on day thirteen, you hear them bringing another prisoner down into the depths. You feel your stomach drop and your neck grows hot and slick. What if they put that person in here with you? What if they’re a murderer? What if they’re a lunatic and they try to hurt you? You silently pray that they stay the hell away from you. 

You busy yourself with humming a tune from your childhood, and you feed a few of the rats some crumbs you’d saved from your last ‘meal’. Though terrified of them at first, they’ve grown to be your only friends down here. One even brought you three hair pins, like it was trying to thank you in its own rat way. Sweet little thing. 

Whoever is joining you down here is putting up quite the fight. Feet scraping against the stone floor, voices shouting, and a slew of curses exchanging between it all. They throw him into the cell across from yours, and you try not to be nosy by staring. But gods help you, you were never one for subtlety. Even with your elven eyes, the dark down here is unforgiving. That, and because of your lack of sleep and other basic needs, you can barely see into the other end of the cell. It’s a man, definitely. You only heard men shouting at one another when they brought him in.

When the two guards finally shove him in and lock his own gate, you turn your head and ignore them, hoping they forget you’re here and don’t bother you. At least for a while. That filthy flirtatious guard has come to you twice more since the first time, each time smelling more foul and rancid. Really, does he have something against bathing? 

A few minutes after the guards have left the man to rot down here, your eyes wander across the way, just to try and sneak a look at your new ‘housemate’. 

“What are you staring at?” His voice growls, making you jump a little. 

“Sorry… I’ve been alone down here for nearly a fortnight. The guards and rats aren’t much for company or conversation.”

“I see.” He sighs. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long do you have to be down here?”

“A month.”

“You’re halfway, you’ll be fine.” He snorts, dismissing your agony and loneliness with a wave of his hand. You can barely see his face, but not enough to make out any distinguishable features. His eyes though, they’re almost glowing in this awful dim. 

“How long do you have?” You ask softly. 

“Five years, but I suspect I’ll be out much sooner, should my friends actually gather the brains to help me.” 

A long moment passes by before you try to fill the awful silence permeating the air. 

“There’s rats down here by the way. They’re mostly harmless but I’d be wary and sleep with your shoes on. Had one nibble my toe the first night I slept.” You offer, in the hopes of making more conversation.

“Hah! This isn’t my first time being locked up with only rats for company.” He scoffs, and you almost think you recognize something in his voice. Like a memory of a dream- foggy but still… there. 

“Frequent prison cells do you?” 

“In a way…” 

Well that’s awfully vague. 

“What are you in for anyway?” He asks. 

You clear your throat before boldly telling him, “Singing…”

He barks out a short laugh. “…Singing? Come off it.”

“Well, that’s not the full extent but that’s what it comes down to.”

“A songbird in a cage…” He teases, and again there’s a flicker of something you recognize. 

“What were you singing about, little bird?”

“I, uh, I was singing about the times. The unrest, the Steel Watch, Gortash- I was trying to get the truth out, without getting into trouble.” 

“And that worked out very well for you, didn’t it?” His reply drips with sarcasm. 

“What about you? What are you in for?” You ask. 

“I threatened a few people, illegally snuck into the city with my companions, and I killed a clown.”

“I heard about that, that was you?” 

“I see my fame precedes me. Yes, that was me.” He chuckles dryly. Gods, why does his laugh sound so familiar? “So, you’re a performer, then?”

“Yes. I sing at the Elfsong some nights, if you’ve ever been there. I’d recommend it, if you haven’t.”

“Mm. I know it, it’s a uh, old haunt of mine.” 

The guard comes back and gives you your second ration of water for the day. A small silver cup with enough water to just wet your throat, and not a drop more, and hells- how you ached for more. 

Hours pass, and boredom burrows deep into your skull. You fiddle with the laces on your boots, tying and untying different knots over, and over again. As you do so, you hum to yourself, faintly, so as not to disturb your new neighbor. 

“I know that song…” His voice echoes across the way. “It’s an old elven tune from the Heartlands.”

“It is. You have quite the ear.” You remark, looking up.

“Will you sing it for me?” He asks softly. Never one to shy away from a crowd, you clear your throat and sing out loud the words.

‘For even in death will I find you,

I’ll kiss your cheek and sigh,

Had time been kinder to us,

I would have never said goodbye

You danced in the grass,

I sat under a tree,

You took my hand, 

and said dance with me

How I wish to dance with you now,

And hold you close to me,

I’d never let you go,

If only, if only’

Your voice echoes off the stone walls, and only the slow drip of water is your applause. 

“Sorry, my voice is a bit rusty-”

“Come into the light, please..” He urges, softly desperate.

You look across to his cell. There he stands against the bars, his face pressed between them. The man you fell in love with over two hundred years ago. The same white mop of curls, the same devastatingly beautiful face you could never forget. His eyes searching for you in the darkness.

“Astarion?” Your heart leaps to your throat. 

Your legs move before you do, standing and propelling you to your own cell bars. You press against them and stare out. 

It is him. 

Have you gone mad? Are you dreaming?

“It’s you…” He breathes. 

“H-how? You’re dead! You died!” Your eyes prick with tears and your throat closes up. How can this be happening?

“I did..” He replies sheepishly. 

“But then how-?” Surely this can’t be real.. Can it?

“I… I fear that might take some explaining.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere…” 

————

He tells you everything, starting from the very beginning, when your lives were torn apart so abruptly. How he was beaten, left to die in the streets. He was on his way home after watching you perform. You had a few hours left in your set at the Elfsong, and needed the money from performing. You’d told him to hurry on ahead and you’d meet him at his townhome. 

He recounts how he’d forgotten to kiss you goodbye that night, and he’d regretted it every night since. Centuries had passed, and the fact he didn’t kiss you goodbye, that has stuck around in his skull like a blood stain on a white shirt. Your heart shatters hearing him speak about how he’d met his demise. It’s like he’s died all over again… 

He takes small pauses to swallow, steadying his voice; when he continues, he tells you about how he was turned, how he was kept in Cazador Szarr’s estate, locked up and beaten, and kept alive by feeding on rats of all things. It takes every ounce of courage he has to tell you about the people he lured back, but his voice reveals the pain he’s carried all this time. The shame, the guilt, the utter self loathing. The hatred he carries for himself and his master. 

Stretching your arm out from between the bars, you reach for him and he immediately does the same. Your fingertips brush against one another, just enough to feel his cool touch. 

He’s real. This is all real.

He lets his arm fall and you stare at one another. The silence between you two saying more than words could at the moment. Gods, how your heart aches to hold him, to kiss his face and feel his arms wrapped around you again. 

“Why didn’t you ever come find me after you were turned?” Your voice quivers, and heat burns your eyes as you try to keep your own emotions in check. 

“I was so afraid that I would hurt you. I… I didn’t want to find anyone from my life before. I was dead to you all, and I thought that was better than coming back as a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” You choke, a tear spilling down your cheek. “I missed you so much…” You whisper, the tears now threatening to drown you. 

“I… I missed you too. Every single day, I’ve missed you.” His own voice is soft, but still dry. “There isn’t much I remember from my mortal years, but you… I remember how I loved you.”

“Can I ask you something?”  

“I’m sure you have many questions. So, yes, go ahead.” He smiles softly. 

“How come we never crossed paths over the last two hundred years? I mean, I never left the city. And if you’ve been here, well, and in the Szarr estate... Surely, we would have seen each other just once?”

“I kept to the shadows, and the seedier places of the Gate. Being a spawn, I couldn’t go out in the sunlight. Though, now with my tadpole, that has changed-” 

“Wait, tadpole?” You ask puzzled. 

“Oh, yes. I didn’t get to that bit. You believe me with everything I’ve explained thus far, yes?” He asks with a snarky grin. 

“I do. Why is this next part just utterly insane?”

“Well... Yes, actually.” He replies. “About five months ago I was captured by mind flayers and infected with an illithid parasite- a tadpole. This has interrupted the connection between myself and Cazador, and has broken some of the vampire rules for me. For the first time in so long, I am living. Truly living.”

“It's true then- the illithid invasion is real.. Hah! Wait- how have you not grown tentacles yet and become a squidface?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. 

“One of my friends, another person that was captured, she has a prism that has been protecting us all from changing.” He explains his entire journey here, through the Emerald Grove and the Goblin camp. Then the Underdark, going through the Shar temple, fighting against shadows and an Orthon. Shadowlands, Rethwin Town, the Harpers... All of it. Up until arriving in the Gate and being thrown in jail. It takes hours, but you don’t care in the least. Hearing him, his voice again. You could listen to him read out of one of his old law school textbooks, and you wouldn’t care about the boredom. 

“We need to get you out of here then, if you really are going to save Faerun.” You smile at him, and sigh, “Any ideas of how we can do so?”

He sighs in reply, and he looks up, contemplating an escape plan. “If I had something small, I could pick the lock. But-” he looks around his small cell. “I have nothing. Anything over there, darling?”

“Would a hair pin work?” You ask, sliding the few pins from your hair, allowing your bun to fall out and drop around your shoulders. You pass them through the bars to him,his log fingers just barely able to snag it from your own. 

“Yes, that’s perfect.” He takes it and puts it in his pocket. “I’ll start after the guard comes by next.”

“Makes sense... How did you learn how to pick locks anyway?” 

“When you’re locked in chains as frequently as I have been, you learn by necessity.” He retorts. “I’ve been doing all of the talking. What have you been getting up to all these long years?”

“Oh, nothing exciting. I still perform at the Elfsong most nights, and in the square too. I live in my own house, I have a cat. I’ve actually had twelve cats over the last two hundred years...” 

“Twelve??” He laughs. “Any other loved ones in your life, or are they all pets?” 

“If what you’re asking is ‘do I have anyone else in my life’ the answer is no, not as of late.” You snark with a half smile and raised brow. Though so much has changed for both of you, it feels so good to be talking to him again; instead of talking to his headstone and pretending he could hear you. 

“That truly baffles me. How has no one swept you off your feet and smuggled off with you away from all of this?”

“Oh, others tried but I never really clicked with anyone over the years.” You reply casually. It’s a half truth. You certainly have loved many other people since you and Astarion were together, and you almost married one of them. But, something inside your heart never let go of him. You could call it sentimentality or hells, even puppy love, but you truly never did find someone else that understood you and loved you the way he did. 

“But, what about you? Did you ever find true love?” You ask and you hate yourself for even doing so, but you hate waiting for his answer even more.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I had many ‘lovers’ but even calling them that is too generous. Dalliance is probably more accurate.”

“I see..” You nod, a bit of relief filling your heart. 

“How often do the guards come by?” He asks, trying to look down the corridor. 

“Not too often, when they remember anyway. But, what do we do if we can actually escape? We can’t-”

“Done.” He pushes on his gate and it swings open, and he immediately sets to work on your side. Your heart races in your chest as you watch his nimble fingers push and fidget with the lock. Standing just on the other side of the bars, you catch the faintest hint of citrus and herbs. He still has that same smell to him, and now your heart races for different reasons entirely. Memories and old feelings come rushing back to the surface, bubbling and spilling over the sides like a pot of water left on the stovetop. When your own door finally opens with a screech, your heart drops to your stomach. 

“Shit, that was too loud!” You panic. Astarion grabs you by the arms, pulling you from your cell. He twists one of the gold bands from his fingers and places it on your own index finger. 

“This is an enchanted ring, it has an invisibility spell in it, it doesn’t last very long, so I need you to stay right by my side, and don’t make a noise.” He holds your hands so delicately and you nod your understanding. “That’s my girl.” He gives you that same wicked grin you had once fallen in love with, only now it’s much sharper you notice. He moves your thumb over the ring and makes you squeeze it against your finger, instantly making your hand vanish before your eyes. You look down at where your feet should be, and there’s nothing. Astarion follows suit and dissolves into the air. You feel his cold hand pull you to his side and you shuffle on tiptoe down the hall, careful as to not make a single noise. It's not a particularly wide corridor, and when the guard passes you, Astarion pushes you against the wall, and presses his own body to yours, so as to give the other man a wide berth to walk around the two of you. 

This is so weird... I can feel his breath on my face, but he’s just gone.

The second the guard passes the two of you, he snakes his arm around your back and continues to usher you out of the prison. Past two snoozing guards and around the ajar front gate, softly padding up the steps, and then finally out into the warm afternoon sun. He doesn’t stop though, not till you two are hidden away in a side alley near the Flophouse. You feel him guide you to the back of the small building, and push you against the wall. You let out a sigh as the spell wears off seconds before his own does. 

His face is much closer to your own than you would have expected, so much so that you’re sharing the same air as you try to catch your breath. The two of you can’t stay here though, you’re still far too close to the prison, and surely they will come after you any moment now. That doesn’t stop you from letting your eyes drink in his face. He’s still just as handsome as you remembered him to be. But there’s dark circles under his now crimson eyes, and his face no longer holds the lively pink it used to. Despite the circumstance, you can’t help thinking about his lips, and how much you want to kiss him. 

“We need to keep moving.” You murmur, inches away from his face looking down at you. 

“Always the sensible one.” He grins. He clears his throat and steps away from you. “Sorry, I forgot myself for a second there. But you’re right we, uh, we should keep moving.”

“We can hide out at my house for the night, and then we’ll figure out how to get you reunited with your friends.” You smile at him. 

“Lead the way, darling.”

Borders by @thecutestgrotto

Thanks for reading! - Tilly <3

[rafeshow]

Part 2 of just for clicks 🥺😩🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 please

just for clicks .. pt. 2

hasanabi x fem!streamer!reader

tags : probably extremely out of character hasan (it’s been a minute since i’ve watched a stream pls let me live), use of y/n, angst, comfort, tension?, english isnt my first language, probably lots of inconsistency’s and errors.. lmk if i missed any tags !

a/n : heyyy ppl.. sososososo sorry for how long this has taken !! i’ve been very busy in my personal life and i’ve had extreme writers block, and no motivation to write for men tbh LMAOO. if you have any requests for fem streamer fanfics send them my way ig 😭. all that to say, again; im so terribly sorry for the delay with this fic. sorry if it’s awful, i’ve been writing it on and off for MONTHSSS. read part one here.

You awoke around 3AM to a gentle knock at your apartment door. The current ‘situation’ Hasan had sprung the two of you into only mere hours ago had easily kept you up; having only been asleep for about 10 minutes at this point. It was like clockwork watching it play out; first the clips, then the comments against Hasan, followed by the people running to his defense, and of course the few content creators (who probably didnt meet him more than once) insisting they ‘always knew something was off about him’. It had been hours since it blew up, and other than responding to the few initial texts from your friends informing you of the situation, you had gone completely radio silent.

The saddest part was you werent even upset. Rather the opposite, your brain jumped through hoops trying to rationalize it. He just said it in the heat of the moment, he didnt mean it the way it came off, he was just defending himself, he just wanted to make his feelings clear. But of course, the rationalizing thoughts can only do so much to block out the harmful ones; you just really over-thought the way the two of you acted, it was never like that, you made it weird, its your fault.

But honestly, what else could you do? Sitting and ‘rotting’ (for lack of a better word) in bed was much more appealing than the other options. Yes you could hop online and defend yourself, be mad about it, say how gross it was for him to insinuate you'd do anything for views, talk about how weird it is for him to get that pressed over a fan video. Or, you could always flee and take the sad victim side, let all your friends do the talking for you, leave little comments like ‘i didnt know he thought of me that way’ and profusely apologize. But none of that would be you being honest. Of course you wanted to defend yourself, of course you were sad and beating yourself up about it, but you wanted nothing more than to just sit and wallow in it for a while. Avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.

Your friends had all been bombarding you with messages and calls, but your phone was long past muted and set aside. Before going awol you left most of them with a brief ‘im going to sleep it off’ message, but judging by the still persistent notifications, youd assume that didn't ease their minds at all.

Youd been aimlessly watching a show for a few hours at this point, lulling in and out of sleep and tuning out the sound of your phone for the most part. The sudden knock at your door was a change in pace though, the sound snapping you out of the static and fog buzzing around in your head. No, the idea of one of your friends driving over to check on you wasn't all that out of the question. You lived just outside of L.A, far enough from most of your friends to feel like a nuisance asking anybody to drive to come visit you, but not far enough where you couldn't justify driving there yourself. You sat up, adjusting your loose sweatpants where they hung low on your hips. After a bit of quick process of elimination, you figured it was QT; one of your closer (and most considerate) friends. Because of this, you opted not to throw a shirt on to cover yourself, clad in a just a comfortable sports bra.

You shuffled your way over to the door, throwing on the best smile you could manage before twisting the knob and opening it. You were surprised when you had to adjust your eyes upwards, the figure at your door towering over where QT would normally reside. As you took him in, it didnt take long for an exhausted sigh to leave you. It was Hasan. There he stood, still sporting his typical tall and broodingly aloof aesthetic, even despite being moderately hunched over and with concern etched in every inch of his stature. You couldnt help but notice how unsure he looked. Anxious. No, Hasan wasnt always the most outgoing and ‘go-lucky’ guy, but he looked almost pained as you met his eyes; his clothes twisted in ways that made you guess hed been fidgeting with them, his nail polish chipped away on most fingers, the way he took an almost comically large step back as soon as you opened the door.

“Can we talk?” He said, his voice a harsh change in the silence you didnt realize was resting between the two of you. “You can say no of course-” He rushed out, only his fingers flaring out in emphasis opposed to his usual hand movements, almost as if he was afraid hed startle you.

“Yea, sure.” You sighed out, hardly even mentally present in the moment. You rubbed at your eyes as you held the door open, leaving plenty of space for him to walk in. He took you up on the invitation, albeit looking incredibly unsure whilst doing so.

He padded into your apartment painfully slow before quickly snapping his eyes to you, almost as if waiting for permission to do something. For you to give him instruction. You didn't even look at him though, instead grumbling your way over to your previous home on the sofa, tugging your blanket to one end and leaving plenty of room for him on the other. He waited till you’d sat down to follow, trying his best to gently take a seat at his appointed spot on the couch.

“How’d you get my address?” You said plainly, opting to just stare into the tv as it lowly played some random show. He’d never been there before. You honestly didnt care, whatever his answer was. You just hoped it would spring him into getting the daunting conversation over with.

“Austin.” He breathed out, sounding even tenser than he looked. “He gave it to me so I could send you something for the podcast a while ago.” He pausued, but continued; “Im sorry, I know how fucking weird it is for me to just show up but I couldnt just sit there and-” He took a breath, and you could practically taste the oncoming ramble. “You wouldnt answer anybody, and you totally have the right to do that obviously but I couldnt just sit with myself not knowing what was going on.. I started driving here before I even thought it through, which is totally my bad.. but I couldn’t just go all the way back without even checking in.. -And I know my feelings are irrelevant in this and its about you I just-”

“Hasan stop.” You turned to him, trying and failing not to look as sympathetic as you did. “I dont-.. it’s fine, okay? I mean obviously it’s not fine, but we’ll get over it. Im sure you didn't mean what you said, or at least not like that- you know- it's whatever, okay?” You practically hushed the words out, opting for the soothing approach and acting way more casual about the situation than you felt. You threw in a horribly farse reassuring smile at the end, hoping to solidify your words.

“You really didnt need to come all this way, I wouldve answered in the morning. I was just sleeping.” You added, and you saw the way his face ticked. He knew you were lying, but he was definitely not going to pry, whether about the lack of sleep or your want to brush things off. He persisted for himself though;

“It’s not fine, y/n. Im not shoving this shit under the rug, it’s going to eat me alive.” He said, his voice switching between frustration, desperation, and forced softness. You could see the way he struggled with his words, trying so hard not to talk about the way he feels (and failing miserably at it). The way a ping of regret would flash over him after every word he spoke. His eyes flickered back and forth from boring into you and staring off into the abyss of meddled emotions he’d created for himself.

“I’ll just lay it out how it is, okay? It was beyond messed up for me to insinuate you’d maliciously do something.. Like that stuff, for views, okay? Especially when I was doing that.. shit to you too. I shouldve never said that, or even thought it for that matter. I was just- frustrated, okay? Thats not me justifying it or anything, I just wanted you to like, know that-”

“Hasan.” You cut him off, this time sitting up and reaching to put a hand on his knee. You swear you could feel his leg flex under your touch. You stopped for a moment, searching his face for answers to questions you couldn't compute.

“What is so frustrating?” Is the question you somehow managed to compose. You don’t know the answer you wanted. It was an open ended question, he could take the side that you secretly hoped he would; that it was the fans. The overwhelming shipping and attention your relationship got from the fans was suffocating to him, and that he didn’t feel the way they portrayed him to feel about you. Or he could take the side that scared you. That he felt exactly the way everyone was portraying it, and them rubbing his own feelings in his face before he even had a chance to do anything about them himself was driving him crazy. Instead, the two of you sat in silence, and it wasnt uncomfortable. The air almost felt thick around the two of you, a comfortable fog, but something in it possessed you to add a gentle squeeze to his leg with emphasis. And you definitely felt him twitch this time.

“Tell me i'm not the only one who's feeling this way.” He finally muttered, and suddenly the feeling of his gaze hit you like a ton of bricks. You almost wanted to cower away with the way his eyes bored into yours, almost needy, the look feeling even more pleading than the words he'd said.

You knew what you wanted to say, but how could you possibly admit to it? Through this whole situation, you’d been not only so terribly irked at him, but also so frustrated with yourself. How could you admit that you too had been feeling the same way, and you hadn’t done anything about it either? You’d be admitting that the ripples throughout the fandom and now the controversy had been from your actions (or lack there of) too. You’d already been beating yourself up about it all day. What answer did he truly want? If you admitted to him that you too felt the same way, would he be greatful or mad? If you lied and said you didn’t feel the same way, what good or bad would it do? It could wreck him, he’d beat himself up beyond belief, the fact that he not only projected his unreciprocated feelings onto you but also gotten mad over it live. All of it being his fault. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. But you didn’t know which was worse, seeing him mad at you, or seeing him sad. You could only hope for the best, before the words spilled out of your mouth;

“Hasan of course I feel the same way.” A frown etched into your face, and you continued before he even had a chance to react; “I’m so so sorry I hadn’t done anything about it sooner either, I just beat myself up about it until I couldn’t-“ you withdrew your hand from his knee, shaking your hands, looking for the words you couldn’t form yourself. “ -I couldn’t tell how I was even feeling about it anymore..? I used to be so upset that you hadn’t done anything, I thought you were toying with me. I mean.. I tried making it obvious that I liked you so that you’d do something if you felt the same way but you never did so I convinced myself that you didn’t-“

“Hey, Hey,” He cut me off, and it was only then that i’d realized how close he’d moved to me during my rant. His leg rubbed against mine where I sat criss cross in the corner of the couch. His frame leaned over mine as he gave his best attempt at shrinking down to aid me. His eyes scattered across my face as his large hand cupped my cheek, hurriedly wiping at tears that I didn’t even notice were falling. It was only then that I finally realized the sound of my hurried breaths, the air practically huffing out of me. He looked frantic, broken, even though that’s exactly what I didn’t want. He pulled me close to his chest, i’m sure not only to sooth me, but also because he couldn’t bare to look at my tear stricken face anymore. I gripped onto his shirt, not even knowing I needed to cry this bad.

He didn’t say anything at first. I felt him pressing kisses into the crown of my head, and I couldn’t tell which one of us needed them more. He held me tight and close, all of his previous worries of hurting me more and being gentle replaced by the need to comfort. It was unspoken how much we’d both wanted to hold each other over the last few months, whether like this or otherwise, and after all our emotions boiling over, I think this was exactly what we needed.

We sat there in the silence for a long time. The humming of the tv still echoing through my flat, and the now present thumping of Hasans heartbeat against my ear was beyond peaceful. Of course, we’d pull ourselves together soon and have a realistic conversation, but for now, this was perfect.

[pansyfemme]

i have been a ball of depression lately as well as my physical health worsening pretty severly this past week due to stress and so my friends have been. trying so hard to get me to get out and do things and its very sweet but i feel bad because the whole time i’m just a total mess

[cherrysnax]

havin the weirdest crisis of my life

[ghoulishcreep]

.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

My heart is soooo full of love guys

[steviescrystals]

there is no feeling worse in the world than missing your grandma :/

[galariangengar]

💭

[sunuism]

whenever i see people in their 30s or older who have a really close group of friends or just a big network and seem like they’re genuinely in such a happy place i think that’s what i want to aspire to but i just think it’s not how i’m gonna end up