#it's just cause when i started doing this i like really had to think and there were so many other great eurovision songs that i had to put

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, sorry if this is an insensitive question but I was wondering if you have books by black authors that don't center racism? It's not that I want to live a blissful life not knowing about racism, I'm dark skinned nb woc, racism is part of life. I just noticed that unless it's a romance book, every 'by black authors' book list I find will have all the books with racism being a major theme. As if being a black author means publishing will only sign if you write about racism. I want to read something different, happy and humorous, fantastical, scry, whatever. I don't want every book I read from black authors to be about race the same way I don't want every book by queer authors I read to have homophobia. I got some recommendations before and all of them were like "hilarious book where author talks about racism they faced in a funny way", I feel exhauated. I know different books have to exist but I can't find them when I google.

sorry I'm so charmed by the idea that asking a white bitch for book recs about Black people doing something other than experiencing racism might be insensitive

anyway you're right like!!! a lot of authors of color only get to crack into publishing if they're willing to write about their suffering and be lauded for that and like, cool, bless up for writing that but would be cool to pay attention to stuff that's not all pain and suffering!!

I'm going to caveat to say that some of these will contain, you know, References to racism, especially if they take place in the real world, since Black authors and Black characters are gonna acknowledge that, but I'm not gonna rec like. The Hate U Give where that's The Point, yknow? also a lot of these are still rather dark and grim as novels because of who I am as a person and what I like but I hope will still be helpful. check the content warnings for everything I recommend ever.

ANYWAYYY

gotta shill for Akwaeke Emezi right out of the gate as usual: their most recent novel, Little Rot, is a pitch black thriller that starts with a Nigerian couple breaking up in Lagos and proceeding to have the most evil and deranged weekend anyone has ever had. truly almost content warning in the book for this one, BUTTTTT racism is like. the least of anyone's worries. girl, there are hitmen.

My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite is another Nigerian novel that's more of a dark comedy about a dutiful older sister who's been cleaning up her impulsive and beautiful younger sister's dead boyfriends for YEARS. shit comes to a head when little sis sets her eyes on a man her older sister likes (who's also her boss!!! gag!!!).

Helen Oyeyemi's novel The Icarus Girl is a quietly creepy horror about a young mixed English girl who visits her mother's Nigerian family and comes back with a commanding, powerful imaginary friend that no one can see, who starts causing terrible things to occur once the family is back home. I was blown away by how well Oyeyemi wrote little Jessamine's POV; really nailed the smart, lonely, anxious child perspective.

Darknesses by Lachelle Seville is a WILD paranormal indie pub that i read earlier this year that's soooo messy and so entertaining. I think I described it as feeling like reading through someone's blog about their OC's? it was a hoot. the basic premise is that a young Black woman named Oasis, physically and mentally scarred from escaping a cult, is working at a bookstore in New York City when she meets another gorgeous Black girl who claims to be in love with her... and also to be an incarnation of Count Dracula.

if we want some high fantasy I really, really love NK Jemisin's Dreamblood Duology, which is set in a fantasy version of ancient Egypt and revolves around a class of priests who utilize the magic of dreams. political intrigue ensues!

love of my life Janelle Monáe curated a collection of short stories called The Memory Librarian, where each story is written by a different author and is inspired by the world of Monáe's album Dirty Computer. Danny Lore's story Nevermind, based on the music video for Pynk, is my #1 favorite thing.

also if we want some nonfiction I truly adore all of Samantha Irby's essay collections so much; there aren't a lot of writers who consistently make me LAUGH laugh but she gets me. her most recent, Quietly Hostile, has some top notch shenanigans re: having to go to the hospital for a very stupid allergic reaction at the height of COVID social distancing.

you may also find inspo here (I know I did!!)

and here (I'm especially intrigued by Meet Me at the Crossroads)

[siriuslywicked]

A Different Kind of Pain

neighbor!Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Description: After losing a gem of a next door neighbor, Jack worries what the new resident will be like. Instead of a young obnoxious college kid, he meets you. Instantly struck by your warm nature (and good looks but he won't admit to that), Jack finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn't experienced in years.

Tags: reader is a chemistry grad student bc i say so, shameless self insert, fem!reader, trying to avoid too many specific descriptors on readers appearance but i am new to this, reader is shorter than jack, widower!Jack, Jack talks ab therapy, trying to do justice to the fact that Jack is an amputee, but again I am not an expert, just some fluff and feelings, eventual smut, and so mdni 18+

A/N: Thank you all for the encouragement on the first version of this! It has been really really amazing to know people enjoy my ideas and writing and absolutely wild that y'all want more. I really love this idea and have many many plans for these two. I hope to get part two written and out this week. I am thinking around 3-4 parts total, but we shall see. This is starts similar to this post, but I made some changes and expanded quite a bit. I hope you enjoy and please send me asks/dms if you have any suggestions/comments/feedback on anything! I am always open to improving and learning.

gif credit - @iluvseb | divider credit - @cursed-carmine

Part One - 3k

Jack has been living in the left half of a red brick duplex, unit 101A, long enough to see a handful of tenants come and go on the right side, 102A. There was a college kid whose prefrontal cortex was just underdeveloped enough for him to be nothing but a pain in Jack’s ass. Needless to say, not his favorite neighbor. Then there was a young couple who were perfectly lovely until they had to move somewhere with two bedrooms to accommodate an incoming little one (Jack had been sure to give them his number in case they ever needed a friend in the ED). Most recently an older woman, Mrs. McAlister, who had regularly brought Jack all manner of baked goods and leftovers, had moved out and into her daughter's house. 

The unfortunate loss of Mrs. McAlister’s cooking meant that the right half of his duplex (and yes he thought of it as his by this point) was empty. Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creep in as he watched the last of Mrs. McAlister’s things be packed into a UHaul on Saturday afternoon. Would his new neighbor be another sweet elderly woman? Or would he get stuck with some obnoxious twenty something with no common courtesy? 

Fortunately for Jack, he didn’t have to wait long to find out. Housing got snatched up fast in a city like Pittsburgh, especially housing that was halfway decent and affordable, so it was no surprise that 102A was empty for under 48 hours. 

His first glimpse of the new tenant comes when Jack is arriving back home from a shift, just before 8 am on a Monday. He isn’t surprised to see a moving truck out front, nor is he surprised to see you directing the two movers on where to put furniture and boxes. He can tell you're young, in your twenties is his guess, which immediately sets his nerves on edge. Jack doesn’t think he can handle anymore house parties or loud hookups or trash left out. But you have a quiet, competent air about you that seems to indicate you aren't going to cause a ruckus. You appear to be alone, aside from the movers. He finds himself looking for evidence of a partner, husband, wife, without really meaning to. Forcing himself to not be overly nosy, Jack moves past the two men, now carrying part of a bed frame, and lets himself into 101. 

After a shower and the last of Mrs. McAlister’s roast (bless that woman), Jack is dressed in grey sweats and a black t-shirt, ready for bed. Despite the sleep threatening to overcome him, he finds himself looking out his window to check in on the status of your move. Apparently you had gotten here early, because he can see you handing the movers a wad of cash and sending them on their way. Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed his prosthetic and is hurrying to get the damn thing back on so he can step back outside. He may as well catch you as you’re heading back inside, introduce himself, make sure he doesn’t need to be concerned about having another pain in his ass next door. It is the neighborly thing to do after all, he reasons. 

Another moment finds him a couple steps outside his door, clearing his throat to catch your attention from where you’re examining the front facing window of 102. 

“I’m Jack. Abbot. I’m in 101. Figured I should introduce myself, welcome you to the neighborhood and all.” He outstretches his hand, wondering if a handshake is still what people do these days.

Smiling, you shake his hand firmly and give him your name, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. It is at this moment Jack finally takes you in fully. He was right, he thinks, you must be in your mid twenties, no ring on your finger, and certainly not a pain in his ass. You stand a handful of inches shorter than him, just enough that you have to look up to make eye contact. The smile you are giving him is radiant in a way that makes his stomach feel tight. He can see you’re flushed from the exertion of carrying boxes and helping to move furniture, and your hair has begun to fall from where you had it back. 

But even though you aren’t at your most put together, Jack is left feeling off balance, as he can only see you as the most raw and real kind of beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes with a bright smile, dewy skin, and pink chinks. The kind that has as much to do with physical appearance as it does a person’s character. The kind of beauty that reminds him of his late wife when they first met. Even though he is just meeting you, Jack likes to think his gut is usually right about people, and his gut is telling him that you are exactly the type of kind, caring, intelligent person that spells nothing but trouble for him.

“It’s very nice to meet you Jack! I hope the movers weren’t too much of a disturbance, it seems like a quiet little haven around here.” 

“About as close to a haven as you can get in the city,” he agrees with a small smile. “And don’t mention it, you weren’t a disturbance at all.” 

In the few minutes the two of you spend chatting he finds out you’re a fourth year graduate student, “A PhD in chemistry? You might just be a bigger masochist than me.” You somehow work nearly as many hours as he does, and he finds your work ethic dizzyingly attractive. You moved to the area in the hope of finding somewhere a little quieter, some place where you didn’t feel like people were packed in like sardines. You aren’t from PA, but you have a couple close friends in town and your family tries to visit often. You confirm his suspicions when you tell him you’re single and don’t have any kids or pets so there shouldn’t be any noise waking him up through the night.

“Actually, I’m an attending in the ED, usually on night shift. Sounds like you aren't home much during the day, but-” 

“Don’t worry Jack, I’ll keep it down during the day too. You can always bang on the wall if I’m being to loud,” 

He feels the corners of his mouth twitch up. “Thanks, sweetheart.” It slips before he can catch up to his mouth. Even though he knows he shouldn’t be giving you nicknames, and definitely not that kind, the pink that dusts your cheeks at the term of endearment is enough to make him want to call you nothing else. 

“Uh- listen I’ve gotta get to bed, but let me give you my number in case you need anything.  Neighbor or doctor wise,” he says, shooting you a wink. 

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you doctor.” 

And god, he knows you mean it in a teasing way, but it does nothing to help the steadily growing attraction he feels towards you. He knows he is at least 15 years too old, and far too emotionally unavailable to even entertain the idea of being with you. He knows. But when you smile at him like he’s just offered to hang the moon and stars for you, he really doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

It’s just his number, no harm in you having it, and certainly no reason it has to have any underlying intention behind it. That’s what he tells himself anyway. 

He puts his number in your phone when you hand it to him, putting “Jack Abbot” as the name and “the guy in 101A and doctor at PTMC” in the notes for good measure. You thank him again, giving his hand a squeeze as he returns the phone. You say your goodbyes, and he retreats into his black out curtain and noise machine generated paradise. The last thing he sees before shutting his eyes is a text from an unknown number with your name, just so he can save your number too. 

You are going to be a pain in his ass alright, a kind he didn’t even think to be worried about. 

After your initial introduction, Jack assumes (worries) the two of you won't see much of each other. During your initial meeting, in an effort to reassure him you wouldn’t make too much noise during the day, you had inadvertently given him your schedule: 6:45 am leave for work, 7-5 ish suffer, 5:30 pm arrive home from work. With anyone else he would be glad to know that there would be no one next door to disturb his sleep, but instead he could only focus on the fact that he would rarely, if ever, run into you. 

His assumption proved to be correct for the first two weeks of your time in 102A, only seeing you on occasion as he left for work. But, about halfway through week three, Jack wakes up earlier than normal. By the time 5:30 pm rolls around and he’s supposed to be on call for another 13.5  hours, he feels himself starting to get restless. It’s a nice day outside with a high of 75 and a low of 52, the sun has set enough to cast an orange glow on the city, but not enough that it’s going to be dark soon, and Jack has a rare burst of energy. His therapist has been telling him some sunshine goes a long way, and he didn’t spend all that money on the fucking sports prosethic to not use it. 

By 5:42 pm Jack is in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, sports prosthetic on. He makes it about two steps out his front door, still adjusting the stupid prosthetic, when he senses he isn't alone. Straightening up, he realizes you’ve just come out of your front door as well. His gaze travels upwards from your feet as he makes his way to his full height. You’re dressed similar to himself in athletic shorts with a matching jacket, and he has to force himself to not linger on the exposed skin of your legs. When he does meet your eyes, he finds you smiling at him in a way that suggests you caught his little slip up, but are too polite to mention it. 

“Hey Jack! Are you heading out for an evening run? Well- I guess it would technically be morning for you, sorry,” You laugh at yourself lightly, cheeks coloring only the slightest bit. Whether it’s from embarrassment at the slip up or something else he can’t be sure. 

Either way, he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I still consider this to be evening. I am a proud night lurker, there is no part of me that wants to be waking up before 3 pm.” A small fit of giggles overtakes you, and he feels his smile turn into something more genuine. 

“But no, not much of a runner,” he gestures to his right leg where the prosthetic is on display. “I’m on call tonight and can’t do much besides hang out here, figured a walk might do me some good.” 

To your credit, your expression only falters slightly when you take in his leg, quickly recovering to match his eye contact as you listen. You nod, humming warmly in agreement, still keeping your eyes locked on his. “I have to agree. I’m also not much of a runner but I try to walk after lab most days. I think it’s a great way to reset after a long day.” 

“Sounds like you’re the evening walk expert then?” 

“Something like that,” you joke back. 

Jack knows that the conversation is winding down, it’s time for him to wish you a good walk and find a reason to hang back until you go on your way. Wait to see which direction you turn before beginning to walk in the opposite way. But Jack also knows that you’ve been looking at him with an attentiveness that, while he gives freely, is rarely if ever matched. If there were ever a sign of not wanting a conversation to end, he thinks the way you’re looking at him is surely it. 

Fuck it. 

“Well, I’m new to this whole walking for fun thing, maybe you could show me the best route to take?” 

Your eyes brighten, “Of course! I mean, obviously I’m new to the area, but I think I’ve found a good path. It’s about 30 minutes, if that’s good with you?” 

“Of course, lead the way,” he gestures forward with his hand, indicating for you to lead the way, leaning forward slightly as he does so. If you notice the way he stumbles forward slightly as his weight shifts on an unfamiliar right foot, you don’t say anything. But Jack swears he you’re biting the inside of your cheek to fight off a grin as you walk down the steps. 

Fucking sports prosthetic. 

The walk is… nice. Nicer than Jack expected. He can hear the birds chirping in the trees that are awkwardly implanted in the sidewalk. He can hear the sounds of the city too (sirens, honking, a plane overhead) but they’re less pronounced than normal. The two of you walk side by side as you lead him through parts of his neighborhood he’s never really taken the time to look at. You point out a café that apparently ‘makes a mean oat milk latte.’ 

“I hate to fulfill the old white guy stereotype, but I only drink my coffee black.” Self-deprecation as a form of self-defence, the oldest trick in the book. 

“As horrifying as that information is,” you begin, closing your eyes and placing a hand on your chest, “I also can get behind a black coffee, so if you’re calling yourself old you’re gonna have to call me old too.” You smile at him and make eye contact for only a moment before breaking looking at the pavement a few feet ahead of you.

“Besides, you have got to be the sexiest ‘old guy’ I’ve ever seen so I’d be wearing that badge proudly if I were you.” You put your hands up in mock defensiveness and accentuate your point with air quotes. 

He really isn’t sure what to do with himself besides laugh. Looking at you now, he could tell that even if you were uncertain, you were not the type of woman to let him get away with putting himself down. Nothing to do but admit defeat. 

“I think I’ll be quite happy with that title.” 

By the time the duplex is coming back into view Jack has learned that you’ve been walking everyday for years after a suggestion from a therapist. He’s learned that you “actually thought about going to medical school, but turns out biology and me don’t get along.” He’s also relearned more about chemistry than he ever hoped he would have to after asking the simple question “What does your lab research?” 

He had told you his own therapist had suggested he ‘get his ass outside’ more often, and that maybe the shrink was right more often than he wanted to give the guy credit for. He also shared one of his gorrier work stories and had been impressed when you were hanging on to his every word rather than going green. More importantly, he had only let himself spend about 3 minutes total looking at the way the sunlight caught your hair, or the way it framed your face as it fell from the loose bun you had it in, or at your lips as you spoke rather than your face, or at the necklace laying against the soft place where your neck met your collar bones. Just 3 minutes, not bad at all, practically a record. 

As you approach the front steps you hesitate, and he feels it too, he thinks. The uncertainty of where the two of you stand with one another. Jack knows where he stands, and he has a feeling he knows where you do too, he hadn’t been the only one with a staring problem. But even if Jack thinks he knows, he doesn’t really know. 

“Thank you for sharing your route with me, I think I was right to call you the walk expert.” He shoots you a trademark Abbot smirk, trying to put a lid on whatever feelings may or may not have been simmering during the past 30 minutes. 

“Anytime Jack, it was nice to have some company.” The smile you give him in return is softer, warmer than his own. For not the first time, and certainly not the last, he feels torn about how to approach you. He knows this feeling, he’s felt it before and it landed him in a world of heartbreak and pain. It was a place he’s worked hard to move on from, and thank god he can see now that while yes feelings, raw and vulnerable, can end in pain they are also what make life worth living. 

He isn’t sure where the two of you stand, after all you’ve barely started to get to know each other. However, he is sure that he wants to at least give himself the chance to find out, no matter how scary or stupid a choice it might be.  

“Well… maybe we could do this again sometime? I know my therapist would throw a fucking party if he got word of me not only being out in daylight but also socializing outside of work.” 

“I’d love that,” you smile wider now, staring at your feet briefly and rocking back on your heels slightly before looking back up at him. “I’ll be here a little after 5:30 pretty much everyday, join me whenever you like. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he feels his own expression melt into something so sickly sweet his cheeks hurt. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight, Jack.��

[itsaintmebabe]

he stands up for you in an interview (midsize!reader)

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ drivers: charles leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris, max verstappen and carlos sainz

notes: this kinda came to me during the spanish gp today, let me know how you guys feel about it cause i’m not entirely sure abt it so lmk!! <3

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ masterlist

₊˚⊹ᰔ CHARLES LECLERC

He’d just come off the podium, drenched in champagne and Ferrari red, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips as he stepped into the media pen. Charles was running on adrenaline and pride until a journalist leaned in with a knowing look.

“Charles, you’ve been seen out with your girlfriend a lot lately. Some fans are saying she’s not what they expected from someone in your position. How do you respond to that kind of surprise?”

Charles blinked once.

“What they expected?”

His voice was calm, but the chill in it made the reporter hesitate.

“Yeah, just, you know… public figures usually date a certain ‘type’ and—”

Charles cut him off gently but firmly.

“She’s exactly my type.”

He folded his arms loosely, still not raising his voice, but something steel-like settled into his expression.

“She’s smart. She’s kind. She knows me better than anyone else, and she’s beautiful to me,” he emphasized. “If people are surprised, maybe they should spend less time imagining what kind of woman someone like me should be with, and more time questioning why they think they get a say at all.”

He gave the reporter a tight, diplomatic smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Next question, please.”

₊˚⊹ᰔ OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar had just scored a clean P2 and was relaxed, arms crossed, posture easy. He was talking about race starts and tire temps, until someone slipped in a question that made his brow twitch.

“Oscar, some people think your girlfriend isn’t really the ‘look’ they associate with someone at the top of Formula 1. Does that kind of public reaction ever give you pause?”

Oscar’s entire body went still.

“No. It gives you pause, apparently.”

The reporter blinked. “Just saying, there’s a certain image that comes with being in your position—”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed.

“You know what image I care about? The one I see when I come home after a race. When she’s curled up with a book and one of my hoodies. That’s it.”

He shrugged, voice still even but there was a bite now.

“If that doesn’t fit into someone’s aesthetic fantasy, that’s their problem. Not mine. Not hers.”

He glanced at the camera with a smirk.

“And definitely not yours.”

₊˚⊹ᰔ LANDO NORRIS

Lando had just taken the win and was practically bouncing, messy curls, cheeky grin, and post-race glow. He was in a good mood… until someone tried to sour it.

“Lando, fans online have been debating whether your girlfriend’s the ‘right look’ for someone who’s becoming a brand icon. Do you ever think about image in that way?”

Lando laughed. He actually laughed.

“Are you for real?”

The reporter started to respond, but Lando shook his head.

“You think I’m dating someone because it looks good in a photoshoot? Mate, I date her because she’s wicked. She's hilarious. She's sharp. She's a bit stubborn sometimes—” he grinned, fond “—but she gets me. And yeah, she’s hot as hell.”

He leaned toward the mic, playful but very pointed.

“I’m not worried about my image. I’m more concerned with whether she’s gonna beat me at Mario Kart again tonight and talk shit about it for a week.”

Lando shot the camera a wink and gave the next interviewer a wave.

“Let’s talk about the race now, yeah?”

₊˚⊹ᰔ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max wasn’t in the mood.

P2 felt like a loss, and the media pen was the last place he wanted to be. But he was standing there anyway stone-faced, giving short answers, until someone really pushed it.

“Max, your girlfriend’s not exactly what we expect from an F1 champion’s partner. Do you ever feel like you could be with someone who fits the image more?”

Silence.

Max stared at the reporter. No blink. No shift in expression. Just complete, icy stillness.

Then, very slowly.

“Did you just ask if I’d trade my girlfriend for a better… image?”

The reporter tried to reword, but Max held up one hand.

“No. Don’t backpedal. I heard what you said.”

He took a breath, voice low and flat.

“She doesn’t need to be anything other than who she is. I don’t date people to impress strangers. I date her because she makes me feel like myself. Because she’s brilliant. And yeah I think she’s stunning.”

Max looked the reporter straight in the eye.

“If that bothers you, I’d say that’s your issue. Not mine.”

Then he turned to walk away no fanfare, no press officer needed just gone.

₊˚⊹ᰔ CARLOS SAINZ

Carlos was in good spirits, having fought his way to a gritty P4. He was laughing with the Spanish press, animated and bright, when a British journalist edged in with a question that turned the air a little colder.

“Carlos, with so many drivers dating models and influencers, fans were surprised to see you with someone a bit different. Is that a deliberate choice, maybe to be more lowkey?”

Carlos tilted his head, smile still on his face but his eyes had narrowed just slightly.

“I didn’t know love was a PR strategy.”

The reporter coughed, flustered. “Well—of course not, but—”

Carlos raised a hand, cutting him off gently.

“Look. She’s not ‘lowkey.’ She’s just real. No filter. No act. She’s herself all the time. And to me, that’s rare.”

His voice softened, but not his resolve.

“I don’t care what anyone expects. She’s smart, she’s loyal, she’s beautiful and when I look at her, I don’t see a comparison. I see her. That’s enough.”

Then, in classic Sainz fashion, he smiled again calm and a little smug.

“And trust me, if you met her, you’d get it.”

[antianakin]

No. That's NOT what I'm saying here, AT ALL. Move away from biology and nature being the end all and be all.

First, Leia is Leia. She is not just "Character A with some of Character B sprinkled in." She is her own person with her own motivations and flaws. I am comparing her to Padme because I think the narrative intentionally builds that parallel for us and I find it interesting to look at the ways in which Luke and Leia are deliberately set up to be the successes to their parents' failures. That does not mean that Leia IS "Padme" in any way.

Secondly, Leia would never in any way be fortified by any of Anakin's anything. Anakin is a piece of shit and part of the reason he's a piece of shit IS his self-righteousness. And it's not like Padme didn't have plenty of her own self-righteousness, too. Leia is fortified by BAIL AND BREHA ORGANA, but it's not "self-righteousness" she's fortified by. She's fortified by their passion, their discipline, their wisdom, their kindness, their bravery, their willingness to stand up for what's right without burning down everything around them in the process. She's fortified by their absolute will to remain who they are in a world that wants them to capitulate everything out of fear. Leia learns how to be a good leader because she's raised by two of them.

Thirdly, Leia learns how to be a good leader because she actively CHOOSES to be a good leader when given the options. Leia does not succumb to despair and selfishness the way both of her biological parents do. Leia does not let love cause her to give up something that would allow the rebellion to win the war. She loves Luke, but she lets him go to the Death Star as a self-sacrifice because she knows it's necessary if they're going to win this war and respects the choice he is making in this moment. Padme starts off as someone who chooses to be a good leader, and remains someone who makes that choice SOMETIMES but not all of the time. Padme CANNOT give up Anakin for the sake of the war or anything else. She chooses to exonerate him when he murders children, she chooses to cover his murders up, she chooses to trade Grievous for him despite what that will mean for the war effort and the people who died to capture Grievous in the first place, and she chooses to lie to Obi-Wan to protect Anakin even after she discovers that Anakin committed a genocide and helped destroy the Republic. Padme would never have made the choice Leia makes in ROTJ.

If you think "self-righteousness" is what allowed Leia to let Luke go in that moment, then you might need to go watch it again. It's not self-righteousness that saves Leia from Padme's mistakes. It's compassion, something Anakin barely had any of in his adult life and something Padme struggled with by the end. And by compassion, I mean the way the term is actually utilized in Star Wars, a selfless love towards everyone. It's the opposite of attachment, it's an ability to let go of biases in order to show kindness to everybody, no matter who or what they are.

And then of course there's Luke. Again, it is not anything from Padme that saves him. He's never met Padme and, unlike Leia, he doesn't seem to have any kind of latent memory of her nor do the Larses seem to have ever told him any stories about her (not that they'd have had that many to tell, but we know they told Luke that his dad was a smuggler of some kind, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that they could've come up with a lie about who his mother was, we just never hear about it). If Luke is a better Jedi than Anakin, it's not somehow Padme's influence that saves him.

It's the Larses. This is Owen and Beru's down to earth hardworking values coming in. Unlike the Organas, Owen and Beru aren't really represented as these brilliant paragons of virtue. Owen and Beru make mistakes, even in terms of how they choose to parent Luke. But what this does for Luke is it shows him how to LEARN and GROW from his mistakes, something he uses quite a lot during the original trilogy. Luke learns how to be dependable and resilient. When it matters, Luke can rise up and do what needs to be done. He DOES have some of Anakin's darkness in him, that's a major element of his character and his narrative, but it's not his biological mother's compassion that saves him. It's Owen and Beru Lars's values, and it's the Jedi philosophies he was taught by Obi-Wan and Yoda. THAT'S what keeps him from making the same mistakes Anakin did.

Leia is Bail Organa's righteous passion and willingness to enter a fight tempered by Breha Organa's discipline and wisdom.

Luke is Owen Lars's protective instincts towards those he loves and firmness of opinion tempered by Beru Lars's empathy towards everyone she meets and open-minded acceptance of change.

As interesting as it can be to look at how Luke and Leia parallel their biological parents, they will always be so much more a product of the Organas and the Larses than Anakin and Padme.

People are SLEEPING on the most interesting Leia & Padme comparisons because there's so much focus on Leia being "like Anakin" because she gets annoyed sometimes and Padme being this perfect moral beacon of truth and justice despite all of her very canonical lies and cover-ups and obstructing of justice.

If Luke is the Jedi that Anakin should've been, then Leia is the LEADER that Padme should've been.

Padme is a hypocrite, proclaiming that all people deserve basic decency and the right to safety, but at the same time allowing Anakin to get away with a mass murder with no consequences by covering it up.

Leia doesn't even let Han get away with being a little bit of an asshole, there's no way she'd let him get away with mass murder. She holds everyone around her to a higher standard, believing in the best of them but also but refusing to accept excuses for cowardice and selfishness.

Padme talks so much about wanting the war to end, but then allows one of the opposition's biggest generals go free just to get Anakin back because she cares about him, causing the war to continue to go on for even longer.

Leia lets Luke sacrifice himself because she knows it's possibly the only way they might have a victory and beat the Empire, even though she knows what he is to her and loves him. She knows what has to be done and respects the choice Luke is making and would never condemn their efforts just to keep him with her.

Padme's story parallels Anakin's, she devolves as the narrative goes on, until she's barely a shell of the person she used to be. That strength and moral clarity she showed as a Queen is entirely gone, leaving only a scared woman pleading with a murderer to come back to her.

Leia's story parallels Luke's, she gains more and more strength and clarity as the narrative moves forward. The bossy young woman we first met has become a confident rebel leader who knows she doesn't have to harden her heart to be strong.

[h0onviv]

NFSW. ⸺ ENHYPEN LINKS ⋆˙⟡♡..

... enhypen hyung line x fem reader

警告！: this contains links to porn videos on twitter as well as smut. please watch and read at your own risk 𝜗𝜚 𝒱 ────────── please re-blog and like if you enjoy, engagement is the best part of writing! ⋆˙⟡

Not proof read (⸝⸝╸-╺⸝⸝)

Lee heeseung

missionary, semi public sex, dirty talk, jealousy, unprotected sex bf heeduengie

You knew what you got yourself into when heeseung pulled you away from his members to his room, showing up with the shortest skirt youve got was not a good idea. And now, you’ve got heeseung holding up your legs as he continuously drills into you. Bed squeaking from the impact, brain mushy because he’s going so deep, so full. “Fuck! You looked so good” he looks down at you before starting again— “ had to fuck you, can’t let them see you look this good and let them think—“ he pauses to catch his breath, leaning in closer to angle his hips. “You don’t see the way they look at you” you let out a loud moan at his words, before cover your mouth with your palm biting into the skin. “No don’t do that”- he slaps you hand away, a small gasp coming out of your mouth “I want them to hear you”.

Park jongseong

oral (f rec), praise, soft sex, readers first time getting head bsf jongie

Jays hair tickled your skin as he kissed down your stomach, stopping to look up at you- watching the way your chest rises up and down, taking in the blush that adorns your face. "relax'' his hand rubs at your thighs ''I'm gonna make you feel so good- will you let me?'' face heating up at the question meekly nodding. ''talk'' he says sternly. And when you quietly mutter out a soft 'yes' - jays groans, his calm composer doing nothing to hide his boner poking at his sweats. Impulse consuming him when he reaches your pussy- throbbing and wet he cant help himselft from leaning in to give your swollen clit a kiss. Looking up at you before rubbing soft slow circles into your waist. ' I got you - just relax okay?'

Sim jaeyun

teasing, fingering, brothers bsf ikeu

God your frustrated- really frustrated. Jakes acting like he has all the time in the world, fingers gliding up and down your slit, a slow and steady pace. 'jake-' you whine out pushing your hips back 'hmm' he hums, fingers still playing with the wetness seeping through your panties. 'jake' you call his name again more stern. This time he looks up, straight at you, fingers halting. 'yes' you groan dramatically rolling your eyes annoyed by his ability to be so calm . 'my brothers gonna come up soon' jake chuckles 'why are you so impatient recently? a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. Just when you were gonna snap at him he peels your panties down and shoves two fingers in. Causing you to let out a silent moan-'what were you saying baby?'

Park sunghoon

oral (m rec) deepthroating, tutor baekgu

Getting a tutor for calculus was predictable. Sunghoon gets money- you get good grades, it’s a win-win. However, things happen and money is tight sometimes. Telling sunghoon you don’t have the money for this month was unpredictable— you don’t know what to expect. What you didn't expect was for sunghoons thick cock pushing past your lips. His hand holding your hair as you bob your head up and down. 'ngh- yeah fuckk' his other hand comes down to press you down fully on his cock. You gag barley able to breathe from your nose. Suffocating in him as he used your mouth to get off. His moans fill the room as he pushes his cock deeper into your mouth. He only snaps out of the haze when your slap at his thighs- muffled cries coming from you. He pulls you back to see your cum coated mouth and tears streaked down your face. 'swallowed?' You nod throat sore ‘good’ he leans down and gives you a kiss on your forehead. You feel heat radiating from your face. ‘Sorry’ you pause to take a couple breaths ‘l promise I’ll have the money by next month’ he shakes his head raising a hand to brush hairs from your face ‘Don’t worry about that’

© h0onviv I don’t allow my works to be translated reuploaded or copied .

[cannibal-alien]

😇💍 with 7n7 mayhaps….? i yearn for that gentleman SO much

꒰ 🎉 ꒱ 100+ followers event! (closed…)

💍: fake dating.

😇: “you’re an angel. you truly are.”

💬; heyyy hii nonners i thought this was soooo cutey,, tyy sm 4 requesting<3

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

you knew 007n7 was an outcast from the moment you woke up shivering, hungry, and completely alone in this weird new realm you had begrudgingly dubbed ‘home.’ it didn’t take long for you to meet the other survivors huddled around the campfire. it was only a handful, but enough to get an idea of what they were like. most of them were actually quite friendly, thank the gods, but a certain few stuck with you, lingering in your thoughts long after you had went back to your cabin to rest your tired head for the night. like n7, who sat alone on the furthest log while you introduced yourself.

turns out you were a littleeee bit off with your judgment! more often than not, you found yourself warching 007n7, quickly noticing how the other survivors treated him. they acted like he wasn’t there, as if he wasn’t even trying to help them. yeah, you’ve heard the stories, but you knew way better than to judge that quickly. from what you’ve seen, n7 was a good man, so you decided to lend a hand. a slow process of earning his trust.

but you were able to successfully do so, even if the other survivors didn’t catch on as much as you had hoped. a frustrated huff escaped your lips, wondering what else you could do to improve n7’s reputation. 007n7 didn’t want to cause a big scene, let alone bother anyone, so you came up with an eccentric idea.

you sat down beside him on a log beneath the big tree’s shadow, the dim orange glow of the campfire painting a soft light over n7’s exhausted face. “hey hey, i have an idea… it’s totally cool if you’re not into it, but…” you pause, studying his expression. he only hummed, a little curious, and you knew you were lucky that he was even willing to hear you out right now.

“what if we started fake dating? no- okay wait wait, just hear me out-” you said with a laugh, noticing the way n7’s lips curl into a genuinely amused smile as he held back a snort. the man looked utterly confused, and honestly, you didn’t blame him.

“fake dating?” n7 repeated, with a twinge of curiosity in his tone, maybe even a bit of interest?

you wipe a tear from your eye, still giggling as you attempted pulling yourself together. “yeah, no, listen. if we started fake dating, right, what if the others finally saw how caring you are? or like… would be? i don’t know.” you make a little motion with your hands, really trying to sell the whole idea. “just think about it! they’d see how well you treat me… or something like that.”

n7 hums, considering the idea in his mind. he had to admit, it wasn’t that bad of an idea. and honestly, he really didn’t mind the thought of pretending to be so… close with you. it was a little scary, sure, but he knew you. which was all the reassurance he needed to give you a small nod in return. n7 spoke up, voice soft yet steady. “sure, why not? that doesn’t sound so bad. could been worse.”

you laugh and scoot a little closer, picking up on the way his muscles tense, and then gradually ease. some other survivors glanced your way, their expressions hinting at some suspicion, but you completely block them out. you lean in a little closer, keeping your voice at whisper level. “wanna hold hands?” you ask playfully, searching his eyes for any sign of hesitation.

“okay,” n7 replied quietly, breath caught in his throat as he slowly reaches out to grasp your hand. he was a bit sweaty, something you expected. n7’s grip was initially sorta weak , but when you gave a reassuring squeeze, it settled to be more firm than you thought. it felt nice, you just couldn’t resist laying your head on his shoulder. n7 flinched ever so slightly, a tiny little twitch, he didn’t expect that. but he didn’t try pulling away either.

“are you okay?” you mumble, looking around at the other survivors to see how they were reacting. n7 glanced at you briefly, then looked back down to the dirt.

“yeah. don’t worry about me,” he said under his breath with a small shrug, lightly shivering as your thumb gently began to rub his hand. it nearly made n7 tear up, he honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had treated him so kindly.

“you’re an angel. you truly are,” 007n7 whispered, his voice quiet enough so that only you could hear, resting his head gently against yours. you froze in response, those words hitting you right in the heart. you couldn’t help the soft smile curving on your lips as you’re left wondering how anyone could truly dislike this man.

[beastyeastfreak]

Hey hey! When you have some spare brain power to share, do you think we could get a part three to the Beast Cookies x Human Sized! Reader where the Reader caves and agrees to join them in the game world?

I can do that! For this im gonna assume reader is happy but bad something happens that gives the beasts a reason to pull them away.

Link to part one

Link to part two

Cw and tags: Romantic, not as lighthearted as the rest, angst if you squint, reader has a minimum wage j*b or something similar to that, Reader can still control their kingdom as a cookie, SMC is a jerk kinda,

Written pre silent salt update

Mystic Flour

🌾 - She rarely questioned your decision to not return to the cookie world with her. She understood great changes were hard, and you had things you would miss or people who would miss you. You were close with her and had a good portion of your kingdom dedicated to her if not all of it. You seemed pretty happy despite a rather monotonous and pointless lifestyle. She didn’t understand it, but it was interesting to try.

🌾 - Of course eventually it starts to become harder. Work becomes more tedious or people around you are giving you issues. You come home stressed more often, she’ll often tell you tales or have you meditate with her. But she doesn’t give the suggestion of leaving, she knows that once you’re put under enough pressure you’ll come to her.

🌾 - You begin to ask her what its like when shes at the pagoda while your heads in her lap. She wants to raise an eyebrow and ask if you were thinking about coming with her but she holds back. Her hand running over your hair, she answers truthfully. Its quiet. Its just her, Cloud Haetae and the occasional traveler or beast visiting. You dont answer, that was more than enough of a hint for her.

🌾 - One day you come home again, and you dont say anything you just hug her. “I want to go with you.” You say quietly, she’s shocked but she saw the signs. After a brief moment of surprise she brings her arms around you. Asks if you have anyone you want to say goodbye to or anything you want to bring, then takes you with her.

🌾 - You have a lot of issues adjusting to what you can and cant do now. She definitely has to keep a close eye on you to keep you from crumbling. Your past life as a human defines your powers in cookie form, your actions manifested into your new abilities. Cloud Haetae is over the moon that they have a new resident.

🌾 - She definitely uses your experiences as a reason to convert to apathy. You toiled endlessly and now you are happy with her, it only makes sense.

Burning Spice

🏜️ - Burning spice always made a habit of boasting to you, he’d sling his arm over your shoulder and tell you all about the destruction he caused while you were gone. He also had a bit of a problem with talking about your job like it was some useless thing. Like the money you made will have no value in 100 years. Its all talk to maybe get you to come back with him.

🏜️ - Your life was admittedly really boring in comparison. He tried to include you though, you actually had a small hand in his decision making. If he can he brings food back for you from grand feasts, and trophies from destroyed cities. But each wad just a reminder that you were going to live this monotonous life forever and he’d continue his reign for eternity.

🏜️ - You listen a lot more closely now when he’s talking about his daily life in the cookie world. You’ll be messing with his hair while he describes various aspects of his life in great detail. You’re quiet, he’ll comment on it, you’ll lie and say you were just focused. Truthfully you were considering it, leaving with him. The more days that passed the more you thought about it, fantasizing about it, distracting yourself with it.

🏜️ - You had given it a lot of thought, a lot. There were many instances you were staring up at the ceiling, Burning Spice snoring in your ear contemplating leaving all this behind to go be at his side. Were you fit for it though? Would he let you? He catches you staring up at the ceiling one night, tugging you close against him and asking whats wrong. You admit, very hesitantly “i was just.. i dunno… thinking about unhappy i am with my current situation, y’know my life is getting kinda��� repetitive..?” You avoided the word boring but he picked it up anyway. He’a smirking, his eyes still closed. “So thats what you’ve been distracted with, i knew i saw myself in you.” He says pressing you up against him. “I’ll take you in the morning if thats what you really desire..” he’ll continue then relax his grip when you agree.

🏜️ - The spice kingdom was hard to adapt to physically, your strengths that define you manifest into your cookie form giving you a good step. He doesn’t force you to fight, if you want to train to battle with him he’ll gladly spar. But if you just want to stay in your kingdom or in the temple he’ll ensure you’re always safe.

Eternal Sugar

🌷 - The fact that she had you in her clutches while simultaneously engaging with the outside world was an odd dynamic she wasn’t quite used to. Her solution for thousands of years was to keep her angels safe in tall hedge walls, lounging in perfect paradise. But she had to actually revert back to pre-beast days and fix these temporary spouts of sadness.

🌷 - Life is rough, things are complicated outside your home. Friends fighting, family drama appearing out of nowhere, work was the cherry on top. It felt like more and more those temporary feelings of sadness became more like dreading leaving Eternal Sugar and ultimately the home. It felt so easy to just, call in sick and stay in her arms. But you couldn’t, you had to answer calls, you had to show up to work, you had responsibilities bearing down on you.

🌷 - She’s there to listen, helping you shed your uniform and lay down next to her. When you ask her about her day, well she answers truthfully. She spent the day relaxing, playing the lyre and watching over the garden. She’s not subtle like the first two, she’ll say that you can always put your wants first for once and join her. She’ll take care of you. When you agree finally it surprises her of course.

🌷 - “I’d love to,” you say with a sigh. Your head against the pillow. She stops, hand still reaching for the remote nearby. You had finally snapped, she had you totally now. She doesn’t stop too long, she catches herself. She turns to you with a warm smile. “Would you like to go now?” She asks, casually almost. It was as if she wasn’t asking you if you wanted to disappear forever in a moment. She reaches down, her hand caresses your cheek. You close your eyes against her palm and nod. Wordlessly she nods, walks around to your side of the bed and picks you up bridal style kissing just above the center of your eyebrows.

🌷 - The angels makes sure you’re situated well into the garden, Eternal Sugar ensures your needs are met. Once the dread that you had left everything behind had dissipated, you became quite comfortable. In this world, your personality from your last life defines your powers. It was like a never ending vacation, the fear of waking up and realizing it was all a dream was more than prevalent though. She doesn’t worry much about you escaping, shes tested you without your knowledge in the real world. You were happy in this gilded bird cage she’s created for you both, and thats all that mattered to her.

Shadow Milk

🃏 - The whole idea behind him coming to see you was so that you could both spend time together. He wasn’t asking for 24/7 attention but as time passed your responsibilities became your main focus. You weren’t happy about it, he wasn’t too thrilled either.

🃏 - He jokes about it at some point “uh hey, i do believe we’re supposed to be doing romantic couple stuff right now?” He’ll speak in a matter of fact tone while floating beside you as you gather your stuff. You frown, clearly stressed. Rambling on about work needing you and that tomorrow would be better. Well as long as its one instance it would be find, it wasn’t.

🃏 - He puts up with it because he believes its just a busy week- then it turns into a busy month. Worst part is that he and his minions weren’t as impactful with their lies in your world, the market was oversaturated here. Also they kept getting IP banned. So naturally they were all spending more time in the game and he was ready to drag you in with him.

🃏 - He’s the worst out of all of them when it comes to getting you to go with him. He’s probably getting you to go with him instead of you deciding to. First he gives you the choice, he tells you all the great things that lie ahead and how much better it is. You say no? Thats fine the fun begins now! It starts slow, he calls in sick for you after seeing a tiny symptom that could be one big thing. The place you work at is suddenly being investigated for something only the employees knew about. By then you recognize what he’s doing and tell him to cut it out, he plays dumb then continues tenfold. Your workplace is shut down. You have to find work elsewhere. The bathtub leaked for no reason, you have water damage. Wifi is suddenly horrible for no reason when you try to book interviews or to get your floor fixed.

🃏 - You snap one day, its not explosive its frustrated silence. You walk up to him as he wears that smug smile. “Alright you win,” you sigh. “Finally! You gave a good fight! You deserve a play written about you,” he says before taking you away.

🃏 - Your responsibility is next to none until your stress from your life ebbs from your dough and you get used to being without skin and bone. Your interests and hobbies are what define your powers if Shadow Milk is the one to take you to the cookie realm.

[andy-15-07]

Hi lovely person! Could I request an angst to fluff piece with Joel miller? So I was thinking.. we always see Dbf! Joel smut, but I would really like something angsty with that trope. Maybe something along the lines of the reader and Joel being together in secret because you know being scared of judgment because of the age gap and stuff and not the father finding out. But then there's this woman, more to Joel's age coming into the picture, making reader insecure thinking she's not enough and too young and naive but in the end all turns out good? I'm a sucker for angst

Too Young for You

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1035| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You knew it the second she walked in.

Tall. Confident. Laugh like expensive red wine. And she touched Joel's arm when she greeted him,long fingers resting a second too long on his flannel sleeve like they had history. Like she knew him better than you ever could.

You stood on the edge of the backyard, the sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the patio. Your dad's cookout was in full swing, laughter and music tangling in the summer air. Joel had shown up late, just like always, a six-pack in hand and that lazy, unreadable smile you hated and loved.

He hadn't kissed you. Couldn't. Not with your dad just twenty feet away flipping burgers.

But the second his eyes had found yours, you’d felt that invisible pull. Like gravity had changed its rules just for the two of you. And then she showed up.

"Hey stranger," she said, her voice all southern charm and knowing smirks. "Didn’t think I’d see you around here again."

Joel chuckled, and your stomach turned.

You looked away, grabbing a drink you didn’t want and pretending not to watch them. But every laugh, every glance, felt like a punch.

She was beautiful. Older. Confident. The kind of woman people listened to. The kind who wouldn't have to hide. Who wouldn’t be a secret.

You tried not to spiral, but it was too late. Your fingers clenched around the plastic cup, knuckles white.

---

Later, when Joel found you alone in your childhood bedroom, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"You alright?" he asked softly, closing the door behind him.

You didn’t look at him. "Fine."

He frowned. "Don’t sound fine."

Silence.

He took a few steps closer, those boots of his heavy on the carpet. "Darlin’, talk to me."

You stood suddenly. "Why are you even here, Joel?"

His brows furrowed. "What d’you mean?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I mean,why me? I’m just some dumb kid who can’t even be seen with you in public."

He stepped closer. "Hey. No. Don’t do that."

You shook your head, bitter. "She’s perfect for you, Joel. You two looked like you belonged. Like real adults. Not... this."

Joel's expression darkened. "You think I want her?"

"Why wouldn’t you? She’s not a secret."

"You’re not a goddamn secret to me."

You scoffed. "No? Then what are we doing, huh? Playing pretend until my dad finds out and punches you in the face?"

Joel’s jaw ticked. Then, slowly, he stepped forward until he was right in front of you. You didn’t back away.

"You think I give a shit what anyone thinks? I’ve been eatin’ dinner with your family for fifteen years, sweetheart. You think I started lookin’ at her when you were right in front of me, lookin’ like that, makin’ me feel like I’d die if I couldn’t touch you again?"

You blinked, breath caught in your chest.

"You think this is some game to me?" he rasped, voice low, dangerous. "You wanna know why I haven’t told your dad? ‘Cause I want to do this right. I want to keep you. Not just fuck around behind closed doors."

Your voice cracked. "Then prove it."

Joel’s eyes flared. And then his mouth was on yours.

---

He didn’t take his time. Not tonight. Not after watching you shrink into yourself all evening, thinking you weren’t enough. Thinking he wanted someone else.

Your back hit the wall, and his hands were under your thighs in a second, lifting you up like you weighed nothing.

"You think she could make me feel like this?" he growled against your skin. "You think I want polite and easy when I’ve got you,moaning for me in the dark, beggin’ for more?"

You whimpered, grinding down on the bulge in his jeans.

"Tell me to stop," he said, teeth grazing your jaw. "Tell me you don’t want this."

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

He carried you to the bed, laying you down with reverence, even in his anger. His hands roamed,rough, calloused, possessive. He kissed you like he was drowning.

Your clothes came off in pieces, scattered across the room. He paused when you were bare beneath him, fingers brushing your cheek.

"You’re mine," he said, voice thick. "I don’t want anyone else. Never did."

Then he was between your thighs.

He didn’t tease tonight. His mouth was hot, desperate. Tongue pressing flat against your clit, fingers curling deep inside you as your hips bucked against him.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with want. "Let me hear you."

You gasped, crying out his name, and he groaned like it hurt him.

When he finally thrust inside you, it was all teeth and sin. Joel gripped your hips tight, rocking into you with long, devastating strokes.

"You’re so fuckin’ perfect," he panted. "So fuckin’ tight. Always so good for me."

You clawed at his back, nails dragging down his shoulders. "Joel,please,don’t stop."

He pressed your knees to your chest, going deeper. The angle had you sobbing his name.

"You think she could ever take me like this?" he growled, eyes locked on yours. "No one else gets to see you like this. Just me."

Your orgasm hit hard, white-hot and shaking. Joel followed, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you with a low, broken groan.

He didn’t pull away.

Just held you, kissed you, whispered your name over and over like a prayer.

---

Later, when you were curled against him under the blankets, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest, Joel tilted your chin up.

"Next time someone flirts with me, you come stand next to me, alright? Let ‘em see who I’m leavin’ with."

You smiled, shy. "You mean that?"

Joel nodded. "I’m tired of hidin’. We’ll tell your dad. I don’t care what he says. I’m not losin’ you over fear."

Your heart swelled.

"You’re not too young," he said gently. "You’re exactly what I need. You keep me soft. Keep me sharp. You make me feel alive again."

You kissed him, slow and deep.

And this time, you weren’t afraid of who you were with him.

You were his.

And he was yours.

[pazziiiiiiii]

Chapter 8

So sorry for leaving you guys hanging for so long but I think this chapter is good i finally gave you what all of you were asking for!! HOWEVERR, this chapter is quite short cause i was kinda rushing to get this out cause i felt bad, but I promise next chapter will be better!!But if you guys want this series to go into college you have to expect that this happiness will change sooo…😏😏😏 PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK AND IDEASS ILLYYY

Paige POV

It had been a few days since she talked to Katie and Paige had tried to go back to normal. She really had.

She had been sleeping in Azzi’s room. Trying to eat again. Trying to pretend to the whole Fudd family that she wasn’t slowing eating herself up inside. Trying to pretend that she wasn’t thinking about packing her bags and going somewhere else every night after dinner.

It had started to become normal – ish. Azzi had stopped pushing her to talk, stopped trying to break down the walls she had built. Instead she just tried to let Paige break them down herself. She’d taken a step back.

Even when she knew what Paige was doing. Pretending she was fine. And it might’ve worked on Katie and Tim. But Azzi knew her best friend. She could see it in her eyes. How her smile didn’t quite reach them. How when they sat next to each other, Paige tensed, then quickly tried to cover it up and go back to normal. But Azzi knew. Of course she did. She remembered how when the same thing happened just some months ago, they would curl up into each other. Heads resting on shoulders, blanket over both of them.

Now it was different.

But Azzi had to ignore it. She had tried so hard to reach Paige, but for the first time in the whole time they’ve known each other. She just couldn’t do it. And she didn’t know why.

She knew what Paige’s dad said. Basically that she couldn’t come back to her house if she wanted to be gay. Paige had told her that. But what Azzi didn’t understand, was why that had to change their whole friendship. How they couldn’t be what they had been for years. But it didn’t look like it was going to go back to normal anytime soon.

So Azzi accepted it. She talked to her best friend like she couldn’t see right through her every time they looked in the eyes (which, to Paige’s best efforts, wasn’t too often anymore). Like she couldn’t see how her bags were packed more than they had ever been.

Azzi POV

Azzi was walking down the stairs from her room in the late afternoon. She didn’t know where Paige even was, probably somewhere bouncing a ball trying to pretend she was fine. That’s how it went lately anyway.

“Hey mum, can I talk to you for a sec?” Azzi asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

Katie looked up from the plate of watermelon she was cutting to see her daughter, with a look in her eyes she didn’t quite know how to read yet.

“Yeah of course honey what’s up?” Katie said softly, placing the knife to the side.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong with Paige. I need to know why she’s being like this. I need to know why she is acting like I fucking shot her dog.”

“Language,” Katie warned, not really caring though as the girls swear all the time.

“I’m sorry but I just can’t take this anymore. Something is seriously wrong, i know what her dad said to her and it was terrible but that doesn’t mean she would be acting like this to me. I’m worried about her, it’s either she looks like she’s dying or she’s pretending everything’s fine when it clearly fucking isnt!” Azzi’s voice was raising now, getting more frustrated with each word that came.

There was a small moment of silence. Both women looking at each other, Azzi searching for answers and Katie not knowing how to reply.

“I think you need to talk to her about it, i can’t tell you for her it needs to come from her,” Katie said finally.

“Mum trust me I’ve tried so hard but she just won’t say anything if she doesn’t just brush it off. I don’t get why she can talk to you more than me! We are best friends but i feel further away from her as ever!”

“I know, but I’m serious, you have to hear it from her. She will come around i know you’ve been giving her space which is good but i think it’s time for you to push a little bit but in a way you both can just be calm.”

It wasn’t what Azzi wanted to hear, but she did know how she was going to feet to Paige and when. She just needed Paige to stop with the bullshit basically.

Paige POV

There had only been two places lately that Paige really could just let herself be at peace and her mind just stop for a while.

One was the court, obviously. Basketball just let her be free and all she had to focus on was the ball and the rim.

But the other place was the roof. That was where she felt like everything just was still. Where nothing was on her mind.

Lately she has been going up there at night. Sneaking out of the bed as quietly as she could, not washing Azzi (even though Azzi was still awake), and just sitting up there for a while.

It was where she could just go out and let her mind not think about anything. Nothing about her father’s words, nothing about basketball and her future and the pressure she had. Not even anything about Azzi snuck in.

Just herself.

So that night she did just that. She ate with the Fudd’s, force herself to eat something, pretended that sitting next to Azzi and having their knees slightly didn’t bother her. Them politely say goodnight, hop into bed with Mazzini, talk for a while.

Then finally, go out to the roof and just out there.

But this night was a little different. She had only been sitting there for about 10 minutes when someone took a seat beside her in silence. The person who she went up here for hours just to stop thinking about.

Azzi Fudd.

They sat in silence for a long while. Just the soft tussle if leaves in the wind and the breaths of the two girls could be heard.

Until Azzi finally spoke up.

“I’ve seen you everytime you come out here, you didn’t think I would notice did you.”

Both their gazes didn’t move from the sky.

“Sorry I don’t mean to wake you.” Paige replied softly.

“You’re not waking me, I’m already awake.”

The silence returned for a moment. Both girls not knowing how to continue.

They weren’t sitting close, but it was close enough that Paige could feel the shiver off Azzi’s body. She quietly slipped off her hoodie handing it over without a word. Then the silence returned.

“Why are you out here Azzi.” Paige whispered after a minute.

“Could say the same to you.”

“And I would say that it gives me comfort. But what is your reason.”

“Because I’m worried about you.”

The conversation was slow but it was real. They still weren’t looking at each other, just at the sky. After a moment Paige responded.

“You don’t have to be worried.”

“But I can be, and I really am. Because I care about you, and I’m not going to stop trying to understand what is happening with you until you actually tell me.”

Paige didn’t reply, but Azzi caught how her breath hitched just slightly. Then Azzi spoke again.

“Cause I don’t get how my mum knows more about why my best friend is acting like this than me.”

Azzi finally looked at her. Really looked. Saw how her jaw was sharp in the moonlight but she still looked soft. How her eyes were beautifully blue and green, and her hair was in that slick back bun she always liked. Paige was stunning. She forced herself to look away.

“I think it’s time you actually tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Paige took a deep breath, then spoke.

“When I tell your can you please not be mad.”

“Of course not.”

Paige took another breath.

“You know how I said it was crazy how my dad thought I liked you?”

Azzi just nodded, giving Paige the time to speak.

“Well i don’t think it was actually crazy at all. I think it was perfectly reasonable.”

She took a break then spoke again.

“I’ve tried to push it down for so long. Tried to make myself believe it want true even though I always knew it was. But when he told me that it just pushed me over the edge and I couldn’t do it anymore so I tried to distance myself. But it only made things worse it seems.”

Paige finally then turned to look at the girl sitting next to her.

“I like you Az. And I know i shouldn’t in the way I do but I can’t stop it anymore because I’m hurting both of us.”

Azzi turned to meet the blondes eyes. They held each others gaze for a moment.

Then they both leaned it and met each other in the middle. Their lips touched slowly at first, testing the waters.

But then Paige’s hand moved to the younger girls neck, turning her head slightly, deepening the kiss. Azzi did the same, one hand sliding up into the other girls hair, while the other moves to her tee shirt, tugging it to bring her closer.

Paige’s other hand then moved to Azzi’s side, moving under the layers to meet skin. She squeezed her hand lightly causing the younger girl to let out a noise in the back of her throat.

This went on for a long while, each girl deepening the kiss further every few seconds. Hands roaming eachother a bodies. Only pulling away just enough to take a breath.

When both girls finally pulled away, they were both dazed. Their lips swollen from making out with hunger, breaths heavy. They just looked at eachother for a moment until Azzi spoke up.

“I like you too P, I have for a long time now. I’m pretty sure you can tell by what just happened.”

Paige chuckled at that, a real laugh. Something Azzi hadn’t seen for a long time.

“Yeah, I noticed from the way we just made out for a solid 10 minutes.”

“Yeah, been thinking about doing that since we met at USA.”

“Yeah, so have I Az.”

They sat there for a little longer, hands still on eachother, eyes still locked.

“We should probably go back inside.” Azzi said softly, but making so effort to move.

Paige just nodded. Finally, they both separated, walking back over to the window to Azzi’s room.

When they climbed back into bed, they curled into each other, legs wrapped, heads close.

When they were both dozing off Paige whispered quietly to the room.

“I love you Azzi. I will never stop until I can’t anymore. Thankyou.”

She didn’t expect Azzi to hear. She actually thought she asleep. But then she felt a light squeeze on her hand.

“Me too P.”

[withlovemark]

“drivers license”

pairing: jaehyun x reader | genre: angst | words: 11k+

now listening to -> i got my drivers license last week just like we always talked about.

synopsis -> a whirlwind romance with jung jaehyun.

warnings -> minor car crash, cheating, a break-up, might leave behind emotional damage, jaehyun is a coward, +18, crude language, mention of: frat parties, alcohol, make outs, smut! not descriptive but contains: dry humping, jaehyun cumming in his pants, implied oral (f), implied sex.

an -> i cannot believe the day has come where i finally finished this. it’s so embarrassing to say but this took me five years (2021-2025) and it’s not even the proudest thing i’ve written. every time i opened the google doc for this it was like my brain would forget every word in the dictionary. writers block hitting every god damn time. the reason? this entire series started with a member that is no longer part of nct and the issue around him, at the time, hurt me a lot and took me a while to move on from. but hey! time heals. this is here. it’s done! and i love writing for nct again! have fun reading! with love, c.

͙͘͡★

“hey uhh, it’s me, umm by me i mean its y/n by the way, i-well,” you let out a nervous chuckle, “i know this is weird, like really weird. especially since we’re y’know…broken up and all but uhm i just wanted to tell you that i uh…” your voice wavers, you cough once, clear your throat, then barrel forward, rushing through the words as if that’ll make it hurt less, “...finally got my driver’s license,” you finished clumsily.

silence fills the space for a beat too long.

‘this is stupid. what the hell am i doing,’ you think to yourself, realization slowly creeping in.

“-that’s pretty much it, i just,” you sigh, “wanted to tell you...you probably don’t care but yeah um i hope you’re doing well—”

beep.

the voicemail machine rings in your ear, letting you know that you’ve exceeded the amount of time given. you stare at your phone like it personally betrayed you. then it hits you. full force. your eyes widen, jaw dropping.

‘no, no, NO, no fucking way you just called your ex…you absolute dumbass,’ the inner voice in your head ridicules.

“UGHH!” you swore in the comfort of your car, head slamming against the steering wheel as you punched the air around you. if anyone were to see this scene unfold, they would think you were absolutely, batshit crazy.

god, you wished you were. it would be easier to explain.

but no, this was just a side effect of the broken-hearted.

after a while of just wallowing in your pity, you finally accept the fact that you were pathetic. throwing your phone into your bag, you chose the radio over the aux cord, not wanting to see the little devil machine that caused you your entire pride.

“hi, this is olivia rodrigo and you are now listening to my debut single, drivers license.”

‘olivia who?’ you start driving, wondering who the new artist was that was playing in the station you randomly tuned into.

the song starts and you barely register the lyrics until they start pulling on you. you can't help but feel that she had access to your inner thoughts and wrote this song using your heart and soul and diary.

you sit there, frozen behind the wheel, eyes on the road but barely seeing it. your grip on the steering wheel tightens. each lyric landing like a punch to the gut. images flashing behind your eyes of the one and only — jung jaehyun.

the man of the hour.

your first thought in the morning and the one that haunts you at night. you tried to forget. you tried to let go. but how could you, when he gave you so much to hold on to?

the first meeting.

“ouch!” you yelped, instinctively clutching the top of your head where a basketball had just collided…hard.

you turn around, ready to blow up on the person that obviously sucked at basketball.

in what world was the net your head???

but then your eyes locked with his and just like that, every insult evaporated from your mouth — the school’s number one golden boy. star player. campus crush. walking daydream.

and currently jogging towards you, “sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, ears burning red as he retrieves the basketball that landed a few inches away from you.

you blinked once, twice, “uhh, its um… its okay,” you managed to stammer, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your pride that had scattered alongside the ball.

you never really cared for social norms or popularity or any of that status quo bullshit. social ladders were just invisible ropes to nowhere in your mind. but you still knew that jaehyun was way up there, all shining spotlight and untouchable perfection, while you… weren’t even on the pyramid.

and yet, here he was. looking at you.

‘why is he still looking at me?’

before you could think further, jaehyun stepped a little closer, his brows pulling together in concern. and then, as if time itself slowed down, he reached out and cupped the side of your head, your brain short-circuiting.

‘no way. no way jung jaehyun is touching my face right now. this isn’t real. i’m dreaming. i’ve fallen unconscious from the ball and i am hallucinating.’

you felt the weight of a dozen eyes on you, murmurs, a couple of gasps. even his teammates had paused to see what their mvp was doing hovering over some nobody with the gentleness of a disney prince.

your panic response kicked in – you slapped his hand away, wanting to get rid of the attention that was suddenly on you though this action did the exact opposite, everyone now curious as to who you are.

“wh-what are you doing?” you demanded, voice way too high-pitched to be threatening. every curious eye zooming in on you like vultures to a fresh kill. everyone thinking the same thing: who were you to slap the golden boy’s hand?

jaehyun blinked at your reaction, then rubbed the back of his neck, completely unbothered by your swat, “i was just checking to see if you were hurt,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world to cradle strangers’ heads in public.

“oh uh it's fine!, it doesn’t hurt at all!! no bumps here,” you chirped, hands going straight to your head, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips as he eyes you suspiciously, not quite convinced with your statement.

“see!” you continue, pointing at the top of your head as you bow, earning a laugh from the boy in front of you. you can’t help but look back at him, his deep laughter ringing in your ears. you notice the way his dimples came out to play.

“okay, if you say so,” jaehyun said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “but a little tip…”

“huh?” you were still trying to recover from the dimple attack.

“you probably shouldn’t stand right behind a basketball hoop. especially when people are playing,” he teased, his grin widening like he knew exactly what he was doing to your poor nervous system.

your face burned, “right,” you muttered, wishing the earth would open and swallow you whole.

then he winked. actually winked. before he turned around, casually spinning the ball in his hand as he jogged back to his teammates while you watched him go, still frozen in place, still trying to compute what the hell just happened.

the first car ride.

the rain poured mercilessly, cold needles stabbing through your clothes as you power-walked down the sidewalk, your backpack clumsily perched atop your head in a hopeless attempt to shield yourself.

just your luck. the one day you forgot your umbrella was the day mother nature decided to go full on melodrama.

through the wall of rain, a car pulled up beside you, the hum of the engine barely audible over the storm. then a voice called out, “hey! do you need a ride!?”

you try to peek at the person inside, droplets of rain making your eyes flicker yet you see him in all his glory. you stared for a second too long, internally questioning every life decision that led to this exact moment.

‘now why in the world is he offering me a ride’

you hesitated. the rain was unrelenting, soaking through your hoodie and numbing your fingers, but getting into a car with someone you barely knew, even if he was the school’s walking dream, was a gamble.

sure, he might be the most popular guy in school but the only thing you knew about him was his name and his basketball jersey number, which was 14 by the way.

“you’re not going to kidnap me and then murder me to sell my organs on the black market, right!?” you ask, questioning his motives.

“huh??” the boy yells back.

‘i said!!...” you state your previous statement for the second time, battling with the sound of the loud rain hitting the pavement.

jaehyun blinked. and then…he laughed. a real, full laugh that melted a little of your anxiety.

“well, that’s for you to decide!” he shot back, boyish and harmless, dimples threatening to make you forget all your common sense.

it seems as if the rain won't stop any time soon. so you weigh out your options. possibly die in a handsome stranger's car or walk home and also possibly die in the cold rain? which one sounds like a more peaceful way to go?

fuck it.

you yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat, shivering as the heater hit your skin like a hug from the sun. the door shut, sealing you in with warmth and the faint smell of clean laundry and something citrusy. you knew right then that you made the correct choice.

jaehyun quickly grabs his backpack from the backseat, taking out a grey hoodie. “here, you should change before you get sick,” he offers.

you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, “you know if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked,” you teased, your playful nature coming out to mask the awkwardness that is you sitting on the passenger's seat of the school’s pride.

he let out a mock grunt, rolling his eyes with a smile as he turned to look out the rain-covered window, “shut up.”

“don’t peek, okay!” you chuckled, noticing the way his ears had turned to a slight shade of pink.

briskly changing into the hoodie that was way too big for you, you turn to the boy at the driver’s seat who’s still keeping himself busy, probably betting which raindrop racing to roll down his car window would win.

“i’m done,” you finally said after admiring him. he turns to you, giving you a soft smile, “the hoodie suits you.”

“thanks for letting me borrow it,” you grinned, matching his reflection.

“i’m jaehyun by the way,” he introduced himself, reaching out his hand.

“i know,” you say casually, realizing how weird it sounded as soon as the words left your lips, “i-i mean! everyone knows the basketball teams mvp!,” you reason as jaehyun nods, completely understanding what you meant.

“uh, im y/n,” you finally say, completing the handshake.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” jaehyun says as he looks at you quizzically.

“what? do i have something on my face??” you gasp, feeling your face for any unwanted substance, your action reminding jaehyun of the person he accidentally threw a basketball at a couple weeks ago.

he smiles after putting two in two together, realizing that you were that same person.

it was a fond memory for him, usually people would worship the ground he walked on but you…you slapped him away. a different reaction from the ones he was used to. ever since that day he hoped to run into you again.

“why are you smiling like that? oh god, is this the part where you admit to killing me??” you gushed, earning a laugh from him.

“are you sure that ball didn’t damage the inside of your brain?” he joked as you sat there registering his words.

“wait..you remember that?” you ask, genuinely confused as to why he would even remember you with all the people that surround him day by day.

“it’s not everyday i hit someone with my ball,” he smirks and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole because that memory is definitely in your top 10 most embarrassing moments and he remembers it.

“to answer your question, no... the ball did not hurt me, i just watch a lot of true crime,” you admit. jaehyun chuckles and you can’t help but join, feeling more at ease with being in his presence.

“and you think i’m really a killer?,” he quips a brow, an amused expression on his features.

‘yeah, your looks are killer’

“with a face like this?” he joked, striking a ridiculous pose, chin tilted up dramatically.

‘exactly’

you let out a giggle, “first of all, don’t ever make that face again, second, it’s always the ones you don’t expect,” you say, talking like a detective. he burst into laughter again, his eyes crinkling, and you realized then and there…you really liked the sound of his laugh. it was easy. real. addicting.

“so y/n… where do i drop you off?” jaehyun shoots you a smile.

“why? so you can know where i live and kill me in the comfort of my own home?” you continue joking around with him.

“you’re unbelievable.” he chuckles as you start directing the way to your apartment.

and as he drove through the rain, one hand on the wheel and the other occasionally tapping the rhythm of the music playing faintly in the background, you looked out the window, only to catch your reflection in the glass, wearing his hoodie, laughing in his car.

you didn’t know it then, but this was the moment everything quietly began.

the proposal.

“remind me again why you’re in college and still don’t have your driver’s license?” the boy asks you.

you looked up from your coffee, eyes narrowing at jaehyun as he sat across from you, chin propped up on one hand, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. the two of you are seated in the campus’ cafe which has quickly become your usual meet up spot. it was halfway between the music room and the laboratories – a perfect place for a medical major and a music major to meet up.

“i don’t need it,” you shrugged, casually stirring your drink with the little wooden stick they gave you, “everything’s within walking distance anyway. and if it’s not, the bus exists.”

he leaned back in his chair, eyebrows lifting in a slow, dramatic arc, “you do realize that you’d save so much more time and money if you had a car, right?”

you sighed, already seeing where this was going. this wasn’t the first time jaehyun had tried to convince you to get behind the wheel, “yeah, but I don’t need it right now,” you shrug.

he shook his head with an exasperated little grin, then set his drink down with a thud and pointed at you, “okay, okay, just imagine this.”

here it comes.

“you finally graduate, top of your class, of course, and you’ve landed the job of your dreams. everyone’s calling you doctor y/n. life is good,” he leaned forward, voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper, “and yet…you still don’t have your own car? that’s kind of lame.”

you let out a dramatic gasp, grabbing your paper straw wrapper and tossing it at him, “first of all, rude. second of all, i will obviously have my license by then!”

“exactly!” he claps, “soooo, wouldn’t it be better if you start practicing now,” he says smirking, knowing that he won this debate.

you crossed your arms, pretending to scowl, “okay, so what do you want me to do about it?”

jaehyun leaned back, acting as though he were pondering the mysteries of the universe before saying, with complete nonchalance, “let me teach you.”

your brow rose immediately, suspicious, “and what do you want in return?”

he sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable, then he smiled, “nothing, i just want more time with you,”

“with me??” you ask in disbelief.

the boy shrugs his shoulders, “yeah, i like hanging out with you.”

your heart thudded, your breath caught in your throat before you quickly masked it with a sip of your drink.

after a few seconds of silence, which jaehyun could argue felt like forever, you finally agreed, “so, what’s the first lesson?”

he lit up, clearly proud of himself, “hmm, how about you just let me drop you off everyday?”

well, now that just did not make sense to you.

you tilted your head, trying to make sense of the logic or lack thereof, “how does that help me learn? that’s literally just you driving me around.”

“visual learning first before i let you behind the wheel,” he responds, “my car is still my baby you know,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and you laugh at the words that slipped by his lips.

and maybe it was stupid. maybe letting jaehyun drive you everywhere was unnecessary. but the way he looked at you, like this tiny, mundane thing mattered just because you mattered, was more than enough for you to agree.

the first lesson.

“brake y/n, step on the brake. brake! brake!! brake!!!,” jaehyun chants like it was a mantra, sending you into panic mode as your brain suddenly couldn’t differentiate which pedal is which.

you shut your eyes instinctively, ready to come into collision with the brick wall that just kept coming closer and closer until the car came to a sudden stop.

for a moment, all you could hear was the hum of the engine and the wild pounding of your heart. your body leaned forward slightly, but something kept your head from slamming into the steering wheel. blinking rapidly, you looked up and saw jaehyun’s arm. his hand had shot out across your seat, pressed firmly against your forehead. his jaw was tight, his breath shallow, but his grip on you had been steady, sure.

“you okay?” he asked after a beat, his voice low and strained.

you took a second to gather yourself before nodding slowly. “yeah, yeah, i think i’m alive.”

jaehyun exhaled and finally pulled his arm back.

“how’d you stop the car, are you like superman or something?” you finally say, breaking the tension in the air.

jaehyun laughs, finally pulling his hand back as he gets cozy in his seat once again, “there’s something called a handbrake, y/n,” he grinned, pointing at the gadget sitting in between the two of you as you let out a silent, “oh.”

the moment dissolved into quiet as you slumped against the seat, defeated, “i told you that driving would be a bad idea!”

jaehyun rolled his eyes but his brows pulled together slightly, and you knew he wasn’t just brushing it off, “y/n… you need to learn how to drive. it’s a basic life skill.”

for the past month, jaehyun has been teaching you how to drive and this past month the only thing you truly learned was that jaehyun was an old soul. apart from basketball, he loved collecting vintage things, loved photography, music, wine, cooking, troy bolton, and you couldn’t help but want to learn more.

“ughhh yeah, yeah i know, you say that all the time,” you replied, glancing at him, “please don’t be mad.”

his expression softened instantly as he turned toward you, “i’m not mad,” he said, ruffling your hair with his usual affection, “just mildly terrified.”

you giggled as he reached for his seatbelt and unbuckled with a sigh. that was your cue. you could finally breathe again as you both clambered out and swapped seats.

the familiar thump of the driver’s side door shutting felt like a reset button, and suddenly the energy between you felt light again, comfortable. you let yourself get cozy in the passenger seat, your favorite seat, as you throw jaehyun your best mischievous grin.

he didn’t look at you. just calmly reached for the gear, put the car in reverse, and smoothly began backing up. one hand rested on the back of your seat, his body turning effortlessly as he scanned the rearview, jawline sharp in profile, lashes thick against the sunlit windshield, his long fingers flexed against the headrest near your shoulder.

you stared unabashedly, “that was so hot. do it again,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

jaehyun paused, casting you a sideways glare, “shut up, i’m driving” he muttered, but the corners of his lips betrayed him, the start of a smile curling upward.

you turned toward the window, hiding the smile blooming on your face. outside, the world passed in soft blurs of sunlight and trees, but inside the car, everything felt still, like something fragile and new had quietly taken root between you.

the first time.

“why don’t you ever deny it?”

your voice is soft, almost lost beneath the hum of the night and the low music playing from jaehyun’s car speakers. the two of you sit in the back of his car, the trunk popped open to reveal the night sky. a shared blanket pools around your waists, open snack bags scattered between your legs, the half-empty bottles of beer glinting faintly under the stars.

“deny what?” jaehyun asks, turning towards you, a bag of chips in hand.

you glance away, suddenly shy, “the other day… when johnny told you to bring your girlfriend to the party, and he meant me, you didn’t correct him.”

the scene has been bothering you for quite some time now. sure, you and jaehyun have been spending a lot of time together and you could understand how from an outside perspective, people could think you were dating.

but you weren’t, you were simply just friends.

jaehyun takes a swig of his alcoholic beverage, hesitating to respond, “d-do you not want to be?”

you blink, “wait, what?”

jaehyun chuckles, relieved that he could blame the alcohol for the blush that was forming on his face. he rests his head against the car’s frame, “you know, for someone who can memorize entire anatomy textbooks, you can be really clueless sometimes.”

you scowl at him, ready to shoot back something sarcastic, until he looks at you.

“i like you, y/n.”

the words land heavy and warm in the middle of your chest.

“y-you like me?” you echo, unsure whether to believe it or hold it at arm’s length.

“yeah,” he smiles, but there’s something vulnerable in it, “i like you.”

there’s a beat of silence, like the universe is holding its breath.

“…since when?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“since the day i first met you,” he confesses, turning away and looking up at the stars.

you turn to him, noticing the grin that was displayed on his face and the blush painting his ears and you couldn’t help yourself, it was like your body had a mind of its own and you were no longer in control.

you feel your hands instinctively rise to his face, gently guiding his head to face you. jaehyun watches your every move, almost mesmerized, eyes flickering down to your lips.

your fingers ghost across his cheek, then brush against his lips and that was all the permission he needed.

he leans in slowly, hand cupping your cheek with such care it makes your chest ache. his lips meet yours, soft, cautious, like he’s been waiting forever. you respond instantly, melting into him, letting the kiss deepen, pulling you both under.

the more you kissed him, the more addictive he got.

he tastes like beer and vanilla chapstick. one kiss turns to two. two turns to something needier, hands exploring, hearts thudding. you wanted more. your hands found themselves slightly pulling at the boy's hair as jaehyun changed the position, throwing you over him so that you could straddle him, knees tucked beside his thighs.

forgetting that you guys were still in the comfort of his car, your head makes contact with the roof, breaking off the kiss, “ow,” you whined, hand going straight to your head, making you and jaehyun burst into laughter, breathless and giddy.

“i really gotta stop accidentally injuring you,” he grins, rubbing the spot on your head with sympathy, before bringing his lips up to soothe the pain with kisses.

“i think your car’s trying to keep us in check,” you smile, soft giggles slipping from your lips.

“or it’s warning me before I lose control,” he says, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw.

you meet his gaze, your voice dropping, “what if i want you to lose control?”

you were challenging him and he’s definitely up for it. jaehyun swallows hard, eyes darkening with something deeper than mischief. he doesn’t say a word, just closes the trunk with one smooth motion and takes your hand, guiding you into the backseat with quiet urgency.

this time you straddle him with ease, his lips immediately on yours as his hand wanders all throughout your body. he licks your bottom lip and you give in, parting your lips open to meet his tongue, feeling him smile through the kiss.

“you’re dangerous,” he murmurs, “you really have no idea what you do to me.”

you breathe against his neck, one hand splaying across his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart, “i think i do.”

rough hands guide your body down until you’re fully sat upon his hard cock, emphasizing the way he needs you. you rock into him once and he cant help but release a groan of pleasure, “my cock is throbbing for you, baby,” the pet name sends your mind into a haze, rocking into him again and again until you’ve set a pace that mixed your moans with his.

“baby, im gonna cum in my pants,” he grunts, turning you on even more.

“you like me that much, huh?,” you tease, not losing your rhythm, and all he could do was grunt in reply as he lost control, releasing evidence on his sweatpants.

you giggle at the effect you had on him, snapping him out of his daze, “what’s so funny, pretty girl?”

“i haven't even touched you yet,” you tease.

“can you blame me?, i've been thinking about this ever since you got undressed in my car,” he confesses and your eyes almost bulge out of the sockets.

“yeah? what else did you think about?,” you taunt him.

“i’ll show you,” he says before gently placing you down his car seat, as he helps you out of your jeans.

the space is small. the car is cramped. but nothing was going to stop him from fitting his large frame in between your legs.

he places a kiss above your panties. your hips immediately react to his actions. he smirks, “you like me this much, huh?” he teases you with your own words.

“jaehyun, please do something,” you whine.

jaehyun pushes your panties to the side, finally giving you what you both wanted.

the first i love you.

“come on, just trust me,” jaehyun whispers in your ear, the warmth of his breath grazing your skin and sending butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. his voice is low, teasing, calm in a way that only makes you more curious. and more flustered.

“jae, how long are we going to have to drive for?” you whine again, blindfolded with a handkerchief that still smells like his cologne.

“we’re almost there,” he replies, chuckling at your lack of patience.

“ugh finee,” you sigh, slouching in your chair until the car comes to a stop.

“are we he—?,” before you can finish, his lips press against yours in a kiss that completely pushed out all of your thoughts. you freeze in place, lips softening as you instinctively lean into it, feeling the smile tugging at his mouth before he pulls away.

“that’s how much you wanted me to shut up huh?” you smirk.

“nah,” jaehyun chuckles, shifting gears with a casual ease. you can hear the grin in his voice.

“then what was that for?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing and jaehyun can’t help but chuckle at your expression.

“i just wanted to kiss my girlfriend at a red light, is that a crime?” he teases.

you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face, “nope,” you murmur, “feel free to do it again, whenever.”

this past week of being jaehyun’s official girlfriend has been a dream. you’re not sure how long honeymoon avenue lasts but you did know that you wanted to keep driving down this road as long as jaehyun’s the one sitting in the driver's seat.

the car slows to a stop, and you perk up, “are we he—?”

your question gets cut off by another kiss, this one slower, more lingering, like he just wanted one more moment of you before the surprise.

“you really like interrupting me today,” you whisper, dazed.

“only when I can’t help myself.”

moments later, he’s helping you out of the car, one hand around your back, the other gently clasping yours. you feel the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, the subtle shift in wind telling you that you’re somewhere open, peaceful.

and then he let’s go

“jaehyun?” you ask, the loss of contact making you nervous.

“im here,” he whispers right by your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“are you ready?” he asks. you nod before he carefully unties the handkerchief, finally allowing you to take in the beautiful view right in front of you.

“oh my god,” you awe in admiration, “did you set this all up yourself?”

in front of you lays a yellow checkered picnic blanket, filled with a bunch of your favorite snacks, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and his guitar seated perfectly on the side. the sky is blue, the birds are chirping, and jaehyun is standing right next to you. you could've sworn you were transported into a fairytale book.

jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, cheeks already pink, “yeah, i know how busy you are and i just wanted you to take a moment to unwind,” he admits, as you turn around facing him, noticing his ears turning that shade of red that you grew to love.

love.

it’s a strong word. but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s the reason for the butterflies in your stomach. your heart swells so fast it feels like it might burst. you reach for his hand and twine your fingers through his, “you’re unreal, you know that?”

you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, grateful kiss. he responds just as gently, thumb grazing your cheek like he’s memorizing how you feel in his arms.

the world around you seems to fade. no ticking clocks, no deadlines, no chaos. just you, him, and the way time stands still when your lips meet.

when you finally break apart, he smiles at you like he’s the luckiest boy alive, “come on, sit. i’ve got one more surprise.”

“oh god. what could top this?,” you smile.

he settles onto the blanket, pulls his guitar into his lap, and glances at you nervously, “i uh… wrote you a song.”

your eyes widen, “you what?”

“i wrote you a song,” he says more confidently this time, grabbing his guitar. you can literally feel your heart thumping out of your chest like they do in those cartoon shows and you wonder if he can hear how loudly it’s beating.

and then he sings.

the words are sweet. honest. every line is a little window into his heart, filled with shy glances, secret hopes, and the quiet moments he never had the courage to tell you about until now.

as soon as he plucked the last chord, there were only three words that could slip past your lips.

“i love you.”

it slips out before you can second-guess it. and for a split second, your heart stops. maybe it’s too soon. maybe you’ve ruined something.

but then jaehyun’s entire face lights up, eyes crinkling, dimple forming, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“i love you too,” he says, like he’s been holding it in for far too long.

you don’t even let him finish before you’re leaning in, pulling him into a kiss that says everything your words can’t.

seven months in heaven.

heaven. that’s what it felt like to be consumed by jung jaehyun. the kind of love that didn’t creep in slowly but crashed over you like a wave, sudden, wild and all-consuming.

month one. you were like two peas in a pod, stuck together at the hip. everywhere you went, he was there. almost like gravity had shifted and you couldn’t help but orbit each other. the whole campus watched the two of you. some in envy, some in awe. but none of it mattered because in your world, it was just you and him.

you clung to him like a koala, constantly reaching for him — his hand, his hoodie, his attention. and he absolutely adored every second of it. adored you.

he picked you up after every class, waiting at the door like he belonged there. he drove you home with one hand on the wheel, the other in yours. played your favorite songs, and teased you when you tried to sing along off-key.

most nights, he stayed over. his skin wrapped around yours like a second layer of warmth. and when he didn’t, you’d fall asleep in one of his shirts, phone resting on your chest after hours of late-night calls. his voice the last thing you heard before drifting off.

month two. you stopped saying me and started saying we.

there was a toothbrush for him, right next to yours, in your apartment. and a matching one in his dorm. you had a growing collection of his hoodies in your closet. he pretended not to notice but his smile gave him away every time you wore one.

you know all of his schedules and he memorized yours without trying. you’ve cancelled plans just to stay in, legs tangled on the couch, sharing dreams like secrets under warm blankets and future plans whispered between kisses.

it started to feel like a forever kind of thing.

month three. you were still coasting down honeymoon avenue, but now it came with the deeper things.

late night vulnerability, childhood stories, the fears he never told anyone else, the ones you didn’t even know you could speak aloud.

you shared each other’s pressure. shared each other’s troubles. you were there when things got too much, becoming his personal safe haven and you, his.

when the world was too loud, too cruel, too overwhelming – you had each other. that was all you both needed.

month four. i love you wasn’t just something you said. it lived in your actions. it was jaehyun massaging your hands after a long day. you memorizing his coffee order down to the way he liked the foam. the way he always buckled your seatbelt for you. the way you always brought him his favorite coffee order.

his car playlists was filled with songs you love. there are pieces of you in the compartment box, a lipgloss, a scrunchie, a tiny pouch filled with your basic essentials.

your fridge was filled with his favorite snacks, his favorite beer. love letters on sticky notes he would left behind tuck in between the magnets.

and on quiet nights, you fell asleep on his lap as he traced your face with his fingertips like he was trying to memorize you forever. he looked at you like you were a poem he never wanted to stop reading.

and one night he whispered in your ear, “it’s you and me forever, baby.”

and you believed him.

month five. things got a little quieter. not in a bad way. just…settled.

less adrenaline and more comfort. routine settled in but you liked it.you liked knowing he’d be there. you liked how he could tell when you were anxious just by your breathing.

he’d squeeze your thigh gently under the table during group dinners just to comfort you.

you’d look at him and feel like you were home. he was home.

month six. fights began, but they were soft.

little misunderstandings. jealousy here and there. moments where your insecurities brushed up against his.

but every argument ended the same way. his forehead against yours, apologies and i love you’s slipping out between sighs. he’d kiss your temple like he was sealing a wound and you’d forgive him. of course you would.

and besides, his red flags weren’t red. they were beige. soft, muted, easy to overlook in the warmth of everything else.

month seven. you got busy. he got anxious. texts were left on read a little longer. calls ended faster.

but when you were together, it still felt like heaven. his touch still sets you alight. your laugh still made him smile like it was the first time he’d heard it.

he’d still looked at you like you were everything.

and that was enough. wasn’t it?

the first real crack.

“babe, i think we’re lost,” you say, your voice gentle but laced with nervous laughter, trying to keep the mood light.

your eyes flick toward jaehyun, who’s gripping the steering wheel tighter than before, taking yet another left at a stop sign that looks hauntingly familiar.

the sun was already beginning to set, washing the sky with orange and purple hues, but instead of basking in its beauty, the two of you were trapped in an unfamiliar neighborhood, google maps stubbornly rerouting with every turn.

you peek at him from the passenger seat, watching the way his jaw tightens.

“would it kill you to give the right directions for once?” he mutters, not even looking at you.

the sentence lands heavier than it should. it isn’t just about directions. you know that. and maybe he does too.

your smile fades as you blink at him. “sorry…i thought i was.”

he exhales through his nose, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “you always think you’re right, even when you’re not.”

and there it is. not a yell. not a fight. but something colder. detached. dismissive.

it’s the way he says always like it’s not just this moment but a flaw in your character. something he’s been cataloging along the way.

it’s silent. the kind of silence that doesn’t feel peaceful. the kind that buzzes in your ears and makes your chest feel too tight. you look out the window, trying to calm your breathing, trying not to let the sting behind your eyes turn into tears.

you’ve had fights, sure. arguments over little things, forgotten plans, mixed signals, late replies. but he’s never spoken to you like that before. never made you feel small.

you’ve seen jaehyun tired. you’ve seen him frustrated. but not like this. not with this edge. and for the first time since the two of you got together, you realize that love doesn’t shield you from moments like these. that even someone who sings you songs and holds you gently through the night can sound distant and cold.

eventually, he pulls over and cuts the engine. the car humming in the silence.

“baby,” he calls out, softer now, quieter. you don’t answer. just stare out the window.

he leans back against the headrest, rubbing his hands over his face, “i didn’t mean that,” he murmurs, voice heavy with regret.

still, you don’t respond. because maybe he didn’t mean it but he still said it and part of you wonders what else he’s thought and never voiced.

he sighs, “i’m sorry...i just, i’ve had a long week, and i wanted today to go perfectly and now we’re lost and running late and…” he trails off, frustration melting into guilt.

“you snapped at me,” you say finally, still not looking at him, “and i didn’t deserve that.”

“no, you didn’t,” he agrees. “i was out of line.”

you finally turn to face him and he looks… regretful. like he wants to rewind time. like he’s already punishing himself.

“i love you,” he adds, almost like a plea.

you nod slowly, your voice quiet. “i love you too, but don’t talk to me like that again.”

“i won’t,” he promises.

and you believe him. you always do.

but something unspoken lingers in the car after that. a sliver of tension that stays with you. because no matter how many i love you’s follow, you don’t forget the first time someone makes you feel like you’re too much.

jaehyun reaches across the console and gently takes your hand. you let him. and the car keeps driving, this time in silence, but with your fingers laced together like a quiet truce.

it’s the first real crack.

but sometimes, the cracks let everything else in.

the blonde.

frat parties were never your scene. sticky floors, booming bass, red solo cups, and bodies pressed too close together, it all felt too loud, too overwhelming. you haven’t been in one in a while but since your boyfriend was one of the frat’s favorite golden boys and the fact he practically begged you to come to the one tonight, here you were, weaving your way through the crowd in one of his oversized hoodies, searching for the only reason you even showed up.

you spot him before he sees you, standing dead center in the living room, drink in hand, laughing at something the girl in front of him said. giving her the dimpled smile you thought was only reserved for you.

she’s tall. blonde. pretty, in that effortless, dangerous way. the kind of girl you never learned how to be.

and her hand is on his arm. too familiar. too comfortable. she laughs again, tilting her head back, fingers tracing his bicep like it belongs to her. like she’s done it before. like she knows he won’t stop her.

he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t pull away. just smiles, lazy and amused as she leans in closer, lips brushing his ear as she whispers something that makes him laugh again.

your stomach churns.

it’s irrational, maybe. but also, maybe it’s not. maybe it’s the way her hand lingers too long. or the way he leans in like he doesn't even notice. or maybe it’s the way it makes you feel invisible in a room where you were supposed to be his favorite person.

then he sees you. his eyes meet yours through the crowd. locking for just a second. and something in his expression falters, like he didn’t expect to see you. like he forgot you’d be here.

and suddenly, you’re the one who looks away. like you’re the intruder. like you’re the one who was doing something wrong.

moments later, his arms snake around your waist from behind, “hey baby,” jaehyun murmurs in your ear, voice low and thick with alcohol, “you came.”

his breath is warm against your skin as he presses wet, messy kisses along your jaw and down your neck. he smells like whiskey and whatever cheap cologne she was probably wearing. his grip tightens like he’s afraid you’ll slip away but your body stays stiff in his hold.

you twist slightly to face him, placing a hand on his chest, a quiet boundary.

“who was that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, light, but the slight edge in your voice betrays you.

“hmm?” he hums, lips still trailing your skin.

“the girl. the one you were talking to.”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his gaze is hazy, but amused, he knows you too well. “have i ever told you how cute you are when you’re jealous?,” he teases, sucking that soft spot right below your ear.

you push him back. gentle but firm. your expression is blank. he notices.

“she’s just an old friend,” he adds casually, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear like that makes it all better, “don’t worry about it.”

and maybe that should be enough.

but something about the way he says it, the way he smiles, too easy, too quick to disregard your feelings. it all leaves a strange, sour taste in your mouth.

still, you don’t push it. not here. not in front of the crowd. not when he’s swaying slightly on his feet and leaning all his weight into you like you’re his safe place. like he doesn’t even realize how tightly your jaw is clenched.

later, in his room, it’s just the two of you with the door closed and the world outside muffled. he’s quieter now. less drunk. but his hands are still greedy. still tracing the places he’s always claimed a map he knows by heart. his hands finding their way beneath your shirt, along your thighs, between your legs.

you don’t stop him. because it’s easier to fall into him than to fight the pit in your stomach. easier to let yourself believe his mouth on your neck means i choose you. easier to kiss him back, let your clothes fall, let your bodies tangle in the dark. let yourself believe this means he’s still yours. all yours.

the sex is slow, tender, familiar. all mouths and murmurs and fingers threading through hair. he whispers your name like a prayer, like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the moment. he moves inside you like you’re the only thing tethering him to this moment. like if he touches you hard enough, long enough, all the cracks will seal shut again. and for a while, you forget. you forget the party. the blonde. the ache in your chest.

you just feel him.

“i love you,” he breathes. you say it back.

but when it’s over, when you’re curled against his chest, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your back, your eyes stay open in the dark.

his body is warm. his arms are wrapped around you. but something still feels different. something feels off.

like the air’s a little heavier. the silence is a little louder. your mind is miles away. still watching her laugh. still wondering why he didn’t move away.

you don’t ask. you don’t cry. you don’t accuse. you just lie there in the silence. and he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does but he doesn’t ask.

and that’s the part that stings the most. because love is still there. but the trust?

that might be the thing slipping quietly through the cracks.

the surprise.

it had been a brutal couple of weeks. your schedule had been merciless consisting of clinicals, overflowing textbooks, late-night study groups and back-to-back lectures. you barely had time to breathe. let alone see your boyfriend.

but you missed him. god, you missed him.

so today, on your first free day in weeks, you chose him. you skipped the library. you shut your laptop. you pushed aside your exhaustion and made time.

you spent the day learning how to make his favorite dish, the one he said tasted like home, the one he said he missed. you got the ingredients, followed the recipe, burnt it once, then tried again. the kitchen was a mess but your heart was full. you wanted it to be perfect.

you were nervous but excited. the kind of excitement that makes your fingers tingle and your heart race a little faster.

you hadn’t told him you were coming, you wanted to surprise him, make up for the time you’d been gone.

as you approached his dorm, your nerves bubbled up again. you balanced the container in your hands, smoothing your hair and checking your phone. no texts. even better. he had no idea that you were coming.

you knock once. no answer. you try the knob. it’s locked. you pulled out a duplicate of his key, the one he had made for you. hear the door click open.

and you step inside with a soft smile already forming, “jae?”

but his name dies in your throat. the smile doesn’t last. because there, tangled in his sheets, is jaehyun. half naked. sleepy-eyed. and she’s with him. the blonde.

your whole body stills, breath vanishing, fingers going numb, the container slipping from your hands and hitting the floor with a hearbreaking thud. you think you hear the lid crack open, food spilling out but you can’t look away from the bed.

from her. her mascara smudged, hair a mess, lips swollen.

jaehyun’s eyes follow hers, dazed, then panicked the second he sees you, “y/n.”

just your name. not baby.

“i—this—,” he stumbles over his words, sheet pooling at his waist as he sits up, guilt written across his face.

you don’t want to hear it. not the excuses. not the explanations. all you can see is the truth laid bare in front of you. her in his shirt, him in her arms, your world unraveling at your feet along with the meal you made just for him.

“this was supposed to be a surprise,” you whisper, your voice trembling, quiet and broken, like if you spoke any louder, you’d shatter completely.

“it’s not what it looks like!,” he pleads, getting up, grabbing his jeans like it would fix anything.

but it is what it looks like. it’s exactly what it looks like.

and it breaks you.

you blink once, twice, the tears blur the room but you don’t let them fall. not yet. “i really… really tried to make this work,” you say, your voice cracking, “i gave you everything i could and you—” you choke back the tears burning at the back of your throat, “you gave it to her.”

jaehyun looks like he’s about to break, but you don’t let him speak. you can’t. because you knew that if you stay any longer, if you let him reach you, touch you, beg you…you’d forgive him. you’d fold. you’d believe in him again. and he doesn’t deserve that.

so you turn. and you leave. you don’t look back. not even when he calls your name. not even when he runs after you, barefoot in the hall.

you don’t stop.

life without him.

the first week, you didn’t talk much. your voice felt foreign in your own throat. your phone buzzed more than usual. sometimes you wished his name would pop up but it never did. the only ones who cared enough were your friends. the ones who kept asking if you were okay. the ones who were quick to offer wine nights, sleepovers, distractions.

you appreciated it. but the truth was you weren’t okay. far from it. and the distractions never worked. but the silence always returned. every night. and maybe the absence was worse than the betrayal.

because every hallway you walked through had a memory of him. your brain betrayed you by replaying flashes of his smile. his hoodies still filled up half of your closet. his toothbrush was still next to yours. but he was no longer there.

the second week, you cried more. everything reminded you of him. the cars driving by, the campus cafe you both used to meet at where you once spent entire afternoons doing nothing but sharing fries and laughter, the songs that played.

worse than missing him was knowing that you weren’t allowed to anymore. not after what he did.

because the boy you missed, the one who kissed you at red lights, the one who wrote you a song. that boy chose someone else. with the same hands that used to only reach for you.

you try to explain it to your friends over dinner one night, but they don’t get it. they mean well. but they didn’t know him the way you did.

they didn’t see the version of jaehyun who whispered dreams into your ear at 3 a.m. who played you lullabies on his guitar when you couldn’t sleep. who kissed your knuckles before every exam and told you he believed in you. who made playlists just for long drives. who taught you how to parallel park without ever raising his voice.

so when they say things like “you’re better off” or “he didn’t deserve you anyway,” it doesn’t help.

it only makes you feel worse. because even if he doesn’t deserve you, you still want him. you still ache for him in every quiet moment.

and no one could unteach your heart what it already knew.

the third week, you almost called him. just once. your finger hovers over his name in your phone. but you don’t press it. because what would you even say? why wasn’t i enough? was she better? do you miss me? do you still love me?

no. you couldn’t do that to yourself no matter how badly you wanted answers.

you tried to return the pieces of him that haunts your space. walked all the way to his dorm, box in hand. but when you got to the door, the weight of it hit you so hard you turned right around and left. instead, you shoved everything under your bed. hoodie, pictures, all of the gifts he gave you throughout your relationship.

and you don’t call. you cry into your pillow instead.

the fourth week, you finally go to class again, with lipstick on. it’s not much. it doesn’t mean you’re over him. but it means you can at least walk into a room and not completely fall apart.

you even manage to laugh once, something your friends don’t miss. they send each other secret smiles when you’re not looking. they know it’s a good sign.

and even though you’re still grieving, still aching, still remembering him every time you hear a guitar strum, you start to find little moments of peace. not joy, not yet. but peace. tiny and fragile. but enough.

life without you.

he wanted to call, god, he wanted to.

every day since you left, his fingers hovered over your name. your contact was still saved with a heart beside it. still in his emergency. still starred.

the day you walked in on him — standing frozen with the lunchbox in your hands and tears burning in your eyes turned into a haunting memory.

you didn’t scream. you didn’t yell. you just looked at him like he’d shattered something sacred. and he ran after you, barefoot, panicked, half-dress and breathless.

but he stopped. and maybe that’s the part that haunts him the most.

he never called. not because he wasn’t sorry. not because he didn’t care. but because he didn’t know how to face the wreckage he caused. because deep down, he knew you deserved more than what he gave you. more than the version of himself that let you down in the worst way.

and the worst part? he had fallen for the blonde.

not in the way he fell for you, not the meteoric, world-tilting, i wrote you a song, kind of way.

but in a way that required no gravity. no weight. no soul.

he didn’t have to fight for the blonde. she showed up at every party, laughed at his jokes without really knowing what they meant. she kissed him like it was expected, not treasured. and she had time…time he hadn’t gotten from the girl he used to sit under the stars with.

he remembered that ache too well. the way you would cancel plans because of labs, fall asleep with textbooks in your lap instead of his arms, show up late with guilt in your eyes and coffee in your hands, apologizing with forehead kisses and tired smiles.

he missed you even then. missed the weight of your head on his chest. missed the silence you could sit in together without it ever feeling awkward. missed the way you loved him in your own quiet, exhausted ways.

but at some point, he got tired of missing you. of waiting. of feeling like second place to your ambition, your plans, your future he couldn’t see himself in.

so when the blonde leaned in close at that party, when her laugh filled the space that had been empty for too long, he didn’t pull away. he let it happen. over and over. until “don’t worry about it” turned into something else. something messier.

but nothing about it ever felt like you.

because every time she said his name, it never sounded right. every time she touched him, it didn’t burn like you. and no matter how many nights he spent tangled up in her limbs, he couldn’t get the memory of you out of his head.

he didn’t call. because he didn’t know what he’d say. because saying “i’m sorry” wouldn’t be enough. and saying “i still love you” would only hurt more.

he still played his guitar, but the songs didn’t sound the same. they didn’t come easy like they did when you were sitting cross-legged on his bed, humming along. he still laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. he scrolled through your socials more than he’d ever admit. he saw the smiles you posted with new cafes, new books, new friends. he wondered if you still thought of him. wondered if you hated him. worried that you didn’t.

sometimes at night, he found himself dreaming about you. vivid, disorienting dreams where you were still together, lying on the hood of his car with your fingers laced and the stars overhead. he’d wake up with tears in his eyes, and the blonde would ask what’s wrong?

he never had the heart to tell her.

he never had the heart to call you.

so instead, he stayed quiet. learned to live with the silence. with the guilt. with the ghost of a love that used to fill every corner of his world.

even as it killed him a little more each day.

three months after.

you passed each other on campus once. your hair was cut short, his has grown a little longer. both of you slowed. both of you looked. neither of you stopped.

he looked tired. not in a bad way. just older, like life weighed on him a bit. his hoodie was wrinkled. he had a stubble now. and he looked at you like you were the last page of a book he still wasn’t ready to put down.

there was a twitch in his fingers, a muscle memory of reaching for you. you saw it. you felt it. and you hated how much it made your chest ache. how your heart stuttered like it remembered a song it used to know by heart.

tha air between you was thick. electric. so many words. none of them spoken. he opened his mouth slightly as if to say your name but no sound came out. and you? you thought of every version of him you’d ever loved. including the one that cheated on you.

a part of you wanted to stop. to ask how he’d been. to ask if he ever missed you at 3a.m. when the world got too quiet. but you didn't. you kept walking. because what do you say to someone who once held your soul, and now only holds silence?

someone who couldn’t even love you enough to give explanations and apologies?

no words. no closure. just the aching knowledge that once, this person had been your entire world and now they were just a stranger with your memories.

back to present day. one year later.

you’d been driving for nearly an hour now, one of those late-night drives meant to quiet your thoughts, to press shuffle on a playlist full of nothing and everything. the road was nearly empty, the sky hazy with stars, and your fingers tapped anxiously against the wheel.

you didn’t even see the stop sign until it was too late. your foot slammed the brakes. the world lurched. metal kissed metal.

“holy shit!,” you yell. the jolt snapped you back to reality as your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline flushing through your veins.

of course you would crash your car the same week you got your license.

you stumbled out of the car, eyes wide, scanning for damage, panic rising in your throat. that’s when you heard it.

“y/n?!”

and your whole body froze. you didn’t have to look to know who it was.

that voice — the one you still heard in your dreams. the one that still echoed in the back of your head on days when you let yourself remember. the one you hadn’t heard in over a year but could recognize in a heartbeat. the one you made peace with.

slowly, you looked up, and there he was – jaehyun. standing on the other side of the road. frozen. like he’d seen a ghost. his jaw slack, eyes just as wide as yours.

for a second, neither of you said anything. you couldn’t.

he’s the last person you ever wanted to see in a moment like this. or maybe the first.

you swallowed hard, heat rising behind your eyes.

‘great. the universe fucking loves me.’

“hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice unsure, softer than you remembered.

his car looked fine, a little scratched on the side where your car clipped it, but nothing major. that’s when you noticed it.

“is that… a new car?”

“uh, yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

his eyes didn’t meet yours and that stung more than it should’ve. that awkwardness…that silence. you once knew everything he was feeling with a glance. now, you could barely read him.

“i… i’m really sorry,” you say quickly, trying to regain your footing, “i wasn’t paying attention. i’ll cover whatever damage…we can exchange info—”

he steps closer, inspecting the scrape between your two cars, “hmm, it’s fine. no one was hurt, and the damage isn’t bad. i can just get it fixed.”

your breath catches, “are you sure?”

“yeah.” short. clipped. just like the way he left you.

you nod, crossing your arms, trying to pull yourself back together, but the silence that followed was heavy. too full of things you’d never got to say.

“…you got your license,” he says quietly.

you look up, blinking in surprise, “uh… yeah, i-i did.”

and he smiled. that same dimpled smile. the one you used to love. the one you haven’t seen in months, but still feel somewhere beneath your skin. it felt like being hit by a memory and a wave of grief at the same time.

there’s a beat.

then he turns, ready to leave. but something inside you cracks open, that quiet ache that never fully healed. so you call out, voice just barely above a whisper.

“hey…jaehyun?”

he stopped, turned back, eyes searching, “yeah?”

you swallowed, heart thudding your chest. you looked at him, really looked at him, and you saw it. the sadness in his face, the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“i just…” your voice came out softer than you intended, “i just wanted to say thank you. for teaching me.”

he stared at you for a moment and something shifted in his face. his smile this time was different. not the one you fell for. this one was heavier. more tired. more honest.

he nods once, “you’re welcome.”

and in that moment, you knew. he regretted it. the blonde, the silence, the year without you. all of it.

but you both said nothing more because what was left to say?

you didn’t need his apologies anymore. you didn’t need anything from him at all.

so you mirror his nod. and without another word, the two of you head back to your cars.

two cars. two people. driving in opposite directions.

but the ache in your chest tells you you’re both still carrying pieces of each other that no one else ever really got to touch.

and maybe that’s the saddest part.

the crash from his eyes.

he hadn’t even planned to go out that night. the party invite sat unopened in his messages. the game on the radio blurred into background noise. he just needed to drive with the windows down, mind quiet, something to drown out the guilt that still clawed at him when he was alone.

he told himself he was fine. told his friends he’d moved on. smiled when the blonde kissed his cheek in public, even though it felt like swallowing sand.

but even though he got a new number, he never deleted yours. never stopped writing songs he never finished. never got around to throwing out the old hoodie you left in his dorm until it no longer smelled like you.

he didn’t expect the crash. didn’t see it coming until it jolted his body forward, his hands tightening instinctively on the wheel. the impact wasn’t bad. just enough to shock him.

he cursed under his breath, unbuckled, and got out, already preparing to reassure whoever hit him. but then he heard it.

“holy shit!”

that voice. your voice. his blood ran cold. he turned. and time stopped.

you were standing there, heart pounding, wide-eyed, with your car door open and your hands shaking. you looked older but still so god damn beautiful it hurt to breathe.

“y/n?!”

your name escaped before he could stop it. and when you turned to face him, something inside him cracked open.

he hadn’t seen you in a year. three hundred and sixty-five days of pretending he didn’t miss you.

of pretending it didn’t kill him every time someone brought you up. now here you were. like a ghost he hadn’t been ready to face and he was the idiot who still dreamed about you.

“hey, are you okay?” he asked, because what else could he say?

you nodded, clearly shaken, eyes flickering over the cars, the scratch, the damage, anything but him.

“is that… a new car?” you asked.

he ran a hand through his hair, forcing a breath,“yeah.”

he didn’t tell you that it was his way of trying to erase you. couldn’t tell you that it made it worse because now the passenger seat felt empty in the wrong ways.

you apologized, of course you did, still so considerate. still so gentle. even when he was the one who wrecked everything first.

“i’ll cover the damage…we can exchange info…”

god. you were nervous. rambling. and he hated that you were talking to him like a stranger.

“it’s fine,” he said quietly. because no scratch on a bumper could compare to the wreckage of you leaving his life.

“are you sure?” you sounded uncertain. like you didn’t trust him anymore.

you were right not to.

“yeah,” he said again. bare. hollow. final.

he should’ve told you then. told you that he still thought about you every time he passed the cafe on campus. that the blonde was long gone, that she never really stayed, because she could feel what he didn’t say. that the only reason he hadn’t called was because he didn’t know how to say i never stopped loving you without falling apart.

but instead, he said something stupid.

“you got your license.”

and when you smiled, shy and small, it undid him. that smile. that softness. the same one that made him feel like maybe love didn’t have to hurt.

you didn’t say much. didn’t ask how he was. didn’t offer closure. not like, he deserved it. but then, just as he turned to leave, you stopped him.

“hey…jaehyun?”

his name on your lips again. he turned, heart thudding, eyes burning.

“i just wanted to say thank you. for teaching me.”

and he almost lost it right there. because that was you, even now. still choosing gratitude over bitterness. still offering peace, when all he’d left you with was silence.

“you’re welcome,” he whispered.

but what he really wanted to say was:

i’m sorry. i never meant to hurt you. you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i didn’t realize it until it was too late. i think I’ll always love you.

instead, he watched you return to your car. and he did the same.

he drove off into the night with a hollow in his chest that hadn’t shrunk in a year and he knows that missing space will always be in your hands.

THE END.

͙͘͡★

an: finishing this feels likes a breath of relief not gonna lie. thank you for reading! let me know who you would like to see in this series! i’m thinking maybe johnny with enough for you next? but idk! leave your thoughts with me if you’d like <3

[madethistoprocrastinate]

OMG YAS! Please! I REALLY hope that the Sonic movies start to lean more into some cute hobbies and dynamics that these characters might have (Obviously not replacing the action that this franchise is known for) Because if you're a Sonic fan, you know we love our cute head cannons. So it would be really great if the movies leaned into this fact by giving the characters cute little quirks outside of what they can bring to the table in combat situations, and the characters being artsy would be so fun! (Especially because there are so many art styles and mediums out there that could easily be assigned to different characters)

A personal hope of my is that they release another TV show (sort of like the knuckles TV show), but instead of focusing on just one character, it focuses more on the dynamics within the family and how the 3 mobien brothers are adjusting to Earth also maybe how the town they live in is adjusting. (There's no way everyone was just fine with some aliens moving in.)

It would also be great if they looked more into the characters' backstories. We kind of just found out about them, and then they sort of just dropped off a cliff, and we didn't get much more. Sure, we got a little bit with Sonic in the third movie, but still, I'd like to see some more Sonic and Knuckles character development in regards with their back story, seeing how connected they are. There's got to be some lasting resentment, even if they don't realise it, and I also want to know more about Tails because all we really got was him saying he was bullied and that's it (I want more Tails-oriented stories because he deserves it). Plus, what about Karl? I want to see more of him. He had so much potential with his Dynamic with Sonic (I know he was just meant to be a passing joke, but I could see there being something there)

I don't know, I think it would be cool to get just some cute little hobbies and skills here and there that are less plot-oriented (if that's the right way of putting it), it doesn't even have to be outright said, like for example: Tails could step up into the attic and see Sonic playing the guitar and humming to himself or sing a little melody quietly and he stops when tails comes in. not causes he’s embarrassed but just because he wants to be able to engage in conversation with him and Tails doesn't say anything about the guitar like seeing sonic play is a normal occurrence and something that Tails knows he does.

I just think it would be cute to see them doing things like that (I will literally beg and plead just to see Sonic play a guitar in the Sonic movies in any way, please)

Sorry, I went a little bit off topic there, but in conclusion, I think it would be Amazing if Sonic characters were canonically given little quirks, skills and hobbies outside of fighting and combat. Just for funzies :)

I think Sonic characters should be allowed to be artists more often

...

Amy is already a painter, a culinary artist, and a chef. She also has a lovely aesthetic sense. I can also kinda see her collabing with Honey to design dresses and outfits. She also making screenplays & comics!

Cream compiling flower vases and bouquets and crowns.

Rouge having a knack for interior designing and makeup and blending in skills while still standing out.

Vector being a sound and music artist, composing remixes and mashups etc

Tails creates logos and graphic interfaces and has architectural designing skills

Knuckles being a damn good sculptor and being great at wood carving

Sonic secretly makes chaotic graffiti's and him doodling on random stuff and having a talent in music and singing and similar performative arts. Not to mention that swordsmanship is also an art just as much as it is a skill.

I think Shadow would enjoy learning crochet. He'd also kill at figure skating.

Espio setting up a meditation garden, Espio doing calligraphy, Espio doing poetry!

Charmy doodling cartoons and stickers.

I can definitely see Blaze doing fiery ballet. And other recreational arts.

And Silver with his awe-inspiring massive structures made using random scraps and debris

....

Let Sonic characters be artists

[riieeuu]

You’re sick, your weekend plans with your boyfriend are ruined, and now Gojo Satoru is on a mission to “take care” of you.

You didn’t know what to expect after telling Gojo Satoru—your boyfriend of almost a year—that you couldn’t hang out this weekend.

"But whhyyyyyy—"

His voice rang out loud and dramatic through the phone, making you grimace as you quickly pulled it away from your ear. God, he could really whine when he wanted to.

“Satoru, calm down,” you said, your voice stuffy as you tugged at the edge of your blanket, curled up miserably in bed. “I’m sick. I think I caught a cold or something.”

Just your luck. You’d been looking forward to this date for weeks—one of the few weekends where you were both free. Now here you were, nose red and raw from all the wiping, stuck sneezing under layers of blankets.

“I’ll probably scare off everyone with my coughing fits,” you added with a weak chuckle. “Can we postpone it?”

There was a pause on the other end.

And then... he hung up.

You stared at your phone, confused. That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. Was he really that upset?

Sure, it was sudden, but it’s not like you were lying. You would never cancel a date with him unless you absolutely had to—

Ding dong.

The doorbell rang, interrupting your spiral of thoughts.

You blinked, groaning as you dragged yourself out of bed. It was still early, and you couldn’t imagine who’d be at the door right now. Wrapped tightly in your blanket like a sad little burrito, you sniffled and shuffled to the door, already tired from just standing up.

When you opened it, you barely had a moment to register who it was before two strong arms wrapped around you.

"Satoru?" you croaked, voice hoarse and thick with congestion.

“Yep,” he said, nuzzling the top of your head like a cat. “In the flesh. The very kissable, very charming, very—”

“Very loud,” you mumbled into his chest, too tired to push him away. “What are you doing here?”

“Emergency boyfriend duties,” he replied, pulling back just enough to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. “I've brought medicine, three different flavors of soup, two types of juice, tissues with aloe, and—” he reached into his pocket and proudly held up a tiny frog plushie, “a new emotional support animal.”

You blinked. “...You bought me a frog?”

“I didn’t buy it. I rescued it. From the depths of the convenience store toy rack.”

Despite how miserable you felt, a laugh bubbled up in your chest. “You’re such an idiot.”

“An idiot in love,” he corrected with a wink, brushing a thumb under your nose to clean off a smudge. “You looked like Rudolph just now.”

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt. “Don’t look at me, I’m gross.”

“You’re adorable,” he said without missing a beat, gently scooping you up bridal-style.

You let out a small squeak. “Satoru!”

“Shhh. Sick people don’t get to protest,” he said, already walking you back toward your bed like it was a royal carriage. “You’re officially banned from standing. Your legs? Useless. I’m your chauffeur now.”

“I just walked to the door five minutes ago—”

“Too much. I’ve seen enough. Sit down, shut up, drink soup.”

“You are so dramatic.”

He grinned as he gently lowered you onto the bed and tucked the blanket around you like he was swaddling a baby. “You knew what you signed up for when you started dating me.”

You snorted. “I didn’t think I’d be dating a personal nurse.”

“Excuse you, I’m the hottest nurse you’ll ever see.”

You coughed into your sleeve, already giggling through it. “Okay, Nurse Gojo. Just don’t mess up the soup.”

He looked offended. “I was going to microwave it with love.”

You shot him a look.

“...Fine. I’ll follow the instructions this time. Happy?”

You leaned back into your pillows, watching him shuffle off to your kitchen, already causing a racket as he dramatically opened drawers he didn’t need to open.

He returned quickly with your soup. Sure, a homemade one might’ve worked better for the healing effect, but you’d long since learned that Gojo Satoru should never be trusted in the kitchen—a lesson burned into your memory along with the image of your kitchen looking like it had survived a food-based war.

You grimaced at the memory.

The soup tasted vaguely like instant ramen, and you were pretty sure he couldn’t tell the difference between a nutrient-packed, cold-fighting remedy and a comfort soup meant purely for vibes. Still… the effort? Very much appreciated.

Especially when he was sitting at your bedside, carefully watching you sip each spoonful like it was a sacred ritual.

He took pictures of you in your miserable state, snapping away from every angle. Of course, he zoomed in on your red nose, making sure to capture the full reindeer effect.

"Satoru..." You tried to say sternly, but it came out more like a half-hearted whine when you saw his cute grin, clearly enjoying the pictures he was taking way too much.

"What! You look adorable. I couldn't resist," he said, glancing down at his phone with a proud grin before looking up at you again.

"Hey," he began, clearly oblivious to the fact that you were too tired to scold him, "which do you think is better for an Instagram caption—'Get well soon, babe' with a sick emoji, or 'Get well soon, babe' with a heart emoji?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his absolute lack of shame. “You’re really going to post about this?”

Despite the pounding in your head and the tissues shoved under your pillow, a smile tugged at your lips.

You still felt awful—but with Satoru around, maybe being sick wasn’t so bad.

"With the heart emoji is better..." You mumbled under your breath, sinking further into the blanket.

New blog!! ,

[barnesonly]

Half-return

dad!bucky barnes x reader (implied)

trope: absolute angst.

summary: your daughter skips school to visit Bucky’s — her father’s — grave.

word count: 1499

A/N: Oh gods, I actually made myself cry while writing this. I imagine this happening in 2010’s, reader was pregnant when her and Steve fell into ice. I might write part two one day, let me know what you think! Also this is heavily inspired by this song.

The cemetery was quiet that morning.

No birdsong, no wind. Just the gentle crunch of gravel under small, determined footsteps. Her backpack bounced against her spine with every step, heavier than usual — not because of books, but because of the secret folded in the front pocket.

A homemade card. Pink construction paper. Crayon hearts. A little drawing of a man she never met.

She hugged her hoodie tighter around herself as she walked between rows of graves, her sneakers brushing against wildflowers that hadn’t been cut back yet. The sky hung low with heavy clouds, soft and gray, like the world was holding its breath.

She knew where he was.

She didn’t need help finding it anymore.

James Buchanan Barnes.

1917 — 1945.

Beloved friend. Cherished soldier. Never forgotten.

The letters on the stone were starting to wear a little. She ran her fingers across the name like she always did, just to feel it. She imagined his hand might’ve felt rough like the stone, big and strong and warm if she ever got to hold it.

She glanced around — empty. No one saw her. No one followed.

“I skipped school,” she said quietly, her voice too small for the sky. “I’m not supposed to. But I needed to see you.”

She sat down cross-legged in front of the headstone, brushing some leaves away from the base. Then she opened her backpack and carefully pulled out the card, like it was treasure.

“I made this at school,” she whispered. “Everyone was making cards for their dads. And I didn’t know what to do at first… but then I made this for you.”

She set it down gently against the headstone, the crayon hearts already smudging a little from the mist in the air.

“I just wanted to come alone this time… Without mommy… I wanted you to myself today.” She smiled, just barely. Her chin trembled.

She picked at a thread on her sleeve, then leaned forward like she was telling a secret.

“They gave us this math test yesterday,” she said, nose wrinkling. “I didn’t do so good.” She frowned for a second, like she was scolding herself. Then she glanced up at the headstone and shrugged.

“But… I think you wouldn’t have minded. Mommy says you weren’t great at math either.”

There was a small pause, and she plucked a piece of grass, twisting it between her fingers.

“My teacher, Miss Carr, she’s always talking about heroes. She says we’re supposed to write about one for this essay thing. I picked you.” She smiled again, a tiny, proud thing.

“Even though you’re not in any of the books at school. I had to ask Mommy a bunch of stuff so I could write about you right. I said you were brave and kind and that you protected people. And that you fell off a train ‘cause you were trying to save people. I think you would’ve liked that part.”

Her voice wavered a little at the end, but she pushed through it.

“They all picked people like Captain America… Or other Avengers… or firefighters. But I picked you. ‘Cause you’re my dad. Even if you’re not… here.”

She reached out and adjusted the card again where it leaned against the stone, like it needed to stand straighter.

“I think maybe you would’ve walked me to school. Or helped me with spelling. I bet you’d tell really funny jokes that made Mommy roll her eyes but laugh when you weren’t looking.”

A soft gust of wind blew her hair into her face, and she tucked it behind her ear absentmindedly.

“Sometimes I see kids with their dads, and I wonder if you’d be like that. Or if you’d carry me on your shoulders even though I’m not that little anymore. Mommy says you’d love me so, so much.”

Her throat tightened.

“I think I’d love you too.”

She was quiet for a long time after that. Just sitting, legs curled beneath her, fingers tugging at grass. The wind picked up a little, brushing against her cheek like a hand that wasn’t there.

Then she spoke again, even softer than before.

“Uncle Steve told me you’d always protect him from bullies when he was younger…” Her voice cracked, just slightly. “I wish you were here to help me like that now. I’d really need it.”

She blinked fast and looked up at the sky, like maybe if she didn’t look at the headstone, the sting in her eyes would stop.

“There’s this girl at school who always laughs when I get answers wrong. She says I’m weird. She makes fun of my shoes, and my backpack, and one time she called Mommy weird ‘cause she always looks tired.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“I didn’t tell Mommy. I don’t wanna make her sad. She’s got enough worries. But I thought… if you were here, maybe you’d wait outside school for me. And if she said something mean, you’d just look at her and she’d stop.”

She smiled at the thought. A sad, flickering smile.

“Uncle Steve said you were like that. That no one messed with him when you were around.”

She traced the edge of the headstone with her finger again, slow and gentle.

“I really wish you were around.”

She sat still for a while, eyes locked on the card like it might fix everything just by being there. The crayon lines were running now — little streaks from the mist or maybe her fingers, she wasn’t sure.

Then suddenly, it hit her.

The weight.

The emptiness.

The truth.

Her lip trembled. She looked down at her knees, then back at the stone. And the words tumbled out in a breathless rush—broken, cracked, helpless.

“I don’t even know why I came here alone…” Her voice shook, barely holding on. “I always come here with Mommy but… I wanted to talk with you alone. I…”

Her small hands curled into fists against her jeans.

“I realized I don’t have a single memory with you. None.” Her shoulders started to shake. One sob slipped out before she could stop it.

“I don’t know your voice. Or your laugh. Or how your hugs feel. I don’t even know what your hands looked like.”

Tears spilled over now, hot and silent at first, then building until they came in waves.

“And I… I just really wanted to have one. Just one memory. Just you and me, Dad.”

She covered her face with her hands, sobbing into the quiet.

“I came here so I could pretend. Just for a little bit. That you’re here. That you’re real and you’re listening and… and that I’m not alone.”

The card fluttered a little where it leaned against the stone, caught in the wind like it was reaching for her.

She sniffled, dragging her sleeve across her face, and then — barely above a whisper:

“Mommy misses you so much.”

She didn’t look up. Just spoke into her knees, into the earth.

“She tries to be strong… but it hurts her. I see it.”

Another tear fell, but slower now. Heavier.

“She cries when she thinks I’m asleep. Sometimes I hear her say your name. Sometimes she just sits in the kitchen with the lights off.”

She looked up at the grave, eyes red and full of something bigger than a ten-year-old should ever have to carry.

“I don’t think she ever stopped loving you. I don’t think she ever will.”

She reached out again, touching the stone like it was his hand.

“Neither will I.”

She sat like that for a while — still, small, and hurting — until her legs began to ache. Slowly, she unfolded from the grass, stiff and heavy, like every part of her was tired.

She looked down at the card, bent from the wind but still standing. She knelt and adjusted it carefully, pressing a small rock against the corner so it wouldn’t blow away.

Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out something small — just a string bracelet, all crooked and uneven knots, the kind only a kid could make.

“I made this in art class,” she whispered, holding it in her palm for a second. “It’s not… very good. But it’s yours.”

She laid it beside the card, fingers lingering for a moment before pulling away.

Standing again, she looked at the grave, at the name carved so deep it would never fade. And even though her face was blotchy and red, her voice was steady — shaky, but trying.

“I have to go now.”

She hugged herself tightly.

“Mommy’s gonna be mad I skipped school. But I just… I needed this.”

A pause.

“I needed you.”

The wind rustled the trees above her, and she looked up, eyes shining.

“I’ll come back soon. I promise.”

She stepped back, wiped her cheeks one last time, then raised her fingers to her lips, kissed them and pressed them gently against his name.

“Bye, Dad.”

Then she turned. And walked away.

The bracelet stayed.

The card fluttered quietly.

And the empty grave watched.

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ you don't need to save me (but would you run away with me?)

( umemiya hajime x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — thinking abt him 24/7 actually ( this was supposed to be a longer fic but i lost the plot and just went with this drabble )

♡ word count — 482

♡ content — hajime umemiya x fem! reader, reader could be gn! but just in case, talk of gardening ( i know nothing abt gardening ), pining, hajime is a sap, not proofread, prob ooc

♡ synopsis — Hajime Umemiya's infatuation with you started with tomatoes. He just didn't want it to end there.

── .✦ not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me

It started with tomatoes.

He’d wandered into the garden section like he always did, hoping to snag a few starter plants and maybe catch a conversation with the store owner—someone who now waved him in like family ever since that late-night break-in he'd stopped cold.

But that day, it wasn’t the owner who greeted him.

“Do you need help?”

He’d turned, a packet of seeds dangling loosely in one hand, and there you were. 

Wearing the store apron like it was made for you, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the humidity, and the brightest eyes he’d ever seen looking right at him.

“Oh, I—uh—”

Hajime never stuttered. Ever. 

And yet, suddenly, words were strangers.

“Tomato. Starters.”

Your laugh had been warm. Not mocking. Just easy. 

“They’re over here,” you said, motioning for him to follow.

He did. Like a moth to a gentle sun.

And after that… he just kept coming back.

At first, it was genuine. 

He needed basil, then more soil, then stakes for the tomatoes you helped him find. But soon he was running out of reasons. 

Or rather, he was making them.

“Do you carry moonflower seeds?”

He didn’t even grow flowers.

You smiled. “Not until late summer, sorry.”

“What do you think of corn? Rooftop-friendly?”

“Not really, but I love the ambition.”

He bought a small bag of lavender seeds—off-season and definitely useless—just to linger by your register and ask how your day was. 

And he did this again. 

And again.

Some days he only caught a glimpse of you—rushed, helping someone carry mulch out the door. Other days you’d stop beside him and comment on his latest pick.

“You’re here a lot,” you’d say once, nudging him lightly with your elbow as he stood reading the back of a spinach packet.

“Got a garden with too much space,” he replied. “Feels wrong to leave it empty.”

But it was less about the garden now, and more about you.

And finally, one warm afternoon—when the sky was clear and the scent of lemon balm clung to the air—he stood at the counter with a small tray of entirely impractical seeds and cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he started, voice still calm but with something more beneath it this time. “I was wondering—if you’re free sometime—maybe we could get coffee? Or tea, or, I don’t know… something not related to plants.”

You looked up, hands pausing over the register. And then you smiled.

A sigh escaped your lips—not of annoyance, but something softer. More amused.

“Good. I was wondering how many seeds you were going to buy before you asked.”

Hajime blinked, and then laughed, head ducking slightly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I was starting to worry you'd buy out our whole inventory.”

“Worth it,” he said, his smile brightening to something unmistakable. “Every last one.”

love him so much it's actually criminal

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

✦ tags ✦ @irethepotato ✦ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[evilkitten3]

hm.... i see what you mean, i think (tho i'll point out that there's been at least one transfer of power in-series during wartime, from tobirama to hiruzen, which actually worked out phenomenally well bc the first war ended and then there was peace for like a good two decades)

also. i know it's a typo but someone do me a favor and draw an isobu-sanji roleswap. make that turtle thing a pirate

anyway concerning yagura the brief momet we meet him is somewhat odd bc prior to that all the info we really had on him was the bloody mist stuff and we really don't know what the timeline was there. what we know for sure is that his reign was just as bad if not worse than the third mizukage's. how he behaved in the jinchuuriki-bijuu chat may just be evidence that he was under obito's control even before that

as much as i adore obito, most of the plot points that delve into his time as puppet master make very little sense (i find it's significantly better to leave details like that as ambiguous as possible, especially if you're a writer writing a character smarter than you), and that's twice as true for everything including kiri (esp when madara gets involved. you're telling me this old man started pulling strings in kiri while being unable to move from his life support chair on the off-chance that some dipshit kid got caught in a cave-in and just so happened to also be an uchiha? no. sorry that's bs. i have never seen a single analysis of madara's recruitment of obito that made sense and wasn't basically just spur of the moment)

obito's backstory suffers a lot from poor planning and the author trying to rearrange things he'd already written so they made some sense with the context of it having been obito all along, and it. really, REALLY doesn't work that well.

anyway, obito's initial plan was just madara's plan that he at some point started tweaking, but madara's plan ever involved starting a war. he even says he's not sure why obito did it and just assumes he had a good reason (spoiler: he did not). obito decides to team up with the akatsuki and build up strength before going for the jinchuuriki (this makes perfect sense but is also something the real madara would never do bc it would require relying on people he can't pretend are him), which is why the akatsuki don't really start doing antagonist stuff until naruto is ready to face them. also bc they have to go in order. for. reasons. which is presumably why obito didn't just start with the three tails as soon as it reformed, which we can infer is also why he kept yagura under his control until it was time to yoink that thang

when did obito decide he was going for world war four? who knows. i would believe that he decided to have yagura be Even Worse in order to keep him isolated so as few people as possible noticed or gave a shit that he wasn't acting of his own volition, but ao noticed anyway and ultimately yagura was one of the most Please Kill This Cunt Holy Shit guys in all of ninjaland, which could've caused obito some inconvenience but fortunately no one in mist was strong enough to take out yagura and no one outside of mist gave a shit

the only way i've been able to make obito's involvement in the massacre make any sense at all is by a) ignoring basically any non-manga content about it and b) assuming that his motive was solely to recruit itachi and he didn't really give a shit about anything else. bc while it might make sense to want to remove potential opponents who could maybe control the bijuu to his disadvantage, but i honestly don't think any old uchiha could control the bijuu whenever bc otherwise it would've made way more sense for obito to recruit the uchiha (esp the ones who. weren't loyal to the village anymore hello????)

should also be noted that the change in kage wasn't bc everyone just decided to have a new boss now. the third raikage died in the war, hiruzen stepped down bc he was old and tired and never even wanted to be here to begin with, the third mizukage would've also been old bc he was even older than hiruzen and we know basically nothing about him, the third kazekage got murdered by sasori so suna had a new guy in charge before the war was even over, and oonoki didn't feel like retiring i guess.

tbh i wouldn't be all that surprised if kiri had periods with no leader at all bc it kinda seems like shit was just in Constant Chaos over there

tldr: no obito did not have a good reason to do what he did in kiri or to the uchiha clan. he was just kinda being a dick

what's really funny about madara being narratively the "bigger bad" in relation to obito is that. obito is worse. like a lot worse. like i love him to death but he's objectively so much worse

madara's base plan required maybe 10 deaths (the jinchuuriki + nagato, later adding rin for some reason which i don't personally believe but it's technically canon so i'll include it). obito has like. the highest bodycount in the series. like this man is directly involved in multiple state-sponsored ethnic cleansings. like idk if even black zetsu has the kind of blood on his hands that obito does, it's that bad

but he was a really great guy!

[seilahdiaries]

𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞. 𓍯𓂃

IN WHICH the greasers mess up and regret it .

warnings swearing, tiny angst, fluff, the boys are down bad😭 𝓯! reader x the outsiders .

𓍼 i think i could eat avocado toast for the rest of my life and be okay. also i don’t get why ppl don’t like the self tanner smell or maybe it’s the fact my tanner smells like coconut idek.

now playing . . . baby come back - player

𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗡

you hadn’t even meant it that seriously when you said it—just a teasing little murmur.

“you’re never sweet to me y’know that?”

but of course—dallas being dallas— got verryyy defensive and he flinched.

he shrugged you off like a bad itch, your spot tucked under his arm and resting your head on his chest forgotten. he lit a cigarette and said something like, “you want sweet, go date a lil’ bitch.”

the warmth in the smokey room vanished. next thing you knew you tugged your little ballet flats on, almost kissed his cheek out of habit but just walked out. slamming the door just a little bit for dramatic effect.

he lasted two nights btw.🙏🏻

two whole nights of no contact before he was pacing his room like a gooner on no nut november. muttering under his breath like “i ain’t callin’ her. hell no. she’s the one who walked out.”

then five seconds later he’s in bathroom mirror like “be fr, dallas. what if she thinks you don’t care. what if she actually already got a new bitch?!”

he DEFINITELY stalks your house like a creep. he’ll “stroll” pass your house atleast five times a day hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of you, nonchalantly ofc.

when he finally sees you again, after two days of stalking, he doesn’t really say anything. just flicks the cigarette away and stares at you like he wasn’t just tweaking out last night.

“you done bein’ mad?” he asks, voice rough, arms crossed. but his eyes gave him away, the way he looks at your hands, your lips, your wrists— like it’s been years and he almost forgot how you looked. dramaticcc

“cause i cant do that again. the.. not talking shit. alright?” he doesn’t apologize, not exactly. but he looks at you like he wants to. like the words are caught somewhere between his throat and pride.

and when you don’t answer— just take one step closer— he doesn’t stop you.

he lets you fix the collar of his jacket, tuck the strand of hair behind his ear without flinching, lets you look at him. really look.

so maybe dallas winston isn’t sweet.. but he lets you touch the softest parts of him. sometimes! ☺️

𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦

you guys don’t usually fight, you two are really mature. but on the rare occasions you do. it hurts so bad☹️

you got up early today, cut the crust off his sandwich because you knew as much as he refused he liked it, you knew better. you ironed his coat with care and even laid everything out for him.

you just wanted to lighten the weight on his shoulders, give him a peaceful morning where he wasn’t racing time.

oh were you wrong!

“why does it smell like pickles?” “you know i can’t stand that.”

then a second later— his voice sharp, short—

“did you use steam on my coat? it’s wrinkled as hell.” “christ— cant you do anything right?”

your heart immediately hurt, a quiet ache. and you didn’t say a word. you folded the sandwich in wax paper, into the brown bag and handed him his coat.

“sorry,” is all you say, “just go.”

and he does.

but who tf? 🤨you leave too. you didn’t answer his calls for about six days, and somehow managed to avoid seeing him too.

“i was wrong.” he spoke on your front porch suddenly, “i was..i took it out on you. and you didn’t deserve that.”

I KNOW THATS RIGHTTTTTT

darry had spiraled. he reorganized the kitchen cabinets. snapped at soda. started lifting at midnight. told himself you’d come back— trying to get his mind off you.

but on day seven, he showed up on your porch. hands shaking with flowers from the store, pink peonies.

𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗣 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦

he would forget your guys date i’m sorry😭. but ofc not on purpose!!

your ballet pumps dug into the sidewalk, the small cardigan you wore barely clung shut in the cold— because you thought he’d come and warm you up. like always.

but he didn’t. he stood you up.

you stood there till your curls fell and your perfume started to fade. then you walked home in silence. you were so hurt.

you didn’t answer his calls, didn’t open the door when he came knocking. so he opened the window 🤗 like a literal criminal breaking in.

“i’m so stupid,” he blurted, standing outside with slightly flattened tulips he’d rip out of his neighbors front yard. “like actually. i swear i was just talking to steve and then it was dark out and i remembered and i—”

bro didn’t even last a day😭. at most a couple hours before he was crashing out realizing he messed up and IMMEDIATELY ran to your place after calling.

he cut himself off. you looked into his eyes and they were so glossy. “you got all dressed up for me,” he whispered staring at your makeup. “i’m so sorry.”

then he held out the flowers, palms trembling and sweaty.

“can you atleast be mad at me with the tulips in your hand? please? they’re stolen and..crushed. but they’re for you.”

FORGIVE THE POOR MAN PLEASE.😔🙏🏻

𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗬𝗕𝗢𝗬 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦

you told him you finished the book he recommended you, unfortunately it wasn’t your taste. you said it was okay—just not your style.

but ofc you caught him on a bad day, ever since you guys left the school grounds he’d been moody. deriods.😒

he scoffed, “yeah well people like you never really get it anways.”

EXCUSE MEE??!?! he still walked you home, but it was quiet— and awkward.

you kicked a stone down the sidewalk while your chest burned. and when you got to your porch— no kiss, no goodbye. just a mumble under his breath and the soft crunch of his sneakers walking away.

you didn’t call. he didn’t either.

but he went crazy in that quiet, weird way.

would stay for at least 10 minutes just scrubbing at his hands, darry would have to PEEL him away from the sink. would also sit upside down on the couch and recite quotes from that same book. he spilt chocolate milk on his essay. and still turned it in.

then, steve caught him infront of the bathroom mirror, hollering apologies but throwing hands. hello?? 😭

“i shouldn’t have said that,” right hook. “i really—truly didn’t mean it.” jab to the jaw.

steve lost it.

“man are you apologizing or knocking her out??”

ponys face was red. he left mid-apology-roundhouse

but the next day, fallen out your locker— was a little folded note.

“i rewrote this three times. i’m sorry, i said something stupid and mean. and its not true at all.”

𝗝𝗢𝗛𝗡𝗡𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘

you called. once. twice. five times. you even left voicemails after each one. but maybe the last one came off a bit aggressive.

“its fine. really. maybe you’re just too busy ignoring me.”

it was not fine. 😐

you knew his parents weren’t home. his mom was off at her family’s. his dad hadn’t been seen since wednesday. he was home and you were sure of it. but still— nothing.

you went to sleep dramatically, but mostly with your pride hurt cause why did you leave so many voicemails jeez.😓

turns out he wasn’t ignoring you! haha. he’d actually gotten a migraine so bad it made even the light in the room unbearable

johnny curled up with a damp cloth over his forehead, your voicemails playing faintly in his room while he drifted in and out.

and the next early morning, you heard your window click open. you slightly panicked for a second cause whattt before he climbed in with crushed wild flowers he ALSO stole from someone’s yard. cough. soda.

“i didn’t mean to ignore you. swear. i couldn’t look at anything. my head was pounding. but i kept your voicemails on loop. it helped me fall asleep. that last one kind of hurt my feelings though.”

you smiled in spite of yourself.

𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗩𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗟𝗘

you were sitting on the curb while he fixed his truck for the millionth time. squinting your eyes from the sun and trying to keep your linen skirt from lifting with the breeze.

you giggled and teased,

“if you spent half as much time on fixing my bike as you do on that greaser hair, i might actually be able to come see you.”

DAMN GIRL.

he laughed— but short.

“yeah well, maybe if you focused on your chain instead of my hair, you wouldn’t be walking it everywhere.”

oh!

you didn’t say much after that—like at all. just walked your bike home when it came time. quiet, wheel clicking out of rhythm.

you didn’t hear from him after that. no calls at all. but two days later, you heard metal clicking in your driveway.

steve.

with his toolbox and a cigarette tucked behind his ear, already halfway through fixing your chain.

“can’t have you riding around on a broken chain. might not like my hair, but at least let me keep you safe.”

you smiled—soft. fixing the cigarette that threaten to fall.

𝗧𝗪𝗢-𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗪𝗦

he always joked— but this time it wasn’t funny. 😔

you didn’t even remember what he said exactly, just that it hurt. and when your eyes started to gloss, he laughed.

what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t because it was funny— but he didn’t know what else to do. and so you left— face wet and rose-glossed lips pressed shut. and for once in forever, you ignored him.

the next day, you were mid-bite in a chocolate-covered strawberry, legs curled up on the linen couch in your lace pajama shorts. you heard the front door creak.

then two-bit suddenly sat beside you, like he hadn’t made you cry the night before.

“i’m sorry,” he said, holding up a plastic bag from the corner store. “i hate when you’re upset with me. even more when you don’t laugh at me.”

you stared, until he nudged your elbow to take the bag—and you did. “okay, ..now blink twice if you still love me.”

you didn’t blink.