#light was like “i wanted to be your friend forever ����”

[madamechrissy]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Choso Kamo Stories ˚୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Keep this Lowkey- Finished- 57k After nasty breakups, Choso from Yuki and you from Ino, you and Choso decide to become friends w/benefits - but it ends up of course becoming a mess, what exactly are the two of you, and will this ruin your friendship forever? Explicit-emotional/light angst- A03

I Want it All - Choso needs you, no he really needs you, you are everything to him and don't even know it. You don't know about the cameras he watches you on, you don't know he's jerking his cock in his office right across from you. Yandere PSYCHOTIC ass Choso lol - EXPLICIT- 9.8k wc

Yandere Bestie Choso - Yandere Choso head canons- ties into the I want it All oneshot

Eat that girl for lunch - Choso is a whole munch bc he's Choso

Choso eats you out as a bestie - I clearly like to make him a munch lol

[meelusinee]

LOVER'S INTRODUCTION | T.N X READER

word count \ 4.5k | fuliffty fluffnut sandwiches | slash / theodore nott / wolfstar daughter!reader

in which you and theodore introduce each other to your families. at least, most of them

part one | part two

You and Theo had been dating for quite some time, a fact you sometimes forgot.

In all honesty, being with Theo felt like forever. Like you had just reconnected with a part of yourself that had been wandering around time and space just waiting to find you. He liked the things you like, and he disliked the things you disliked. Talking bad about politicians who wanted nothing more than to line their pockets with his father’s money was always a must whenever he took you to grand galas. Much like he always found it a must to take care of you after every full moon that took a toll on your body.

He had gone so far down his love for you that you had figured out he became an Animgaus, A black cat that was small and ducked well from your form, though you never had attacked him before. You also knew that your parents would be rather proud of his cunning, even if a certain one would brag about it being his idea first. 

The two of you were sitting in the Astronomy Tower right now, no cigarettes or joints nearby. It was just a night for each other’s company, the only thing truly getting you high nowadays being the scent of his cologne near the crook of his neck.

“What��re you thinking about?” you asked him curiously.

He raised an eyebrow before laying his head against yours. “Introductions.”

“Introductions?” you giggled.

He smiled softly at the sound, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Yeah, introductions. Like, introducing you to people.”

“Like with your dad?” you deadpanned. Theo’s father was a rather rocky man, to say the least. He had tried to convince Theo to break up with you, right in front of you nonetheless. Though you felt your heart beating at the memory of him yelling words back at his father you’d never even thought could go so harshly together. 

Theo smiled, though it was a solemn smile at best. A smile that meant serious business, one you saw more often nowadays than you liked to admit. “Like, to my friends. Mattheo and them.”

“Mattheo knows me, doesn’t he?” you asked quietly. 

“Not Blaise, or Enzo.” he whispered. “Minnie doesn’t either. Not as my girlfriend, you know?”

You smiled quietly at him, kissing the side of his forehead as he spoke. Introductions were a rather scary topic, you’d been thinking about them just as much as he had been by the sounds of it. Ron and Hermione certainly weren’t happy about your relationship with Theo when you first told them about it, and Harry had been more so cautious than anything else. You couldn’t really blame any of them, but you also knew that Theo was a good guy. 

“I’ve been thinking of introducing you to my friends too.” you whispered quietly.

Theo raised an eyebrow at that, looking over at you from where you sat beside him. “Really?” he asked you quietly.

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah, just a little.”

He chuckled quietly at that, shrugging his shoulders as he looked out of the Astronomy Tower’s walls and to the sky. It was the night before a new moon, nothing more than a sliver of light left radiating in the sky. “With the amount of complaining I hear Ron do whenever I walk down the halls, I think he’d try to crucify me if you introduced us.”

“What complaining?” you asked confusedly.

Theo shrugged. “He complains a lot when I’m walking down the halls.” he stated again. “Really loudly. One time he said I was a manipulative prick and tried to shove me, but the shoving didn’t really work.”

You pouted quietly at that, leaning your head on his shoulder a bit better than before. “I’m sorry Theo.” you whispered quietly, smiling as his hand embraced yours. “I didn’t know he did that.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, amore mio.” Theo whispered to you. “I find it funny.”

“Course you find it funny.” you giggled softly at his words, rolling your eyes as you scooted closer. You were able to lay on his lap then, head resting against the ribs protecting the beating heart inside of his chest. Despite how nonchalant he liked to act around you, moments like these made you glad as you realized just how much he truly liked you. You were also contemplating whether you’d need to take him to Pompfrey with how fast his heart was beating.

“What’re you thinking about, principessa?” he asked quietly.

You looked up at him with a soft smile. “Minnie first?”

“Minnie first.” he chuckled quietly, lips catching yours in a kiss that lasted a lifetime.

“You’re late.”

Theo opened the door to McGonagall’s office with a soft huff, having ran to the other side of the building to try and make it on time.

The topic of meeting family and friends had been heavy on his mind ever since you two discussed it a couple weeks ago. It was a thought that haunted him everywhere. How would you react to hanging out with his friends? His family? Would you laugh along with their jokes? He could imagine you sitting on the couch with him, both basking in each other’s presence while Lorenzo and Pansy had their rap battles. His hands wandered to where he pictured your thighs being whenever he was with McGonagall, though they never reached them. 

McGonagall had been the first to catch on. She organized the meeting arrangements before he could even tell her no. 

“I had to get Y/N, Professor.” he whispered quietly, smiling to the side as he held the door open for you.

You had worn a different outfit than your usual uniform. A floral print dress with just the tiniest of flairs at the end, in a cut that was long and fit your body perfectly. You also had a matching ribbon for it tied to your wrist, a detail he absolutely adored.

“Hi there, Professor.” you said, albeit a bit awkwardly. McGonagall had heard much about you through Theo and through yourself, you had even told Theo that you two had some tea sessions on your own as well. With that in mind, they weren’t quite as often as his, and you certainly weren’t as close despite your parents adoring her.

“Y/N,” she hummed out, placing a cup of tea in front of the second seat. “Theo’s told me about you before.”

You chuckled quietly as he closed the door, a soft groan escaping his throat as he realized the path this conversation would be taking. “Oh, has he?”

“Very.” she said, a small yet noticeable smirk on her face. 

“Why don’t we drink this tea?” Theo asked, his tone a bit breathless as he spoke. He really did not want this conversation to go down the route he was expecting McGonagall to take it, as ironic as it sounded. Sure, he had wanted this meeting to happen in the first place, but that did not mean that he wanted this meeting to be awkward for him. He didn’t want McGonagall to be talking about him like a mother would talk about baby photos.

“Distracting McGonagall now, are you?” you chuckled, turning your eyes to her. “Can you believe his audacity, ruining our conversation?”

“Truly a trifling man.” she said, humming quietly.

Theodore groaned quietly, resting his head in his hands as the both of you spoke.

It seemed quite tame at first. Pleasant introductions the both of you went through, questions about your parents both. While Theo appreciated Lupin while he was still a teacher, he had never learned much about his old professor past the material that he teached. He found it nice to hear about your fathers, even if he hadn’t met them on the terms he would be meeting them soon. 

That thought had sent a shiver down his spine.

He’d be meeting your parents soon. Your parents, who you spoke so highly of that it made him fall in love with you all over again. You treated them with so much kindness and respect that he found it impossible not to like them, almost able to imagine them being his own dads for a change of scenery. But as much as you admired them, he knew they could still be dangerous. One was a werewolf with a litany of scars he couldn’t even imagine carrying half of, and the other was dangerous in a way he had yet to figure out. You were rather cautious of revealing things about your other father, all things considered. Theo had learned that he rode a bike and grew up in a strict environment, one that taught him how to fight early on as a child.

It was safe to say Theo didn’t want to fight either of your parents.

His fears, of any level, seemed to disappear the moment that you held onto his hands. He zoned back into the conversation, one that he immediately could tell was extremely awkward. 

“He writes poetry about you, you know.” McGonagall said with a smirk, before her smile turned into something far more genuine and warm. Like a mother proud of her son. “It’s actually rather sweet. I’ve proofread a couple of them before.”

“Poetry?” you asked, looking over at Theo with a wide smile. What he wouldn’t give to see that smile plastered on your face any chance it could be. “I love poetry.”

“You’re a good muse.” he whispered, voice quiet and hoarse as he spoke.

You giggled and rolled your eyes, sitting up a bit higher in your chair. “Do you have any I could read?” you asked him and McGonagall both, a wide smile spreading on your face as he handed you a small booklet of trinkets he had gathered over the past few months. 

There was poetry in there, most certainly. Words about worship and adoration scrawled over the coffee-stained pages of a booklet that was just barely larger than his hands. But there was more than just that. Photos of you that he had taken, photos of the both of you together. Drawings he had made of any part of your body he missed that day. Two pages straight had been dedicated to nothing more than your irises. Small trinkets that could be glued on as well, the pages stuffed with tiny sticks and leaves he had found on walks with you in late afternoons.

Suffice to say, there was quite a bit.

McGonagall smiled quite wide at the picture in front of her. Two of her favorite students were absolutely enamored with each other, one reading the journal that the other had dedicated to their name and honor. It was quite romantic, to say the least. 

“Theodore.” she mused quietly, her voice only heard by him as you lost yourself in the journal’s pages. 

“Yes, Professor?” he asked quietly.

She smiled quietly at the sight of you still reading, a blush covering your face the more words you absorbed. 

He remembers writing the page you were reading right now, a poem he had written about how your legs looked like nebulas whenever they had bruised. He remembered your knee getting quite injured on a walk the both of you took, leaving a purplish blue splotch on your leg that he adored fully. He could see the speckles of stars hidden underneath your skin, could feel the cosmos underneath your fingertips when you caressed his hair after he attempted to kiss the bruise better.

“Please,” McGonagall said. “Do bring her around more often.”

Theo chuckled quietly at that, squeezing your thigh affectionately as you read. “I will.”

“When are we going to be able to meet your girl, Theo?” Pansy asked. There was a small but proud smirk pressed onto her mouth, like the grin of a vulture finding a pile of dead bodies.

Theo looked up from his book casually, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your girlfriend!” Enzo whined. “Mattheo’s met her, hasn’t he?”

“She’s a sweetheart.” Mattheo bragged, his chest puffing up dramatically before he bursted out into a laugh. Theo looked at him and rolled his eyes, closing his book with a resounding huff as he looked to the door of the Slytherin Common Room. 

“Why would it matter if we meet her or not?” Blaise asked. Theo wasn’t sure whether his voice was genuine or not though, all things considered.

Theo sighed quietly before looking at the three of them. “She’s coming tonight.”

“She is?” Enzo asked excitedly, him and Pansy clapping their hands together excitedly. He wasn’t quite sure why they were excited to meet a girl they knew nothing about. Though he supposed that, if it was you, he could reason it. 

“That’s sugar!” Mattheo said out loud, a wide smirk on his face. 

Pansy and Enzo were confused at his sentence, both of them turning around to look at whoever Mattheo was talking about. 

And there you stood.

Theodore felt his heartbeat racing faster than the speed of life, looking at you with hearts in his eyes as he watched you walking over to him. You were wearing thermal tights and a mini black skirt, one of his sweaters wrapping your body in a loose cocoon of warmth. His Skytherin sweater, his Quidditch sweater with his name and number on the back of it. 

Enzo whistled quietly as he saw you, and quickly received a book to the face.

“Amore mio,” he whispered, standing up and walking over to you as fast as he could. His veins itched rather loudly in his hands, thrumming underneath his skin to touch you. Those hands made their ways around your waist, a small smile gracing his lips as yours widened happily.

“Theo!” you said happily, kissing his lips before twirling happily. “Look, do you like it?”

Theo chuckled quietly, looking at you with a look on his life that not even the most talented of sculptures could illustrate well. “You look divine, principessa.”

You smiled before guiding him over to his friends again, letting him sit down with you on the small loveseat that he had saved for the both of you. Your head rested on his shoulder then, arms wrapping around his as you both relaxed fully. 

“So,” Pansy said, with a small smirk on her face. “This is sugar, Matty?”

Theodore rolled his eyes with a soft sigh, not quite liking the nickname Mattheo gave you but not being able to disagree himself. You were as sweet as sugar, even sweeter than something like thaumatin. “This is Y/N.” Theo said to them both. “You’re not calling her sugar.”

“She’s sweet like it though.” Mattheo said, more like a genuine compliment than a flirtatious remark. “She made me a scarf, Pans!”

“That scarf with the snake head?” Pansy asked incredulously, looking over at you. “You can crochet?”

You looked at her with a small yet nervous smile, squeezing Theo’s hand as you nodded.

“That’s so cool!” Enzo said, who you could tell from his rather floppy hair. He had a wide smile on his face as he looked at you. “I’m learning how to knit.”

“They’re different, you know.” you muttered quietly. “Similar, but different.”

You and Enzo had started talking about knitting and crocheting then. Theodore gave you a blanket to cover your lap when you decided to sit criss cross, his arm wrapping around the back of your neck. His head rested on yours, your head resting on his shoulder as you talked to his friends.

You talked about knitting and crocheting with Enzo, and plants with Blaise. Pansy talked with you about schoolwork as she realized how smart you were. Mattheo filled you in with gossip on Pansy, Enzo and Blaise, much to their displeasure. 

It was sweet.

Theo felt his heart melting every single time you talked, looking down at you to admire the way that your lips moved with every word that formed. It was beautiful, almost hypnotic in a sense.

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered to you, smiling gently as he spoke. The other four had started their own conversation on Quidditch scores, which left him alone with you in his own little world. “Did you know that?”

“You only tell me every single day.” you smiled softly, kissing his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you.” he whispered, caressing your shoulder lovingly. “Do you like them?”

You nodded with a soft smile, resting your head on his shoulder again. “I feel rather happy here.”

“Good,” he whispered. “That’s good.”

“Are you ready?” you asked Theo teasingly, hand on his as you walked down the street.

You were about to introduce him to your parents. Chances are that you were more nervous than he was, especially since he didn’t know about Pad’s innocence. You figured that Harry being in the dining room before you two walked in might help prove it, though it was still a hard thought to explain.

Theo, of course, was also just as nervous. He had gotten a present for the both of your parents, decided based on the facts that you had told him. You knew that they would love their presents, and you also knew that it would put him in their good graces.

“They’ll love you.” you promised him. “Promise.”

“I hope you’re right.” he whispered.

You walked closer to the house, which slowly opened up to the both of you the closer that you got to the front door. “Are you excited, at least?” you asked him.

Theo chuckled quietly, fidgeting with the two gifts that he currently had in his hands. A bottle of expensive red wine that he knew most Purebloods quite enjoyed, a symbol of peace for your father. As much as he quite liked to distance himself away from his past and his family, you knew that he still quite liked to indulge in the finer things in life. Remus, who Theo knew much better, would be gifted a first edition classic. 

“They’ll love you.” you said again, kissing his cheek before opening the front door.

Harry was sitting at the table with Sirius and Remus, though you saw him and your parents before Theodore did. He was more focused on taking off his shoes and coat, unpacking the gifts with as neutral of an expression as he could create. You knew that the vibes of the house had probably set him off, as much as your parents tried to fix it up. It still had that nasty aura around it. One that used to choke you as a child. 

“Dad, Pad!” you called out, leaning forward to take a hug from Remus first. Remus was standing near the doorway looking at Theo with an analytical eye, eyebrows raising curiously at the wine.

Sirius turned the corner next, a wide smile growing on his face as he recognized the wine. “Is that my favorite wine?” he asked incredulously, not noticing Theodore’s shocked face as he moved closer and grabbed it. “Dove, did you tell him about my favorite wine?”

“He guessed it.” you shrugged, smiling softly at Theodore. 

You noticed the shocked expression on his face quite easily. For all he knew, the infamous yet supposed murderer of one of your best friend’s parents was currently standing right in front of him. Examining the wine that he had brought. He walked off quickly to pour a couple of glasses, which left you and Theodore staring at each other. “That’s my other dad.”

“Your other dad is Sirius Black?” he asked incredulously. 

You nodded quietly, head barely moving as you fidgeted with your fingers. “Yeah.”

He looked at Remus and Sirius near the kitchen counter before looking at the dining table. Harry was sitting there, a curious expression on his face as he looked at Theo. You were sure that his mind was running laps around inside of his skull. 

“So he’s innocent.” Theodore deadpanned, looking over at you.

You looked at him incredulously with a small smile on your face. Hopeful. “What?”

“Well, I figured that he wouldn’t be sitting here so casually in front of his parent’s supposed murderer.” Theo shrugged, still holding Remus’ gift in his hands. “And I know that the Ministry lies a bunch. So I assume that they lied about this too.”

“They did.” you whispered, sometimes quite shocked by his deduction abilities. 

Theo nodded before moving into the dining room, placing Remus’ book down in front of his coffee cup. It had been wrapped in brown tissue paper, a small twine bow and a sticker on it. He sat down between you and Harry, his face a bit calmer than when he walked in. 

“This is absolutely incredible.” Sirius said as he walked back into the dining room. "Was this aged?”

Theo looked at him with a small smile on his face. “Stole it from my dad.” 

“I love him already.” Sirius said excitedly, clapping and setting down a glass in front of his and Remus’ seat before one in front of Theo. “I used to do that all the time too!”

“Padfoot,” Remus said incredulously, moving the glass from in front of Theo’s seat. You giggled quite loudly, remembering a conversation your dads had told you about similar to this. “He’s a kid, don’t give him alcohol.”

“Fine,” Sirius grumbled, taking a sip of alcohol. “More for me.”

Theodore chuckled quietly and smiled at Sirius before pointing to the book, looking up at his old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. “For you, sir.”

“Oh.” Remus said surprised. “A book?”

“You mentioned wanting a signed copy back in Third Year.” Theo pointed out.

Remus looked up at him before opening the present rather excitedly. You were happy that he was happy, especially after the recent full moon and its spirit crushing effect. You hadn’t seen him smiling like this in quite a long time, though you chalked that up to also being at Hogwarts for such a long time. 

“I love it.” he whispered quietly, looking at Theo. “Where did you get this?”

Theodore shrugged calmly. “My dad doesn’t need every one of his Galleons.”

You giggled softly at that, smiling as Sirius and Harry bursted out laughing much louder than you did. Remus was still staring at the book, calloused fingers caressing the signature.

They began talking about any topic under the sun that they could. 

Sirius talked about being a Seeker, with Harry talking about his experience as well. Theodore talked about his position as a Chaser on the opposing spot, though they all bonded over their shared interest in the same professional teams. Theo even gave Harry some pointers that Chasers and Beaters look out for, which you hadn’t expected him to do. 

Though you supposed he always loved a challenge. 

Harry began talking about school too, complaining a bunch about Umbridge and her restrictions that she’d been placing. You had planned to join in before Theodore did, rolling his eyes as he spoke about her behavior with the Slytherins. He had been utterly convinced that she wanted to sleep with Malfoy’s dad, Lucius, though you always found the idea of them sleeping together hilarious in any context. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“You haven’t seen the bedroom eyes she’s given that man.” Theo spat out, breath shaking almost as if he was genuinely traumatized from the sight. You couldn’t blame him. 

Both Harry and Sirius’ face contorted in disgust at that. “Absolutely absurd.” Sirius said. “Why would anyone want to sleep with that ruffled peacock?”

“Money?” Theodore suggested, his tone more questioning than serious.

Harry shuddered rather loudly. “I don’t want to imagine those two going at it.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past three months?” Theodore exclaimed, his voice shifting into a rather loud whine. “I didn’t even know something like bedroom eyes could be so sickened. Tarnished, even.”

“Remus, I’m never giving you bedroom eyes again.” Sirius said sternly, much to the spluttering sound of your father.

“Don’t talk about you guys in front of me!” you exclaimed, covering your ears and making a rather loud sound to block them. Harry joined in with you, his face contorting in even more disgust as the two of you started yelling. Theodore covered your ears with his hands as well, pulling you into a rather dramatic reenactment of a hug. 

Remus couldn’t find it in him to stop laughing.

“Maybe I could meet your friends in a different setting.” Theodore suggested quietly. “Ron and Hermione.”

You looked over at Theodore with a slight furrow in your eyebrows, easily noticing the slight worry in his voice he was never able to hide around you. Usually, you two would tease and prod each other to no end. 

But that was usually.

Right now, you knew that the mood was different. You could almost smell it in the air, the worry radiating off of his sweat. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“They don’t like me.” Theodore muttered quietly. “I don’t think they will for a long time.”

You shrugged simply. Ron and Hermione didn’t quite like him, and you weren’t going to lie to the poor boy and say that they did. That’d be nothing more than false promise. “Harry does.”

“Harry listens.” he retorted, his voice a rather pouty grumble.

You chuckled quietly and scooted a bit closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “He does.” you whispered, hand intertwining with yours. “You do know I don’t care about their opinion, right Teddy? You’re still my Teddy no matter what they think.”

“I know,” he whispered quietly. His lack of nicknames for you was rather concerning, it was something he liked to sweep into any sentimental moment between the two of you. “It’s just that, you know, sometimes I don’t know. You know?”

“I know.” you whispered. “But I don’t need them to approve.”

“You don’t?” he asked quietly. His voice was small when he spoke.

You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, looking him in the eyes as you spoke. “You’ve earned the approval from my parents and my brother. That’s more than enough for me.” you reminded him, squeezing his hand. “The only reason they don’t like you is because they’re judging you for what they think you are. If they weren’t ignorant and actually spent time with you, I know they would love you.”

Theodore chuckled quietly, his hands wrapping around your body as he kissed your forehead.

“Not my fault that they’re being silly.” you said, hugging him back just as eagerly. 

“I love you.” he whispered into the courtyard. A courtyard which, luckily, hardly had anyone in it at the current moment. “You know that? That I love you?”

“I know Teddy.” you whispered quietly. Your lips touched his softly yet reverently, like a whole new form of religion the both of you made every time you touched. “I know.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

hello everyone!!! sorry that i haven't posted in quite a bit of time, i've been trying to write through a rough patch of writer's block. (it comes in waves sometimes, so hopefully it goes away soon) i hope that you enjoyed this tho, and that you've all had fun while waiting for this second part!! if you guys want a third for the ron and hermione introduction, i'm planning on having them meet at the yule ball!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog!

[the-kr8tor]

May I req a fic about Hobie and reader going out on a first date? Like I'm talking NERVOUS HOBIE

Ofc we get that princess treatment though:3

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), pining, a bit of loser! Hobie, established relationship, CW food mentions, fluff!

Navigation

When Hobie asked you out on a date, you thought that the usual flirty and nonchalant Hobie would hand you flowers or even chocolates. What you're carrying right now begs to differ. The box of garden grown onions, tomatoes, and eggplants he handed to you on your doorstep were unusual to be given to your date, yes, but it has you giggling and flustered nonetheless. They look plump and healthy, better than anything you've seen in groceries.

“I thought you'd like them instead of store bought flowers.” He says as he scratches the back of his neck nervously when you haven't answered him after he gave you his present. “I tried plantin’ flowers— your favourites but they're still buds.”

You can't believe the same suave man who asked you out all smoothly is standing before you with his hands in his pockets and eyes turned away from you. And he planted your favourite flower too? What did you do in your past life to deserve such a sweet man to give you even the time of day?

“No—no, I love them!” You suddenly exclaim. The sad disappointed expression on his face has you stepping down the doorway to his side, eyes shining with a wobbly shy smile. “Thank you, Hobie.” You want to engulf him in your arms if not for the lovely present in between you.

Hobie sighs in relief, eyes gazing at your necklace before he roams his eyes back to your flustered face. You clutch the box against your chest, it's getting heavier by the second as you both stand there like awkward crushing teenagers.

“Really?” You nod at his bewilderment. “I mean— that's good, that's fuckin' mint— ‘m chuffed, love.”

“I've been meaning to buy vegetables, but the prices have been horrendous these days.” You struggle to hold onto it, cardboard sliding down from your arms. Hobie takes the memo, grabbing underneath it, hand accidentally grasping your own as he slides the box over to him easily. The skin where he briefly touched feels like it's on fire. In a good way.

Hobie cradles it in one arm as he smiles at you sweetly. “Fuckin' tariffs.”

You nod with a chuckle. “Fucking tariffs.”

You two share an affectionate look for what seemed like forever. The city noise is muffled in your ears, and the people walking along your street fades away in your vision. It's just you and Hobie, and his vegetables.

“Shall we?” You ask with a tilted head, hands placed behind you as you nervously fidget with the ribbon on your dress. The outfit took days of decision making, after speaking to the council (your friends) you settled on a simple baby blue summer dress, that you've accidentally matched with his denim jacket. “You can leave the box inside, unless you want to lug it around the city?” You joke with a barely tamped down shyness.

Hobie shakes his head with a chortle. “Yeah— I'd look like your personal shopper instead of your date.”

Date, you still can't believe after ten whole months of pining after him that he would feel the same, that he would ask you out. Never in a million years you thought that he'd even look at you with the same fondness that you sport whenever you gaze at him across the fluorescent light coated office.

You give him a bashful chuckle, taking the box again to quickly place it on the kitchen counter. “I'll put it away for you.”

Hobie doesn't waste time in pulling the box towards him again before you could even hold it properly. “Nah, love, let me do it. Can't have my date strugglin’ now, hm?”

“The kitchen's ten steps away from here.” Your eyes crinkle at the corners as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“I won't be liable if you break your back.” He shrugs, tapping your foot with his own. He has been at your place a couple of times for drinks with friends, but never alone. It fills him with a dizzying giddiness and nerves that comes with a proper first date.

“Okay, fine, big strong man, you do it.” Standing to the side, you give him space so he could close the small distance towards the tiny kitchen island you bought off of marketplace.

“Ungrateful.” He mutters teasingly with a lilt in his tone. Even (gently) shoulder checking you as he enters the flat.

You fake a gasp, cupping your ‘wounded’ shoulder. “My date is rude.”

Hobie grins from ear to ear as he slides the box over to the counter as you ogle him from behind. The jeans he's wearing fits him well. Too well as it hugs him in all the best ways.

He turns around, acting like he's dusting his hands. He pauses on the spot, seemingly admiring you under the yellow light of your flat. Your heart lurches in your chest, hands suddenly clammy as you see him visibly sweat. The warm lights may make you look good, but it makes you see all the tiny details. Like how the corner of his lips quirk up into a subtle small smile, the silver charms in his hair, and the slight shimmery sheen on his black shirt. He looks handsome as always, but you can't help but feel shy under his gaze as you hide yourself with your arms crossed over your chest.

Hobie notices, and he has to wake himself up by slapping the rubber band that's around his wrist. “Come ‘ere often?”

“I live here, Hobie.” You beam at him with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Right, ‘m trespassin’, ain't I?” He finally gets the courage to come close to you, smelling the strawberries and cream scent of your perfume. He feels like he's floating on cloud nine.

“I don't think it counts if I invited you in.” With a trembling hand, you reach for his sleeve, fingers running over the rough denim.

He stands toe to toe with you, eyes soft and hand slowly reaching for you as you lead him outside. “W-wait hold on.”

“Hm?” You hum, and you see his hands reaching towards your neck.

“Can I?” His palm hovers around the underside of your jaw, thumb briefly brushing along your heated skin.

Your lips part slightly, breath hitching in your throat as you tug him closer to you. You're thinking that this is it, that he's about to kiss you properly this time. Not like the quick and awkward kiss you two had after his confession. It was awkward because it was during a work trip, and it was quick because he took your still lips against him as a sign that he misread your affections. He was dead wrong. It took guts to yank him back in front of you and place a kiss on the corner of his lips before someone could see you two lip locking on company time. It was the best decision you've ever made.

“Y–yeah, you can, Hobs.” You can't even hear your own voice above the thudding of your heart.

Hobie nods and leans closer as you shut your eyes. He's so close to you that you can smell his cologne. Warm hands graze your neck, fingers gently looping around your necklace as he twists it around your neck. “Sorry, it was botherin’ me.”

Your eyes open immediately, looking down at your fixed necklace where the pendant of a clover now sits right on your collarbone. “Oh.”

His brows knit together. “Oh?” Then his face morphs into realization. “Oh!” Shit. “I could still—”

“It's nothing! We should go, we're wasting precious time.” You didn't intend to have your voice so unnaturally high. You clear your throat, arm reaching behind him to close and lock your front door. Trainers squeak against the steps as you embarrassedly make your way down. You wish the earth could just swallow you whole.

Hobie bites his lip to tuck the laugh inching in his throat. “Sure, love.”

“Don't laugh!” You squeak from the sidewalk as you stare up at him.

“‘m not!” A chuckle escapes.

“You are!” You point accusingly at him.

“‘m just chuffed, alright?” Hobie goes down the stairs to meet with a very flustered you. He tugs you against him by your pinky and lets you hide your face on his chest. You groan, the deep rumble felt through his entire being. His palm rests in between your shoulder blades, thumb brushing along your nape. “If I only knew—”

As quick as lightning, you cup his mouth. “Not a word.”

He mumbles, words quieted by your hand while his eyes smile.

“I didn't think that you were about to…you know.” You lie through your teeth, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously, letting his expression convey his words. Huffing, your hand falls. “Don’t say anything, please?” You're embarrassed enough as it is.

With a smile, he moves down and places a kiss on your cheek. Lips lingering on your skin. It almost had you keeling over on the dirty sidewalk.

“There, enough to tide us both over until the end of the date.” You haven't noticed his hand grasping your own, as his index traces the shell of your ear and plays with your dangling earring.

“You're excruciatingly insufferable.” You say with the fondest of tones. Arms looped around his neck while his hands fall down towards your hips.

“You have that effect on me,” with another kiss to your cheek, one that's closer to the corner of your lips, he then takes your hand, pecking the back of your hand and then holding it and placing it inside the pocket of his jacket. You feel how shaky he is against your touch, and the clamminess of his palm. “C’mon, we have places to be.”

Your head casually leans against his shoulder whilst you two walk. Letting the street lights guide you both towards where he parked his motorcycle.

“I was thinking of making use of the vegetables you gave me and make you dinner someday? Possibly? Maybe?” You say with trepidation as you two cross the street.

“That sounds great, love.” He holds onto you protectively, head swiveling to make sure there's no oncoming traffic heading your way. Now safely back on the sidewalk, he leads you towards the familiar bike. “Your flowers might have bloomed by then too.”

Hobie lets you go to grab a spare helmet for you. The same one he always reserves just for you whenever he gives you a ride home.

“Moussaka for the eggplant, some pasta with the tomatoes.” You excitedly say while he gingerly puts on the helmet on your head just like always. And he even makes sure he doesn't ruin your hair. He listens intently at your yapping with a soft smile. “I have no idea what to do with the onions though, maybe french onion soup? Would that even pair well with the others?”

Hobie pats the top of the helmet, wiggling your head with it. “As long as you let me help you with the cookin’”

“You want to help me?” Your eyes shine brightly under the streetlamp.

“‘Course, love.” Without another word, he kneels down before you and you swear your heart stops as your eyes widen. “That could be our second date.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more with another assumption. Hobie ties your loose shoelaces for you. He makes sure that he secures it well with a tug and even moves to the other shoe to double knot its shoelaces.

He gives your shoe a good pat before you give him a hand to help him up. His eyes glow as he looks up at you with reverence.

You have no idea how you'll manage throughout the rest of the date without melting into a puddle.

[ayukas]

synopsis in a city that never snows, the first flakes arrives on the night two lovers say goodbye.

genre angst, missed timings word count 873

notes to celebrate molo... (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was heavily inspired by the song, 认真的雪, by joker xue! renjun covered this song back in 2022 as well :D as always, constructive and kind feedback, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, please enjoy!

the first time mark held your hand, it was on a summer night, with your fingers sticky from too many candied strawberries. you had laughed, warmth coursing through your hands, and he had sworn under the blinking neon signs that he would love you forever.

the last time mark held your hand, it was winter, but not quite cold enough to snow. his fingers trembled when you pulled away, leaving only warmth fading into absence.

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

you had spent your entire lives together. first as childhood friends, then as lovers, and eventually, as fiances. but somewhere along the way, life happened.

mark was constantly buried in music—late nights in his studio, endless hours tweaking beats, lost in melodies that never seemed to be perfect enough. you were drowned in wedding gowns and floral arrangements, your days filled with wine tasting, venue visits, and frantic brides who wanted their special day to be flawless.

at first, it didn't seem like a problem at all. you both had dreams, and you supported each other's ambitions. you saw how mark's eyes lit up when he talked about a new song idea, just like he saw how you thrived in the chaos of planning the perfect wedding for your clients.

but slowly, the distance started creeping in.

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

"are you free for dinner tonight?" you had called him one evening, hopeful after realising that it had been a week since you last saw each other.

mark hesitated, fingers still hovering over his keyboard, the track on his screen unfinished. "i'm sorry baby, i can't. i'm in the middle of recording."

"okay. maybe next time." you swallowed the lump in your throat.

another night, mark had sent you a text. wanna go for a walk with me? it had been his way of making up for lost time, a small attempt to piece things back together.

you stared at your laptop, stared at the intricate lace details you were designing for your next client, before sighing. sorry markie. i have a deadline tonight.

missed opportunity after missed opportunity. you were always just a second too late, a step too far apart.

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

one night, as you left your office, the city's skyline stretched out before you, wrapped in a haze of golden streetlights. you exhaled a breath you didn't know you had been holding and pulled out your phone.

looks like it's about to snow tonight.

mark's reply came quickly. this city never snows, silly.

you smiled as his response, but somehow, it felt more like an ache than amusement.

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

you should've known that love wasn't just about holding onto memories, but more about making new ones. but how could you, when you and mark were just echoes of the past, too exhausted to build a future?

it was in the soft glow of a wedding hall, watching your clients, a bride and groom, sway in each other's arms, that the realisation hit you like a slow-moving train.

you could plan the perfect wedding for someone else, but you couldn't save your own.

you thought about your own engagement. the excitement you once felt when mark got on one knee and whispered promises of forever to you. but what was the point of a wedding if there was no time left for love?

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

mark had wanted to play you a song that night. a song that he had written for you, about you. it was the reason he had asked you to go on that walk.

he imagined sitting beside you on a bench, fingers strumming softly against his guitar strings, watching the way your face would light up like it always did when he played for you.

instead, he played it alone. in the dim glow of his studio, voice cracking on the last verse, wondering if you'd ever get to hear it.

after all, you were always missing each other's timing.

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

and so, when you finally sat across from each other in that quiet cafe, it wasn't anger that filled the space between you. it was resignation. exhaustion.

you both knew it was coming, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"i love you," mark whispered, voice breaking on the words.

you smiled, but the tears welling up in your eyes was unmistakeable, "i love you too."

"but love isn't enough, is it?"

you looked away.

you weren't sure who let go first, but eventually, your hands fell away from each other.

there was no dramatic fight. no desperate pleas. just silence, punctuated by the soft clink of a spoon against a coffee mug, and the sound of both your hearts shattering.

mark reached for his coffee, but his hands were shaking too much to even lift it. you had watched him for a moment longer, memorising the curve of his jaw, and the way his eyelashes cast shadows against his skin.

and then, you stood up.

he didn't stop you.

☃︎☃︎☃︎.

that night, as mark stepped out of the cafe, he tilted his head back, letting out a slow breath. that was when he felt it.

a snowflake. then another.

his phone buzzed, a message from you.

it's snowing.

mark broke.

right there, in the middle of a city that never snowed, he wept for the love you had lost.

perm. taglist ♡ @renjunsversion @ddolbyong @f6llsun @egojo1st @sungbites @nonverdolly @strwberie @blondemrk @chenlezip @markkiatocafe @stqrgr7 @jisungji @taroddori @haeriaes

[loveunt0ld]

juno - hwang hyunjin

he’s always been your best friend, ever since middle school. but somewhere along the way, that all changed and then you found yourself seeing him from a different perspective. noticing the way your heart danced extra when he was around. little do you know, hyunjin’s been in the same boat for a while now too. is a silly game of truth or dare enough to change that?

a/n: this is my first time writing something like this but i really wanted to for hyun’s bday! this is sort of lightly inspired by sabrina carpenter’s juno. happy birthday my forever love ♡

—

hwang hyunjin. that was the name of your best friend, who you’ve been in love with for the past couple of years now. you remember meeting him all those years back. he warmed up to you rather quickly. he was a ray of sun on the most gloomiest of your days. he was light personified. even though he tells you he’s the lucky one, he doesn’t realize the ways in which he’s changed your life. your happiest moments were all thanks to him. what a privilege it is to grow up with the warmest soul on planet earth you thought.

you two were now in your last year of college, and you still hadn’t confessed the way you felt about him. it’s been years of lingering touches, longing looks and nothing from either of you. despite how close you were to hyunjin, you could never tell what he truly thought of you. to the average person, you two looked like you were dating, so clearly in love. but between you two? you were both too scared to cross that line.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder. you turned around to see him. hyunjin. you felt your heart leap out of your chest, but you smiled upon seeing him.

“y/n? are you okay?” hyunjin asked, concerned something was bothering you. you shook your head, scared that your voice would shake and betray you. you grounded yourself before answering.

“yes hyune. i’m ok, i promise.” too close you thought. hyunjin gave you a look before accepting your answer, not wanting to pry anymore. you’ll talk to him when you’re ready he thought. he has no idea you close you are to just saying to hell with it, especially when he looks at you like you personally put the stars in the sky.

“if you say so. i just wanted to ask if we were still on for our little get together later?” he asks. he was celebrating his birthday with a small party. you had been anxiously waiting. you had spent an insane amount of time trying to get him a gift, but nothing ever felt just right.

“of course hyun! how could i forget?” you smiled, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. you prayed he couldn’t hear it. he gave you prettiest smile ever, with his crescent moon eyes on full display. he’s the prettiest when he’s happy you thought.

“i knew you wouldn’t. just wanted to remind my favorite girl is all. i don’t think i’d have a good time if you weren’t there.” he playfully says, all while playing with your hand. this can’t be casual anymore. he’s starting a whole war in your heart and he’s not even aware of it. you’re reminded that this whole party wasn’t even his idea to begin with, but rather your friend groups idea. you hoped he’d at least have fun.

“i obviously need to be there. who else is gonna bug you if not me?” you joked. he laughed, knowing he’d feel some sort of calmness with you there. it’s just so easy to do things with him by your side. he thought so too. you stared at him, hearts in your eyes. he looked down at his watch, immediately standing up.

“i didn’t realize i’m gonna be late for my next class. ill see you later, ok love?” he said while hugging you, not forgetting to land a kiss on your head. this is totally not what bestfriends do. you waved him goodbye, already nervous for the next time you’d see him.

—

later arrives and you’re standing outside of hyunjin’s apartment. you can feel the music coming from inside and you already know what to expect when you walk in there. leave it to jisung and felix for being in charge of attendance. your nerves settled as quickly as they rose. you texted hyunjin, telling him you arrived. seconds later he opened the door, looking at you and just taking in your appearance.

“hi pretty. im glad you made it. just be warned it’s a little crazy in there.” he stated, as if you couldn’t see past his shoulder where the madness ensued. you laughed anyways, happy he warned you regardless. he took your hand before he shut the door and led you to where his friends were. all of them immediately turning their heads towards your arriving figures and smiling, like they all knew something you didn’t.

“i see he’s already protecting you from this madhouse.” seungmin says, practically yelling over the music. you both chuckled, but too nervous to say the wrong thing.

“now that y/n is here, we should play a game! anyone up for truth or dare?” jeongin proposed while the others wore knowing smirks, clearly aware of his intentions. they all agreed to it, including hyunjin. you felt your heart drop, scared of what would happen.

—

you’re all sat in a big circle. it’s childish that this is the game they chose to play, right? but in the same nature, it felt fitting given the scenario. hyunjin sat by your side, listening to the outrageous things that were coming out of your friends mouths. each truth or dare becoming more outrageous than the last. your stomach hurt from constantly laughing, it was almost enough to make you forget that you and hyunjin were also playing.

“your turn hyunjin!” minho yells, snapping you out of your thoughts. you tensed a little bit. you had no idea what they had planned for him but you don’t know if you liked it one bit. hyunjin, on the other hand, looked calm. he didn’t indulge in his choice too much.

“dare.” hyunjin states. now you were sure everything you tried so hard to hide from him would be undone in a matter of minutes. maybe you needed this push, before it was too late. either way, that didn’t help to settle the storm brewing in you right now. you looked around, hoping the dare wouldn’t involved you. but they all knew your feelings for him.

it’s minho who also announces the dare. “i dare you to tell your crush how you feel. at this exact moment. doesn’t have to be in front of us, but you should tell her.” he reveals and you feel like you can’t breathe for just a second. that is until hyunjin is taking your hand and taking you upstairs to his room, that’s when you snap out of it.

the guys watch as hyunjin drags you away. they look at each other, knowing it’s long overdue. changbin starts talking, “do you think he’ll be mad at us?” clearly worried about what hyunjin would do. chan can only laugh beside him.

“he wouldn’t be. not when she feels the exact same way about him.” chan assures them, and that’s enough for all of them to smile at each other, happy that hyunjin would finally have the girl of his dreams.

—

up in hyunjin’s room, neither of you could look at each other. you hovered near his bed, while he stood at the door, making sure to lock it. the tension in the room thick enough to be cut through with a knife. you hear him shuffling around but you’re too scared to look up at him. you see his shoes come into view, knowing he’s standing right in front of you.

“y/n… i knew they would do that. but the truth is, i planned to tell you on my own terms. they’re not wrong. it’s just that, somewhere along the way, my like become love. im in love with you. you’re the only one for me y/n.” hyunjin states while looking down at you. “will you look at me y/n? i want to see you.” that’s enough to have you slowly look up at him.

“hyunjin, i have something to tell you too.” you confess, deciding to lay it all on the table before you changed your mind and ran away from it again. he waits for it, knowing the world you two so perfectly built together is about to change.

“i want you to know that im so in love with you. i have been for a while. and i need you to know that i want you to keep falling in love with me for as long as we let each other.” you whisper, too scared of how he’ll react. the room was charged with the desire you two had for each other. he stared into your eyes as he grabbed your hands, silently asking for your permission while he got impossibly closer. you nodded, more than willing to let him in.

hyunjin kissed you with the hunger of a starved man. you wrapped your arms around his neck while he held tightly onto your waist. he deepened the kiss while he brought you as close as your bodies would allow. he walked you two back to his bed and eventually your knees hit the edge causing you to fall backwards. the kiss broke, while you two pulled away to giggle and he made sure not to put all his weight on you.

“i don’t think you realize how long ive wanted to do that for, baby.” he softly spoke, while brushing a strand of hair out of your face. you smiled up at him, not believing anything that just happened. you two sat up while he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him. he lazily drew circles with his thumbs while he held onto your waist.

“the amount of times i almost threw all caution out of the window when we were alone. I’m glad i didn’t but, i also wished id done it sooner.” you reveal while caressing his cheeks, leaning in to plant a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. hyunjin looked up at you, eyes so full of love.

“keep on loving me y/n. i won’t break your heart ever. and if i do? please tell me im the dumbest man on earth. don’t ever let me do such a thing.” he pleaded softly. you nodded, knowing he was being true to his word. you leaned your forehead against his. hyunjin would make sure to make you the happiest girl ever.

“you know, i originally had another gift for you. but i don’t think anything can beat this. happy birthday my lover.” you state, while leaning in for another kiss. he kisses you softly this time. trying to savor the moment, while basking in the warmth that is you.

“i have an idea or two.” hyunjin suggests while smirking. you laugh, having no choice but to give in. he’s the birthday boy after all, and the love of your entire life. the man of your dreams. after years of pining, he’s finally yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[midnightshindig]

Hey👀👀 could we get some first kiss rex hc that are just emotional as hell?? Not necessarily angsty hes just feeling feelings😞🙏

Rex Splode x Reader: First Kiss

ughhhh i'm not over rex

also what the HELL Rudy

gonna deadname him forever sorry guys, not a biggot just a hater </3

hcs under the cut!

Rex is a nervous bitch

he hasnt really had a first kiss he's cared that much about since he was fourteen with Eve

and even then he was fourteen so he didn't really know how big of a deal it was

BUT this is post-lobotomy Rex

and he really likes you

and he can't mess this up

he can't "Rex it up" as Amanda lovingly put it when he begged her for help

"Pleaaase Amanda- you're a woman- kinda- you know about this romance junk!" he pressed his palms into prayer and knelt at her, shuffling towards her comedically as she rolled her eyes

"First-!" she shoved a pointed finger into his face "Don't call romance 'junk', it's annoying."

Amanda sighed a long, heavy sigh, and pinched her temple

"And two, I'm calling in reinforcements."

two hours later Rex is in his room with Mark, Eve, William, Amanda, and Rudy all piled in

Rex isn't sure why William OR Rudy are there, but he figures more the merrier

"ooookay." William starts, leaning onto his propped up knee "You've been seeing this person for how long?"

Rex swallowed his spit nervously "uhm... we've been like talking and going on dates and shit for a few weeks- uhhh..." he starts counting on his fingers before Rudy cuts him off

"Rex and Y/n have been mutually exclusive for two months and three days."

Eve's jaw goes slack "Two months?! Rex what the hell?" her scolding is teasing yet bewildered, a playful hand gesturing from its place around Mark's shoulder "Just kiss them already, why are you being a wuss?"

Rex buries his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the overlapping conversation and criticism as the room erupts into dialogue

"I JUST-" he calls out, quieting the room

"I want to make it memorable. And... special."

His face is on fire

he's blushing so hard it hurts

Okay now they HAVE to help him figure this out

so three hours of brainstorming and meticulous planning-- some light lunch and snacking-- later, Rex has a game plan

Everyone shuffles out of his room as quietly as they can, except for Eve, who tells Mark she'll catch up in just a minute

The door closes them into the same space, alone

"Oh, uh... what's up, Eve?" Rex's shoulders tensed as he took in Eve's serious expression and folded arms

She broke out in a small smile "Do you really like this person, Rex? Like you're not going to cheat and be a dick?"

He nodded a small, but intentional nod. Intimidated as fuck by his ex-girlfriend.

She responded by rushing forward and pulling him into a bone crushing hug

"oOoooo I'm so excited for you" she pulled him closer, as he slowly wrapped his arms around her in return

"Ha- Thanks, Eve. I appreciate it."

Eve pulled back and stared into his eyes intensely "Don't freak out, just be yourself, okay? I'm so happy for you, Rex."

As they separated and Eve made her way out, Rex flopped back onto his bed

He'd just received the blessing of his only true friend, this couldn't possibly go wrong.

A few days later, and you're reading in your room

a slip of paper came under the door

"Hm?" you set your book down and went to retrieve it

It was a crude drawing of the two of you-- yourself and Rex-- in the mountains?

It was hard to tell

he was not a good artist.

Regardless, you opened the door to find another piece of paper

and another

and another

all littered with doodle of the two of you, tracing through the GotG HQ to the "back door" so to speak

"Rex?" You inquired cautiously, fearful it may be a trap

"Hey!"

you flung around and caught Rex's nose in a high kick, before realizing your mistake and covering your mouth in surprise

"Ah!! Rex!! fuck- I'm so sorry!"

Rex hit the snowy floor like a crumbled piece of paper, holding his bruised nose and trying to shake it off

"iiiii'm good! I'm fine! Wuh-uhh... fuuuuck." He steadied himself by leaning onto you a little, wrapping an arm around you

You assessed the situation, thankfully not having broken his nose

"Oh Rex, I'm so sorry... and after all your hard work with those drawings.... is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can kiss it better."

The silence was thick with romantic tension, and you stared at him wide eyed while he stared back in abject horror-- at himself, not you

"No-NO! FUck- this wasn't- Ugh! Stupid- Stupid0" he groaned, sitting in the snow and leaning against the GHQ

You looked down at him, confused

He just held his bruised face in his hands "That's not how it was supposed to go."

Carefully, you sat next to him in the thick, powdery snow.

"How what was supposed to go?" you placed a loving hand on his upper arm

Rex leaned into your touch, eventually leaning his head onto your shoulder "I wanted to say all this shit about how much you mean to me- and how much of a better person I want to be for you, and all this stuff..." he pulled out snow-soggied crumpled notecards, passing the ball of paper to you as you deciphered key phrases and bullet points

He sighed again, nuzzling into your shoulder "Iwanted our firstkiss tobe special, yknow?" he looked up at you with the saddest eyes, obviously welling with tears "You deserve that much."

Now it was your turn to blush so hard it hurt

or maybe it was the cold.

"R-Rex- I don't... I mean..."

the longer you trailed off the louder the thumping in Rex's chest got

eventually, though, you spit it out

With a warm affect "Rex, you're so perfect."

and you leaned down, kissing his lips gently

He reacted swiftly, bringing his hand to your cheek, warmth bringing solace and comfort to the bitter cold threatening to permeate your layers the longer the two of you sat in the snow.

The kiss lasted what felt like forever

but in reality it was maybe three minutes

You noticed Rex opening and closing his eyes, to check if you were still there

When you finally had to part lips, Rex sifted himself up to be level with you, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull your head to his chest

"I really like you, Y/n. And I want to be a good guy for you."

"You are a good guy, you're the best guy I could ask for."

"No. I'm not. But don't worry, babe." his humorous tone crept back into the serious situation, easing the tension a little

"I'm going to be."

[nicholasluvbot]

BE MY LITTLE SECRETㅤ ◞ ㅤ 愛 ★ ❜ㅤ ― 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗁, 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂'𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

ㅤ✿ ´ㅤ ── 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ｡

𝑓 ｡ ◞ 1700ㅤ❝ ― 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 >< 𝖻𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾. 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 🖇 𝖣𝗂𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

SUNGHO

sungho does not deserve this. one second, he’s lying peacefully on your bed, head in your lap as you mess with his hair, and the next, he’s being shoved into your closet because your friends have suddenly decided to show up unannounced.

“you owe me,” he grits out as his lovely girlfriend pushes him inside and shuts the door with no mercy.

an hour. he’s stuck in there for a whole hour, broad shoulders cramped uncomfortably in the small space, forced to listen to your friends chatter away while he suffers in silence.

by the time they finally leave, he stumbles out, looking thoroughly pissed. arms crossed over his chest, lips pulled into a small pout.

“i almost died in there,” he huffs dramatically.

you do feel bad, but also… his grumpy state is adorable. reaching out, you try to touch his arm, hoping he’ll melt at your touch, but he remains as stiff as a cardboard cutout.

you say his name sweetly. “you know i didn’t have any other choice,” you explain, but sungho only frowns harder, looking everywhere except at you.

you sigh, but you know exactly how to break through his shell. standing on your tiptoes, you press a sweet kiss to his cheek. he tries to keep up the sulking act, but you don’t miss the way his lips twitch.

so you keep going, cupping his face and trailing soft kisses along his cheek, forehead, nose—until he’s smiling from ear to ear, his hands settling on your hips as he soaks in the affection.

“are you still mad at me?” you ask, lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

“yes.”

sungho isn’t mad at all, but after being trapped in that closet for way too long, he’s milking this for all it’s worth.

“but i made it up to you,” you pout.

he flops onto your bed, looking up at you with a lazy smile. “not enough.”

you smile back, leaning closer. “what do i have to do then?”

without warning, he grabs your wrist and flips you onto the bed beside him. “stay right here,” he mumbles, pressing his face into your neck, voice muffled. “and maybe let me sleep over.”

“that’s just gonna get us in more trouble,” you snort.

but you both know you’ll let him stay anyway.

RIWOO

you’re having a movie night at leehan’s place. you love them the most—cozy blankets, dim lights, and, best of all, an excuse to cuddle with riwoo while everyone else is too engrossed in the movie to notice.

you’re in the kitchen, waiting for the microwave to finish, the smell of buttery popcorn filling the air.

you sense a presence behind you and smile, already knowing who it is. but before you can turn, riwoo places his hands on either side of you, caging you in against the counter.

“you’re taking forever,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

“you’re just too impatient,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully.

before you can react, riwoo spins you around and steals a quick kiss—soft, teasing, gone too soon. but then, he kisses you again, this time lingering.

your fingers curl into his hoodie, the scent of popcorn and his cologne making your head spin. the thrill of getting caught at any moment, if one of your friends decided to walk in, only makes you want to kiss him more.

the microwave beeps, startling you both apart. your breath is unsteady as you glance toward the living room, making sure no one is coming.

riwoo, completely unbothered, just smirks. “sit next to me,” he says, pecking your lips once more.

“what?” you blink at him, dazed.

“not taesan. me.”

he leaves first, acting like nothing happened, though the tips of his ears are red. you take a second to compose yourself before following, placing the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and settling into the empty spot beside riwoo.

you pretend nothing happened in the kitchen, but the way he immediately leans into you, his warmth engulfing you, says otherwise.

JAEHYUN

you make your way toward the fitting room to try on a cute top you found while shopping with friends, only for jaehyun to slip in right behind you and lock the door. he wastes no time pressing you against the wall, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

“jae, what are you—”

“just one kiss,” he pleads, though you both know it’s never just one. his hands slide up your waist, lips moving against yours in a way that makes your knees weak. your fingers curl into his shirt as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

you lose track of time, of everything except the warmth of his touch—the way his fingers slide up your back, the way his hands tangle in your hair—until both of your phones start buzzing, the group chat flooding with messages about your whereabouts.

you pull away with a gasp, chest rising and falling as reality crashes back in. jaehyun exhales, lips brushing over yours as he grins. “ignore it.”

“they’re gonna get suspicious,” you whisper, eyes darting to the persistent notifications lighting up your screen.

“mm, let them.” his thumb drags lazily over your lower lip before he leans in again.

you barely manage to stop him, pressing a hand against his chest. “jaehyun,” you scold, though your voice lacks any real conviction, “we’re gonna get caught.”

he huffs, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “fine,” he mutters, but then he smirks, arms tightening around you for just a second. “but you owe me later.”

rolling your eyes, you push him toward the door. “whatever, just go.”

he slips out first, and you take a moment to fix your hair before following.

but as you rejoin your friends, pretending nothing happened, the way your lip gloss has vanished—and how jaehyun’s lips are looking a little shinier than usual—does not go unnoticed by them.

TAESAN

taesan loves sneaking around.

he thrives off the secrecy—the stolen glances, the brief touches, whispering things in your ear under the guise of a joke, the way no one suspects a thing (even though they totally do).

so when he suddenly pulls you into the janitor’s closet, you’re not surprised.

“taesan—”

“shh.” he smirks, backing you up against the shelves, lips grazing your ear. “don’t wanna get caught, baby.”

before you can retort, his lips are on yours—slow, teasing. his hands ghost over your waist before gripping it properly, deepening the kiss.

he’s enjoying this—his little secret, the thrill of nearly getting caught, the way you melt under his touch. he pulls back slightly, and you assume he’s about to make another teasing remark, but his words are swallowed when you grab his collar, crashing your lips against his.

your fingers tangle in his hair, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, closer, until—

rattle.

someone jiggles the door handle.

you both freeze.

“is someone in here?” a voice calls.

taesan grins. “looks like we’re stuck together, babe.”

you slap a hand over his mouth. “not the time!”

LEEHAN

leehan is a little too good at keeping things lowkey—no one suspects a thing.

he’s good at pretending you’re just friends in public, but when it’s just the two of you, he showers you with all the affection in the world.

which is why it takes you a while to notice he’s being sulky.

at first, you don’t think much of it. leehan isn’t the loudest in the group, so when he only responds with nods and one-liners, you assume he’s just in a quiet mood. but then, he doesn’t sit next to you like he normally would. doesn’t lean in to whisper jokes only you can hear. doesn’t even laugh at yours a little harder than everyone else.

that’s when you know something’s wrong.

so you pull him aside under the excuse of showing him a cool fish. your friends don’t even question it.

“alright,” you say once you’re alone, “what’s wrong?”

leehan crosses his arms, looking away. “nothing.”

you raise an eyebrow. “liar.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, clearly debating whether to tell you, before mumbling, “jaehyun grabbed your arm earlier.”

you blink. “...because he got startled.”

leehan pouts. “still.”

you bite your lip, fighting back a smile. “you’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

his nose scrunches. “shut up.”

you laugh, reaching for his hand. he lets you, but keeps his gaze stubbornly fixed on the fish tank.

“you know you get to do more than just hold my hand when we’re alone,” you tease, tracing abstract patterns on the back of his hand.

he swallows, trying to keep up the act, but you don’t miss the way his lips twitch. still, it takes more soft reassurances, a few playful pokes, and at least three compliments for his sulkiness to finally melt away.

but just as you’re about to go back, he surprises you—grabbing your wrist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

you panic, looking around to see if anyone saw. “leehan—”

he just laughs, completely unbothered. “what? they still don’t suspect a thing.”

WOONHAK

woonhak is sneaky.

he takes your hand, his expression casual as ever while the group chatters away. at first, you think nothing of it—he does this often, holding onto you like it's second nature. but then—

crack.

you wince. “did you just—”

he hums in response, unfazed. crack. crack.

“woonhak!” you whisper sharply, trying not to draw attention.

“shh,” he murmurs, cracking another knuckle with ease.

you grimace at the sensation. it doesn’t exactly hurt, but it’s unexpected, and by the time he’s done cracking all ten of your knuckles, you’re staring at him in disbelief. you try to tug your hand away, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he shifts his grip, thumbs pressing gentle circles over your knuckles, soothing away the tension he just caused.

you turn to glare at him, ready to scold him properly, but then he smiles. that smile—the one where his lips part just enough to show his teeth, and his eyes shine with unfiltered adoration.

you sigh, any irritation melting away.

so you let him hold your hand, pretending to be engrossed in whatever ridiculous debate your friends are having.

and when, in one swift motion, he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft, fleeting kiss against your knuckles, you don’t even bother to pull away.

you only suppress a giggle, hoping no one else noticed.

ㅤnetworks ◞ @kstrucknet @k-films @sgz-net

[breezyblossoms]

A/N: Fourth Wing Spoilers!!

The battlefield was silent, the air heavy with the weight of loss. The scent of smoke lingered in the thick night, mixing with the fresh, cold bite of the wind. In the midst of the ruin and the screams of those who had fallen, there was a place where time felt suspended—a moment frozen forever.

It was there you stood, your eyes fixed on the spot where Liam Mairi had fallen. His body lay still, lifeless, but the memory of him—the essence of his spirit—hovered around you like a mist. You could still hear his voice in the recesses of your mind, his laugh, his unwavering support, and his determination. It felt like you were in a dream, one where you couldn’t wake up, no matter how hard you tried.

The night had begun like any other. The skies had been full of fire and blood as the war raged on, but it was on that very night that something had shifted. Something had broken. You and Liam had shared a quiet moment before the battle, a brief pause amidst the chaos that defined your lives. He had always been there for you, your closest ally and friend, always ready with a joke to lift your spirits or a hand to steady you when the world seemed too much to bear.

But now, he was gone.

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t wipe it away. It felt wrong to. You didn’t want to erase the grief, the ache in your chest that burned hotter than the fires of war. You didn’t want to forget the moment you had shared. The moment when it all felt like it had just begun.

“I’ve got your back, always.”

His words echoed in your mind, a promise he had made, a promise he couldn’t keep. But you didn’t hold it against him. How could you? He had given everything, and you knew that with his death, he had left a hole that could never be filled.

In the distance, you heard someone approach. It was a soft step, but you didn’t need to turn to know who it was. You could feel their presence before they even spoke.

“You never told me,” Violet whispered softly, stepping up beside you. You hadn’t noticed how close she had been until now, but her quiet voice was a grounding force in the storm of grief.

“What?” You wiped your face, quickly trying to hide the tears you knew she had already seen. But she didn’t say anything, only stood in silence beside you, her presence like a steady hand on your shoulder.

“That he was everything to you.” She paused, looking out over the battlefield, her eyes tracing the horizon, the stars barely visible through the smoke.

“He was everything,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “He was my family. My… everything.”

The night felt still. The weight of it pressing against your chest, suffocating, but you didn’t mind the pressure. It was like the night had swallowed you whole, leaving you here in this place where everything had ended. Where you were left alone with only the memory of him.

The silence stretched, the air between you and Violet filled with unspoken understanding. Neither of you needed to say the words. There were no words that could explain the weight of what had just happened.

“You know,” Violet said quietly, “I’m glad I met him. Even if it was only for a short time.” Her voice cracked on the final word, and you felt a pang of sympathy for her. She had loved him, too.

You nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat. “He was… he was always there, wasn’t he? Always ready to fight. To protect.”

“Always ready to smile, too,” Violet added softly, her voice light with the faintest hint of a laugh, even as the sorrow clung to her like a second skin. “You know, I think he would’ve wanted us to remember him that way. Not like this. Not in the aftermath.”

You nodded again, feeling the sting of that truth, but also a sense of peace. Liam had lived a life full of light, full of love and laughter, even in the face of the darkest of battles. That’s how you would remember him—not for the way he fell, but for the way he stood, always strong, always unyielding.

“You’re right,” you whispered. “That’s how I want to remember him.”

Violet didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t need to. Her hand brushed against yours in silent comfort, a gesture that spoke more than words ever could. In that fleeting touch, you both felt the gravity of the night. You felt the pull of everything you had lost, but also the weight of everything you had gained—friendship, love, and the fleeting but precious moments that life gave you.

As the stars finally broke free from the haze of smoke, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and remember the night you met. Not the battle. Not the blood. Not the heartbreak.

But the quiet moments—the soft words exchanged, the laughter shared, and the feeling of someone standing beside you, no matter what. The feeling that, for that short time, you were whole.

And in that moment, you could almost hear his voice again.

“I’ve got your back, always.”

The night was still. The world seemed to stand still for just a moment, and you allowed yourself to breathe, holding on to the memory, the love, and the person who would forever live in your heart.

[silentnights-stuff]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

So, I was supposed to write a folktale for my Communicative English assignment… but somehow, I ended up writing a cute fluff story about Pedri instead. Oops.

It’s called Across the Fence, and it’s all about childhood friendship, backyard adventures, and that moment when you realize your best friend means a little more to you than you thought.

If anyone’s interested, let me know, and I’ll post it! But for now, here’s a little preview:

⌗ Across the Fence𓂃 ࣪˖ ᥫ᭡.

– A Pedri Fanfic

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Pedri González in any way, nor do I claim any rights over him. The content I create is entirely fictional, using him purely as a face claim or inspiration. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental. This work is meant for entertainment purposes only and should be viewed as such.

Warnings: Slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, jealousy, major secondhand embarrassment, nicknames and & Inside Jokes, Mild Angst, Football References, High School Drama, Fluff Overload, Pedri is an absolute golden retriever boy.

You ever meet someone who makes a new place feel like home?

Gabira had spent her whole life in Manila, where jeepneys weaved through the streets, the air smelled of isaw, and every day felt like a song playing at full volume. But Barcelona? It was a different rhythm—beautiful but unfamiliar. Until she met him.

Pedri González. The boy next door. The kid who climbed over her backyard fence like he’d known her forever. The one who turned lonely afternoons into laughter-filled adventures.

From shoelaces tied in a rush to stolen glances under stadium lights, their friendship was the kind of thing written in childhood promises and late-night whispers. But feelings change. Hearts grow. And one day, she realized—she didn’t just want to be his best friend anymore.

Too bad she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Pedri’s charm.

Now, between love letters stuffed in lockers and a ridiculous Valentine’s plan that might just backfire, Gabi has one question left:

Does he feel the same way?

Or was she just another fan in the crowd?

──── ୨୧ ────　　　　

[thearttolifesdistractions]

Love and Friendsgiving

description: it’s friendsgiving, something you've hosted for years since moving to ireland, and, as usual, you're overwhelmed with the preparations. but this year feels different, especially with a new friend that can't seem to keep her hands off of andrew. as you navigate the chaos of the night and your growing jealousy, a new tension between you and andrew grows. and when you're forced to confront your feelings for him, you're left questioning everything about your friendship... and what could be more.

warnings: none really... mid writing, mentions of jumping off a balcony?? some cursing??

a/n: HELLO EVERYONE!!! this literally took me forever to write i'm sorry :( the week before spring break was soooo busy for me and being home for spring break left me with zero motivation... but now i'm back in school and back in my favorite coffee shop.... so be ready!! i hope you guys like this one..... i'm not a huuuuge fan of it... but i wrote it and finished it so i'm posting it! also!!! this is on ao3 @ thearttolifesdistractions if you would rather read it there ;) also thank you for following me!!!! i wanna follow all of you cuties back but this is a side blog so i don't think i can..... lmk if you guys want like my main blog to be mutuals on there!!! :)

wc: 7,010

pairing: hozier x fem!reader

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The warm light of the morning seeps through the window of your kitchen,and fills the room with natural light. It’s early, but you need an early start, or nothing will be ready on time. The smell of baking bread and simmering vegetables fill the air, filling the room with smells that bring stress instead of their usual comfort. You’re already juggling more than you can handle, you always do.

It's the last Sunday of November, and you’re starting the preparations for your annual Friendsgiving. You always host on your own, but there’s so much to do that you almost wish you had never started this tradition in the first place.

You don’t know why it was so shocking to find out that people in Ireland don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, but, since moving here, you’ve made it your mission to host Friendsgiving, It’s become a beloved tradition over the last few years, your friends happy to partake in the one American custom you can’t seem to get rid of. Each year, you handle all the cooking, decorating, and organizing yourself.

You don’t mind it, really. Cooking is therapeutic for you, and you love to take care of your friends. You also really like the compliments they give on your cooking skills. But this year feels different, you’re weirdly stressed out about the event. You think it’s because instead of your usual group of six, it’ll be ten people. Of course, the more the merrier, but that means four more mouths you have to cook for tonight, leaving you with more work than usual.

The doorbell rings, distracting you from your thoughts, and you move quickly toward the door, confused as to who’s at your door around this time. When you open it, you’re taken aback by the sight of Andrew standing there with a lopsided grin, looking effortlessly handsome in a knit sweater and jeans. His eyes crinkle around the edges as he steps forward, holding up a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine.

"Mornin’," he says with a wink. "Hope you're ready for me to take over your kitchen."

You blink, still surprised by his early arrival. "Um, I’m sorry, why are you here so early? I’m kinda busy right now." You gesture back toward the chaos of the kitchen. 

He just chuckles, stepping into your house without waiting for any approval. "’m here to help. I know Alex and Karen invited some extra friends, so I figured you might need an extra hand, y’know, for the extra mouths."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly wary of his words. "You’re serious? You’re actually here to help? I didn’t even think you cared about cooking."

"Well, I care about making sure you’re not stretching yourself too thin," he says, flicking your forehead with a grin. He chuckles as you wrinkle your face in response. "Come on, let me see what you need help with."

Your heart warms at his words, at the simple ways he shows he cares about you. The feeling it gives you is a familiar one, and you welcome it with open arms. He’s always doing things like this, simple things that remind you he cares. It really kills you that he’s such a good person. It makes it so much harder not to fall in love with him.

You step aside to let him into your kitchen, still feeling a little flustered by his sudden appearance. As you both move deeper into your working space, a wave of embarrassment hits you at the small mess you've left behind. But Andrew doesn't seem to mind. He simply grabs the trash can and begins picking up the bits you’d forgotten to toss. You can't help but watch him for a moment, taking in how comfortable he looks in your kitchen, how naturally he slips into the role of co-host. It feels natural, but there's something about his presence that makes your heart race just a little faster.

"What are you staring at me for?" Andrew's voice is playful, and when you meet his gaze, his squinted eyes and slight smirk perfectly match the teasing tone of his words.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, a little embarrassed that he caught you staring. "I just can’t believe you’re really here to help," you tease, trying to keep your voice playful as if you weren't just imagining your life with him. "You always show up after everything’s done. I mean, you weren’t even here last year, and now you’re eight hours early"

He stiffens at your words, and you immediately regret mentioning his absence last year. He hadn’t wanted to miss out, but being on tour made it impossible for him to be there, even for one night. Of course, you were upset when he told you he wouldn't make it, but you understood. He has his priorities. His job means so much to him, but it takes so much of his time. Honestly, you were a bit surprised he even found the time to attend the previous year’s dinners. You know he felt terrible about it, he called you at least a hundred times to apologize and even sent hundreds of dollars’ worth of groceries to your house. You open your mouth to apologize, to take back what you said, but before you can, he's already speaking.

"Yeah, well, this year I figured you could use a hand. And since I’m the one who’s usually not here, and I want to make up for that." His tone is light, but you sense the seriousness behind it.

You pause for a moment, taken aback by his words. You didn’t mean to make him think he has something to make up for. "I— I didn’t mean to make you feel bad," you say quietly. "I was just joking."

Andrew’s expression softens too, and he steps closer, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. "I know you were," he replies, his tone gentle. He hesitates, then adds, "but I meant what I said. I have to make up for last year, I want to be here more. For you.”

You can’t help but feel warm at his words. Andrew was one of the first people you met when you moved here, and his presence reminds you of how far you’ve come in the last five years. His friendship means more to you than you’ll ever admit.

You’re not fooling yourself. You know that the way your heart skips when he’s around, how nothing feels quite right when he’s not there, how you always find yourself blushing at his compliments, it's all deeper than just friendship. You know it, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to tell him. He’s always busy, running around the world, singing songs he’s written for other women to thousands of people. He has his priorities, and a potential relationship just wouldn’t be one of them. Besides, why would he, someone who could have any woman he wants, choose you?

"Well... I guess if you really want to make up for lost time, I know exactly the job that’ll do that," you’re trying to regain some of the playfulness, trying to keep him from realizing that his words have affected oy more than they should. You can’t stop the giggle that erupts out of you when his eyebrows raise in confusion, urging you to continue talking. “You can be on turkey duty, that’s easily the most time consuming part of the dinner.”

Andrew chuckles, shaking his head. “Turkey duty, huh? That sounds like a serious commitment.” He glances around the kitchen, the playful glint still in his eyes. “I mean, that’s the most important part of the meal, isn’t it?”

He’s right, it is the most important part of the meal, but it’s also your least favorite. Something about cleaning out a turkey just makes you feel queasy. You grab the thawed turkey from the fridge and mutter, “It is… but maybe I just really trust you.” You try to sound convincing, but you can tell by the pointed look he gives you that it didn’t quite work. Rolling your eyes, you give yourself up with a small laugh as you set the turkey down on the counter. “Okay, fine. Maybe it just really grosses me out to clean it out.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Grosses you out, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” He grins as he steps closer, reaching for the turkey. “Besides, I’m great at handling all kinds of weird stuff,” he adds with a wink, as if cleaning out a turkey is no big deal.

The laugh you let out at his words is louder than you expected. “What do you even mean by that?”

Andrew chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. He shrugs nonchalantly, a mischievous grin taking over his face. "Oh, you know, I’m just always always dealing with all kinds of messy situations. Could be anything," he says, his tone teasing, but there's a twinkle in his eyes. "Trust me, sticking my hand inside turkey is child's play compared to some of the stuff I’ve been in."

You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully with your shoulder. “You are so weird,” you mumble, shaking your head with a grin. 

You step aside to let him start on the turkey, watching as he cleans it with a meticulousness that surprises you. While he works on that, you busy yourself with the marinade, the familiar scent of herbs and spices starting to fill the air. You’re focused, concentrating on getting the balance just right. Once it’s done, you slowly fill the injector with the marinade, being careful not to spill even a drop.

After a few minutes, Andrew steps away to throw the cleaned-out insides of the turkey into the trash. You take a deep breath and glance at the injector sitting on the counter. You're picky when it comes to this dinner, you just want everything done the way you want perfectly. You grab the injector, ready to get it done the way you want.

As you begin to move toward the turkey, Andrew steps back into the room, and his eyes widen in defeat when he sees you with the injector in hand.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice accusing but teasing.

“I’ll finish the turkey off, you can chop the vegetables,” you reply, keeping your tone light, but you’re already feeling a little protective over the turkey. You just want to make sure everything’s done right.

Andrew raises an eyebrow, giving you a look of mild amusement. “No, let me finish. You can get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures toward the potatoes you’ve been working on, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You shake your head, setting your jaw slightly. “No, Andy. It’s fine. I want to do it.”

Andrew’s smile falters just a bit, but then he steps toward you, his gaze turning a little more serious. “No, really. Let me finish. You’ve got other stuff to take care of.” His tone softens, and he places his hands on your waist, gently but firmly moving you out of the way.

You let out a gasp, not expecting him to grab you, but before you can protest, he’s already lifting you a little off your feet. His hands are warm against your waist as he lifts you and sets you aside with a grin.

"Let me finish it," he says, his voice barely a whisper, but it's loud enough for you to hear. "Just tell me how to do it, and I’ll take care of it."

You stare back at him, mouth slightly open, and you swear you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck as your back is pressed lightly against his chest. The closeness between you two is suddenly overwhelming, and it makes you forget what you were going to say.

After what feels like forever, you sigh, trying to pull yourself together. “Fine,” you mutter, a little embarrassed at how flustered you feel. “You need to inject it here. And make sure you don’t do it too fast or it'll get everywhere." You gesture to the breast of the turkey, your fingers brushing against his as you point.

Andrew watches your hands for a moment, then looks back up at you with a smirk. “Got it. Slow and steady.” He pauses for a second, his expression softening. “But, if you’re really worrying about me messing up, you can do it.”

You clear your throat and step back a little, suddenly embarrassed with how close you’ve been. “No, it’s fine,” you say quickly. “You can finish it, I’ll get back to my stuff. I just wanna watch you do the first injection.”

He nods and begins to inject the turkey. He must not have listened to you, though, he moves too quickly and the marinade bursts out, squirting back into his face. It’s silent for a minute, the two of you frozen. But when he slowly turns to look at you, you both burst out laughing. Eventually, your laughter dies down to breathy chuckles.

As he goes to wipe his face with his hands, you quickly grab his wrist to stop him. “Wait, no,” you laugh, a playful glint still in your eyes. “You’ve got turkey germs on your hands.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move, just watches as you take a damp kitchen towel and gently clean his face. His skin is so warm beneath your touch, and for a brief moment, your fingertips linger just a second too long on his cheek. You can feel the soft pulse of his heartbeat beneath your fingers, and it makes your breath catch. His breath hitches when you flatten your palm along the side of his face, and for a split second, you swear his eyes flicker to your lips before quickly meeting your gaze again. You’re not sure who leaned in first, or if it was some silent pull between you both, but all you know is that your lips are so close to his now that you have to physically stop yourself from closing the distance. What the fuck are you doing?

You pull back, clearing your throat, suddenly a little too aware of how close you were to kissing him, to ruining the best friendship you’ve ever had. How stupid can you be?

“There,” you murmur, trying to steady your breathing, “you’re all clean.”

Andrew meets your eyes for a moment, and the brief pause feels more tense than you expected. “Thanks,” he says softly, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual.

You quickly turn away, muttering something about finishing the vegetables, your heart racing in a way you’re not sure you can explain.

A few hours have passed, and the kitchen is quiet, except for the quiet alarm every thirty minutes that lets Andrew know when to baste the turkey. The cooking went smoothly, and now the turkey is in the oven, cooking perfectly. In about two hours, it will be ready, and the guests should start arriving in about an hour. Everything is going according to schedule, thank God.

You’re finishing up the last details of your appearance, trying to shake off the feeling that everything still isn’t quite perfect. You’re overthinking, you know it, but you’re a perfectionist, you can’t exactly stop it.

Andrew brought his clothes with him, and now he’s getting ready too. You can hear him moving around, getting dressed in the other room, and you find yourself smiling a little. You’re both hosting, and it feels so... natural.

It feels right, even though you can’t quite explain why. The way he’s so comfortable here, helping you with the dinner, getting into the flow of your routine, almost like it’s his too. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could be more to this than friendship.

But then, you remember last year’s absence, and reality hits you. Andrew has so much going on in his life. So many things he has to prioritize. His job takes up so much of his time, and you know he wouldn’t have room for something like this, not when he already has so much to worry about. You couldn’t possibly be enough for him. He’s out there literally living his dream, and you’re just you.

You try to shake the thought away, but it lingers, making you feel queasy as you finish getting ready. You quickly finish applying your makeup, your movements faster now, almost frantic as you try to push down the tightness in your chest. You don’t want to think about it anymore.

When you walk into the living room, you find Andrew standing in the doorway, now dressed in his outfit for the night. He’s dressed nice, his pants clear of wrinkles and the sleeves of his buttoned shirt rolled up to his elbows. Fuck, he’s hot. You almost die when he looks up at you with his usual smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He opens his mouth and makes a joke, something about how you usually take way longer to get ready to get ready, but when the sound of your barely-there chuckle leaves your lips, he pauses. He studies you for a moment, his expression turning confused as he senses something’s off.

"Hey, what’s with the mood change?" he asks, his voice is gentle and concerned. His gaze is steady on yours, and you can’t stand to stare at him any longer.

You swallow, trying to brush it off, but your voice comes out a little tight, giving away your act. "Nothing," you say, and it sounds more like a lie than you thought it would. "I’m just nervous about everyone coming. You know how I get, I just want everything to be perfect."

Andrew doesn’t seem convinced. He takes a step toward you, his brow furrowing slightly. "You’re usually so calm about this stuff. You’re freaking out about the guests now?" His tone is playful, but there’s a hint of concern behind it. He doesn’t push further, but you can tell he knows it’s not just about the guests.

You look down, avoiding his gaze, and let out a soft sigh. "I don’t know. I just—" You stop yourself before you say too much, afraid if you let it all spill out, it’ll be too much. If you tell him, he’ll feel uncomfortable and leave. You can’t. "Maybe it’s just... all the expectations, you know? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed, and I don’t want to disappoint you." Even saying that feels like a confession, admitting how much his opinion matters to you. You silently hope he won’t realize that when you say you don’t want to disappoint anyone, you really only mean you don’t want to disappoint him.

His expression softens even more, and he steps closer. "Hey," he says, hooking his finger under your chin so you’re meeting his gaze. "Don’t worry about that. I’m really happy I get to share this moment with you, we all are. It’s special, and you’re the one who makes it happen. You should be proud."

His words hit you harder than you expected, you don’t know if it’s the sincerity in his voice or the way he’s looking at you. You let yourself hold his gaze for a beat too long, but then, almost instinctively, you break eye contact and step back a little.

“Thanks, Andrew,” you murmur, forcing a smile that even you know looks fake. It’s not that you don’t appreciate his words,it’s just that in this moment, with him standing so close, you’re nervous. And scared that you’ll end up saying something you’ll regret.

Andrew doesn’t stay away like you hoped he would, and you can feel your heart pounding as he takes two steps towards you. Your breath catches as you stare up at him, faces so close that you’re breathing the same air. The seconds feel like minutes with the distance between your lips so close now that you feel it might only take one slight movement for it to happen.

And just as you think the tension might snap, a knock at the door breaks the moment. Both of you freeze.

You exhale sharply, blinking, internally fracking out because it happened again, whatever it was. You turn toward the door before he can say anything. "Um, I should get that," you say a little too quickly, your voice tight.

Andrew sighs softly, his voice just above a whisper, "Yeah, you should." There’s a quiet frustration in his tone, though it’s unclear whether it’s aimed at the situation itself or at the interruption. You really hope it’s the latter.

You glance back at him for a second before quickly heading toward the door, your heartbeat still racing. As you reach for the doorknob, you still feel the moment in your heart, tense and heavy. You open the door, and just like that, you’re pulled back back into the reality of the evening, leaving behind any complicated feelings.

Despite the energy in the house, you can’t help but keep an eye on Andrew. You try not to, but every time he laughs or shares a joke with someone else, your attention zeroes in on him. And then you notice her.

Annie. One of Alex’s friends. She’s new to the event, but not to the group, and she’s making it clear that she has zero interest in anything but Andrew. The way she flutters around him, placing her hand against his arm, giggling at everything he says, leaning in just a little too close. You try to push down the jealous feeling growing inside you, but it’s hard not to notice.

Annie is all over Andrew, and every time he laughs at one of her jokes, or doesn’t immediately brush her hand away, it feels like a stab in your side. You try to convince yourself that he’s just being nice, but it’s hard to think so when he’s smiling so warmly at her.

It doesn’t help that she’s absolutely gorgeous. Blonde curls reaching her lower back, wide blue eyes, and slim legs almost double the length of yours. They look good together, and the realization has your heart squeezing in your chest. You make your way to the kitchen, trying to keep yourself busy, but the overthinking won’t go away

The evening continued smoothly after that, the dinner had gone well, everyone seemed to enjoy the cooking. Usually, the compliments make your night, serving as confirmation that you hosted a good dinner, However, tonight, they fell flat. There was this tightness dwelling inside of you, a feeling that you couldn’t shake off. Despite the warmth of friendship and laughter around you, you couldn’t help but feel distant, as if you were watching, but not actually participating..

Karen had seemed to notice it. As the dinner ended and your friends began to mingle and talk amongst themselves, she leaned over to you, her hand gently leading you away as she gestured toward the balcony. “Come on,” she said, her voice low and secretive. “Let’s get some air. You look like you need it.”

You don’t fight her, there’s no point… she always wins. The cool night air on the balcony works to calm your nerves a little, but the squeezing feeling in your chest remains. You lean against the railing, wine glass in hand, letting the breeze blow around you as the sounds of the party drifted in from inside.

Karen takes a sip of her wine, then studies you with a sharp look. “Alright, go on. What’s with you? You’ve been weird all night.”

You force the best smile you can and come up with an easy lie. “Nothing, really. Just… the stress of the dinner, you know? Making sure everything’s perfect for everyone.” You hoped the excuse would be enough, but Karen wasn’t fooled.

“Right,” she said, her voice deep with sarcasm. “So it has nothing to do with Annie practically throwing herself at Andrew?”

You gasp at her words, as if they had offended you in some way. Instinctively, you take a step back and avoid her gaze. “What? No,” you respond quickly, but the way your voice trembled betrays you.

Karen smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Really? That’s how you’re gonna try and play it off? Come on, I can tell. It’s obvious.” She leans in slightly, her eyes narrowing as she gave you a knowing look. “Honestly, I think everyone can tell that you’re in love with Andrew.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the redness rising in your cheeks. You try to keep your cool, but it’s getting harder. “Karen, stop it, please” you mutter, taking a long sip from your glass, hoping the wine would settle your nerves.

But, this is Karen, she’s pushy and she’s not going to give up. “Why? It’s not a big deal. Besides, he feels the same, we can all see it.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Oh, please, I don’t need you to lie to me. I mean, even if he did, it’s not like it matters. He’s not really the kinda guy to commit. I mean, he’s got better things to worry about.”

Karen’s face softens slightly, but you know that she still won’t give it up. “That’s not true,” she says quietly, taking a small step toward you. “You’re just afraid.”

But you can’t let her finish, you won’t have her getting your hopes up when you’ve spent so long dealing with the reality of loving Andrew. “No, Karen,” you interrupt sharply, cutting her off. “Just stop. It’s not gonna happen. He’s Andrew, I don’t even know why he would choose me. And even if he did, he has his career to prioritize, I just don’t fit in with that.” You can feel the tears pricking the backs of your eyes, but you blink them away. The last thing you need is to break down on your balcony while you’re hosting fucking friendsgiving.

Just before the conversation had the chance to spiral even further, the sound of the door opening interrupted you. Of course, you turn around and see Andrew standing there, his figure glowing against the warm light from inside. He opens his mouth, and you swear to God that if he says anything about what you just confessed, you’re going to jump off the fucking balcony.

“Hey,” he calls out, a wide smile on his face. “Come on in. Some people are leaving, and you should say goodbye.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank God. You quickly wipe at your eyes, and compose yourself as you and Karen start to make your way back inside. Andrew doesn't seem to be acting weird, and you conclude that he didn’t hear you. He’d be acting uncomfortable and awkward if he did, wouldn’t he?

Andrew didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he heard Karen’s accusation through the balcony door, he couldn't stop himself, desperate to hear your answer. He wasn’t a fool. He noticed the way Annie had been acting around him tonight. And he also noticed how your eyes had followed every interaction between them. Honestly, he kind of enjoyed your gaze, convincing himself that your jealousy was evidence of your feelings towards him.

Though, right now, he really wishes he would’ve just interrupted you. His heart had stopped when he overheard your words. “... I don’t even know why he would choose me. Even if he did, he has his career to prioritize, I just don’t fit in with that.”

Your words feel an awful lot like a punch to the gut. You seriously think that he wouldn’t prioritize you? That he doesn’t wouldn’t care about you more than anything? 

After everything he’s done for you, every moment he’d gone out of his way to show you that you mean something special to him. Every time he rearranged his plans to be there for you, no matter what they were. Every time he checked in, every random text just to remind you that he misses you. He knows he hasn’t exactly been perfect, but he’s definitely trying. 

He had been trying to make his feelings clear, obviously not with his words, but with every gesture. He'd been there for you through everything, and now, hearing you dismiss him like that feels like a slap in the face.

How could you think he wouldn’t prioritize you?

You had never been anything less than a priority to him, and he couldn’t understand how you could think otherwise. He had built his life around his music, sure, but that didn’t mean he’d ever put those things before the people he cared about. And you’re someone that he cares about so deeply. And he thought that he had made that clear from the start. Clearly not.

It hurts, the thought that you feel like he would push you aside for some fleeting career opportunity. 

Is that how little you think of him?

He’s frozen, still trying to make sense of it all. He knew he wasn’t great with words, especially when it came to emotions, but do you really think that after everything he’s done for you? After all the goodnight phone calls just because he wanted to hear your voice? After every rushed trip just to visit you, even for just one night? Did you really think that he wouldn't choose you? That you wouldn’t be worth fighting for?

Did you really think he didn’t care?

He swallows hard, the confusion and hurt growing in his chest. He wants to yell, to explain that he would prioritize you, that he’s always prioritized you. But all he could do was stand there behind the door, feeling this sharp ache in his heart.

It somehow hurts even more that it’s not even anything about him. It isn’t about him not being good enough. It isn’t about him not being your type or anything else he previously thought. It was about you thinking that he would let you down. That after everything you’ve been through together, you still think he’d just drop you for something else. That you were scared of being with him. Scared of what might happen if he wasn’t there, scared of being let down because he’s always leaving. 

His heart ached at the thought. You felt the same way he did, but your own fear won’t let you accept it.

As you walked back into the room, laughing with Karen, Andrew’s eyes followed you, he had to talk to you about this. He just couldn’t go on like this, especially now that he knows you feel the same. He couldn’t let this moment slip from his fingers, he doesn’t know how, or when, but he’s going to prove himself to you. He knows he’s not perfect, and that he never will be, but he also knows that he could be the person you needed, if you’d let him.

The house is quieter now, the playlist you had chosen for the night was still softly playing in the background and Andrew’s gentle footsteps were just barely heard. You bid your final guests a final goodbye with a warm hug, and took a second to collect yourself before heading to the living room. Andrew was still here, and you knew he was going to offer to stay dn help clean up, like he always does, but you just couldn't handle that tonight.

Not when everytime you looked at him you couldn't stop the tightness forming in your chest. You think it's finally gotten to you, the years of holding back your true feelings. Now, they’re too deep. It’s too much to handle and you’re going to explode. 

When you finally work up the courage to walk into your own house, you’re not shocked to see Andrew already hard at work gathering all the empty glasses.

“I’ll clean up alone,” you blurt out a little too quickly. It has Andrew stopping and turning to look at you, three wine glasses in hand and a confused look on his face

“What?” Andrew’s voice is soft, but clearly shocked by your outburst. “I mean, I always stay and help you clean.”

You bite your lip, fighting against the words that are threatening to just burst out. You don’t want him around right now. Not when one more second with him might just have you snapping and admitting something you can barely admit to yourself. “It’s fine, really. I just– it’s been a long day, and I’m tired..”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’re tired? Now? Come on, Y/N, it’s barely even midnight, you’re never tired at this hour. You sure it’s just a long day?”

Of course he would notice your lie. You’re not sure why you thought he wouldn’t, he knows you, and you’re an awful liar.

You can’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on the dishes you were rushing to collect. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Andrew sighs, a little too heavy for your liking. You know he doesn’t believe you, it’s clear that you're just trying to get rid of him. Andrew’s never been one to give up easily, but you have hope tonight is the one exception. 

But, of course it isn’t.

“You’re lying.” It’s clear in his voice that he’s beginning to get annoyed, but he’s still as gentle as ever.

You want to tell him so badly. You want to tell him that you are lying, that you’re not okay because of him. Because all you want to do is grab his stupidly handsome face and kiss him, but you can’t. So, instead, you settle for a half hearted defense of your previous excuse.  

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re hiding something,” he’s so insistent, but his voice is still soft. “I know you. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

It’s not that you don’t want to be honest, but you just couldn’t handle this right now. You couldn’t admit to him that you have feelings for him. Or that you’re jealous of Annie, the way she looked so good next to him, like it was so easy with him.

He takes a step closer, and you ignore the way his face drops when you take a step back. “You’ve been weird all night. I know something’s bothering you. I’ve seen that look before. What’s going on?”

You force a laugh, but it comes out bitter and shaky. “Nothing’s going on, Andrew. I told you. I’m fine.”

“Don’t do this,” he whispers softly, taking two quick steps closer, making you look up at him. “You’re not fine. I’m your friend, your best friend. Just let me in.”

Your heart is racing. From fear, from anxiety, from embarrassment. The last thing you wanted was for him to see how much he’d affected you. How much he had taken over your thoughts. You ‘ve been trying so hard to hold it all in, but now it feels like everything is bubbling to the surface, just waiting to spill out.

“I’m not upset about anything,” you mutter, so quiet you’re not even sure he can hear you “I just... I just get a little exhausted in group settings, you know that.”

“Oh, really? That’s all it is?” Andrew takes another step closer, until he’s standing right in front of you. “So, you’re not upset because you’re jealous of Annie, are you?”

You flinch, instinctively stepping away from him. The question has your eyes widening, breath catching in your throat, and your heart dropping down to your stomach. Your heart is racing so fast, you think this is what it would feel like to be accused of murder or something. 

Embarrassment is taking the lead in your emotions right now. You can’t tell if his teasing tone is all in good fun, or if he just thinks you’re an idiot. “Andrew. Don’t.” You keep your voice tense, but not shaky. 

“I’m serious. You don’t have to lie to me. I heard everything you said earlier. I heard you talking to Karen. And I saw the way you—” He’s so pushy, and his voice may be quiet but, fuck, is it demanding. “The way you looked at me when I was talking to her. How could I not notice? I notice everything about you.”

You really want to deny it, to brush it off, but the words are literally stuck in your throat. The image of Andrew laughing with Annie, his hand casually on her shoulder, flashes in your mind again, and your stomach hurts. The burning hot embarrassment growing in your stomach now feels eerily similar to anger, how dare he rub this in your face?

“Alright, so now what?” you snap, finally meeting his wide gaze with narrowed eyes. “You’re just gonna sit there and make fun of me? Tell me how stupid I am for being jealous over someone that doesn’t want me?”

Andrew’s eyes soften, his expression genuine. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just trying to understand. I’m trying to get you to see that you don’t have to be scared of this.”

You shake your head, another bitter laugh escaping from your lips. “What do you want from me, Andrew? Seriously?” He doesn’t say anything, just studies your face. It pisses you off, and you can’t stop your voice from rising to the point of yelling anymore. “You want me to admit it? Okay, fine! I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I’m so mad at myself for it.”

Andrew stands still for a moment, his brow furrowed as he thinks.

But you don’t give him the chance to think before you’re going on again. You take a step back, frustration growing. “I don’t want your pity, I don’t want you to make me feel better. I’m just... tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt. So yeah, I am jealous. And I’m angry. And that’s the truth, whether I like it or not. And I don’t even know why I’m saying all this to you, because it’s not like it’s going to change anything, right?”

His stillness has you finally registering your own words, and you’re fucking mortified. You just admitted to your best friend that you’re in love with him… What the fuck?! His silence is clearly equivalent to the oncoming rejection, and you need to leave. You spin around to head to your room, but his hand settles gently on your arm, keeping you in place.

“It does change things” he says, his voice quieter now, softer. “It changes everything. You’re not the only one feeling all this. You think I’ve been okay with just sitting here, acting like it’s nothing? I’m so tired of pretending, Y/N. Tired of pretending that I don’t want something more than just... this.” He gestures between the two of you, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve always felt the same. And I think you know that. I think you know, even if you won’t admit it.”

You freeze, his words felt as if they were physically hitting you. Your heart skipped a beat, but the walls you had built to protect yourself were still standing, even though everything inside you screamed to break them down.

“No, Andrew,” you whisper softly, shaking your head, even though a part of you desperately wanted to believe him. “You can’t. I can’t. If you really felt the same way, why did you act like that? You wouldn’t have let me feel like I was just nothing to you.”

His face tightened, and for a moment, you thought he was getting mad at you. But when he spoke again, his voice was almost too gentle, too patient.

“I was waiting for you,” he said softly, “I didn’t want to push you. I didn’t want to ruin everything we have. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel it. I can’t keep acting like we’re just friends when you’re so much more than that.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you finally met his gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes was too much. And you could see it now; the struggle, the hope, the fear. “Andrew, I don’t know if I can do this. You’re always gone, and it’s hard enough for me as your friend. I don’t know if I can handle us.”

Your words hurt him. You were scared because of him, because of his career. He knew that your feelings were valid. He is gone a lot, and it’s going to be hard. But, still, he’d make you understand that you two could make it. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together. I’m all in,” his words were soft and soothing to your soul, “even when you didn’t realize it, I’ve been all in from the start.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. And then, before you could stop it, the words slipped from your lips. “I’m scared, Andrew. I’m scared we’ll go too far, and it’ll all fall apart.”

“We’ve already gone too far,” he exhaled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the way he always did when he was comforting you. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let you fall without me.”

His words and gentle touch eased your troubled mind. Everything inside you felt like it was finally coming together. Everything that’s happened between you two, every moment of your friendship, all of it, has been leading to this

You moved without thinking, your hands finding his waist, pulling him closer. When your lips finally met, the kiss was slow, almost nervous. But as the seconds passed, it deepened. There was no turning back now. No pretending that this was nothing, when it was clearly everything.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[writing-for-marvel]

A fairy without her wings and a captain without his crew—two misfits manage to find each other in the cruel dark world that is Neverland.

I’m literally already crying and it’s only the summary 😭 oh the hold this story has on me Janie you’re probably so sick of me talking about it - I think I need professional help lol

The only thing that saves you from his sinister motives is, despite your lack of wings, you are still a fairy. Tinker Bell made a pact with him all those centuries ago; she will help him take as many lost children as he wants—but her family, her species, is forever off limits. 

Your writing is forever exquisite and just how in a couple of paragraphs I’m already so immersed in this magical world oh how I’ve missed it

You reached twenty-five and your wings are still nowhere to be seen. The taunting soon began; there hadn’t been a wingless fairy in existence in millennia. The children called you a freak, the adults shook their heads in shame. Some of them pitied you, most were disgusted by you. You turned to your parents, hoping they would still love you despite your differences.

I feel like I can relate to this so much in my own life and is probably why I have always felt such a connection to this story 🥺

There are fates so much worse, as you would soon discover.

Dun dun duuuun!! Omg I’m so excited for What’s to come!!!

The stranger had placed you upon a wooden table in what looked like the captain’s quarters, a handkerchief draped over you as a makeshift blanket.

To keep her warm 🥺🥺

It was only in the morning light that you realized he only had one good arm, that you realized who he was.

Your mind Janie!!!! The connection between Bucky’s amputated arm and Captain Hook ahhh *chefs kiss*

He tutted at you in disapproval once he felt your weight on his shoulder, but he silently allowed you to sit there for as long as you liked.

Oh he acts all tough but he likes the company 🥺

You held it above your head on shaky arms in what you hoped was a display of strength, and you swore you saw the smallest hints of a smile in his chiseled features.

Awww him finding that companionship again after what happened to his friends 🥺 oh it makes me soft

How did he lose his arm? Another touchy subject, but you’d always been a curious little bird. He didn’t seem to mind your questions anymore, but he still did not answer.

I’m such an inquisitive person by nature, another reason I think I relate to fairy in this story

But you leapt onto it, wrapping your arms around it as best as you can. Your arms didn’t even reach halfway around him, but he gazed down at you in what you believed was shock. You fell asleep there that night, waking up to the sight of his face in front of you, having fallen asleep at the table himself, evidently not wanting to wake you.

I am soft I tell you 🥰🥰🥰🥰 they just make me feel all mushy inside

What was his name? It was this question that finally allowed you to hear his voice. As you gazed at him, instead of the evil, instead of the sin you had always heard about in those tales about him, you saw only yourself in his steely blue eyes. You saw your own loneliness and longing reflected back at you, and you knew for certain right then that the tales were untrue.

😭😭😭😭😭 oh how their stories are different yet so similar and how they’ve found each other 😭😭😭😭 imma need some tissues

But the real reason you stayed was because there was warmth there, a kind of warmth you’d never felt, even before you were an outcast.

*sniffling* oh they’re perfect

Magic eluded you for years. You thought it had forsaken you. You thought it had deemed you unworthy. Turned out, magic came to you in the form of a lonely captain on a deserted ship, himself nothing but a lost soul that Peter Pan could not—or would not—touch.

JANIE I NEED TO SCREAM AT YOU FOR THIS OH IT IS TOO PERFECT FOR WORDS

They called him Captain Hook.

You would only ever call him James.

I am sobbing. It is perfection

James would never tell you that finding you on that forest floor was what saved his life. He would later learn what you were, but even without fairy wings you remained the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in Neverland.

How dare you??? This fic will ruin me and I will gladly let it every damn time!!

It would mean killing Peter Parker, the very last of James’ crew.

Oh how much pain James is in I’ll never forgive you Janie (kidding I already have)

You were such a tiny little thing, but somehow you already took up more room in his life than anything else had in years.

This passage is so beautiful 🥹

He didn’t want to be friends, because his heart longed for something more.

😭😭😭😭 switching up the pov did something to my soul! Such a fantastic choice

He wanted to say sorry. He wanted to tell you he’d never do it again. He wanted to promise to cut off his other hand if you didn’t believe him.

I’m now just reading this through tears… I’ve given up on trying to stop them

He found it in your eyes then. He silently vowed to do everything to keep it there.

They are my everything 😭😭😭

But in reality, he’d given it up. Peter wanted to know how badly he wanted his friends back.

Stop it!!!! It hurts too much 😭😭😭

I never said I would give them back alive.

You meanie Janie what did I ever do to deserve this???

It was a word he hadn’t spoken in years and it sounded strange on his tongue, like it didn’t even belong to him. But then you repeated it, slowly, one, twice, three times, and he knew that nothing was ever going to be the same.

Them 🥹 oh them I’ll never get over them, like I’m in neverland myself I will never grow old of this story, I could read it every single fucking day and it will always remain my absolute favourite fan fic ever. I know I say that all the time but I don’t mean it flippantly Janie, I genuinely from the bottom of my heart adore this fic with everything I’ve got

Lock me up and throw away the key this is all I will be talking about for the rest of my life

i’ve always thought about writing a sequel or rewriting this as a miniseries, and i’ll never say never when it comes to this story, but i’ve yet to be struck with any kind of inspiration that could possibly do this fic justice. maybe one day? who knows.

Do you even need to ask?? I would sell my soul for a speck more of this universe. Who do I have to bribe???? I’ll give anything

REQUIEM.

PAIRING — captain hook!bucky barnes x fairy f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; alternate universe—neverland; inspired by peter pan; fluff; angst; past character deaths.

SUMMARY — A fairy without her wings and a captain without his crew—two misfits manage to find each other in the cruel dark world that is Neverland.

WORD COUNT — 3.1k

✩ masterlist ✩ bucky barnes m.list ✩ library blog

The forest is a cold and desolate place at night. During the day, when the sun is shining, Neverland is breathtaking. But that’s part of the trap, you see. 

And once you fall in, you can never leave. 

Peter Pan would never allow it. 

The boy who never grows up floats in the inky sky above you, unmoved by the fact that you’re alone in the forest this late at night, having been cast aside by your own kind. You would almost find him beautiful, flying amongst the stars, a trail of fairy dust trickling behind him, if you didn’t know him for who he really was. 

The only thing that saves you from his sinister motives is, despite your lack of wings, you are still a fairy. Tinker Bell made a pact with him all those centuries ago; she will help him take as many lost children as he wants—but her family, her species, is forever off limits. 

A part of you believes Pan really does love Tink in his own sick and twisted way. It’s why he’s kept his promise thus far, even as his glowing eyes find you on the forest floor. You think you see a flash of sympathy in Tink’s eyes as they fly overhead, and shame, red hot and suffocating, spreads through your veins like wildfire. 

You curl up into a ball in the grass, as small as you can, hoping it will provide some relief from the chill. Despite the painful memories, you remember home. It is never cold in the kingdom of fairies, only ever full of sunshine and blooming flowers. 

As is the norm with your kind, you were supposed to come of age at twenty years old, sprouting wings, finding a mate, and finally taking flight. Instead, you watched year after year as the people you thought were your friends left you behind, their colourful wings sparkling in the golden sunlight. 

You reached twenty-five and your wings are still nowhere to be seen. The taunting soon began; there hadn’t been a wingless fairy in existence in millennia. The children called you a freak, the adults shook their heads in shame. Some of them pitied you, most were disgusted by you. You turned to your parents, hoping they would still love you despite your differences.

You had been wrong.

Your mother, at the very least, tried not to let it show that she was ashamed of you. But perhaps that was worse, knowing that she was trying to love you in spite of it all but couldn’t quite manage it.

Late in the night, you decided to leave the only place you had ever known and loved. You took nothing with you.

Perhaps you would die in the forest, surrounded by plants and flowers, underneath the winking stars. You close your eyes, still shivering, thinking that perhaps it wasn’t the worst way to go.

There are fates so much worse, as you would soon discover.

He had woken you up maybe minutes, maybe hours, after you had fallen asleep. When you opened your eyes, it was still dark. By all logic, you shouldn’t have been able to see his cerulean gaze against the navy blue sky, but there he was.

A human loomed over you, unsmiling and silent. He crouched in the grass next to you, sending you scrambling away as fast as you could. It only took him two strides to reach you again, his palm open and faced up on the dirt right next to you.

When you didn’t move, he gingerly picked you up with two fingers, lifting you all the way to his face as you twisted and struggled. Your tiny little fists did absolutely nothing, no matter how hard you threw them against his skin.

With a yelp, you were unceremoniously tossed into the air before he caught you in his open palm. You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped you.

Warmth. He was so warm.

You curled up on the rough calloused skin of his hand, unable to fight the lull of sleep until you woke up again in the morning. This time, you were aboard a ship, bobbing slightly with the gentle waves of the ocean.

The stranger had placed you upon a wooden table in what looked like the captain’s quarters, a handkerchief draped over you as a makeshift blanket. You could see him standing outside the doorway on the quarter deck, telescope stretched out in front of one eye, as he searched over the horizon.

It was only in the morning light that you realized he only had one good arm, that you realized who he was.

In the stories, they called him Captain Hook.

You had heard of him in tales of a villainous pirate that had reached your kingdom long ago. He was said to be cruel, even sadistic; you never thought you would ever meet him, or that he would take you in.

For the first few weeks, he downright refuses to speak to you. But the rules of decorum no longer apply here; after all, he is a pirate and you are no longer amongst the fairies. Unrelenting, you pester him with questions.

Why would he save you if he doesn’t want to be friends? You didn’t have any friends back at home… well, not anymore. You would like to know what true friendship looks like before you die.

How come he leaves the candle lit all night for you, even though it disturbs his sleep? Some nights, after some considerable effort, you blew out the flame just to see what would happen. He would calm, his tossing and turning would cease, as if he were more comfortable in the darkness. Hidden. Obscured. Safe.

Where was everyone else? Is a captain really a captain if he has no crew? There are signs that people have lived here. Markings on the walls, drawings on old bits of parchment hidden haphazardly between the pages of a book, clothes that are either too small or too large or too feminine for him, a hairbrush with long strands of red hair tangled in the bristles.

Unable to fly, you could not venture far from the captain’s cabin. That is, unless you grabbed onto his sleeve as he passed by. He tutted at you in disapproval once he felt your weight on his shoulder, but he silently allowed you to sit there for as long as you liked.

Sometimes you would sing to yourself, old songs your mother used to sing that used to bring you comfort. Sometimes you watched the sun set over the horizon. But today, you played with the chain of a necklace that rested around his neck, hidden underneath the collar of his loose-fitting shirt, tugging at it out of curiosity.

The shift in movement revealed a set of tags with names on them. Steve, Sam, Sharon, Joaquin, Tony, Natasha… but was is the last one that has you reeling in shock, dropping the chain as if it burned your palms.

Peter.

Peter? 

Peter Pan?

The nameless captain reached up to grab you off his shoulder and marched back to his cabin to practically toss you down onto the wooden table. You tumbled out of his grasp, surprised and breathless at his sudden harsh treatment. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when he took out a glass jar and placed it upside down on top of you, rendering you trapped.

You cried for hours until he finally set you free, something akin to shame and guilt in his eyes.

When you didn’t forgive him for days, because he hadn’t even so much as asked for your forgiveness, he took you out of the ship for the first time, out onto the beach where the ship was docked. He placed you gently onto the warm sand, and your anger was washed away with each lick of the waves. You rolled around in the sand, shrieking with laughter as you ran and frolicked, squealed with glee as the water lapped at your feet.

You had never been to the ocean before, you told him. Again, he didn’t speak as he picked up a pretty pink shell and handed it to you. You held it above your head on shaky arms in what you hoped was a display of strength, and you swore you saw the smallest hints of a smile in his chiseled features. You ran around with it held above you, waving it back and forth and relishing at how the air suddenly cooled when you were underneath it.

When he finally took you back to the ship after you grew tired, you insisted he bring the shell with you. You laid down next to it, smiling at the way it sparkled and shone, at how you could still hear the sounds of the ocean as you fell asleep beside it.

You finally found the courage to ask one day. Why did Peter Pan hate him so much, enough to spread such wicked lies about him? He still didn’t answer you, but he didn’t get angry this time. Instead, he looked at you with such sad eyes, you decided not to ask anymore.

His pain was now your own. You lay your head on the fingers of his flesh hand as he grasped the railing, closing your eyes when you felt his knuckle-white grip loosen.

How did he lose his arm? Another touchy subject, but you’d always been a curious little bird. He didn’t seem to mind your questions anymore, but he still did not answer.

It was alright, you told yourself. You’d speak for the both of you. He moved to take his false arm, the one with a hook for a hand, away from you. But you leapt onto it, wrapping your arms around it as best as you can. Your arms didn’t even reach halfway around him, but he gazed down at you in what you believed was shock. You fell asleep there that night, waking up to the sight of his face in front of you, having fallen asleep at the table himself, evidently not wanting to wake you.

Who was Steve? You’d heard the name sometimes in his sleep. It was one of the names on his necklace. It was the name signed onto the drawings that litter the ship. Drawings of flowers, trees, the sunset, the ocean. Drawings of what Neverland could be. And of him, of your captain.

What was his name? It was this question that finally allowed you to hear his voice. As you gazed at him, instead of the evil, instead of the sin you had always heard about in those tales about him, you saw only yourself in his steely blue eyes. You saw your own loneliness and longing reflected back at you, and you knew for certain right then that the tales were untrue.

You never hoped to leave the ship.

You had nowhere else to go, after all.

But the real reason you stayed was because there was warmth there, a kind of warmth you’d never felt, even before you were an outcast.

You prayed you’d never have to.

“James,” he finally answered. His voice melted into your skin, seeped into your veins, and traveled straight to your heart.

Magic eluded you for years. You thought it had forsaken you. You thought it had deemed you unworthy. Turned out, magic came to you in the form of a lonely captain on a deserted ship, himself nothing but a lost soul that Peter Pan could not—or would not—touch.

They called him Captain Hook.

You would only ever call him James.

James would never tell you that finding you on that forest floor was what saved his life. He would later learn what you were, but even without fairy wings you remained the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in Neverland.

For a moment, he thought he had been hallucinating. There was no way a cursed being like him would find a solace like you after centuries of sorrow. It must be a trick. He must have finally lost his mind from grief. You could not be real.

But then you opened your eyes and the rest was history. James knew he needed to protect you then. Although, if he were really being honest with himself, he wasn’t doing it solely for you. The last time he had allowed to care, to love, Pan had taken everything from him. But you were off limits. The boy who never grows up was not allowed to touch you, not unless he wanted to hurt the only person who’d been loyal to him for as long as she had.

It’d been a very long time, and Pan is no longer the Peter that James remembered and loved, but there were still pieces of Peter in there somewhere—the traces of a boy who loved just as fiercely as he desperately wanted to be loved in return. It was why no matter how hard he tried, James could not bring himself to end the tyranny. Because to kill Peter Pan would be to kill the boy he used to be.

It would mean killing Peter Parker, the very last of James’ crew.

And if James had walked away from you that night, then he could bid what remained of the already shattered remnants of his soul goodbye. You were such a tiny little thing, but somehow you already took up more room in his life than anything else had in years.

“Why did you save me if you didn’t want to be friends?” You asked him one day, sitting at the table in his cabin, tiny legs dangling off the edge. You kicked them underneath you innocently, eyes hopeful as you asked the question.

He did want to be friends, but he didn’t remember how.

He didn’t want to be friends, because his heart longed for something more.

“How come you leave the candle lit all night for me, even though it disturbs your sleep?” He thought you might have been cold, but honestly this wasn’t just because of you. He left a candle lit at night even before you ever came along, as sleep had been the one to disturb him. Most nights, it eluded him. But on the rare occasions it did come, it was almost never peaceful.

And perhaps it was his way of atoning, of trying to guide other lost souls away from the darkness.

“Where is everyone else?” They are all dead… except one. Rage flooded into him when you found the tags with the forbidden names engraved on them. It had been a very long time since he’d had to share space with another living being, and sometimes he forgot how delicate you were.

His anger lashed out then and he cruelly trapped you underneath a jar, hating himself for it when he heard your crying and sobbing into the night. Your little hands bang—tinkle—against the glass, begging him to let you out.

You withdrew from him after that.

He wanted to say sorry. He wanted to tell you he’d never do it again. He wanted to promise to cut off his other hand if you didn’t believe him.

He didn’t know how. He couldn’t find the words important enough.

So, he took you to the beach, watched as you played and jumped and leapt. The happiness that radiated from you when he gifted you a tiny pink seashell is debilitating. The water splashed at your feet, and when you looked up at him, smiling, it took everything for him not to weep.

When was the last time he found joy—pure unadulterated joy—in Neverland?

He found it in your eyes then. He silently vowed to do everything to keep it there.

“Why does Peter Pan hate you so much?” Hate was perhaps not the right word, because Pan had never taken the chance to kill him either even though he’d had plenty of opportunities.

But Peter was drunk on power and fairy dust, allowed it to turn him into the tyrant he was today, luring the lost and terrified spirits of children under his spell in a misguided and twisted attempt to build some kind of family.

He might sympathize with Pan, if it hadn’t turned him into a bully. And he never liked bullies; neither did the rest of his crew. They fought alongside him, determined to free Neverland and return it to the utopia it once was. They did not succeed.

“How did you lose your arm?” The stories told that it was bitten off by an alligator. But in reality, he’d given it up. Peter wanted to know how badly he wanted his friends back.

I can return them to you, but you can’t have something for nothing.

He should have known better than to make a deal with the devil; he never does give you what you wish for.

I never said I would give them back alive.

“Who is Steve? I hear you say his name sometimes.” This was the name that always hit him hardest. It belonged to his first mate, his best friend, his brother in arms. He was half-surprised when he had to blink away tears, astonished that the grief he had grown so comfortable with still had the power to bring him down under again.

Tiny, stubborn, and hot-headed Steven, who always chose to do the right thing, no matter how hard it would be.

He remembered cradling Steve’s small body in his arms, burying him under the sand along with the rest of his friends. He had kissed them all goodbye, clutching at their limp hands as his lips caressed their foreheads before he walked away, but he would leave a part of his soul with each of them.

“What is your name?” He looked at you then, and centuries of ache compelled him to tell you. It was a gift, one’s own name, and to share it with another person was sacred. It was an act so simple, but it was capable of forging a bond. When you told him yours, he craved it—that connection to another creature he hadn’t had in so long.

“James.”

It was a word he hadn’t spoken in years and it sounded strange on his tongue, like it didn’t even belong to him. But then you repeated it, slowly, one, twice, three times, and he knew that nothing was ever going to be the same.

You called to him that night, sounding happy to be able to do it, to say goodnight to him and follow it with his name.

“Good night, James.”

The fog suddenly lifted. The name that had been so foreign to him suddenly belonged to him again. He remembered James Barnes, the person he used to be, the person he needed to rediscover.

He remembers the person he must remain. 

fin.

AFTERWORD — i’ve always thought about writing a sequel or rewriting this as a miniseries, and i’ll never say never when it comes to this story, but i’ve yet to be struck with any kind of inspiration that could possibly do this fic justice. maybe one day? who knows.

© 2024 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers, and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[gothcsz]

yooooo what’s cracking? how ya doin? hopefully fantastic!

I’ve been wanting to share I guess an idea (if it’s already floating out there I haven’t seen it!!!!!!)

I also don’t have followers or engage with people too often on here so I feel like if I posted it the right people wouldn’t see it.

And I know it’s not your job or responsibility to be the be the director of inclusivity but I felt like you could possibly like the pictures or have writer friends that might like the idea idk… i’m trying not to over think sending this lol anywaysss

Pedro and Lupita pics for mood boards!!

since the amazing new trailer for the materialist came out i’ve been seeing some awesome fanfic where Dakotas character doesn’t choose Harry… annnd the mood boards are back to being wyte women….

I was scrolling through the discovery page on ig and I saw @/pascalisfrenchpunk2.0 post a few of these pictures and the light bulb just went off…

like the first 2 pics Joel and Sarah’s mom!!

the next two would be perfect for the materialist fics!!!!!!!

last one is just so damn adorable couple work for most pedro boys!

if someone’s already been doing this or said this MY BAD! i really haven’t seen anything with these two (photo/mood board wise! I am NOT talking about fanfics about Pedro and Lupita!!! I don’t like reading real life people fan fics only character fan fics)

okay twas all! love ya bye ✌🏽

hey hi hello omg thank you for dropping this in my inbox because I LOVE THIS PAIRING SO MUCH! THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER!

i know @persephone-girl mentioned about lupita being in dakota's place in the movie and i agree so fucking hard i mean just LOOK AT HER! beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, amazing, and above all—TALENTED! also... let us not forget that our girl is mexican and speaks fluent spanish! I LOVE IT!

like the first 2 pics Joel and Sarah’s mom!!

will forever be at the frontline of sarah's mother being a black woman... because yes it tracks!

the next two would be perfect for the materialist fics!!!!!!!

AHHH YEAH the wealth and opulence of it all, truly love to see it. @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal weren't you making moodboards that centered WOC? would love to see something done for pedro's new materialists character! or @salingers i love love love your moodboards too 🖤

last one is just so damn adorable couple work for most pedro boys!

can we talk about how god she looks in orange?! or the height difference?! HAHAH yeah i agree about rpf, but we can so easily connect to any of his characters just like we do with everything else

[inkyrainstorms]

A Good Day To Die (not anymore. Now it’s epic brawl+taco+fireworks day) (why do you ask)

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face *throws this at you and runs away*

They’re so ridiculous absolutely my favorite idiots. Total of one brain cell between them when they’re together. Ch. 4 for A Good Day to Die(Again) did something to my brain chemistry

[totheidiot]

i think we can put all the versions of death note and its adaptations into a spectrum based on how much light and L want to kill each other and on one side of the spectrum, it's the death note japanese musical and on the very other side, it's the death note tv drama.

[thelingering]

excuse me what

that's why people ship them???

[girlivealwaysbean]

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