#like you can let me know if this is the step too far I WILL FULLY UNDERSTAND

[ventismacchiato]

17 stuck with you — jealousy jealousy !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning: oblivious idiots

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: YOUR POINT OF VIEW

When you and the others returned from the island, you walked into the dorms to find everyone either drunk or in the process of getting there. When Yae asked what everyone wanted for catering, the unanimous answer was alcohol—until Jean reminded them they’d need food too.

You’d had a drink or two and were playing a halfhearted game of cards on the floor with Venti and Aether. Nobody seemed interested in going to bed. Getting drunk was the perfect way to forget the stress of the show.

Scara sat near the door, absentmindedly pulling out blocks in the game of Jenga Fischl had set up beside him. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm…for now.

Then Mona stood up from where she’d been teaching Yoimiya how to make a drink and plopped down next to Scara. He didn’t look too thrilled by the move.

“So, Kuni?” she slurred.

You froze at the name. Scara had made it clear that nobody but you called him that.

“Don’t call me that,” Scara muttered, his voice flat.

“Aww, why not? I thought I meant more than that,” Mona teased, clearly influenced by the alcohol.

“Can you go bother someone else?” Scara shot back.

“Don’t be like that!” Mona huffed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Want a massage? You used to love my massages.” She said the last part while looking directly at you, her hand casually caressing Scara’s shoulder. You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that you were listening.

Scara removed her hand from his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mona didn’t let it go.

“Why won’t you just pay attention to me?” she whined, leaning closer.

“Can you not?” Scara finally turned to face her, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

At this point, the whole room was trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but it was clear they were all watching

“I just wanted to talk—” Mona began, but Scara interrupted her.

“I mean, what are you doing on this island?”

“I came to win you over,” Mona said, as though the answer was obvious.

“You’re the one who broke up with me,” Scara huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Mona took a long swig from her drink, unfazed.

“I didn’t want to,” she sighed, her voice thick with alcohol. “I would’ve stuck it out if your mom hadn’t… well…”

You felt a flush of heat spread across your face at the mention of Scara’s mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed; Childe, Aether, and Kazuha exchanged glances, each looking more uncomfortable by the second.

Scara grabbed Mona’s glass from her hand, his fingers tight around it. “You should shut up.”

Mona, however, was too far gone to be deterred.

“How could I not take the contract? You know how bad my old management was. I had no choice. It was either that or you. You know how it is.”

It was only when she noticed the entire room was staring at her that a little sobriety seemed to return. She clamped her palm over her mouth and stared at Scara, wide-eyed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that,” she mumbled, her voice the most sincere it had been all night.

Scara didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, his face unreadable, while Mona rambled her apology. The rest of the room shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene or just let it pass. You could feel your heart race, had that been the real reason for their breakup? You had always thought Scara had ended things on his own terms. 

Mona reached out for him, but Scara stood up abruptly, stepping over the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor as he moved toward the door. It creaked open, letting in a cold gust of night air before slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Mona stood, swaying slightly, and started after him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Kazuha murmured, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the door shutting once again.

“Did you guys know about all that?” Venti asked, turning to Aether.

“Since it’s out in the open, yeah,” Aether sighed.

“We need to stop giving her drinks,” Lumine muttered under her breath.

“I’m kind of worried about Mona going after him,” Childe said, rising from his seat to peer out the window. “Knowing Scara, he might drown himself… or her.”

“I’ll go be a witness to the murder then,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Childe gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you made your way out the door.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to follow him. It had always been about trying to surpass him before. But tonight…tonight you just wanted to catch up to him. To be equals.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The bench is cold beneath him and the sea breeze is a sharp slap against his face as he stares out at the crashing waves. It’s quiet but it does little to distract him from the turmoil in his chest. His fingers curl around the cigarette, the thin paper already loose from where he pocketed it earlier. He twirls it between his fingers absently, trying to focus on the motions instead of his thoughts.

The urge to light it is almost unbearable. He can almost feel the familiar ache, the way the smoke would crawl its way down his lungs and quiet everything inside him. It would help him forget. At least for a little while. 

But he promised he wouldn’t. 

Your words echo in his head like a soft, repeated prayer, something that clings to him even when he’s alone. He knows if he takes that drag, it’s one more step back from everything he's trying to hold onto. One more thing he’ll have to explain to you, and he can’t stomach that right now.

So instead, he flicks the cigarette into the sand, watching it settle there like a tiny, forgotten thing, and then turns his gaze back to the sea. His breath hitches in his chest. If it isn’t the lack of nicotine that’s bothering him, it’s something else. Something sharper, older.

Something that happened more than a year ago. 

Mona’s slurred words made the memory hit him with the force of a slap. It wasn’t her betrayal that stung, not really. He knew the two of them were never that serious. But it was the fact that she had chosen his mother over him. The fact that his own mother had paid her off like it was nothing. 

Mona had once been sweet back when they first met. Her determination to be an idol had reminded him of you in a way. Maybe he was just searching for a piece of you in anyone he could find. 

“Scara?”

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s her. He can smell the alcohol before he hears the soft, slurred voice, and when he finally looks up, there she is, weaving on unsteady feet, her hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes glazed.

She’s drunk.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I—uh—can I sit?” She hiccups, and despite himself, he shifts slightly to make room on the bench, the muscles in his back tense, coiled, but his body obeys the unspoken politeness he’d long been taught.

Mona doesn’t wait for a response. She just slumps beside him, her hands gripping her knees like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says after a long silence, the words coming out in a rush, broken by more hiccups. “I didn’t mean to say it to everyone. I swear, I didn’t. I was just—I was just trying to make you… jealous, or something.”

Scara doesn’t say anything. He can already feel his patience wearing thin, his hand tightening into a fist. He knows where this is going.

“You know how I get when I drink,” she continues, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that makes his gut twist. She leans into him, her breath warm and sour with alcohol. “I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I thought... maybe it’d make you care more. Maybe it’d make you feel something for once, you know?”

He stares ahead, trying to focus on the horizon, trying to avoid the heat of her body next to his, the smell of liquor clinging to her like a second skin. She’s slurring more now, and with every word, the tension in his chest grows heavier, pressing down until he’s almost suffocating.

He can feel her swaying beside him, her body suddenly lurching forward as she clutches her stomach. He reaches out instinctively, used to her being like this, his hand awkwardly rubbing her back just to keep her from falling over. She feels so fragile in his touch, but that fragility doesn’t excuse the way she’s always tried to pull him back into her drama.

She leans in, too close again, her words spilling out in a rush like she's been holding them back for too long.

“You know...” she starts, her eyes dark and unfocused. “I only started acting out because you wouldn’t pay me any attention anymore. You were always complaining about YN. Always.”

She lets out a short, frustrated laugh, and then hiccups, her face flushing. “I know it wasn’t love, Scara. I’m not stupid. It was just a stupid distraction wasn’t it, from whatever you felt for them.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Even if you didn’t realize it back then, I did. Even if all we had was physical you can’t deny it worked. We were good at that. So yeah, I got a little carried away. But if you hadn’t been so busy chasing them around, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He can’t even find it in himself to deny it. After he had started dating her you’d started avoiding him for one reason or another. Maybe you thought everyone would get the wrong idea.

But it killed him. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just run off and take the first offer my mom gives to you,” he snaps, his tone cutting. “If you really didn’t like the way I treated you that badly, you could’ve left. You could’ve walked away. No one was holding you here.”

He shakes his head, frustrated they were having this talk now of all time, “But you didn’t, did you? You stayed. Because you knew being with me—even if it wasn’t love—would give you the eyes on you that you wanted so damn badly.”

“You’re right,” she admits, the words coming out quietly. “ But I didn’t know what else to do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Scara scoffs at that. 

“It didn’t look like it. All I saw was someone who was more interested in being the center of attention than me,” He shakes his head, turning his back to her for a moment. Honestly, he could keep going. But they were only having this conversation because she was drunk. There was no point, he was over it. 

He exhales sharply, his tone flat when he speaks again, as if he’s just given up.

"Yeah, okay," Scara mutters, voice distant. "It's fine. It’s not like you’ll even remember this tomorrow, anyway.”

It’s the only thing he says, just to make the whole thing stop. He knows she’s looking for something else. An apology, maybe, or some kind of validation. But he’s too fucking tired to give her that now. And it’s not like he’s going to receive one.

"Really?" Her voice rises in a way that makes him want to shove her away. "You're fine with it?"

He doesn’t respond, though now he’s just waiting for her to puke all over him. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore is the only thing filling the silence, until she’s leaning in closer, her breath hot on his ear, her face too close.

“You know,” she whispers, her words slurred and soft, “I wouldn't mind going back to what we had. Just for a night.”

Before he can stop her, she’s pressing her lips to his, soft and insistent, her body leaning into his as though this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her mouth is warm, her hands finding their way to his chest, and for a moment, Scara’s heart stops. 

Not because he wants it, but because he doesn’t.

He’s frozen, a quiet alarm ringing in his head. This isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants. Not from her. 

Even if it was only for a few seconds, the moment stretches too long until he can finally pry her away from him. And when he does finally pull back, his hand is shaking. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice tight with something: frustration, anger, confusion, maybe a little bit of pain. “Don’t try to fix this with... that.”

She blinks at him, confused, the haze of alcohol still clouding her eyes. "But... but I thought... we could—"

He stands up abruptly, cutting her off before she can make this worse. "Just... don't." The words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

She looks rather pitiful sitting on the bench like that, and he almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should just go,” he says, his voice flat, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

But then, as he turns to leave, he sees you.

In the distance, walking towards the kitchens, your figure framed by the fading light. Seeing you makes something inside him twist. He starts to wonder why you’d come out soon after he stormed off. The idea of you coming back, walking over to him like you actually care. Just that thought is enough to loosen the tight knot in his chest. He didn’t even realize how much he was holding his breath, waiting for it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you doing it. He almost expects it, but the longer he stands there, the more he realizes it’s just a fantasy. He watches you for a moment, then his stomach drops when he realizes if you were out there you must’ve walked by him. 

You had seen the kiss.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Your feet moved before your brain had a chance to tell you no. It was a strange instinct, one you didn’t quite understand. You’d never been one to comfort Scara. You’d been at odds with him for as long as you could remember, enemies in every sense of the word. 

But after what you’d learned about his mother just the thought of him being alone, struggling with it, gnawed at you. You wanted to check on him. You needed to check on him. 

The island was massive, and Scara wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, so you figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Still, your mind raced as you walked, trying to come up with something, anything, that would make him feel even a fraction better. What could you say to him that wouldn’t sound patronizing, or worse, awkward? You weren’t even sure you could help him, but you had to try.

And then, there it was.

The beach. The bench. The figure slumped against it. Scara. The cigarette in his hand. You’d found him.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t a time to lose control. But before you could take another step, your eyes caught the familiar outline of someone else. Mona. She was walking toward him, wobbling a little as she approached, and suddenly the moment felt off.

You stopped in your tracks, half hidden by a few tall bushes nearby, your body suddenly rooted in place. You should’ve turned around and gone back to the party. Scara was clearly occupied. He would be okay, right?

But no. Your eyes stayed locked on the two of them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away.

Mona was standing next to him now, her chest heaving slightly from hiccups, and her words were slurred as she spoke. Scara wasn’t saying much, but his hand moved, almost instinctively, it seemed, to rub her back, slow and careful. As if he was...comforting her. You felt your pulse quicken, a strange sense of something building up in your chest, something like a heavy weight pressing down on your ribs.

A normal person would’ve walked away, turned around and walked back to the party, chalking it up to nothing more than two people talking, nothing more than Scara being himself. But you were never normal when it came to Scara. So instead, you stayed rooted in the shadow, just watching like some creep. The words you had rehearsed in your head seemed meaningless now, overshadowed by the confusion swelling inside you. What was happening?

And then, without warning, you saw it.

Mona leaned in, her lips pressing against Scara’s.

The world tilted on its axis. You didn’t even know how to react at first. A cold knot of jealousy, something sharp and unexpected, wrapped around your chest, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

Scara, someone you’d considered your mortal enemy, the person you had spent years fighting against, was kissing Mona. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, her hands clinging to his chest. Just the sight was enough to leave you standing there, paralyzed. 

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

It was a mantra you were repeating in your head. But the jealousy gnawed at you in a way you didn’t understand, the sting in your chest a sharp reminder that maybe you cared a lot more than you’d ever let on. You’d always been jealous of Scara throughout the years, that feeling was something familiar. But this was something different. Your stomach is twisting with something you couldn’t name. Something that hurt to acknowledge.

Oh.

Oh.

Without even thinking, you turned away, stepping back into the shadows, your feet felt heavy beneath you. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Or you did, but you couldn’t even voice it. 

Scara was kissing Mona. Your Scara. Your Kuni. And you were standing there, like a fool. 

If you had run after him a bit faster would you be the one he’d be kissing? That wasn’t the problem, though. No. The thing that bothered you the most was the way it made you feel like an outsider. The way it reminded you, in an almost painful way, that you weren’t the one he turned to for comfort. 

That was how it had always been. Always. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he was angry, or the way he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. Maybe it was the constant back-and-forth, the challenge. Maybe it was the fact that he was always there, whether it be to hit you with a snarky remark or laugh at you when you fell second to him again. He’d always been there.

But you cared. And that made you want to punch something, or scream, or both. You’d never imagined a day when you would care about Scara in any way other than annoyance, or the irritation of seeing him always one step ahead. 

Suddenly, your feet moved as fast as they could to get you out of there.

The walk from the beach to the kitchens feels like it takes longer than it should. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off. 

You step into the kitchens, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the night outside. The lights are low, casting shadows over the countertops, still littered from the dishes from earlier. A clink of glass catches your attention first, and then a familiar voice. 

“You finally made it in here.”

You stop, looking up until your eyes land on Heizou. His casual smile is the same one he always had, though there's something softer in it tonight, like he’s been waiting. He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and you realize he must’ve been looking for you. He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he doesn’t seem surprised by your presence.

“You didn’t go back to the party,” he continues, setting the glass down on the counter. “I figured you might be hiding in here. You don’t look like you’re in the mood for another drink.”

You’re about to reply, but he catches you off guard by speaking up.

“Are you okay?” 

You pause. It’s a simple question, but for some reason, it feels heavy. Before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out.

“No, I’m not okay,” you start, your voice a little more brittle than you intended. 

“I just... I just watched him. Scara. I saw him with Mona. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to avoid came crashing down in front of me. I don’t even know what to feel. It’s just... why is everything so complicated? Why does he have to make things so complicated?”

Heizou doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look at you like you’re insane for spilling everything. He just watches, his calm expression making the chaos in your head even more prominent.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been ranting and completely unaware of how you’ve been projecting everything onto him. Heizou seems to sense it too, because next thing you know, he’s stepping closer, his presence warm and steady as he leans a little into the counter beside you.

“Hey,” he says, his tone gentle. “Come on. You need to relax.”

Before you can protest, Heizou wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. He places a hand lightly on your head, urging you to lean into him. You hesitate for a moment before giving in, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His body is a familiar comfort, though you didn’t expect it to be this comforting tonight. In the quiet of the kitchen, you realize how exhausted you are. 

“You know,” Heizou says, his voice quiet but teasing, “I have no chance now, do I?”

You blink, not fully processing his words. “Huh?”

Heizou laughs softly, caressing his hand over your cheek, “Still as oblivious as ever, huh?”

You feel your brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Heizou’s fingers brush through your hair gently, like he’s trying to sort through his own thoughts. “It’s him, right?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your heart beating a little faster. “What? No. I—”

But before you can finish, Heizou cuts you off, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I saw you two kiss on the show. The hot tub.” He pauses, studying your face for any shift. “It was... something, wasn’t it?”

You feel your stomach tighten, the thought of the kiss now a distant, uncomfortable memory. “You know that was fake, right?” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

Heizou’s eyes stay locked on yours for a long moment, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He nods slowly, but there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.”

You swallow, the words suddenly feeling sharp. Your chest tightens, and you know you have to say something. You didn’t want to hurt Heizou’s feelings after he came all the way out here. 

“No. It didn’t,” you say, your voice firm but tinged with something that feels more like a lie than you want to admit. “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

You don’t notice at first, but Heizou’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, his voice warmer now, almost wistful. 

He doesn’t say anything else, but the silence between you both stretches out, heavy with unspoken understanding. You feel a little stupid for saying so much, for trying to convince him, or even yourself, that it was all nothing. You knew it was far from nothing.

Heizou finally breaks the tension, grabbing the water bottles he came in for. “Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

You stand there, watching him leave, suddenly realizing you’ve just unloaded more than you intended. But before he walks out the door, Heizou looks back, giving you one last knowing look, then disappears back into the hallway.

You’re still standing there when you hear a soft voice outside the kitchen door.

“Interesting.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see Scara standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like he’s been listening the entire time.

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. And then it hits you, the way Heizou’s words must’ve sounded to him. The way you had tried to downplay the kiss. The way you’d tried to convince Heizou that it meant nothing.

Scara raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but his eyes were glazed over with something else. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

The words stick in your throat, and before you can even try to explain, the hurt in his eyes is enough to make you realize he’s probably already misunderstood.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

Scara barely registered the words Mona was slurring anymore, his thoughts still tangled in knots from everything that had just happened. The sour taste of her lips still lingered. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was the thought of you seeing him like that. Seeing him with Mona.

He had to get out of there. Fast.

His mind raced as he stormed off, barely even registering where his feet were taking him. His body moved on autopilot, following after you towards the kitchens.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, chest tight with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a soft clinking sound from inside. The low hum of voices.

And then he heard it.

Heizou. Of course. Scara narrowed his eyes, already annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

The door was slightly ajar, and without even thinking, Scara found himself inching closer, the need to know what was going on outweighing the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn around. To leave.

What he saw made his stomach churn in a way he hadn’t expected.

You were standing there, your face softer than he’d ever seen it, as Heizou pulled you into his side. The way your body melted into him like it was second nature to be close to him was unsettling, like something sharp had just slid under his skin.

For a second, Scara froze. His thoughts were clouded with the absurdity of it. You with Heizou? Who didn’t know you like he did? Absurd.

It wasn’t like you owed him an explanation. Yet the sight of you resting against him, affectionate, something Scara hadn’t seen you do with him made him... unseen. Like he didn’t belong in your life at all. The knot in his chest pulled tighter.

His breath caught, and before he could do something stupid he stopped himself. What was he even supposed to say? He wasn’t entitled to anything from you. He wasn’t yours. 

So he stayed outside, watching. Listening. 

He could hear Heizou’s voice, low and teasing, and then yours, soft but firm.

“No. It didn’t,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet kitchen, and Scara’s chest clenched painfully. “You know that was all fake, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

His heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. His stomach churned, and the weight of them hit him harder than any punch. 

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Scara’s fingers dug into the frame of the door, his knuckles white. The words rang in his ears, repeating over and over. He tried to steady himself, tried to remind himself that it was all a game. The hot tub wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, until it did. 

But hearing you say it, hearing you so casually dismiss the kiss, made him feel like he was choking on something sharp and heavy. It was all fake. He had no right to feel that way.

The worst part was, he didn’t even know what to do with it. With you.

You’d both made it clear from the start that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. A show, a performance. The kiss was meaningless. Just another part of the script. He didn’t expect anything different. But hearing you say it so coldly and without any hesitation made something in him snap. 

Before he could take a step back, Heizou’s voice drifted through the door again, a quiet laugh in his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Scara could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.” The burgundy haired nuisance continued. 

Scara's breath hitched, his chest tightening even further as he leaned in closer to the door, his pulse quickening. He felt an uncontrollable wave of frustration crashing through him. He could feel the words hitting him, one after the other, like Heizou’s voice was a punch to the gut. But worse was the feeling that came with it. The one that told him Heizou was right. That it had meant something. That he had somehow allowed himself to believe that the kiss between you and him had meant something beyond a simple game. He hadn’t realized how stupid you were making him. 

But then your voice came through, clear and harsh, “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Scara’s fingers trembled at the doorframe. The knot in his chest was tightening, twisting around his lungs. You were denying it. Denying him. The kiss, the heat, the rush of it. You were dismissing it like it had been nothing more than a convenient illusion. You weren’t wrong, the rational part of him knew that. That didn’t mean he had hoped you’d thought otherwise. 

Everything he had been fighting so hard to bury flared back to life, hotter than before.

Heizou chuckled, a lighthearted sound, but it only made Scara feel more exposed. “Yeah, sure.” Heizou’s voice grew quieter, and Scara heard him getting ready to leave. “Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, and Heizou left without a second glance, his footsteps fading down the hall.

He was about to turn and leave, he had too. But just as always with you, he couldn’t help but fight back. 

“Interesting.”

You stood there in the doorway, looking caught between embarrassment and something else, your face pale, your eyes flicking nervously between the open door and him.

Scara stared at you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

“Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Scara lets out a dry chuckle, sharp and almost bitter, before walking off. Your heart is still racing, adrenaline surging through you. The confusion is all still a blur.

And yet you follow him. 

Something you’d never do, especially with him. But a part of you still wants to make sure he’s okay. And a bigger part of you doesn’t want him to walk away with the wrong idea. 

“Why’d you follow me here?” you ask, your voice louder than you intended, still thick with that adrenaline.

He stops abruptly and turns around, eyes dark, but there’s something else there, too: vulnerability. 

“Why did you follow me?” he shoots back, his voice low, taunting almost, but you can hear the frustration beneath it.

You stand there for a moment, trying to find the right words, but your thoughts feel tangled. “I just... wanted to see if you were okay,” you say, quieter now, your shoulders sagging. “I know your mom sucks, but...it seems like you were occupied.” You didn’t mean it to come off as bitter as it did.

Scara freezes for a split second, his gaze narrowing into something hard. “She’s the one who came onto me, okay?” His voice is biting, “I shoved her right off. And you can’t say shit, you were all over him back there.”

For a second, you can’t say anything. You feel a hot flush rise to your face. You take a breath, and then the words spill out, almost before you can stop them. “That didn’t even mean anything,” you mutter. “He was just... comforting me. I said that so he wouldn’t feel bad.” You don’t want to explain why. You’re glad he wasn’t there for the entire conversation.

Scara’s eyes flicker with something sharp. “Fine,” he spits out, hands gesturing in exasperation. “It’s all fake, then. Fine! It doesn’t matter. Whatever, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

You feel the words sting, and before you can even think, you’re snapping back. “Fine! Fine, Scara. If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, glaring at each other, neither of you willing to back down. And then, just like that, you both start walking in the same direction.

You glance at him, a little incredulous. “You go first.”

Scara doesn’t even look at you. “No, you go first.”

“I said it first!” you protest, taking a step forward.

“No, you go.”

A beat of silence. Then, in unison, both of you groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. “This is stupid.”

Neither of you says anything else, but you both start walking again. Side by side, but without speaking. The tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, but now it’s more muted, like you’re both too tired to keep fighting.

By the time you reach the door to the dorms, the adrenaline has started to drain away, leaving only the residual ache of whatever you two just went through. You both stop at the doorstep, standing for a moment in the cool night air.

Scara's eyes drift lazily over to a bottle resting on the corner of the porch, a forgotten drink from earlier in the evening. Without a word, he picks it up, twists off the cap, and offers it to you, his face impassive.

“Want some?” His voice is quieter now, a little less sharp, though the remnants of the earlier tension still hang in the air.

You take it without thinking, your hand brushing his as you grab the bottle. Your throat feels dry, like you’ve just run a marathon, like everything from tonight has left you parched. He’s always left you out of breath.

You take a long sip, the alcohol burning down your throat, and pass it back. Scara drinks, then hands it back to you with a quiet gesture. You both settle onto the steps, the weight of the night pressing down around you, but the silence feels somehow comfortable now.

You’re not sure why, but with each sip, you feel a little less tense, a little less angry. It’s still there, but it's somehow quieter now. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like you need to have all the answers, not right now. Not with him sitting next to you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional sip from the bottle between you. You pass it back and forth like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The weight of the argument is still there, sure, but somehow it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The quiet hum of the night surrounds you both as you sit on the porch, the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of the waves filling the spaces between breaths. The bottle you’re passing back and forth feels less heavy now, unlike the unspoken things still floating around like ghosts between you and him.

You break the silence first, your voice quieter than you intended. “So, what were you and Mona talking about?”

He doesn’t answer right away, taking a slow swig from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. His lips press together in a tight line, but he finally turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Well, she was talking at me, really. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was asking if I was ever in love with her…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, “Well, were you?”

Scara’s gaze shifts. His body is tense. He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead looking off to the side, like he’s searching for something. 

He feels the precipice you're both on. 

He wants to jump. 

“No.”

The word hangs there, and for a moment, everything is still. He can feel the air between you both shift, like the ground beneath your guys’ feet has tilted slightly.

“Really?” you ask, more quietly this time. “How did you know you weren’t in love with her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts on the step, his foot tapping idly against the wood. He wants to say he just knew, as cliche as that sounds. His eyes are fixed forward now, knowing if he looks at you his words won’t leave his mouth. He takes a swig.

The words come out slowly, like he’s still figuring them out as he speaks.

“I don’t know... I just knew, I guess.” He hesitates, then adds, “What I felt for her is different from what I know love is.”

The silence stretches, and he feels like you’re standing at the edge of something with him. 

He’s waiting. He thinks he’s always been waiting for you.

“And you… know what that feels like?” you ask, voice softer now, almost hesitant, like you’re testing the waters.

His eyes finally rake over you.

“I do now.”

You opened your mouth, and he’s hoping something, anything, comes out of it. He felt like he’d just sliced his chest open and was bearing his heart to you with bloodied hands.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, strange and heavy. Your gaze catches his, and for just a second, there’s a flicker in your eyes, something guarded but knowing. Scara holds your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like everything in him stills. The air is thick, as if the words you’ve both danced around are hanging just out of reach. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his neck.

He knows this feeling all too well. The way his chest tightens when he realizes something he’s been waiting for will never come. His mother’s attention. You. It’s a feeling he’s all but accustomed too. But there you were, just out of his reach. He doesn’t expect you to understand. Hell, he doesn’t even understand himself half the time. But in that moment, sitting next to you, he wants you too. 

The weight of your unspoken words presses on him. But maybe that’s all this will ever be, a weight. The knowledge that he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else and that you’ll never feel the same about him. That thought stabs at him like a shard of ice in his chest, cold and sharp. He wants to say something, but the words aren’t there. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. 

“We should go inside,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper against the night’s stillness. 

His voice drops further, and he shifts slightly on the step, his leg brushing against yours. It’s an unconscious motion, but it feels deliberate somehow. Like he wants to be closer but knows better than to ask for it. 

“Yeah,” you pipe up from beside him, “We should.”

Yet you both sit there for a few more minutes, passing the bottle until nothing is left in its wake. He doesn’t look over at you again, doesn’t dare too. Instead he gets up and goes inside, leaving you behind. 

Something you’ve always said he’s good at.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE DATE TAKE ONE

YAE: So, do you want to talk about today?

SCARAMOUCHE: Talk about what?

YAE: The kiss, obviously. What else would we talk about?

SCARAMOUCHE: What happened to "Hi, how are you?"

YAE: [LAUGHING] This is a safe space.

SCARAMOUCHE: It absolutely is not, but you want to talk about the kiss? Fine. It wasn't real. I didn't even kiss her back, she was drunk and I don't love her. And I'm not that much of an asshole to take advantage of someone drunk. I'm a terrible person, but not that bad.

YAE: [SPEECHLESS]

SCARAMOUCHE: This is fucking stupid. Why did l even have to explain myself? I have nothing to prove to anybody. [GETS UP]

YAE: Scaramouche, wait—

SCARAMOUCHE: [WALKS OFF SCREEN]

stuck with you!

materlist — prev | next

(typos) *slide 6: feelings wheel / *slide 8: i just had this realization

first update of the year wow!

sorry guys i’m scared to do the keep reading button so…😛

after typing oh. oh. i was like ooh bitch i ate

also ignore how scara lowk littered uhm he picked up his cig after dw! environmentally friendly king!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — four updates during break ur welcome! my break ends in two weeksish so idk if ill be able post another one before then so let me rest xx

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[harrysfolklore]

hi! can i request a little bitch blurb where oscar walks in on them 😂

FIRST LITTLE BITCH BLURB OF THE YEAR!! honestly i could never get tired of writing for them and requests keep coming so, enjoy!

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

"You're sure Oscar won't be home for hours?" Carlos murmurs against your neck as he presses you into the kitchen counter, his hands sliding under the oversized shirt you'd stolen from him.

"Mhm," you tilt your head to give him better access. "Simulator day at McLaren. He'll be gone until evening."

"Good," his accent thickens as he nips at your pulse point. "Because seeing you in my shirt all morning has been driving me crazy, mi amor."

You smirk, running your hands down his chest. "Oh? Is that why you've been following me around the apartment like a lost puppy?"

"I have not-" he starts to protest, but you cut him off by pulling his shirt over his head.

"Really?" you trace the muscles of his abdomen. "So you didn't deliberately walk into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth? Or need help reaching something in the top cabinet that you can definitely reach yourself?"

Carlos growls low in his throat. "You're teasing me."

"Always," you grin, but it turns into a gasp as he lifts you onto the counter.

"Careful, hermosa," he steps between your legs, hands gripping your thighs. "You know what happens when you tease…"

"Maybe I want to find out," you challenge, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His eyes darken. "Dios mío, the things you do to me…"

"Show me," you whisper against his lips.

He crashes his mouth to yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides up your thigh. You moan as he deepens the kiss, tasting of coffee and something uniquely Carlos.

"Mi amor," he breathes between kisses, "you're wearing too many clothes."

"Even your shirt?" you tease, knowing how much he loves seeing you in his clothes.

"Especially my shirt," he tugs at the hem.

The key turns in the lock of your shared apartment with Oscar, but you're far too distracted by Carlos' lips on your neck to notice.

"MY EYES!" Oscar's voice cracks. "IN THE KITCHEN? REALLY?"

You and Carlos spring apart, but it's too late. Oscar is standing there, one hand dramatically covering his eyes, looking like he's contemplating jumping out the window.

"Oscar!" you squeak, hurriedly adjusting Carlos' shirt that you'd borrowed. "You're… home early."

"This is MY HOME!" Oscar protests, still not looking. "Where I EAT! In THIS KITCHEN!"

Carlos has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed, though you can see him fighting back a smile. "Lo siento, Oscar…"

"Don't 'lo siento' me, mate," Oscar points blindly in Carlos's general direction. "That's my SISTER!"

"We weren't…" you try to explain.

"NO!" Oscar cuts you off. "No explanations. I don't want to know. I will never be able to unsee this. I'm moving out. I'm quitting F1. I'm becoming a hermit in Tasmania."

"You're being dramatic," you roll your eyes.

"DRAMATIC?" Oscar finally uncovers his eyes, immediately regrets it, and covers them again. "Carlos still doesn't have a shirt on!"

Carlos looks down at his bare chest as if just remembering this fact. "Ah, sorry about that…"

"Sorry about- THIS IS A COMMON AREA!" Oscar's voice keeps rising in pitch. "We have RULES!"

"Rules?" Carlos raises an eyebrow at you.

"Rule number one," Oscar recites, "no funny business in common areas. Rule number two, no walking around without clothes. Rule number three…"

"Okay, okay," you interrupt, feeling your face heat up. "We get it. We're sorry."

"I'm telling Lando," Oscar threatens.

"Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I'm daring. I'm traumatized. I need emotional support."

Carlos finally breaks, letting out a laugh. "Come on, Oscar. It's not that bad."

"Not that- mate, you're practically my brother-in-law. I do NOT need to see you trying to devour my sister in our kitchen!"

"Brother-in-law?" you and Carlos say simultaneously, though with very different tones.

Oscar groans. "Oh god, now I've given him ideas. Perfect. This is perfect. I'm calling Mum."

"You will NOT call Mum!" you lunge for his phone.

"Watch me!" he dodges, still keeping one hand over his eyes, which results in him walking straight into the wall.

"Dios mío," Carlos mutters, finally grabbing his shirt from where it had been discarded. "Oscar, I'm dressed now. You can look."

Oscar cautiously peeks through his fingers. "This is going on my therapy bill."

"Add it to the collection," you sigh.

"I will! Right next to 'sending nudes to Carlos' and 'that time in the motorhome when I thought you were going over strategy.'"

"That WAS strategy!" you protest.

"Strategy doesn't involve THAT MUCH SPANISH!"

Carlos is fully laughing now, watching the siblings' exchange with obvious amusement.

"This isn't funny!" Oscar points at him. "You! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"Me?" Carlos tries to look innocent. "I'm very responsible."

"Responsible people don't seduce my sister in shared kitchens!"

"To be fair," Carlos grins, "she seduced me."

"NOPE!" Oscar practically runs from the room. "NOPE NOPE NOPE. I'm going to Lando's. Forever. Don't call me. I'll be in therapy."

The door slams behind him, and you can hear him muttering all the way down the hall.

Carlos turns to you, eyes dancing with mischief. "So… brother-in-law, huh?"

"Don't," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Because you know," he steps closer, "that could be arranged…"

"Carlos!"

"I'm just saying," he pulls you back against him, "maybe we should give Oscar a real reason to need therapy…"

From down the hall, Oscar's voice carries: "I FORGOT MY PHONE AND I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!"

You burst out laughing as Carlos quickly steps away again.

"I'm moving out!" Oscar announces as he retrieves his phone. "And YOU," he points at Carlos, "are paying for my therapy!"

"Fair enough," Carlos agrees easily.

Oscar pauses at the door. "And sister?"

"Yes?"

"Next time? Use HIS apartment!"

As the door slams again, Carlos turns to you with a raised eyebrow. "You know… that's not a bad idea…"

"Carlos Sainz!"

"What? I'm being responsible," he grins. "Just like Oscar wanted."

You shake your head, laughing. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly in love," he corrects, then adds more seriously, "though maybe we should get our own place…"

Your heart skips. "Yeah?"

"Sí," he pulls you close again. "Somewhere with a very private kitchen…"

"I heard that!" Oscar's voice comes through the door one final time. "I'm telling Mum!"

This time, you both burst out laughing.

Poor Oscar. Maybe you should start looking at apartments sooner rather than later…

For everyone's sake.

[lumenhuman]

"Once you get down to it, it's really funny how much our senses lie to us, omitting details to make everything seem so much simpler than it is.

"An open flame looks incredibly simple on the surface. Lashing tangerine whips that peel away at the air, giving rise to smoke and heat for seemingly no reason. At least, to your limited faculties.

"But to control something in the manner of a mage, a true mage, one must understand it, in its entirety. Study it, nurture it, consume and be consumed by it. As you might tell," I raised my arms from underneath my cloak, making a show of the myriad burn scars that plastered my skin oh so beautifully, "I've taken that crucial step, and I'm all the better a wielder of the arcane for it."

"Human," The judge interjected, "I am not here today to absorb the philosophy of a man who's brutally killed thousands of elven POWs." The disgust in his voice was evident. "I've seen the crystal images captured in your camps. Do you truly expect me to believe you caused such suffering with basic fire magic?"

I grinned. I couldn't help it. This was always my favorite part. "I do." I held in a small chuckle. Not yet. "Because you don't know what fire is."

The gallery behind me broke into enraged jeering at the sound of my proclamation. It took a full minute of the judge banging his gavel and shouting "Order!" before the racket died down. Finally, he glared at me from atop his bench once more, before explaining, "It is simply impossible for any human to perform what you've done. Even your strongest mages can't hold a candle to a mid-ranked elven apprentice. So tell me exactly wh-"

"That's just it!" I yelled into the courtroom. I couldn't contain it anymore, I had to speak my mind. I could feel my grin widening, threatening to split my cheeks at the ends. "You pompous twig-eaters have lorded your mastery of magic over mankind for far too long! Your raw power, your mana control, your casting speed, we can't compare to any of it! But you forgot what humans are best at," I let out a single laugh, which echoed through the deathly silent courtroom, before I swiftly contained it. I continued, "We can adapt like no other.

"We live nowhere near as long as you self-righteous pricks. Seven of our generations pass in only a half of one of yours. But we always make the most of our time. We study, and we learn, and we consolidate that knowledge on what those before us discovered, over and over again, until we finally learn the truth. And I," I met the judge's gaze, peering deep into his spirit, searching for the fire, "Am the first to discover it."

The elf sitting in front of me simply asked, "What did you discover?" His voice was a sumptuous mixture of repulsion and morbid curiosity, a cocktail I'd drank many times before whenever I regaled another with my knowledge, and was always fond of.

The hilarity of the situation was getting unbearable. I couldn't help but laugh through my words as I revealed, "Fire doesn't make heat," I fought down another fit of laughter, "It IS heat!"

Both the gallery and the judge simply stared at me, silence covering the room for a precious few seconds while I let them marinate in my knowledge.

The judge was apparently the sharpest one there. I could tell he understood the moment I saw his face of confusion twist into absolute horror.

Yes, YES, YES!

His voice now barely above a whisper, he stuttered, "You... you mean that... that it's...?"

"It's nothing more than a pretty little light show that our eyes use to make sense of the world?" If my feet weren't shackled to the floor I would've approached him, to get a better look at his dying soul. "Because that's all it is. Fire is not a producer, it's a product. You wood-brained aristocrats spend your whole lives so focused on only what you can see and what you can hear, that you never figured it out!

"What we call 'fire' is just a sensory representation of vast amounts of heat. And what is heat, if not pure, unadulterated energy. The force the drives all motion, all change, EVERYTHING that happens in the entire cosmos, happens because of energy. If you control fire, you control heat. If you control heat, you control energy. And if you control energy..."

"STOP!" The judge shouted, livid that his reality was being shattered. A common reaction. "Clearly you're making all of this up! Those pictures must have been faked, scenes staged with illusion magic as a fear tactic!"

Grasping at straws. This questioning never would've happened if that was what the elven high-council believed from the start. I smirked. "If you truly don't believe me, you can always come and remove this restraint collar, and ask me to prove it. It's either that, or accept that the humans are getting stronger than you."

Chaos erupted once again, my challenge being met with mixed response. The screaming only quieted down after the judge pulled out a wand and swiftly cast a silencing spell over the gallery, muting them until they were barely audible.

I kept my mouth shut through the whole ordeal, until the judge was staring daggers at me again. His rage and internal conflict were palpable in his expression, and it took a few minutes for him to make up his mind.

Then another few to cast every warding spell that he knew on himself before he stepped down from the bench.

Aglow with the mana from his wards, he approached the desk where I stood, until he was mere feet from my face. He was a good foot taller than me, but so much thinner, it seemed he would snap in a stiff breeze. His eyes were filled with defiance, a look of absolute certainty that he was right.

It was so lovely. Or rather, what it would become was lovely.

He drew a rune in the air, and I heard the latch of my collar click, before it fell to the ground. I stretched my neck back and forth, getting it used to it's full range of motion again. "You've made the right choice, your honor."

He chuckled, "I knew you couldn't do it."

Before he could react I launched out my right hand directly through all of his wards and grabbed him by the face. "You've given me an entire plater of new subjects!"

I started by boiling his tongue.

The Elf looks down to the lone human mage "You stand trial for warcrimes. Explain how you did it with just fire Magic" he said dismissively. "Well. Have you ever thought how and why fire burns?"

[seoulmatez]

𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉

suna has been acting a bit strange and you're determined to find out why.

suna rintaro x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ♡

“Where are you going?”

The unexpected voice makes your shoulders jump in surprise. When you turn around in the direction that it came from, the bathroom door that was closed just minutes ago is now open, steam from the shower seeping out. Suna stands with a towel wrapped around his hips, patiently awaiting your answer.

He’s been doing this a lot the past few days—catching you when you’re on your way out the door and insisting he tag along. You thought you might be able to sneak past him while he was in the shower. Seems like he has some sort of sixth sense that allows him to tell when you’re on the move. “Just to the convenience store down the road.”

You have an idea what his next question will be.

With water dripping from the ends of his dark hair, he asks, “Should I come with you?”

Just as you thought.

“To buy a coffee to bring right back here?” You grin at his implied loyalty. Accompanying you on a fifteen minute trip is a sweet gesture but far from necessary—especially when he was planning on calling it a night. “No, that’s okay. Besides, you’re not even dressed.”

You gesture to his practically naked body and Suna looks down, as if he forgot that he had just stepped out of the shower only a minute ago. When he looks back up at you, there’s determination glowing in his light eyes. “I can get dressed. Two minutes—max.”

He starts on the short path to your shared bedroom but you stop him, resting your hand on his shoulder. His skin is soft and warm beneath yours—a far cry from his usual temperature. 

“What's up with you lately?” you ask.

Suna shakes his head. “Nothing.”

You snort at that. What a lousy liar. “You’ve been clinging onto me like a koala. Waking up earlier so we can have breakfast together, joining me on trips to get groceries. You even went to the gym with me yesterday—after you already trained for the day. Since when do you ever do that stuff?”

Having been presented with your evidence, Suna has no defense. His silence makes you tilt your head. “So?”

Suna's lips poke out in a pout. It’s almost as if he thought you wouldn’t notice how different he’s been acting the past few days. “I can’t tell—it’s my new year’s resolution and a secret. It won’t happen if I spill.”

“You do that with wishes, not resolutions,” you explain, though a smile pulls at your lips with his misunderstanding. But, even if you had let it slide, you’re still more than curious about what he has committed to for the new year that so heavily involves you. “And either way, I think I have a right to know when it’s directly impacting me.”

Suna frowns at that. An uncomfortable silence fills the hallway for a moment. “Am I bothering you?”

“What?” You find yourself frowning too. Did he think you were accusing him of being overbearing? Your eyes widen as you consider the possibility and you shake your head frantically. “No! I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Relief washes over Suna’s features but he still seems apprehensive.

You let your hands slide down his bare arms, hoping the touch is gentle, encouraging. “Tell me—please.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. He planned on carrying this out silently without you knowing but he supposes he came on a bit strong. It’s not that it’s anything to be ashamed of—far from it, really—though, admitting it out loud strikes Suna as the tiniest bit embarrassing. If his actions haven’t turned you away, hopefully, neither will his words.

“I just want to spend more time with you,” he admits.

That’s all?

How innocent. And cute. And totally not worth keeping a secret over.

You don’t tell him any of that though (he’s bashful enough as is, if his rosy cheeks are any indication), just silently take it in and let it warm your heart. Something about his slip-up earlier is even cuter now—him wanting to ensure that he’d be able to spend as much time with you as possible by keeping his intentions a secret.

“Well, get dressed then.” You jerk your head in the direction of your room with a smile. “You have two minutes before I leave you.”

Suna rushes away to put on some clothes. You giggle at his sense of urgency but lean against the wall, not bothering to keep track of time. You’ll wait for him regardless.

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[gotta-winwin]

hii! love the 24 hrs with seventeen event and i was wondering if i could request 3:15 a.m. with wonwoo? maybe something where he's up gaming but reader wakes up hungry and wants him to make some ramen? thank you! love your writing 💗

omg tiya hi! i love your writing too (•̪ o •̪) your christmas series with svt was TOO CUTE ! AND a request for wonwoo, the loml - straight to my heart.

3:15

🌷part of the 24hrs with seventeen series ! request a specific time + activity/scenario to experience it with seventeen yourself !

requests are now closed for this event! thank you to everyone who requested.

You’re kept awake by the glaring light of Wonwoo’s computer and the sound of his keyboard. No matter how many times he’s adjusted his screen’s brightness, it’s still not enough to hide his tendency to game late into the night. His roommate is sound asleep in his room, and you feel suddenly jealous - Mingyu’s obviously getting sleep - while you and your boyfriend are not. 

The only thing saving Wonwoo from your crankiness and lack of sleep is the fact that he looks back at you every time he’s waiting for the next round to load, his eyes full of adoration and mild amusement as you grump. “You love watching me play.” He’d remind you constantly, never forgetting how you had once complimented his skills and how fast his fingers could move - which eventually led to him showing you just how fast - but never mind. 

Wonwoo, who finds it adorable, how you’re restless even when tired, how you pad around his room like you own it - and you basically do. You own the owner of the room, which makes this room yours as much as it is his. It’s evident you’ve colonized his place by the sheer amount of trinkets that are yours, your own drawer, your own section of his shelf for your romance books. He’ll never admit to it, but he’s read through almost everything you bring over, cringing at some - but secretly enjoying most. 

Wonwoo, who knows you’re bored out of your mind but trying to support his interests nevertheless. He’s a perceptive man - he sees your eyerolls whenever he tries schooling you on computer terms you’re unaware of, or how your shoulders shake from a silent sigh whenever he’s yelling out his gaming terms, passionate and on call with his friends. He loves you for just trying because he knows what his interests are aren’t for everyone. 

Wonwoo, who can only smile at you amusedly when you nudge his leg from your side of bed, sprawled out so you can reach him at his gaming chair. His lips thin into his infamous smile when you quietly ask him for ramen, stating that waiting for him to finish has gotten you hungry once again. 

Wonwoo, who wouldn’t trade your nightly routine for anything else in the world. As much as he loves gaming, he loves having a presence next to him more - liking how you’re only ever a step away whenever he needs a break from the virtual world. You make him love reality - it’s that simple. 

Wonwoo, who blows on the steaming ramen before he serves it to you, knowing the countless times you’ve forgotten and had burned your tongue. A bout of satisfaction and pride washes over him when you let out a hum of enjoyment, mumbling through bites of ramen just how much you love his cooking - even if it is just a packet of instant noodles. The satisfaction and pride far outweighs that in which he feels after a win. 

Wonwoo, who abandons his computer in favour of his bed, wrapping his arms around you as he waits for you to drift off. He would never tell you, but he’s never fallen asleep before you - relishing the few pockets of time left before he must relinquish his sight, taking off his glasses and turning you into a blurred figure beside him. He insists your beautiful even as a blurred figure, but Wonwoo likes having your peaceful face be the last thing he sees before sleep comes for him too. 

[jessiexflem]

– don't sweat it | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, crush-struck Jessie

word count: 1.2K

After locking her bike to the rack in front of her local pilates studio, Jessie ducks under the awning over the front door, narrowly missing the beginning of a Portland rain shower. Her phone buzzes twice in her pocket as she takes off her helmet. She shoves her helmet under her arm, trying to simultaneously open the door to the studio and pull her phone out to open her unread messages.

Morgan: Something came up, can’t make it to class :( still on for lunch though!

Morgan: Tell Y/N sorry for me!

Y/N? Jessie frowns. Morgan must be mistaken. Cathy, the studio’s 57-year old owner, was listed as this morning’s instructor. Jessie checks in with the girl at the front desk before throwing her stuff into one of the lockers along the wall. Taking a seat on her usual reformer, Jessie scans the room. The other reformers were unoccupied. No sign of Cathy, and class was due to start in ten minutes. 

“Jessie?” a voice pulls her out of her thoughts, “I haven’t seen you in class in a few weeks!”

Jessie turns to see you walking up to her reformer, adjusting the mic belt on your waist. Gulping, she looks up from where her eyes had landed on your waist, drawing her attention to your face, unintentionally (or intentionally) checking you out. You catch her eye, giving her a sweet smile.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Jessie says, attempting to sound nonchalant, “I thought Cathy was teaching today.” 

“She had an appointment run long, so I offered to step in and sub for her!” you explain, before letting out a giggle, “You haven’t been in any of my classes in a while, I was starting to think you were avoiding me.” 

That’s because she was. The footballer had, in fact, been avoiding Y/N’s class times, opting to sign up for the other three instructors’ offerings. It wasn’t that Jessie didn’t want to take Y/N’s classes, far from it. It was that any time Y/N paid her any attention, Jessie would turn into a pile of mush, unable to think, speak, or act straight. Whenever Y/N would shout her out on the mic, it would be all the girl could think about for days. Hands-on corrections? Jessie’s skin would burn at her touch, butterflies coursing through her entire body. Talking to her after class? She was scared that if she spoke to you for too long, she’d end up saying something like how she would kiss the ground you walked on. Jessie hadn’t had a crush like this since she was probably sixteen, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. Differential equations? Easy. Taking on three defenders on her own? Easier. Being in the same room as you without feeling stupid? Impossible.

“Oh, uh, Morgan!” Jessie stammers, mentally cursing herself, “She wanted me to tell you that something came up and that she apologizes for not being able to make it.”

“Shoot, that’s too bad,” you frown, “I guess you’re getting a private lesson today then.”

“What?” Jessie’s eyes grew wide, panic creeping up her neck as she became hyperaware at how empty the studio was. The girl at the front desk had her earbuds in, and her nose in a textbook, paying the two of you no mind.

“Yeah, you and Morgan were the only two signed up for this morning,” you shrug, “That’s okay, though! Is there anything specific you’re wanting to work on?”

A private lesson. Just the two of you. Jessie was going to kill Morgan.

“I–uh, nothing specific, we can just do whatever you had planned,” a blush creeps onto Jessie’s cheeks. How she was going to get through the next forty-five minutes, she had no idea. 

You lead Jessie through your normal warm-up exercises, unaware that the girl was five seconds away from a nervous breakdown. You go through upper body then legs, mostly giving verbal cues. Moving on to corework, you place your hand on Jessie’s stomach, feeling her tense under your touch.

“Good job engaging your core,” you nod.

That’s it, Jessie was convinced she was going to die. Her brain was short-circuiting, and she was going to die. The reason? You giving her your undivided attention. 

“Try and focus on your breathing more,” you instruct, noticing that she was starting to take in shallow, faster breaths, “You okay?”

“I–uh,” Jessie failed to create a coherent sentence, pausing her movement on the reformer, “I–”

“If you need to take a break, you can,” you give her a soft smile.

What Jessie needed was for you to stop looking at her, or for a black hole to open up and swallow her. Maybe both. Yeah, both. 

“No rush,” you reassure, “Are you okay, though?”

Accepting that there’s no black hole coming to save her, Jessie sighs. Fuck it.

“I–” she shakes her head, “You, uh, make me nervous.”

“I do?” you ask, surprised at the girl’s answer, “But, why?”

“Uh, I–” Jessie shuts her eyes, unable to meet your gaze. Was it too late to pretend like she didn’t say anything?

You take a seat on the reformer next to her, giving her time to collect her thoughts. You, a part-time pilates instructor, make Jessie Fleming nervous? International football star Jessie Fleming. No way.

“I, uh, just think you’re really pretty,” Jessie bites her lip, eyes still shut, “and you make me nervous.”

“Oh,” is all you can get out. Jessie Fleming thinks that you’re pretty? Shut up. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she scrambles to a seated position, the carriage of the reformer shifting underneath her, “That wasn’t appropriate, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why are you apologizing?” you frown. 

Jessie gets up from the reformer, leaning down to grab her water bottle, “I’m accidentally putting you in an uncomfortable position, and I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m so–”

You lean forward and place your hand on her arm, “Wait, Jess, hold on.”

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, her cheeks flushed red. 

“Look at me,” you give her forearm a squeeze, pausing until her eyes leave the floor, “Don’t be sorry.”

Shaking her head, Jessie furrows her brows together, “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you in the middle of class. Totally inappropriate of me. Just forget I said anything.”

“But what if I don’t want to? Forget what you said, I mean?”

“What?” Jessie’s brain is racing three thousand miles per minute. 

“I have another class to teach in about forty-five minutes, but after that, I’m free the rest of the day,” you say, “Would you want to get lunch after? If you’re free, of course.”

Jessie nods, cheeks somehow redder than before, “I’d like that.”

“Can’t wait,” you smile, “Let’s stretch before you leave though, it’s bad not to.”

After a cooldown stretch, Jessie waves goodbye to you as she walks out of the studio, promising that she’ll pick you up in her car after your next class ends. The rain had let up, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. She unlocks her bike from the rack, then shoots Morgan a quick text.

Jessie: Need to take a raincheck for lunch, something important came up.

Helmet on, Jessie pedals home thinking about what she’s going to wear for lunch, a grin plastered on her face.

[jakedustry]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 - 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐍

Jeonghan x fem!reader

in which Jeonghan screams trouble every time you look at him, you knew that from the start. Still, you let yourself fall for him, and now you regret it as you watch him kiss a different woman on the New Year's party you both attended. Thankfully, New Year means new chance, and Jeonghan will do anything to prove you how much he cares about you.

wc 2.5k

warnings SMUT, fwb, Jeonghan kissed another girl (not on the lips), they are drunk but it's not implied much, arguing, missionary, unprotected sex, pull-out method, hickeys/marks, hair pulling (his hair), oral (f. receiving), fingering, petnames, praise, lmk if I missed anything!

↪ izzy adds... okay, I know it's already the second day of 2025 but I wanted to write a new year's special for seventeen too and had no time until now. But!! It's here now!! Not proofread!

It takes you a moment before you can breathe again, the smell of alcohol around you making you dizzy. You’re not sure how much you had so far, but honestly, you are more worried about your friends, who are currently doing another round of shots. You frown only at the thought of the taste of vodka on your tongue. 

“One more! One more! One more!” The chant makes your head hurt. You squeeze your eyes shut before looking around the room to find an escape. “Hey, are you okay?” The familiar voice makes you sigh, and you turn your head to face him. “Better than ever, so leave me alone.” He frowns when your breath reaches him, and he steps closer to help you stand up from the floor. At this point, someone will step on you. “Come with me, I’ll call you an Uber,” he offers, reaching his hand out to you. You push his hand away, though, scoffing at his sudden nice guy act. “I said I’m okay here,” you repeat, making him sigh. Before you can protest more, his arms wrap around you, and he lifts you up from the floor. “Let go of me, Han,” you protest, but he doesn’t care, letting you stand on your own feet only for him to hold your hand tightly so you wouldn’t run away. 

“Happy?” You ask when you finally step outside, the cold air helping you calm down. “No. Drink this first,” Jeonghan says, handing you a water bottle. You don’t forget to glare at him as you take the bottle from him, but he pays it no attention. “Why are you so mad? I’m just trying to help you out.” His words echo in your ears, the anger in you building up the more he speaks. “Since you’ve made it so clear you have your own life, I’m just trying to live mine too.” — “You’d make it a lot easier for me if you didn’t keep bothering me.” 

“What are you talking about?” He asks confusedly, running his fingers through his hair. “You think I’m that stupid?” Your voice gets louder as you face him again. He knows you want to look strong, and that’s why you’re yelling, but your eyes give you away. You look broken, like you’re about to cry. “I’ve never said that.” 

You groan, irritated by him. “This is not about what you say, but what you do!” You burst out at him, opening your mouth again to yell at him when he only stares back at you confusedly. No words leave your mouth, though, and you’re turning around once more to run away from him. “Explain things further, and don’t just run away,” he grasps your wrist, turning you around again with one swift pull. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You hate how innocent his eyes look. If you hadn’t seen him yourself, you might have even believed him that he never did anything wrong. But you were there, still sober, when it happened: his arms on another woman, his lips on her neck, and her fingers in his hair. You had enough of his bullshit. You weren’t exclusive, so you shouldn’t be feeling like this about seeing him with another woman, but you just couldn’t help it. If he wanted to fuck around, he shouldn’t have ever made you believe he felt something more towards you. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know anything,” you hiss at him, your fingernails digging into your palm to focus your pain onto something else. You don’t want to break down in front of him, but the more you gaze into his eyes, the more you doubt how much longer you can hold your emotions bottled up. 

“But I don’t!” He argues. “What did I do?” He sounds desperate, and you hate that part of you believes him. “Then ask the blond you seemed to be so close to before! I bet she knows!” You yell into his face, trying to get out of his grip. Jeonghan falls silent, unable to say anything in his defense. He doesn’t let go of you, though. He can’t. Your name leaves his lips, and it feels like a knife being ripped out of your chest. 

“No,” you stop him before he can say anything, still trying to shake him off of you. “I don’t want to hear any of your ‘You’re all I care about’ bullshit. You’ve proven I shouldn’t believe a word that comes out of your stupid mouth.” 

His eyes fall, and you watch him bite his bottom lip as he rethinks what he should say. When his eyes meet yours again, you think you’re about to cry. “It’s not how you think it is,” he proclaims, and his lame excuse makes you scoff. “Yeah, because licking someone’s neck can be portrayed in so many ways,” you roll your eyes at him. “Let go of me. I’m done with this, Han.” 

His grip only tightens. “It was a stupid dare Mingyu came up with. It didn’t mean anything. If you had been there, I would have licked your entire body.” You frown at his comment. “No, thanks. I’m done with this,” you repeat your words.

“You can’t–” he tries to talk you out of it, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance. “I can do whatever the fuck I want as far as I’m aware. And I’m sure you can find a different fuck buddy if you really can’t stay without sex for a while.” 

“You know damn well we haven’t been about sex for some time now,” his voice is strong, sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I don’t even know her name, baby. I don’t care about her or any other girl there. This whole time, I kept thinking about what you were doing and if you were okay.” 

“I don’t believe you,” your voice sounds weak compared to his. You have to gulp down as you watch him, doubting your ability to resist him when he is this close to you. 

It’s been half a year since you agreed on this little friends-with-benefits thing with him, and it was great until you started to develop feelings for him. You thought you could push them aside and live your life freely, but your plan fell apart when he started giving you hope, showing up in your apartment after work just to watch a movie with you, taking you out to dinners without any reason, and then, just a week ago, the L bomb that slipped past his lips on accident. 

You thought that was finally your chance at happiness, but he just had to ruin it again tonight. 

“I don’t want to go into the New Year with my heart on you when I don’t know what you’ll do when I turn around and don’t watch you for a bit.” 

“That was a one-time mistake,” he argues, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I don’t want to go into the New Year without you.” 

You hate him. You hate how he makes you feel, but most importantly, you hate how easily you forgive him. 

“Let me make it up to you, prove that you’re the only woman I think about, the only one I am in love with.” Jeonghan had promised himself he wouldn’t ever tell you again unless he knew you felt the same way about him after the first time it managed to escape his lips, but now that he was so close to losing you, he didn’t care about his stupid resolution. He needed you to know he meant those words. 

“I hate you,” you mumble, hitting him in the chest weakly. “I know, I’m the worst,” he nods, his thumb stroking your cheek. “But I want to be the best for you.” Whatever fight your brain and heart were fighting seconds ago stops, and you don’t care anymore what the right decision is. You need him, and you don’t care if he hurts you anymore. 

Your lips crash with his, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer. He finally lets go of your wrist and moves his hand on your waist, giving it a tight squeeze as he keeps you close to himself. “You better mean everything you said,” you warn him, pushing him to the wall behind him before you connect your lips again. He smirks, tugging your hair behind your ear so it won’t get in the way. “Swear on my family,” he mumbles, the taste of your lipstick driving him crazy. “Should we go home?” He offers, a groan escaping his lips when your hips crash with his. “Or should I take you right here?” His hand slides between your bodies, moving down to reach the bottom of your skirt. The grin on his face as his fingers find your clothed clit is insufferable. 

“I’m going to bite your dick off,” you hiss, squirming away from him. You pull away when he doesn’t stop touching you, your finger in the middle of his chest as you glare at him. “What? You were just getting wet,” he smirks as he sees the blush creep up your face. “I swear I will kill you one day,” you promise him, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him off the wall. He stumbles for a second but finds his balance again and sends you a teasing wink before he walks towards the parking lot, already calling an Uber. 

♡⸝⸝ 

The kisses you share when you walk into his apartment are heated, and the taste of everything you’ve drank tonight mixes with the liquor he had. His mouth moves to kiss your collarbone as he kicks the door of his room open, not bothered enough to close it again as he takes you to his bed, the same bed you’ve been a regular in for months now. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, moving down to kiss your right breast through your top. Your breath shakes as your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan. He rolls your top up, and you help him remove it while he cups your boobs in both of his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Only for you,” you moan out, rubbing your thighs together. “Only for me,” he repeats after you, smirking as he licks your right nipple while his left hand takes care of the other one. 

“No one else.” — “No one else,” you agree, nodding as he sucks on your sensitive nipple. “God, Jeonghan,” you moan as his lips move lower, tracing wet kisses on your stomach until he reaches your skirt, slowly pulling it down as he kisses the hem of your panties. It’s embarrassing how wet you are just from that. He hums in response, hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them down with ease. “What does my girl need?” He asks, his tongue sliding between your folds. The feeling of his tongue on your clit makes your head spin, and your fingers find his hair again. He sucks on your clit, his fingers teasing your needy entrance. “Jeong–” your voice breaks as he thrusts two of his fingers into you, and you pull on his hair. 

It wasn’t the first time he had gone down on you like this, but each time, it caught you off guard just like the first time. The praises that leave his lips send a shiver down your spine as he continues making out with your cunt, and you finally know what he meant by making it up to you. He doesn’t budge as you pull on his hair, saying it’s too much for you. He knows not to listen to you at moments like these. 

It’s not much longer that your thighs shake around his head, and you finish on his tongue. He smirks against your pussy, his nose pressed against your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

“Please, Hannie, please,” after your begs, it doesn’t take much longer for him to pull down his pants, his shirt still on. You tug on the material covering his upper body, and he smirks. “My baby wants to see more of me?” He teases, still rubbing slow circles on your clit. You nod, your eyes falling to his soaked fingers. God. 

“Oh?” He taunts, dragging his fingers down to your clenching hole. “I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers, and had it been a different situation, you’d remind him not to get too egoist. But this time, you can’t say anything to him. It’s true. His cock wasn’t even close to touching you, and you had already finished once. It was only a matter of time before he’d take you to your second orgasm. 

“Please,” you cry, and as he takes down his shirt, he positions his tip at your cunt. “Is this what you want?” You nod rapidly, reaching for his hand. He only pushes the tip in as he intertwines his fingers with yours, cooing sweet nothings into your ear. 

He moans as you clench around him, his thrusts slowly becoming steady. Your vision blurs and all you can pay attention to are his moans that fill your ears. You could swear he had the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard. 

The room is loud, your whines mixing with his as they fill up the otherwise quiet place. Each one of his thrusts hits the right spot, and you know that at this point, you’ll cum before he can even get close to his orgasm. “Don’t– ngh,” you grasp his hand when you see him moving it down to your already overstimulated bud of nerves again, stopping him. “‘S too much,” you whine, but it only causes him to smirk. “It’s alright,” he coos, pinning your hands behind your head with his left hand, followed by one harsh thrust of his hips, while his right-hand rubs circles on your clit despite your protests. “You can cum as many—fuck—times you want,” he says, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes watch his cock disappear in your hole. 

His thrusts get harsher after that, and you’re confident you’ll have bruises on your ass in the morning from how his hips slam against you. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your moans in his mouth as your lips connect. “‘M close,” you cry, and he nods. “Just a bit. I’m almost, god, there, too.” 

There are marks all over your neck and shoulders when he pulls out of you, stroking his cock a few more times before he finishes on your stomach. There is a sense of emptiness you feel as his cock leaves you, but you stop thinking about it soon after when he kisses you again. This time, it’s less needy but full of love instead. 

As he falls down next to you, you use up the moment and change your position, sitting on his stomach while he looks up at you. You smirk, leaning down to his collarbone and leaving a hickey there, too. He can’t be the only one marking what’s his.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @liaatiny @bamgeutsz @cherrylovescheol ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 1 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. YAYYY ITS STARTINGG!! wc. 4.4k

✧ 9:06 am, monday ✧

the bells of harkness tower toll sharply, their deep, reverberating chimes slicing through the crisp autumn air. the sound is rich and weighted, echoing across yale’s storied campus, signaling the start of another day as people dispersed from their dorms and earlier classes, talking amongst themselves and hastily walking to their next destination. 

the mist of early morning clings to the aged stone of the university, a slight fog covering over you as you walk briskly across the cobblestone pathways, your leather satchel bouncing gently against your side. chanel pumps decorate your feet, a cartier bracelet accenting your freshly tanned skin. your sleek, blown-out hair was framed against your face, bouncing slightly with every step, and your pale pink cardigan stood out amid the sea of muted fall tones around you.

beside you was emma harper, your best friend— strolling at a leisurely pace, tugging her scarf tighter against the crisp autumn air that whacked against the both of you. where you were polished and deliberate, emma was bold and carefree, her wild auburn hair nearly as untamed as her personality . 

the two of you couldn't have been more different, yet your friendship had stood the test of time, from summers in france to your shared journey at yale.

"you're going to give yourself a stress migraine, y/n." emma teased at you, nudging your shoulder as you both approached your lecture hall, "professor weller isn't grading us on who takes the prettiest notes, or who sits at the front. why so worked up?”

you offered up a small laugh, though your grip on your notebook tightened. a sigh follows your short-lived giggle, "i just want to be prepared. philosophy of religion isn't exactly a casual topic. it's very intense."

"you've been prepared since the first day of class," emma grumbles, rolling her eyes. "honey, you're literally the only person i know who can quote augustine without looking it up. so relax a little."

relax. you had heard that word countless times, usually from emma. it wasn't that you didn't know how— it was just that there was always so much to do. papers to write, prayers to say, a faith to nurture. for you, discipline wasn't a burden; it was a way of life, a way of honoring the God who had guided you this far.

but as you entered the lecture hall and emma plopped into the seat adjacent to yours, you couldn't help but smile. emma was right in her own way— you could afford to let go sometimes. just... not too much. everything always had to be structured, neat, and in order. just how you liked it. 

professor weller's lecture was as engaging as ever, his voice commanding attention as he wove through topics of faith and reason, along with their uncomfortable contrasts and truths. you sat straight-backed, your pen flying across the page as you absorbed every word with neat, pretty handwriting, your pink pen gliding against your paper. emma, meanwhile, alternated between typing notes and sneaking glances at her phone, her impatience barely concealed as she locked her phone, slipping it into a pocket. 

midway through the lecture, emma leaned over, her voice low. "sooooo, sam's hosting a party tonight…”

you didn't look up, still writing away on your paper attentively, "and how does that concern me?"

"well, he wants to know if we're coming, duh.” 

you paused your writing just long enough to shoot emma a knowing look. you cock your head to the side, lips forced into a pout, "come on em, you know i don't do parties."

emma groaned softly, "right, of course. yale's resident saint doesn't do parties.” she throws her hands up in defense, “whatever. but just come with me, please? i promise, you’ll have fun!"

"it's not about being a saint," you whispered back, your tone firm, but always remaining kind. "i just don't see the point in spending a night doing... things i'd regret, like doing substances that make me forget i’m on planet earth. it’s never been my thing.” 

emma smirked, "not everyone regrets it, you know. some people do actually have fun. maybe you should learn how.” 

you smiled faintly, but said nothing. having fun wasn't the issue—it never had been.you did have fun— doing things that actually mattered, things that actually interested you. you could curl up with coffee and a good novel, or crochet a new sweater, there were multitudes of things that you did for fun. 

but in contrast, emma was the party girl. her type of fun was smoking a bit of weed and blasting music in her audi, or going home with various guys that she’d meet out at bars, or even in passing. she was bold, strong, carefree. but you adored structure, class— you didn’t put her down for doing what she does, she’s your best friend, afterall— but it just wasn’t your style. 

 it was about your values, about living a life that aligned with the principles that you had held dear for so long. you weren’t naïve; you knew what went on at those parties. drinking, hookups, conversations drowned out by loud music... and none of it appealed to you.

emma, to her credit, didn't push further. your friendship always worked out so well because you respected each other's boundaries, even when you didn't understand them.

you packed up your things as the sound of the bell’s ring filled your ears, sliding your bag into your shoulder as you waited for emma to stash her loose papers into her bag. you frowned, “your organization skills are..definitely something.” 

she just laughed it off, “works for me. i like living life on the edge.” 

after class, the two of you made your way across campus, the golden autumn leaves crunching beneath emma's boots and your new, all-black pumps. yale's gothic architecture loomed around you as you treaded against the grass, looking at all the buildings that were majestic and timeless, a reminder of the legacy that you were part of.

"there they are!" emma hollers, spotting your friend group near the library steps.

oliver, ever the charmer, was lounging against the stone railing, his tailored coat giving him an air of effortless sophistication. he flipped a hand through his brown hair as he looked up, his eye landing on you and emma as she shot you both a warm smile. you spotted naomi first though, her bright purple hair almost impossible to miss— and she waved a ring-accented hand at you, a cigarette shoved between her index and middle finger. jules was seated right next to naomi, her black hair sleek and flowing down her back, complimenting her starry eyeshadow and long, red nails as she twiddled her fingers at you in greeting.

"y/n! emma!" oliver called, his grin broad and welcoming as he waved you and emma over, his lanky frame extending, ready to greet you with hugs like he always did. 

emma sauntered over, her confidence nearly as natural as breathing. you followed her lead, offering polite smiles as you joined the group, taking a seat next to naomi. she pulls you into a tight embrace, planting a little kiss on your cheek, “y/n! hi my love! missed you so much!”

she smelled of cigarette smoke and versace perfume, and the mixture was always oddly comforting to you. you giggle at her over-the-top affection, though you always loved it. naomi was the sweet one of the group, always offering the shirt off of her back if she really needed to. she was beautiful— inside and out, her whimsical fashion sense complimenting how pure and sweet her soul was.

"so," jules started, exhaling a plume of smoke from her half-dead cigarette, "sam's party tonight. we going?"

"i'm in," oliver said immediately, adjusting his coat with a shrug that oozed nonchalance, “need to get out a bit, yeah?”

"same here.” naomi added, flicking ash from her cigarette as her eyes found yours, and then all eyes simultaneously turned to you. you sat slightly apart from the rest of them, your pink cardigan and neatly pressed skirt a stark contrast to the haze of thick cigarette smoke and leather jackets. you smiled gently, your hands clasped in front of your frame.

you let off a shrug, a little sick and tired of having to repeat these same words over and over again, "you know i don't do parties.” you shrug gently, your voice soft but resolute.

"come on, little saint," emma teased, crossing her arms at your protest, "just one night. we’re your best friends, we promise that nothing will happen to you— we won’t let it.” emma’s statement earns approving nods from the rest of the group, sharing looks with one another in hopes that their eagerness was convincing to you.

it wasn’t. 

you laughed lightly, shaking your head, "just isn’t my thing, you all know this—“ you gesture to everyone, “i really just don’t feel up to it."

oliver shrugs, while naomi and jules nod quietly. they weren’t going to push you, so they just carry on with their conversation, chatting about classes, teachers, and everything that surrounded it.

as the conversation flipped to other topics, you found yourself falling quiet, content with listening in as the others bantered. you loved your friends, truly you did— but moments like this reminded you  of just how different you were from them. it wasn't a bad thing, necessarily; it was just... isolating, sometimes.

faith had always been your anchor, the thing that kept you steady in a world that often felt so chaotic. but every now and then, you wondered if it also kept you apart, if your refusal to compromise made yourself unknowable in ways even your closest friends couldn't understand.

you eventually pushed the thought away as emma started telling a story about some disastrous group project in her third class, her animated gestures pulling laughter out of everyone. 

comparison was the thief of joy— you knew this, but you sometimes wished that you could be more like emma. carefree yet compassionate, smart but knowing when to let loose. sometimes, you felt like you could be a little too uptight, and jealously oozed from your pores at you watched your best friend take a drag from a cigarette, laughing and carrying on with wide, sparkling green eyes. 

but you refused to get sucked up in comparisons, so you smile, warmth blooming in your chest as everyone stood up, walking to the main hall for a passing period.

you thought long and hard about the idea of going to a party with everyone— it seemed stupid in your humble opinion, but you missed hanging out with your friends— so you offered up, “okay, i have a proposal. what if i go to this stupid party, but only to drive? i’ll make sure none of you get too drunk and wind up someplace you aren’t supposed to be.” 

that makes everyone cheer, and naomi flips her long, shiny black hair to the side, “yes! yes!” she wraps you in an embrace that’s so tight you can hardly breathe, “— you’re the best! love you!” 

you offered a nervous smile towards the group as you filed into a starbucks, waiting in line as your friends carried on about what everyone was wearing, what drinks they hoped were there— and that’s when you tuned out. you were pumped to attend this party, but also scared, and as the day went on, the burden of going to this function was the only thing on your mind.

✧ 7:45 pm ✧

you sat cross-legged on your bed in your shared dorm room, your closet doors open as you stared at the carefully organized clothes inside. the room smelled faintly of lavender and pine, a subtle touch from the air freshener you’d tucked beside your desk— it always seemed to calm you down. your eyes scanned the rack, hoping something could catch your eye, but nothing particularly stood out.

emma had insisted that you join in on their festivities until you finally caved and said yes. you had reluctantly agreed, though you couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that you didn't belong in that atmosphere. but now you felt like you needed to go— you had to, the feeling of missing out making you a little afraid. 

finally, you settled on a dark blue polo sweater that clung to your figure just enough to be flattering, but was still modest. you paired it with some well-fitted jeans and, of course, your signature black heels—Chanel, naturally. it was a bit more casual than what most people would wear to a party, but it was your style, so you didn’t really mind. 

just as you were smoothing out the sweater's collar, emma barged into the room, her wild hair a stark contrast to your usual, soft blow out. emma's eyes immediately landed on your outfit as she raised her eyebrows.

"you're really gonna go with the ‘first day of prep school’ look, huh?" emma teased, tossing her purse onto your bed before digging through her own closet for something more daring.

"what's wrong with my outfit?” you asked, glancing at yourself in the mirror, twisting on your heel and flattening out a small wrinkle in your jeans.

"oh, nothing," emma grinned mischievously, shrugging, "it's just so... you. not a bad thing, just— this is a party that you're going to, did you forget?” 

you chuckled softly, fixing your hair in the mirror now, "i know, but i think it suits me, em. is that so bad?"

emma snorted. "right, of course. just—" she stopped mid-sentence, tossing her hands up in frustration. "you look so cute, but it's a party! where's the wild side, y/n?"

"i'm here to drive you guys," you said simply, a smile tugging at your llips. "that's all. i'm not here for anything else."

emma raised an eyebrow, pulling a dark velvet mini skirt off the rack. "yeah, yeah, i know. but you need to have fun, too. you're way too uptight sometimes."

"i'm not uptight, em!” you protested, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

"uh-huh, sure. just wait until i drag you out onto the dance floor!” emma winked, throwing a bold crop top onto the surface of your bed, “and you’d look so fucking good in this, why don’t you put this on?”

you snorted lightly. "yeah, good luck with that."

by the time everyone in the group was ready, the night was creeping in, the campus already buzzing with excitement. you could feel a quiet sense of discomfort stirring within yourself —parties weren't your scene at all, and you weren’t sure what to expect. but the drive to the party felt like the safest option, so you settled on that.

after a few minutes of emma touching up her makeup and slipping a pair of louboutins on, everyone met up in the parking lot, and you felt a little out of place. jules was clad in a black, tight mini dress with slick silver heels, her hair in a effortless but beautiful bun as she pulled out her digital camera to take pictures. naomi had settled on a purple halter top and a black skirt, complimentary to oliver’s lavender top and leather pants. 

jules gave you a raised eyebrow, “you sure you don’t wanna change out of that?” 

you gave out a sigh, a little irritated with how many times someone had suggested to change out of your outfit. it was comfortable, and that’s all you really cared about— so you just nodded yes, grabbing your keys and heading to your car while everyone finished up their photos.

emma and the others climbed into your car, the sound of music and laughter filling the air as you made your way over to the address. the streets were lined with people, most of them laughing or stumbling their way into various houses or apartments. as you neared the destination, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

although you didn’t want to admit it, you were a little nervous. you had never stepped foot into a house party, and it felt so off that you’d literally be in a random stranger’s home with a bunch of other people you didn’t know, and you were supposed to dance and get drunk in these conditions? absolutely not. 

the party was already in full swing by the time that you and your friends arrived. music blared from the speakers, a mix of bass-heavy tracks and indie-pop anthems that were so foreign to you. you killed the engine and parked the car, trying to steady your breathing as everyone filed out.

"you're gonna be fine," emma said, slinging her arm around your shoulder as you approached the door, "trust me, it's just a party."

"well, i've never been good at these," you admitted, your voice seldom quiet, "i've never even been to one."

emma grinned, tugging you inside. "well, now you have the opportunity to be good at them. so let’s go!”

you sighed as the group filed into the house, which was chaotic, with people everywhere— laughing, drinking, shouting over the music, and making out in random corners. you felt immediately out of place, standing still for a moment to take it all in. you followed emma as she navigated through the crowd, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, while the others spread out, eager to catch up with their friends.

you didn't expect to enjoy herself, but a part of you longed to feel connected—to lose the anxiety that seemed to constantly gnaw at you. but it just wasn’t something that you were all that familiar with. you tried to hold onto emma as long as you could, but she eventually found some cute guy to buy her a drink and have a quick dance, so you ventured off, attempting to find some refuge in a corner that you could hide out in. 

as you walked, you heard something in the distance, smooth and beautiful.

a voice.

it was soft, haunting, yet full of raw emotion, it stood out amid the chaos of the house. the crowd around you seemed oblivious to it, caught up in their own worlds. but you, however, stood frozen for a moment, the familiar pang of curiosity tugging at you.

it was an acoustic set, just a voice and a guitar— but it was captivating. the melody drifted over the noise of the party, lulling you into some kind of trance. you had never heard the song before, so you pulled out your phone and quickly opened Shazam, holding it up to the sound.

as the app processed, the result popped up on your screen: billie eilish.

your heart skipped. you knew the name. of course you did. billie eilish was a sensation. a moment— everyone knew her name.

you lingered in the background, mesmerized by the performance. billie's voice was even more incredible live, filled with emotion, effortless and raw. you didn't notice how long you had been standing there, listening to the music, and you really only noticed because your feet were slightly sore from the heels. you started to walk away to find your friends until you felt someone brush past you— someone who was too close, and way too fast.

clink.

before you could move, you felt a cold splash across your chest.

"shit, i am so sorry!"

you looked down at your sweater, now stained with the dark liquid from some foreign drink, and your heart sank. it was easily your favorite sweater, and it was all ruined now. but when you looked up, you were met the apologetic gaze of a girl with striking, pitch black hair and vivid blue eyes. it was billie eilish.

"oh my gosh," you spoke softly, though you couldn't help the tiny flare of irritation, “no, i-it’s okay…but….you're…”

“billie eilish?” she asked, and you nodded in response, almost too shocked to really say anything else.

she was beautiful, way more beautiful now that she was standing right in front of your face, literally. her eyes were a piercing blue, oceany and warm, and every single one of her features were so unique, so prominent, and you felt your breath hitch.

billie's expression shifted as you stayed quiet, her lips curling into an apologetic smile, "i didn't mean to bump into you, love, i'm really sorry. let me fix this."

you shook your head, trying to laugh it off, "oh, no need, it's fine. it's just a silly sweater, i can always wash it out."

"no, no, it was shitty of me to not look where i was going, so i'll make it up to you," billie said quickly, like she was in some type of rush. "i'll buy you a drink. how about that?"

you stood frozen for a moment, wondering whether or not it was even worth the hassle to make billie buy a drink for you, or even tell her that you don’t drink at all. but she was persistent, and you knew that no matter how much you protested, she was going to somehow offer up a repercussion for her actions. 

"uh, i don't really..." you drafted, your voice still soft, unsure if you wanted to ruin this moment, by saying alcohol wasn't really your thing, so you just shrugged. "okay, yeah, sure."

billie left you with a wink as she turned around. "cool. i'll be right back."

billie disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos with the awful remnants of your ruined sweater, but somehow feeling a little more at ease than before. the music blared, people shouting and laughing over the pounding beats, but you couldn't help but feel something strange settle in you chest. billie was sweet, and thoughtful, and really the only person at the party who made you feel like you could just chill out.

a few minutes later, billie weaved through the crowd again, holding a glass in one hand and cutting through people like she owned the place. she didn’t really say excuse me, because people already knew to move. the crowd filed onto separate sides of the room as she walked through with a smile, her eyes finding yours as she met up with you again. 

you looked reluctant to take the cup in her hand, so billie shook her head, "no no, it isn't alcoholic, don't worry." she smiled, handing you the drink, "i figured you'd be more comfortable with this. i can tell you don't really drink— so it's just grape juice." 

you felt your lips curve upward, the kindness behind billie's words making something warm stir within you. you smiled, "thanks." 

you sipped at the drink quietly, the cider sweet and refreshing, and you couldn't help but appreciate the thought behind it. billie hadn't tried to push anything else onto you, which made the whole thing feel a little less like a game, and you felt yourself soften up a bit. 

billie swigged from her own red solo cup, the liquid inside clearly something much stronger, judging by the way she made a tight face when she drank from it. she let out a small cough, holding the empty cup in between her thumb and index finger, slumping against the wall, relaxed.

"yeah, no worries," billie spoke gently, "i know how people are with the whole 'let's get wasted' thing. i can tell that just isn’t your thing, yeah?”

you smiled at the words, but you still felt that familiar unease of discomfort just talking about it, "yeah, i just... i don't really get the appeal.”

"me neither," billie said bluntly, shrugging, “it's just a way for people to forget their shit for a minute. which i guess is fine sometimes, but it's not really my thing. i like to face everything, even the hard shit."

your brows furrowed slightly, cocking your head to the side, "but aren't you drinking...right now? excuse me for asking, i’m sorry.”

billie gave you a sharp look, her iridescent eyes glinting in the dim light. she waved a hand at you, "nah, i get it, don’t apologize. i only drink sometimes, simply when i feel like it. but i can’t get with people pretending everything’s all fine and dandy when they’ve got a little alcohol in their system. i don’t like that.”

your chest tightened a little, your mind racing with how easy it was for billie to speak so openly, so unapologetically. it made you feel a little small, like all the structure you’d built around yourself was just a facade. billie didn't give two fucks, and that somehow made you want to be like that, even if it was just for a moment.

"i get it," you said quietly, your voice calmer now, "i mean, i don't know if i'm that brave. but... i get it."

before billie could respond back, the crowd shifted, and your attention was pulled across the room. emma was waving at you, impatience and irritation written all over her face. you glanced at billie one last time, feeling a flicker of regret at the thought of leaving the conversation behind.

"hey, i should probably go," you said, finishing off the last of your juice, "my best friend’s calling me."

billie nodded with a lazy grin, leaning back against the wall, "i understand. but next time, don't bail so quick, yeah?" i'll be here when you wanna party a little bit."

your smile lingered as you turned to leave, pulling your purse closer to your chest, "well, then i don't think you'll ever see me again." 

you gave billie a wave goodbye as you walked toward emma, and you felt your heart literally beating out of your chest as you tried to place this weird feeling you got from billie. you were intrigued by her, wanting to know more about her opinions, how she felt about any and everything. about– 

"dude, are you coming or what?" emma's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. she was standing by the door now, arms crossed, a look of annoyance on her face. "i can’t believe what just happened to me, so please, let’s go before i get in a fight."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "okay, i'm coming."

with one last glance at billie—who was already disappearing into the crowd again— you turned and walked toward emma, your mind racing with questions you didn't really have the answers to. you couldn't put billie out of her head. and somehow, you had a feeling it wasn't the last time you’d be seeing her tonight.

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[starlight-sev]

A View From Above (Severus Snape x Reader)

Or, that time you shared New Years Eve with a kindred spirit.

A/N: Happy (belated) holidays! I hope this season treated you well. This is a gentle, fluffy one, a hug in writing form to anyone who may find the holidays to be a struggle. It’s not always an easy time, and I’m thinking of you ❤️

The cold night air bit at your cheeks as you nestled yourself further into the nook of the Astronomy tower. It may have been cramped, and not to mention near freezing, but it had one of the most beautiful viewpoints in the entire castle.

And not to mention the quiet. This was the only place you were able to clear your head properly.

“You’re not off at the party with the rest of the staff.” The sudden remark nearly made you jump, despite being quietly spoken. You shifted in your little corner, looking up to find Severus standing a few feet away. He wore his trademark stern expression, but for a split second you could’ve sworn he was biting back a smirk.

“I thought you were a student, the way you’re all crammed up in there.” Severus nodded to your little corner, and this time a tiny smile did make it to his face. “I was ready to take points away and send you to detention in the morning.”

You snorted, pushing yourself up out of your corner to properly greet your coworker. While you wouldn’t go so far as to call Severus your friend (he’d have your head if you did, probably), you felt… comfortable around him. It was more than could be said about the other staff.

“Drew the short straw and got put on patrol, I guess?” You asked, stretching your legs a little as you moved to lean against the guardrail of the tower. Severus followed suit as he settled in beside you, scoffing.

“They’ve come to know over the years that I never attend Dumbledore’s bloody holiday parties. Since I don’t go, I get patrol duty. It’s become… an unspoken rule.”

Severus paused, gazing curiously at you.

“Had I known you wouldn’t be attending tonight’s party either,” he continued slowly. “I would’ve volunteered you for patrol tonight.”

“Why?” You retorted with a small laugh. “Missing out on the festivities now, after the fact?”

“No,” Severus drawled. He rolled his eyes at you, but you caught the small huff of a laugh that left him. “It would be nice to celebrate the new year in peace. Alone. Like you’re doing now.”

“Well…” you thought for a moment. “You can stay here with me. I won’t say a word, it’ll be like you’re alone.”

As you looked out at the lake, you caught Severus turn to gaze at you properly out of your peripheral vision. Heat crept up to your cheeks, and you kept your gaze on the water below.

“You went away for the holidays.”

You blinked in surprise, finally turning to meet Severus’s gaze.

“I’m surprised you noticed I was gone.”

He nodded. “But you came back early. classes don’t start for almost another week.”

Despite the constant statements, your co-worker’s dark eyes were filled with questions. You usually appreciated Severus and his matter-of-fact nature, but things were feeling… too close.

“My family.” You sighed, not wanting to go into too much detail. “The holidays are hard. I go visit because I have to, but this year was too much.”

You braced yourself for more questions, but to your surprise Severus simply nodded.

“The holidays are godawful.” He murmured.

“Is that why you never go home for Christmas and New Years?”

Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line. Now he was the one to keep his gaze on the lake below.

“Let’s just say, I’ve burned many bridges over the years.”

You gazed at him, watching the way memories of his past left a murky darkness in his eyes. You shuffled over a bit more, instinctively wanting to provide some sort of comfort, to let him know you understood. To your surprise, Severus didn’t step away.

“Want to know why I come up here?” You asked softly. Severus raised an eyebrow in question.

You beckoned him back over to your little corner a few feet away, and crouched down to the small window.

“Here, squeeze in,” you murmured, tucking your knees in and wrapping your arms around your legs. Severus glared at you skeptically.

“You’re much smaller than I am.”

“Oh, stop it. You’ll fit. Come on. Just tuck your legs in a bit.”

A ragged sigh and an unintelligible grumble later, Severus was crammed into your little spot beside you. You were surprised at how warm he was, despite the cold air that drifted around you.

“See there? Down there, to the right?” You pointed through the window to a far-away cluster of tiny lights. “It’s a village. Right at midnight, they set off the most beautiful fireworks. From here, they’re so small, it’s like watching them from space almost. It’s nice, without all the noise and chaos of actually being there.”

You glanced quickly at the time and smiled. “It’ll be midnight soon. Not much longer now.”

“You can’t- argh, my leg-” Severus cut himself off as he shifted positions, trying to fit beside you comfortably. Your knees knocked together and you tried your best to shuffle in further to give him a bit more space. Your hands brushed together as a result, and you fought to ignore the way your heart jumped.

“You can’t see this from anywhere else more comfortable?” He asked, his voice strained. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle.

“No. The lookout doesn’t stretch this far. If you’re lucky you’ll maybe catch one or two fireworks if they go astray, but this is the only place where you can see them all.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, save for Severus shifting every now and then to keep his legs from cramping up as he sat beside you.

“Have you ever been kissed on New Year’s?” You murmured softly, resting your hand against your cheek. The look of surprise on Severus’s face mirrored your own feelings as you realize what you just said. You expected Severus to scoff at you in his usual tone, but to his surprise he shook his head.

“No. I suppose going to parties would’ve certainly helped with that, however.”

You held back a laugh, only to let it bubble up as Severus glanced at you with perhaps the only warm smile you’d ever seen him show.

“And you?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “But it was… odd. It felt forced. We were both drunk.”

“How romantic.” You laughed once more at the sarcasm that was evident in Severus’s reply. “You’re really selling the tradition from how you’ve described it.”

“You’ve really never been kissed at midnight?”

“Was my first answer not clear enough?”

Despite the biting reply, there was laughter in his eyes.

“No, just… I’m surprised, that’s all. It’s something everyone should experience just once.”

“So is getting hungover, but you don’t see me scrambling to experience it ever again. Besides, who are you to talk? You just said your New Year’s kiss was awful.”

“I never said that!” You protested, only to receive another signature glare. “It was just…”

Severus snorted. “Certainly wasn’t good, from the sound of it.”

“Okay fine,” you sighed, running your hands over your face. “It wasn’t good. But it wasn’t awful either.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

You laughed, elbowing Severus teasingly. To your surprise, he nudged you back gently.

“I’m glad it was you that found me up here.” You murmured, pulling your knees a little closer to your chest. Severus gazed at you, smirking.

“Why? Filius or even Minerva would’ve enjoyed this spot. At least they would’ve fit.”

“Not that.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s just… you’re the only one I feel I can be myself around. Like now. I’d never be able to talk about this kind of thing with anyone else.”

Severus gazed at you silently, his eyebrows knitting into a tiny frown as he processed your words.

“Sorry. That came out of nowhere.”

“Don’t apologize.” He replied softly. He didn’t say anything more, but there was a comforting warmth that filled his eyes. No words were exchanged, but you felt as though you understood.

A tiny spark flashed in the corner of your eye, and you glanced out the window as tiny fireworks bloomed in the distance.

“Oh.” You gasped softly. “We missed the countdown. It’s midnight.”

“Mm. So it is.”

You turned your gaze to Severus, whose gaze was fully absorbed in the fireworks. The conversation from a few minutes earlier ran through your mind, and you leaned forward to press a tiny kiss to Severus‘s cheek. He gazed at you, bewildered.

“Happy New Year.” You managed to squeak out. The shock faded from his eyes, and it was replaced by that familiar warmth as he softened. Severus dipped his head respectfully in acknowledgement.

“Happy New Year.”

The two of you sat together in silence, watching the fireworks. Then, to your surprise, Severus tapped your arm lightly.

“This, us tonight, stays up here?”

To your surprise, it wasn’t a statement. You could see there was a bit of nervousness in his eyes. You nodded.

“Yes. Of course. This is our secret. Why do you ask?”

The air felt heavy for a moment as Severus paused in thought, before closing the already-small distance between the two of you. He pressed his lips softly to yours, caressing your face with both of his hands. In the back of your mind, it hit you that he was gentle and calculated in literally everything he did, not just potions. It made your head spin, and your heart race.

The fireworks were over by the time the two of you pulled away. Severus let his gaze fall away, but you caught his hands in yours before he could pull away completely. You squeezed his hands reassuringly to let him know it was okay, and he returned your action with a kind smile.

“Hopefully that… wasn’t as awful as your last New Year’s kiss?”

You let out a giggle, and felt a rush of pure joy run through you as Severus shared your laughter.

“That was, by far, the best. And hopefully not the last?” You added shyly.

In response, Severus leaned in and kissed you again.

[oneforthemunny]

My first time submitting for a blurb game! 🥹 Can I pretty please with cherries on top request for: boxer!Eddie, birthday surprise (for him), and so much fluff! I feel like he deserves some softness and sweetness too 🥹❤️ Thank you, Evie!

ofc <3 for my beloved boxer!eddie!!

"Whaddya wanna do now, honey?" Eddie's gruff voice echoed through the empty locker room, towel tight around his waist, droplets of water still dripping from his wet curls down his collarbones.

"There's a club not too far from here. I can have Jackie call, see if he can get us in the VIP. Go back to the hotel and get ready."

"Mm, I don't really feel like clubbing." You hummed back, trying to remain nonchalant, not oogle at him when he dropped his towel. "Kinda wanna take it easy tonight. Maybe just dinner?"

"Yeah? Fine with me." Eddie nodded, reaching for the Advil bottle in his locker, shaking out two pills. "Dress up kinda dinner? Do I needa change?"

"No, I found a place close, actually. Italian place but it looks casual." Your eyes cut to the clock on the wall, foot shaking with anticipation. Of course he chose today to take forever, to go over in practice, take an even longer shower than usual.

"Alright. What're you thinkin' about getting? Look at the menu already?" Eddie's tone was soft and slow, with even slower movements when he pulled his boxers on.

"I haven't looked. Just passed by and it smelled good." You clutched your purse. "Can you hurry, please?" You didn't mean to sound so biting.

Eddie looked at you, brow cocked lightly. "I'm just- I'm starving, Ed. I'm starting to get a headache."

"Babe, you shoulda got somethin' out of the vending machine. Go grab my wallet if you need to-"

"-No, I don't-" You paused, swallowing back your huffy tone. "I don't want to spoil my dinner now. It's fine, let's just- Are you almost ready?"

Eddie looked at you, a moment too long for your liking, but said nothing. Slipped his clothes on, workout bag tossed over his shoulder as you made your way to the rental car.

Your heart lurched as you pulled into the parking lot, a familiar head of curls walking through the doors. "Hold on," You stopped Eddie, his hand on the door.

You moved towards your purse, frantically rummaging through it, trying to kill time for a moment longer. Pulling out the lipstick, you flipped the sun visor down, reapplying slowly and intricately in the mirror.

Eddie watched you, carefully but curious- suspicious. You ignored him, rubbing your lips together, capping the lipstick, eyes cutting towards the front entrance again, checking before slipping the lipstick back in your purse.

"Ok, I'm ready." You gave him a toothy grin, eyes narrowing with a playful glint, pulling at the car door and stepping out.

Your heart was racing as you stepped towards the hostess stand, Eddie's hand on your back- you hoped he couldn't feel the clamminess through your clothes. Heart racing more and more, faster and faster with every step towards the back room.

"Private room, hm?" Eddie lifted a brow with a tight grin. "You sure you didn't call ahead?"

"No." You snapped, too defensive at his playfulness. "They just- I don't know."

"Relax," Eddie scoffed, lightly, eyeing you carefully. "I was just joking. Christ, what's got you all pissy?"

"'M not pissy."

"Right. You're actin' weird and I don't know what I did to to you, but-"

"-Surprise!"

Eddie didn't even notice the darkness of the room, stopping when the chorus of shouting started. All in the private room, his friends from Indiana were huddled around a table, a large cake in the middle, a small banner hanging on the wall that read "Happy Birthday!" in bold, colorful letters.

Eddie froze, eyes sliding over each person, still in his overwhelming shock. You gave him a small, toothy grin, hands sliding to circle him around the wait.

"Happy Birthday." You giggled, hugging onto him sweetly.

"You- hey, man," Eddie smiled, hand clapping on Jeff's back in greeting.

"You did this?" Eddie's gaze dropped down to you, eyes wide and shining with awe- a rare, softer side of him that you were so glad to see.

"Yeah, well, me and Jackie. Jackie arranged the flights and hotels and booked this place, but I called them. Asked them to come out and surprise you since you couldn't be home." You admitted softly with a small shrug. "Thought you might want them to celebrate with you."

Eddie nodded, wordlessly, though you didn't miss the way his eyes were shining. His rough, calloused hands sliding over your jaw, pulling you in for a sweet, sloppy kiss. "I love you." Eddie muttered, his lips still on yours, before he pulled back, breaking away to greet all his friends.

All his friends from home, a different part of himself that he tried to leave in Hawkins, all here with him now. Celebrating, laughing, trading stories and brags between bites of garlic bread and birthday cake. Eddie's arm around you the whole night, keeping you close to his side as he beamed with happiness at your perfect surprise.

[ikkyfics]

Consequences

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: Remus had never hated himself more. He leaned against the wall of an empty corridor, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. He wanted to scream, but he felt like it would be pointless. Screaming wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t relieve the fact that he had hurt you in a way that never be fixed.

Warnings: angst

A/N: HEY, did you just stumble upon this? This is a continuation of another fic, so I advise you to read Sweet Lies first <33. And yes, @dearmy-diary, you convinced me to write this, so I hope you can enjoy it! More notes at the end of the post.

Masterlist

"I wish things were different," you finally said, your voice so low that you could barely hear it yourself. "But they’re not. Please, just... go away."

Remus felt the weight of your words like a punch to the stomach, leaving him breathless. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the right. He simply nodded, his legs moving automatically, as if each step away from you was a punishment he deserved.

He walked far enough to be out of your sight, but not far enough to ignore your silhouette in the distance. The way you collapsed onto the bench, hugging your knees as if that could shield you from the pain. He knew it couldn’t. He knew you were broken—and he knew it was his fault.

Remus had never hated himself more.

He leaned against the wall of an empty corridor, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. He wanted to scream, but he felt like it would be pointless. Screaming wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t relieve the fact that he had hurt you in a way that never be fixed.

The days dragged on. Every time he walked down a hallway, every time he saw you from afar, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched, it felt as though he was the cause of every inch of that pain. He wanted to approach, to beg for forgiveness, but the weight of his own shame held him back. He knew he didn’t have the right.

The common room, once a place of comfort, now felt claustrophobic. He avoided James and Sirius’s gaze, and even Peter seemed uncomfortable with the silence that hung between them. Remus knew Lily was aware of everything too. She was always the first to notice when something was wrong, and this time was no different.

She confronted him on a Sunday, late in the afternoon. They were in the library, a place she knew he couldn’t avoid. Remus was hiding between the shelves, pretending to read a book whose title he didn’t even know. When Lily appeared before him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, he felt his stomach churn.

"So this is it?" she said, her voice low but filled with accusation. "You really did this? You went along with this... this ridiculous bet?"

Remus didn’t answer right away. He looked down, unable to meet the disappointment evident on her face.

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this," he murmured, but the apology sounded weak even to him.

Lily let out a bitter laugh. "It wasn’t supposed to end like this? Remus, do you realize what you did? You played with her feelings. You hurt someone who trusted you. And why? Because James wanted a date with me? How could you agree to something so... so cruel?"

"I didn’t think it would..." Remus began, but the words died in his throat when he saw the tears in Lily’s eyes.

"Exactly. You didn’t think," she snapped. "And now she’s hurt. And you think an apology is going to fix that? Because it won’t, Remus. You made a choice, and it cost you. I can’t believe you went along with this!" Her words were like a whip, and he didn’t even try to defend himself.

"Lily, I—"

"No!" she interrupted, her face red with frustration. "You don’t have an excuse!" She paused, her voice shaking. "She trusted you. You know how hard it was for her to open up to someone, and you just... destroyed that! Why? To help James? To be part of some stupid joke?"

"I wish things were different," he whispered, more to himself than to Lily. "I didn’t want to hurt her. I never did."

Lily shook her head, incredulous. "You know that James and I broke up, right?"

Remus looked up, surprised. "What?"

"He thought it would make me happy," she continued, her voice heavy with bitterness. "But how could I be happy knowing he manipulated you all into hurting someone else? How could I look at him and not see that? James has a lot of flaws, but this time, he crossed the line. And you..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You were the last person I expected to agree to this. I’m disappointed in you, Remus."

Her words hit him like a punch. He felt the weight of his own guilt multiply, suffocating him. "Lily, I’m sorry," he said, finally raising his eyes to hers. "I know nothing I say can fix this, but... I really am sorry."

She shook her head, her expression softening just slightly. "You don’t owe me an apology, Remus. And, honestly, an apology wouldn’t be enough for her."

He knew Lily was right. There were no words, no gestures that could erase the damage he had caused. But that didn’t stop him from desperately wishing things were different.

Remus spent the following days wrapped in a fog of regret. His attempts to focus on classes or the obligations of daily life seemed futile. Each hallway he crossed, each room he entered, his eyes stubbornly searched for you, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

You were there, always present, but different. He noticed the way you moved, the way you spoke to others. There was a lighter weight on your shoulders, as if the world had, in some way, decided to ease your burden, even if only momentarily. But there was also something missing: the spark of enthusiasm that once lit up your eyes when you looked at him. Remus knew it was his fault. He had destroyed that.

It was on a quiet afternoon that he heard it. He wasn’t looking for it, but the sound reached him anyway, cutting through the courtyard like a sharp arrow. Your laugh. A light, melodious laugh, so full of life that it made his heart tighten in his chest. He froze in the middle of the path, the sound reverberating in his ears. For a brief moment, he thought about turning around and walking away. Maybe it would be better that way. But something inside him forced him to look for the source of that sound.

His eyes found you easily. You were sitting on one of the stone benches in the courtyard, sunlight playing in your hair. And you weren’t alone.

Next to you, leaning toward you, was Artemis Scamander. He had a serene smile on his face, his eyes glowing with a warmth that was hard to ignore. Remus knew who he was—a talented and kind Hufflepuff, known for his impeccable character. The kind of person who seemed to never make mistakes, the opposite of Remus.

Artemis said something Remus couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, it made you laugh again. A laugh so genuine, so carefree, that it hurt. Remus’s chest seemed to tighten with almost unbearable force. He wanted to turn away, to flee, but his feet were rooted to the ground, forcing him to watch as Artemis tilted his head and gently pushed a lock of hair from your face, with a reverence that almost seemed sacred.

Remus swallowed hard. He didn’t have the right to feel what he was feeling, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. The pain of seeing you like this—happy, but not because of him—was overwhelming. You looked so free, so at peace beside Artemis.

He realized, with cruel clarity, that he had lost his chance. He was no longer the reason behind your smile, nor the cause of your laughter. Someone else was filling the space he had left empty. And you were moving on.

As he watched you and Artemis together, Remus felt something break inside him. It was as if he were watching a window close, locking him out forever. He couldn’t blame you. You deserved this—deserved happiness, affection, someone who wouldn’t hurt you. But knowing that didn’t make the pain any less unbearable.

Finally, he found the strength to move. He turned and left the courtyard, each step heavier than the last. Your laugh continued to echo in his mind, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. And as he walked, alone with his thoughts and regrets, a single truth resonated in his heart: he would never again be the reason for your happiness.

A/N: yeeeeeees, I shamelessly decided to make the first appearance of an OC - I really hope to be able to make a proper fic for him soon. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your precious time reading this <3333

[riinniies]

RIN ITOSHI X FEM! READER

Plot : Soulmate AU, Red string of fate.

Fluff! This is PART TWOOO!! I've done my assignment hours ago (like 4 hours ago), btw, idk why i'd like to skip things.. hehe, Tsundere! Rin, Calm reader, Strangers to friends and then to loverrr <333!!

Words count : 2717

PART ONEE ! !

BONUS CHAPP ! !

My writings

Hope you like itt!!

After the awkward but honest conversation, Rin finally gave in. Bachira, who had kept teasing and almost forcing him, made Rin feel like there was no other option but to surrender. "I’ll send the message, right?" Rin said in a flat tone, trying not to show the awkwardness taking over him.

You just nodded, letting out a small laugh. "Yeah, sure."

Bachira, now standing next to Rin, flashed a wide smile. "What are you waiting for, Rin? You don’t even need to wait. Just send the message now!"

Rin shot Bachira a sharp look before reluctantly pulling out his phone. "This is just a formality," he said, though his fingers were already typing your number.

You received the message, and instantly, that strange feeling filled your chest again. There was an unexplainable tension—an emotion that blended hope and fear.

"I’ve sent a message," Rin said, his voice softer than before, though still uncertain. "Don’t contact me too often."

You gave a small smile. "Of course,"

After that, you and Rin exchanged goodbyes. You walked back toward your father and family, while Rin and Bachira continued their carefree conversation by the beach.

You felt a bit relieved, though your heart was still adrift with emotions you couldn’t quite explain. That thread, which once felt so heavy, now seemed like a thread leading toward an uncertain direction.

••••

Your family was sitting at the dining table, seemingly ready to head to the beach. Your father greeted you with a wide smile. "Did you rest well? Don’t forget to enjoy your time, okay?"

You nodded, offering a faint smile, trying to hide your mixed emotions. "Of course, Dad. I feel better."

However, inside, something still troubled you. What should you do now? Fully accept fate? Or should you pull back and forget everything?

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you immediately checked the sender—Rin.

Rin: "Maybe we can talk more later. But I really don’t know how this will turn out. Just… don’t expect too much."

You stared at the message, feeling a mix of emotions that were hard to describe. Even though Rin said that, there were things that couldn’t be denied. There was a pull, a connection, and it would remain between you two, even if there were no guarantees.

With slightly trembling hands, you replied:

You: "I’ll be patient, Rin. I don’t expect much, but I want to get to know you better."

You looked at the phone screen for a moment before slipping it back into your pocket. It felt strange, but also relieving. Perhaps this was a slow start, but it was the first step in this unexpected journey.

••••

Rin sat on the sand, still thinking about the message he had just sent. Bachira sat beside him, seemingly enjoying the relaxed beach atmosphere.

"So, how’s it going?"

Bachira asked with a big smile.

Rin stared at the sea, slightly annoyed by Bachira’s question.

"I don’t know. I just don’t want things to get more complicated."

Bachira chuckled. "Hah, you’re hard to read. But don’t worry, Rin. If she’s your soulmate, you can’t run from her. Try to be more open."

Rin shot Bachira a half-pessimistic glance. "I’m not the type to open up to strangers."

Bachira shrugged. "We’ll see. I’m sure, even if you’re not ready, you’ll find a way to accept this."

Rin fell silent, staring far out at the sea, his mind swirling. What was he supposed to do with this sudden fate?

• A Week Later

Over the past week, your communication with Rin still felt awkward. The messages exchanged were often short and to the point, more like formalities than casual chats. Still, you felt a little progress. At least Rin wasn’t completely closing himself off.

One morning, while enjoying some time alone at a café near your house, your phone vibrated. A message from Rin appeared.

Rin: "Do you often draw in the park?"

You smiled a little, surprised that he was actually showing some interest. Quickly, you typed a response.

You: "Yeah, the park is my favorite place. Sometimes I draw, sometimes I just sit and enjoy the atmosphere. Why?"

A few minutes later, his reply came.

Rin: "It’s nothing. I was just trying to imagine it."

That short message left you momentarily speechless. Rin may not have said it clearly, but you knew he was trying to get to know you better, even if his approach was still a bit stiff.

• 3 Months Later

Your relationship with Rin had slowly progressed. You started talking more often, though most of your conversations were still through messages. Rin, who was usually cold and distant, had begun to show another side of himself—a softer side, even though he still tried to hide it behind his short words and formal demeanor.

One night, after an important match, Rin sent an unexpected message.

Rin: "I’ll be in your town for a match next week. If you're not busy, come watch."

That message made you pause for a moment. It was the first time he invited you to meet again after the encounter at the beach. Cautiously, you typed your reply.

You: "Of course. I’ll be there. Thanks for inviting me."

You then went to bed with mixed feelings—nervous yet excited. As you were about to go to sleep, you felt your phone vibrate again, you raised your eyebrows and then smiled a little when you read the incoming message.

Rin : "i'm not inviting you."

Somehow, you felt funny to read his chat.

••••

The stadium was packed with fans. The electric atmosphere made you even more nervous, but you tried to enjoy the moment. After getting settled in your seat, you looked toward the field. When Rin appeared with his team, your heart raced.

He seemed focused, every move reflecting dedication and incredible skill. Throughout the match, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He truly dominated the game, and you felt proud for reasons you couldn’t explain.

When the match ended, and Rin’s team won, you received a message from him.

Rin: "I have some time. Wait outside the stadium."

You waited where he mentioned, feeling nervous but also excited. When Rin finally appeared, still in his uniform, you found it hard to stop yourself from smiling.

Rin: "You came," he said, his voice sounding more relaxed than usual.

You: "Of course. I wanted to see you play."

He nodded, looking at you for a moment before glancing away. "What did you think?"

You: "You were amazing. I can see how hard you work."

Rin seemed a little surprised by your compliment, but he just nodded quietly. "Thanks," he muttered.

Your conversation was simple, but there was something different this time. It felt like the distance between you was slowly shrinking, little by little.

• Months Later

Your relationship had continued to grow. Even though Rin was still stiff, he had started opening up in his own way. He often messaged first, though the messages were usually short or consisted of pictures of places he visited during his matches.

One day, he sent a photo of a green field with a beautiful blue sky.

Rin: "This is where I trained today. It reminds me of the park where you draw."

You smiled and quickly typed a response.

You: "Thanks for thinking of me. I’m drawing right now, in the park."

Not long after, Rin sent another message.

Rin: "I'm not thinking of you, i'm thinking of the park. And.. If you have time, show me your drawing. I want to see it."

You were surprised, but also happy. Rin had never shown interest in your hobby before. Carefully, you took a picture of your drawing and sent it to him.

Rin: "..It’s good. I didn’t know you were this good."

You chuckled a little reading his message, feeling your bond with him grow warmer.

• A Year Later

Your relationship had become much stronger. You talked more frequently, both through messages and phone calls. Rin had even started sharing more about his dreams and the challenges he faced as an athlete.

One night, while you were talking on the phone, Rin suddenly said:

Rin: "I know I’m not an easy person. And I don’t know if I’m a good soulmate. But… I want to try."

You paused, feeling warmth fill your chest.

You: "Me too, Rin. We have plenty of time to learn together, right?"

That night, you felt like your relationship had finally reached a new stage. The thread that had connected you no longer felt like a burden, but a promise that you would keep moving forward together, no matter what happened.

• A Month After the Phone Conversation

Rin had slowly started to show his true personality, well, he shows it before. But now, he shows it more often. Even though he still often appeared cold, there were moments when his tsundere nature would surface, especially when he felt embarrassed or didn’t know how to express himself.

One day, after sending a message about your latest drawing, you decided to tease Rin a little.

You: "I drew something today. Guess who inspired it?"

His response came quickly.

Rin: "It’s not me, right? Don’t do anything weird."

You chuckled as you read his message and quickly sent a photo of your drawing—a simple sketch of him on the field.

You: "Actually, it’s you. Sorry if it doesn’t look like you."

A few minutes passed without a reply. You almost thought he didn’t like it, but eventually, your phone vibrated.

Rin: "...It’s okay. But don’t draw me too often. You have other things to do, right?"

You knew this was his way of hiding his embarrassment, so you just smiled and typed a reply.

You: "I just wanted to draw something that inspired me. If you don’t like it, I won’t do it again."

Rin: "I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just... don’t show it to others."

You just smiled a little when you read the message, he's so cute—wait what?

••••

A few weeks later, Rin came to your town again for another match. This time, he made a request that surprised you.

Rin : "I have a few hours before practice. If you’re not busy, meet me at the café near the stadium,"

Without hesitation, you agreed. When you arrived at the café, Rin was already sitting in a corner with a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked a little nervous, though he tried to hide it.

"You’re fast," he said without looking directly at you.

"You invited me, so I didn’t want to keep you waiting," you replied with a smile.

He huffed softly, sipping his coffee before speaking again. "I just don’t want Bachira to know about this. He’d tease me relentlessly."

You chuckled softly, imagining Bachira’s reaction if he found out about this meeting. "Why are you scared of Bachira? Don’t you always put on a cold face in front of him?"

Rin shrugged, his eyes finally meeting yours. "He’s too loud. And I don’t like complicated things."

You chatted for a while, light conversation, but there was a moment when he suddenly said awkwardly:

"You don’t have to think too much about this. I just... I think we need to meet more often. But not because I want to. It’s just that—" he pointed at his pinky finger, which was connected to the red thread—"this makes me curious."

You smiled slightly, feeling he was trying to hide his true intentions. "Of course. I understand. After all, it’s not because you care, right?" you teased.

Rin immediately looked away, his face slightly flushed. "Don’t get too confident."

• 6 Months Later

Rin’s tsundere side became more evident as your relationship grew closer. Although he often denied his feelings, his actions often spoke louder.

One day, when you were having a bad day, Rin suddenly called you.

"You sounded strange in your last message. What’s wrong?" he asked bluntly.

You tried to reassure him that you were fine, but he didn’t easily believe you.

"Don’t lie. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t force you. But if you keep acting like this, I’ll come over right now," he said firmly.

You knew he was serious, so you finally opened up about what was bothering you. After listening patiently, he said :

"You don’t have to bear everything alone. If you need help, just say it. Doesn’t mean I care or anything, but... that’s what soulmates are supposed to do, right?"

Although his words sounded cold, you knew he cared in his own way. And that was enough to make you feel better. When you were about to answer his question, you heard the sound of the call being disconnected. You smiled, he was really cute.

••••

Rin wasn’t as stiff anymore, though his tsundere nature remained. He had started getting used to your relationship, though occasionally, he still felt awkward.

When you met again to celebrate your birthday, he brought a small gift—something you never expected.

"This is just... a small thing. Don’t think I spent too much time on it," he said as he handed you a small box containing high-quality colored pencils.

You smiled widely, feeling touched. "Thank you, Rin. I really like it."

He looked away, his face a little flushed. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t talk too much about it. I just thought you might need them to draw better."

You both laughed together, and for the first time, Rin didn’t try to deny the small smile on his face. Even though he still struggled to express his feelings, you knew that he cared for you in his own way—and that was more than enough.

••••

Time had passed, and your relationship with Rin had gone through many phases. From awkwardness and confusion to moments where you both understood each other without needing many words. Rin, although still not adept at showing his emotions directly, had grown into someone who was never hesitant to be by your side when you needed him.

Rin's career in football had been shining brighter than ever. He often moved from country to country for matches and training, but you both maintained your communication. Despite the physical distance, there was always a sense of calm whenever you looked at the red thread on your pinky finger.

One day, Rin sent a message that felt different from the usual.

Rin: "I have some free time next week. There’s something I want to talk about. Meet me at the place where we first met."

Your heart fluttered as you read his message. Although he didn’t explain more, you knew this wasn’t just a regular meeting.

When the day arrived, you went to the beach where you first met. The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the sand, making the scene look almost like a painting. In the distance, you saw Rin standing with his hands in his pockets.

"You’re right on time," he said, turning to face you.

"Of course. I knew this was important," you replied with a smile.

He nodded slowly, gazing at the sea for a moment before finally speaking. "I often think... about how my life changed since I met you."

His words made you pause. He rarely spoke like this, and you knew that every word he said carried weight.

"At first, I hated it. I thought this thread would only be an obstacle. But... I was wrong. Because every time I look at this thread, I feel at peace. I feel like there’s someone in this world who always understands me, even when I don’t understand myself."

He paused, taking a deep breath before looking at you again.

"You’ve changed so much in my life. And I want to keep walking forward with you. I don’t know if I can be the perfect person for you, but I’ll try... if you want."

You smiled softly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. "Rin... I never needed perfection. I just need you."

He smiled faintly—a smile that only appeared in certain moments. "Good. Because I’m not letting you go."

••••

• Bonus

A few years later, your lives were filled with simple happiness. Rin remained focused on his career, while you continued your journey as an artist. Every time he returned from a match, you always made time to be together, whether it was strolling in the park or simply chatting at home over a warm cup of tea.

The red thread on your fingers remained, a reminder that this relationship was something fate had chosen for you both. Although it had been difficult and full of challenges in the beginning, you had proven that love wasn’t about perfection—it was about the effort to understand and support each other.

And with every step you took together, you knew that fate had never been wrong in bringing together two hearts that were meant to be.

THE END ! !

|| ugh, why is it so cheesy.. dammit😭😭 I'm actually making a bonus chapter, where Rin and (name) are married<333

THANKS FOR READING!! <333

[r3starttt]

UNDONE

PAIRING: Caitlyn x reader

CW: request. been in my drafts for too long. mentions of spit. finger sucking. fingering. oral. kinda public sex(? mean caitlyn. thigh riding. many filth!!!

TAGLIST: @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @patronagrona @halle5s @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @fakevalentine

There's something intoxicating about having you on her lap. Uniform still covering her body while the fingers that aren't covered by her gloves take a thick grip on your bare skin.

The contrast between your vulnerable body against hers, your warm skin while hers stays cold. She adores the sight of your nipples hardening beneath her body, how you react to the friction her uniform provides you and how you always leave a wet spot on her thighs after she's got you sucking on her fingers while her other hand touches everywhere around your clit just to mess with you.

She loves having you on your knees too. Your clit rubbing at the edge of her boots while your mouth opens for her to spit on it. It's delightful to watch you gag when she deepens her fingers to play with your spit, to have you moaning against her leg when she leans close enough to extend her hand and rub at your clit. Or when you start to beg her for anything.

Caitlyn loves how much she can pity you. How you don't know as much as she does whenever you step on her office. She loves having you following her around like a puppy, taking you in her office when she notices you're too insecure about the lack of knowledge when council members adress whatever with her on when one of the many people that work for her interrupt your conversations to discuss something important with her. She loves calling you pretty while her hand stays put beneath your clothes while you grind. She loves reminding you it's you she chose, it's you she loves but it's also you who could be a reminded of why so far she hadn't settled for no woman.

And it's a constant dag in the heart she seems to enjoy. One Caitlyn gets the most wet at. Having you sitting on her desk, legs wide open while she leans close enough for her breath to hit on your inner thighs while her blue orbs meet yours. "Quiet or I stop." threat after threat she knows it hurts.

You always nood at her, hesitant on approaching to her skin and just brushing some strands away from her face. "You didn't lock the door." The vulnerable in your voice maddens her, grabbing your wrist to guide your hand above your wet folds, making you tease yourself while her body shifts to stand up, straighten herself and kiss you properly.

"They know they can't come in." Her murmur suffocating as you fight the temptation of doing the work yourself and rubbing on your clit.

"Caitlyn." Your tone comes out quiet just like she ordered, and she nods for you to speak. But you don't.

"If you want me to stop, I will." Her fingers hold your ribs and up your breasts, taking your nipples between her fingers just enough to make you shake your head and open your legs further for her. "Good."

And just like that she's got her lips cupping at your clit, pressing gentle kisses while you let yourself rest in the cold of her desk. Your legs on each of her shoulders while she sits on her usual chair. Hands and nails playing with your nipples if not tracing the paths of your lips to make sure your mouth stays shut.

But you can't fully obbey her- she's been warned by many. A young lady like you who's not used to an environment like hers should never be the woman Caitlyn settles for.

And your mouth parts open, hoping if not praying her fingers would make their way into your tongue to shut you like she does. But it doesn't happen and as much as the humiliation runs in your heat, you can't help yourself but whine her name. And how could you not when her tongue teases to fill your drenched hole, when your clit gets sucked if not biten by her hunger.

Cailtyn is always smarter than you. And just like her, you've been warned-- seen it yourself. There's always a reason behind her every move.

She's got you squirming beneath her, chin dripping with your wetness while her tongue plays with your pussy, deepening her eventual thrusts to obscenely slurp you. That until she feels you close, she can hear you, sense the knot in your stomach.

And so, she pulls back. Her grip on your legs is aggressive as she drags her chair far enough to watch the mess you've done on her desk, admire the bruises around your pussy and the wet on your thighs. "I told you to stay quiet." Her posture straightens, taking your hips closer to her own clothed ones.

Her lips come to your forehead, cupping your chin to make you look at her. "You want to come? do it yourself."

[uluvjay]

Rules are Rules- A. Xhekaj

Arber Xhekaj x fem! Reader

In which the rules state, if you wear a cowboys hat you have to ride him..

Warnings?; SMUT, unprotected sex (a big no no), penetrative sex, p in v, grinding, cursing, slightly possessive arber, pet names, slight degradation.., good ole smut, sorry if I missed any errors!

Arber watched you from across the bar, the way your hips swayed to the music that blared through the speakers.

Your little jean shorts far too short for his liking but he was a secure man and his woman wore what she wanted.

You could feel his eyes burning into your back-more specifically your ass making you move your hips even slower.

“He’s been watching since we started dancing.” Your friend spoke up a tiny smirk on her face.

“I know.” You shrugged smirk mirroring her’s as you turned your back to her, ass rubbing against her front as you locked eyes with Arber.

His head shook at your antics setting his glass down on the bar he stood, his large frame causing heads to turn as he made his way to you.

You bit your lip as you caught the look in his eyes, they were dark and serious but you could see the lust hiding deep down.

Your friends body was pulled away into the arms of her boyfriend just as Arber reached you, his own hands wrapping around your waist to pull you close before they shamelessly landed on your ass.

“Every man here has been watching you move your body like that.” He mumbled into your hair.

“So have you.” You teased.

“Yeah but you’re mine, I can watch and touch all I want.”

He tried to hide his smirk at the way you took in a sharp breath body unconsciously moving closer to his as your eyes locked in a strong stare.

“Maybe we need to let everyone know that” he continued.

“I can think of a few ways” you teased.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm” you nodded not giving him a chance to think before your hand was reaching for the black cowboy hat on his head.

“Y/n-“ he tried but was cut off by your teasing tone watching as you placed the hat on your head.

“-what’s that rule again? If you wear the hat you ride the cowboy?” You raised a brow attempting to step back but his strong hands held you in place.

“Yeah..something like that.” Arber breathed, his heart racing at the sight of you wearing his hat and how good you looked.

“Well then what are you waiting for? Take me home cowboy.”

-

Arber had your body pressed against the front door the second it shut, his hand resting on the base of your throat as his lips locked with yours in a desperate kiss.

He was anything but gentle as his lips assaulted yours, teeth nipping your bottom lip pulling a whimper from your throat.

You moaned when he forced your thighs apart with his knee, his own denim covered thigh coming to rest between them.

Your hands fisted his dark locks and pulled hard, smirking into the kiss when he grunted at the sharp pain.

His free hand moved down to your shorts making quick work of the button, moving back slightly he tugged them down your thighs.

You gasped when his thigh returned to its spot, a wet spot instantly forming on the expensive denim as you grounded your hips down on him.

“That little stunt get you this wet baby?” He smirked.

You couldn’t speak, the burn of your lace thong and denim of his jeans as you continued to move against him taking up your thoughts-it hurt so good.

“Where’d my little slut from the bar go? Huh? You were the one rushing home and look at you now desperate and needy.” He spat his large hands wrapping around your hips pushing you down harder on his thigh.

“Arber” you breathed the pleasure in your lower stomach building quickly.

He smirked down at you, knowing how easy it was for him to gain control over you it didn’t matter what show you put on-Once his hands were on you, you were a puddle of lust and need.

He watched as your hips humped his thigh faster and faster chasing your climax and right as he saw your thighs starting to shake he pulled away.

Your eyes flew open at the loss of contact, angry and frustrated at the denied orgasm you spat his name.

“What the fuck??” You growled.

“If you’re coming, it’s gonna be with you on top of me.” Arber answered not missing the small whimper you released at his words.

He pulled you towards the master bedroom stripping you completely before pushing you onto the bed before removing his own clothes, keeping the black cowboy hat on.

You watched as he climbed into the bed his strong back resting against the wooden headboard as he got comfortable.

“What are you waiting for? Giddy up cowgirl.” He smirked.

“Arber-

“-Don’t tell me you’re backing out baby, rules are rules sweetheart and you got yourself in this position. So get your ass uphere.”

He watched in amusement as you puffed out a breath of frustration, cursing him under your breath.

Nonetheless your body came crawling up the bed as you straddled his lap not forgetting to take the hat from his head to place on your own.

You both shared a twin moan as his cock came in contact with your cunt, sliding down slowly as you took all of this thick length.

“Fuck” you breathed as the familiar burn of pleasure came from between your legs, you puffy clit from riding his thigh not helping the sensitivity.

After a short moment to adjust you began rocking your hips back and forth finding a steady rhythm before you quickly changed to bouncing.

Arber’s head dropped back against the headboard, pleasure filling his body as your cunt hugged his cock tightly.

“So good baby, always feel so good for me.” He cooed reaching his thick hands up to cup your breasts.

You cried out he pinched your nipples between his fingers, pulling slightly before he switched back to rubbing them.

The moan that broke from your throat as he shifted forward to wrap his lips around them was downright pornographic, his cock shifting deeper inside you hitting that sweet spot inside you just right.

“Shit Arber, s’ so good” you panted chest heaving as his lips left wet kisses all around teeth nipping at the skin before he returned to your breasts.

He growled as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders hips now moving faster as you desperately chased your high.

The sound of skin slapping filled the large room, the headboard beginning to bang against the wall behind it as the bed shook.

Arber couldn’t help himself as his hands moved behind your back gripping your ass in both hands he began to move you on his cock.

Leaning back he added the help of his hips, thrusting into you at a fast and hard pace had a squeal falling from you.

“I-I’m getting close.” You sobbed, tears of pleasure spilling over your waterline causing your makeup to run. Arber loved it, something about watching your mascara and eyeliner run always turned him on.

“Yeah? Go ahead baby, come for me like a good girl” he encouraged.

By this point it was him doing all the work, your body to overcome by pleasure as your eyes started to roll back and toes curl.

A strong hand came to the back of your neck, pulling your lips down to his Arber locked them in a hot kiss.

He could taste the saltiness of your tears as you moaned into his mouth, he knew by the way your pussy had a death grip around him that you were close.

It only took a few more thrusts before you fell flat against his chest body shaking as your orgasm wrecked your body, legs shaking and cunt spasming around Arber.

Your orgasm is what pulled Arber over the edge himself, he cursed loudly as he fucked into you as he came.

You whimpered at the warm feeling of him filling you up, thank goodness for birth control you thought.

He collapsed against the bed after you he finished fucking you through your shared high, both of your chests heaving as you laid there motionless.

You hadn’t even realized you still had his hat on until he pulled it from your head and tossed it to the other side of the bed.

He lifted your head to peck your lips softly, “Did so good for me baby” he praised kissing you one more time before pulling out of you and standing up.

You watched his frame walk into the attached bathroom, the sound of running water soon meeting your ears.

He came back a few moments later to gather you in his arms taking you into the bathroom he sat you in the bubble bath.

You wished he could get in with you but you tried it once and it was quickly apparent his large frame did not fit in the small tub.

However he did sit on his knees as he cleaned you up, kissing the side of your head he stepped away to climb into the shower opposite of the tub.

You watched him shower allowing the warm water to sooth your muscles and soreness that would no doubt be between your legs in the morning.

Once you were both cleaned off he picked you up from the bath and dried you off, pulling your fluffy robe over your body he guided you to your side of the his and hers sinks.

He got your makeup wipes and cleaned your face before turning you around, brushing and braiding your wet hair for you.

One thing about Arber is that he’s a pro at aftercare, it’s something he takes very seriously especially since he get can a little rough in bed at times.

He dressed the both of you before you climbed into bed together he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head as you rested it against his chest.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, it was good getting out feels like forever since the last time we did.” You smiled.

It wasn’t his fault, the season had been busy with traveling and back to back games and with your own job thrown in there just wasn’t much time for anything else.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He smiled.

You kissed his bare chest in reply turning to allow sleep to over take your tired body but right as you were on the edge of sleep a thought struck your mind.

“Can I ride you in your cowboy hat more often? It was hot.”

“Go to bed Y/n” he growled pinching your hip causing a giggle to break free from you.

-

[andy-15-07]

The Midnight Covenant

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1259

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The gardens of the imperial palace were alive with the soft hum of nocturnal life, a stark contrast to the brutal world that General Marcus Acacius commanded during the day. By the time the moon hung high, its pale light bathing the stone columns and lush greenery in an ethereal glow, Marcus was already waiting.

His armor had been set aside, replaced with a simple tunic that allowed him to blend into the shadows. Yet, he carried the air of a warrior, his presence commanding even in solitude. His thoughts were consumed by her—the woman who had unraveled him, who made him yearn for a life beyond the sword.

Y/N arrived moments later, her steps as soft as whispers on the marble pathways. She wore a modest gown of cream-colored linen that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. The garment was simple compared to the finery she wore at court, but to Marcus, she had never looked more divine.

“You came,” he said, his voice low yet rich with relief.

“I always come,” she replied, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Though every time, I wonder if it will be the last.”

Marcus stepped closer, his expression softening. “As long as I breathe, I will find a way to be with you.”

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, the world beyond the garden ceased to exist. He reached for her hand, his touch reverent as though he feared she might vanish if he held on too tightly.

“Come,” he said, guiding her to a stone bench beneath an ancient olive tree. Its gnarled branches stretched out like the arms of a guardian, shielding them from prying eyes.

Y/N settled beside him, her heart pounding in her chest. “You risk too much, Marcus. If the emperors knew you were meeting me like this—”

“They don’t,” he interrupted gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “And even if they did, what could they do that I wouldn’t endure for you?”

Her eyes searched his face, finding only sincerity in his words. “You speak as though I am worth the wrath of gods and emperors alike.”

“You are worth that and more,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Do you know how many nights I’ve fought battles not on the field, but in my own mind? The war within me is fiercer than any I’ve faced in the arena or on the battlefield. And it’s all because of you.”

She tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Because of me?”

“Because I am a man who has only ever known duty and bloodshed,” he explained. “Yet you have made me long for something else. Something more.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her heart aching with the weight of his confession. “I don’t want to be your distraction, Marcus.”

“You are not a distraction,” he said firmly, his hand cupping her chin and gently turning her face back to his. “You are my reason.”

Her breath caught, tears threatening to spill as she searched his eyes for any hint of doubt. She found none.

“Marcus,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You make it sound so simple, but it’s not. We cannot ignore the world we live in. The emperors would see us both destroyed if they knew.”

“Let them try,” he said, his tone fierce yet tender. “I have faced death more times than I can count. If I must face it again, let it be for you.”

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“And I cannot bear the thought of a life without you,” he countered, brushing her tears away with his thumb. “So we must find a way to make this life ours, no matter the cost.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their unspoken fears hanging heavy in the air.

“Tell me,” Marcus said softly, breaking the stillness. “If you could leave this place behind, where would you go?”

She opened her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Somewhere far from here. Somewhere quiet and beautiful. Perhaps a villa by the sea, where the air is always warm, and the sound of the waves lulls us to sleep.”

Marcus smiled, the image of their imagined life filling his mind. “A villa by the sea,” he repeated, as though committing it to memory. “And what would we do there?”

“Anything we wanted,” she said, her eyes alight with a mix of hope and longing. “We would wake with the sun, walk along the shore, and spend our days building a life together. A simple life, but a happy one.”

His hand tightened around hers, a spark of determination igniting within him. “Then we will make it so, Y/N. One day, we will have that villa, and we will live the life we’ve only dreamed of.”

She smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with a mix of joy and sorrow. “You make me believe it’s possible, Marcus. Even when I know it’s not.”

“It is possible,” he insisted, his voice steady and sure. “The gods may have given me the strength of a warrior, but they also gave me you. And I will not waste the gift of you.”

Y/N leaned forward then, her forehead resting against his. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them and the promise of a love that defied the stars themselves.

“Tell me about your dreams, Marcus,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“My dreams?” he echoed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They are simple compared to yours. I dream of a life where I can wake each morning to see your face. Where the only battles I fight are for your happiness. Where the weight of the world no longer rests on my shoulders because you are at my side.”

Her tears returned, spilling down her cheeks like rivers of starlight. “You speak as though I am your salvation.”

“You are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She kissed him then, her lips soft and warm against his. It was a kiss that spoke of love and longing, of desperation and hope. It was a promise sealed in the quiet of the night, a vow to hold onto each other no matter what the world might throw their way.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together once more, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“Marcus,” she murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you will never stop fighting for us.”

His hands cradled her face, his dark eyes shining with unwavering resolve. “I swear it, Y/N. I will fight for you, for us, until my dying breath.”

As the night stretched on, they spoke of the life they would build together, their dreams intertwining like the branches above. They shared laughter and tears, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

But as the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, reality came crashing back.

“I must go,” Y/N said reluctantly, rising to her feet.

Marcus stood with her, his hand lingering on hers. “Until tonight?”

“Until tonight,” she promised, her voice trembling with the weight of their unspoken fears.

He watched as she disappeared into the shadows, his heart heavy yet full. For as long as he had her, he would endure anything.

And so, as the sun rose over the imperial palace, Marcus Acacius prepared to face another day, armed not only with his sword but with the knowledge that somewhere in the world, a goddess had chosen to love him.

[wrenaspun]

romeo and juliet au. damen and laurent hail from warring families and fall in love unbeknownst to their loved ones. who drinks the poison and who stabs themselves? does it even get that far? or does their daring plan to fake their deaths work out in the end…

Auguste knew better than to take it seriously when a little Delphan street urchin pressed a note into his hand and mumbled from y'r brother, m'lord. The child — it was impossible to determine gender or age underneath their layers of grime — ran off before Auguste could grab them, which was hardly the act of a trustworthy source. Auguste had read the letter with the greatest scepticism and memorised the place and time of the proposed rendezvous only to think about how foolish it would be to go. His brother was dead.

He knew better. But here he was, standing at the crossroads outside Helos while the bells tolled midnight, one hand on his sword, waiting.

He had prepared himself, with a thoroughness that Laurent would be proud of, for any eventuality: a cheap blackmail scheme; an attempt on his life; a cruel joke; perhaps, most likely, for nothing to happen at all. The one thing he wasn’t prepared for was —

— Laurent, stepping out of the shadows, his expression that classically younger-brother mix of abashed and coaxing, knowing both that he had done wrong and that he would be forgiven.

Between one moment and the next, Auguste had crossed the space between them and grabbed him. They were hugging, Laurent’s grip far too tight to be anything but real. Auguste’s side, still sensitive, was starting to ache ominously under the strain. Still, he held on, half-afraid that his brother would slip away from him, again, in the middle of the night, to a place where he could not follow.

“Laurent,” he said, when he could speak again. “I — how — you —” So maybe he couldn’t speak yet.

“I missed you,” said Laurent. His expression was open and honest.

“You were dead.”

“I was,” said Laurent, “pretending.”

“Pretending,” Auguste repeated. He remembered Laurent’s cold body, its unnatural paleness, the stillness of breath. Laurent now was warm, a little flushed from the walk here, his eyes bright with good health.

“It was a potion,” said Laurent. He was holding Auguste’s hand in both of his own. “Paschal gave it to me. It wore off. I missed you.”

“You said that,” Auguste said stupidly. And then, bursting out of him: “Why? Why did you do it? Were you so opposed to marrying Torveld?”

Laurent hesitated, his face clouding a little. Just a little, but Auguste had always been able to read his younger brother. “Yes,” he said. “That is, he would have been a fine match, except — I mean —” He wrung his hands.

Now that the questions had started it was impossible to make them stop. “Where have you been living? How do you earn your keep? Do you need money —?”

“Auguste!” Laurent huffed, like they were young again and Auguste had done something to embarrass him in front of their cooing aunts. “I’m fine. I had this all planned out. I had a speech.” He looked so disgruntled that it was impossible not to laugh. “Well — look, just come with me. You’ll see.”

He walked just quickly enough that sustaining conversation became difficult. Auguste did not let that stop him. “It’s my right to worry about you,” he told Laurent’s back. And then, “Do you want to come home? We’re only an hour’s ride from Marlas. We can say — we can say —” He groped and found his mind quite blank on how they might explain Laurent’s sudden return to the world of the living. The funeral had been lavish. “Well, we can say something.” He realised he was afraid to let Laurent out of his sight again.

“No,” said Laurent. And then, “Not yet. You’ll see. I have —” The movement of his shoulders betrayed another nervous fidget. “Reasons.”

“Reasons,” Auguste repeated. They were well off the beaten path now, headed for the treeline, when he saw another figure standing in their path. A very tall, very broad figure, arms folded. The darkness shielded them, but Auguste got the feeling he was watching them intently. Another few steps, and he could make out the man’s face by the light of the moon. That familiar, highly unwelcome face. Auguste’s side began to throb.

He grabbed his brother’s elbow, dragging him to a halt. “Laurent,” he said. “Get behind me. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into? What is this?”

A moment of silence. Auguste’s heart felt ready to beat out of his chest. He could imagine the d’Akielos family getting a hold of his innocent younger brother, of course, forcing him to participate in this scheme, for — what, in the end? To what purpose?

And then, softly, Laurent said, “I’m not in trouble, Auguste. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Another pause. “I’m married.”

For a moment the words didn’t mean anything. It was as though Laurent had started speaking a foreign language. Then it sank in.

“You’re what?”