#maybe?? I mean I’ve tried to before but

[lyvhie]

omg hiii, i’ve been in my haechan feels lately, especially with him looking unreal from the seoul shows. can we get possessive haechan?? like i swear that man loves his girl down bad, absolutely in love, and he’s so possessive of her like not in a toxic weird way, but like a hot cute endearing way like a way that would make me push him into the dressing room of a clothes store and give him the most best and deserved head he’s ever gotten bc if there’s anything i love, it’s a man who’s down baddd

── .✦ moments of appreciation

lee donghyuck x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ ࣪cw: smut, fluff (?), oral (m), deep throat, public sex. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: hi anon... you're so right... i think about this everyday, i meed him in every ways possible, you dont get it... please, enjoy!!! (no, i have nothing for valentine's day, maybe next year, babes 😜😜)

Donghyuck never thought he could love someone the way he loves you. He couldn't quite put into words everything that made him love you, you were simply it for him, perfect in all the right ways.

Yes, you had your imperfections, but to him, love was never about perfection. It wasn't about logic or reason, it simply was. Anyone could love something for all the good it offered, but real love, the kind that mattered, was about embracing everything, even the flaws. And that's exactly how he loved you—completely, without hesitation, without conditions.

He had thought about this before. You could break his heart, shatter him beyond repair, or commit the worst sins imaginable, and he would still love you—helplessly, foolishly. It didn't matter if it sounded irrational, maybe even a little insane. The truth was simple: he would do anything for you, no matter the cost.

But the best part? You were his. No one else's, just his. The thought alone made his chest swell with something dangerously close to obsession. Out of everyone in the world, you had chosen him, and that was a privilege he would never take lightly. You were his, and he was just as much yours, bound to you in a way that felt absolute, unshakable.

And that’s why, even after what felt like days sitting on that little couch, watching you step out of the dressing room in a different outfit each time, he still felt like he was having the best day of his life. Then again, every day felt like the best as long as you were in it.

Really, was there any better way to spend his time than watching his pretty girl try on pretty clothes?

“What do you think about this one?” You asked again, the same question you’d been repeating since the first outfit change.

Donghyuck looked up from his phone, his eyes immediately locking onto you.

“I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life,” he said with a bright smile, letting his gaze travel up and down twice.

“Hyuck, come on,” you rolled your eyes. “You said that the last fifteen times. You’re being useless,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“How is it my fault that you look stunning in everything?” he shot back, tilting his head with a smirk.

You sighed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need actual feedback, not just you being a flirt.”

Donghyuck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave you a once-over, this time, with a more thoughtful expression. “Okay, fine. Turn around.”

You did as he said, giving him a little twirl before facing him again, an expectant look on your face.

He hummed, tapping his chin dramatically. “I mean… it is a really nice outfit,” he said slowly, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“But?”

“But I still think you are the best part of it,” he grinned, dodging the throw pillow you immediately launched at him.

He got up from his seat, laughing as he walked toward your grumpy figure, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Aw, don't look at me like that, gorgeous," he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek and chuckling when you turned your face away. "Why are you so worried about this anyway?" he asked, tightening his grip slightly when you tried to pull away.

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. "It's for the reunion," you admitted, avoiding his gaze.

Donghyuck blinked, then tilted his head. "The high school thing?"

"Yes, the high school thing," you huffed. "I don't know, I just... want to look good. It's been years, and I'll be seeing people I haven't seen since we were all awkward teenagers."

His lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Ohhh, I get it now," he cooed. "You wanna show off a little, huh?"

You shot him a glare. "It's not like that—”

"It is like that," he interrupted, grinning. "And honestly? You should. You're hot. Let them eat their hearts out."

Despite yourself, you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as he pinched your sides playfully.

"I'm serious, baby. You're stressing over nothing. Just look at you," he said, taking your hand and turning you toward the mirror. His arms wrapped around your waist again, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. "You're breathtaking, the most beautiful woman in the universe and beyond. You could show up in pajamas and still look like a goddess."

You thought you'd be used to his endless flattery by now, but somehow, you never were. It was always sweet, never failing to make your heart skip a beat.

You glanced at him through the mirror, your worries slowly fading as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

"You're so dramatic," your tone warm as you rolled your eyes but leaned back into him anyway.

"I'm just telling the truth," he murmured, pressing his nose against your neck. "It's not my fault my overthinking girlfriend needs constant reminders of how stunning she is."

You huffed, but the way your lips twitched betrayed you. "Well, maybe if someone gave me actual opinions instead of just approving everything i wear, I wouldn't have to overthink."

Donghyuck chuckled, swaying you gently in his arms. "Fine, fine. If you really want my expert opinion..." He paused, pretending to scrutinize your reflection in the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting. "And?”

“Don’t wear this dress.”

“What? Why?” You frowned, glancing at your reflection. “I actually liked this one the most. Does it really look that bad?”

“I never said that,” his hands trailing up and down your waist. “You look incredible, love, but it feels a little too formal for the occasion. The second one you tried fits the vibe better. Plus, it’ll probably be more comfortable… you know, in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

Yeah, he wouldn't admit it, but he wanted you to wear it just for him. You looked too beautiful in it, almost unfairly so, the idea of anyone else seeing you like this, soaking in the sight of you, were a big no-no. Unwanted attention (read: any attention that wasn’t exclusively his) was simply not an option.

“Oh, so you’re already planning our escape before we even get there?” You raised your brows, crossing your arms. “Really?”

Donghyuck chuckled, tightening his grip on your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Baby, please. I know you," his voice laced with amusement. "You won't last more than an hour before you start getting annoyed at half the people there. You'll smile, nod, pretend to listen, and then, you'll be counting the minutes until we leave."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze in the mirror, a smug grin on his lips. "So, yeah, I'm already planning our escape. Just being a good boyfriend and thinking ahead.”

"Okay, maybe you have a point," you teased, rolling your eyes as you turned to face him, looping your arms around his neck. "Guess I should thank my thoughtful boyfriend for planning ahead."

"Just doing the bare minimum for my girl," he smiled, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "Now that we've finally settled on an outfit and I’ve reminded you how perfect you are, can I spoil you and pay for everything you liked?"

You held his gaze, your heart doing that little flutter it always did when he looked at you like that, like you were his entire universe. It was almost overwhelming, the way his eyes softened, filled with something so pure, so consuming.

If love had a shape, a form, a physical presence, you were sure it lived in the way Haechan looked at you. The same way a loyal pet would gaze at their favorite person, full of unconditional adoration, unwavering and endless. His pupils were blown wide, his expression a mix of devotion and something deeper, something you couldn't quite put into words.

“Baby, please, don’t tell me you’re going to refuse again,” he whined at your silence, pouting a little. “Why do you love to ruin my happiness? It's my duty to—”

“I love you, Lee Donghyuck,” you said softly, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He was surprise by the sudden words and actions, but his shoulders instantly relaxed as he melted into your embrace. He kissed you back with equal passion, murmuring between the kisses, “I love you too,” before peppering your lips with more soft kisses as you pulled away, only for him to chase after you, craving more of your touch.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he whined in protest when you pulled away for good, placing your hands on his chest to stop him. Biting your lip, you glanced around before tugging his hand, a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered, "Come with me." And just like that, you pulled him into the dressing room.

"What are you doing?" he asked, slightly confused, though he wasn't exactly opposed to whatever you had in mind.

"Just saying thank you for being the sweetest boyfriend ever," you murmured, sinking to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding up his thighs as you looked up at him.

Oh, he knew exactly what was happening. God, he couldn't believe it. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his heart pounded, the sight of you like this making his pants uncomfortably tight.

"Are you sure, love?" his voice softer now, laced with anticipation. His eyes flickered to the curtain, hesitant for only a second as you unbuttoned his pants. "This isn't really the best place to—"

A low groan slipped from his lips as your hand firmly cupped his growing hardness, cutting off whatever weak protest he was about to make.

"Be quiet, Hyuck," you scolded, palming him again. He sucked in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip to stifle any sound as a dark spot began to form on his underwear.

“Fuck, hurry up,” he hissed, any previous hesitation now completely forgotten.

You smirked at his impatience but didn’t tease him, at least, not too much. Slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you tugged them down just enough to free his cock, standing hard and eager, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip.

You wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched with each movement. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze locked onto you, dark with need. His cock twitched in your grip, another bead of precum spilling from the tip, proof of just how desperate he already was for you.

You merely smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his tip before running your tongue along his length, savoring the way he tensed under your touch. His head fell back against the wall, his breathing growing heavier, his thighs trembling slightly as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deeper.

"Shit—" He bit down on his fist to muffle the groan that nearly slipped, his other hand instinctively threading through your hair, not to control your pace but just to feel you closer, to ground himself in the pleasure you were giving him.

The muffled sounds of the store outside felt like a distant hum, completely drowned out by the way your tongue moved so perfectly against him. His not-so-soft moans filled the small space, each one making your core tighten with satisfaction. You sucked on the tip of his cock before slowly pulling away, letting it slip from your lips with a sinful pop, but your hand never stopped stroking him.

"Hyuck, you're being too loud," you scolded in a hushed tone, glancing up at him with a mix of amusement and warning.

“Don't stop,” he whined, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with desperation. His hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing your warmth. Even the slightest brush of your lips against his tip had his knees trembling.

You let out a soft chuckle, watching the way he was falling apart just from your touch. His fingers tightened in your hair, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to push you down onto him the way he so desperately wanted.

“You’re so needy,” you teased, your breath ghosting over his sensitive tip, making him shudder.

“And whose fault is that?” he shot back, his voice strained, breathing heavily.

Instead of answering, you wrapped your lips around him once more, taking him in deeper this time. His head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, a broken moan escaping his lips as his grip in your hair loosened for a moment, only to tighten again when your tongue flicked over his slit.

Was he dead, and this was paradise? If not, it had to be the closest thing to it. His legs nearly gave out when he felt your throat tighten around him, the sudden sensation ripping a loud moan from his lips. Your nails dug into his thighs in warning, silently telling him to keep quiet. He bit down hard on his lower lip, his breathing ragged as he fought to control himself, but with the way your mouth worked on him, it was becoming nearly impossible.

He looked down at you, and what a sight. The way your lips stretched around him, the glint in your eyes as you took him deeper—it was enough to make his head spin. The pleasure was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. His hips moved on their own, chasing that high, silently begging you to go faster, to take him there.

You gave in to his desires, quickening your pace, sucking with more intensity, while your hand skillfully massaged his balls, each movement pushing him closer to the edge. The rhythm of your actions seemed to drive him wild, his breath ragged as he struggled to hold on.

His body tensed, his head spinning as he reached his peak, hot spurts of cum filling your mouth. His fingers tightened in your hair, urging you closer as his hips jerked forward, riding out the last tremors of his climax, unwilling to let go.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth, knowing he would have kept you there if he had his way. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glancing up to see his face in pure satisfaction, eyes shut and head leaning against the wall. His hand now gently ran through your hair, his breath still heavy as he mumbled how good you were, the words dripping with praise.

You let out a soft giggle, adjusting his clothes as you noticed how disoriented he looked. As you stood up, he finally met your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. Without warning, he leaned in, pulling you into a kiss that was intense yet tender. “God, I love you so much, baby,” he whispered against your lips.

“Me too,” you replied, a playful smile on your face. “I think the whole store heard you,” you teased, gently biting his lower lip before pulling away to meet his gaze.

“Then I guess they know how much I love you now,” he shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, making you laugh. “Maybe I’ll be quieter next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Next time? I think this one was enough, don’t you? We could have gotten caught.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll make sure you're the one making all the noise.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[f1ora1f1owerswrites]

manifesting

summary: from the moment he laid eyes on you, he just knew, and he’s only ever referred to you as his wife.

warnings: she/her, mention of bars (idk), fluff fluff fluff!

word count: 521.

a/n: long time no see! i knewww i had to write something and this idea has been stuck in my noggin for quite a while. happy valentine’s day and i hope you love it!

***

The first time Jake Seresin saw you, he knew.

He hadn’t even spoken to you yet—hadn’t had the chance. You were laughing at something your friend said, eyes crinkling at the corners as you leaned against the bar at the Hard Deck, completely unaware of the way Jake was standing there, beer halfway to his lips, suddenly frozen in place.

That’s my wife.

The thought came out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of his chest. It wasn’t like him to get caught off guard, but here he was, struck dumb in the middle of the bar, watching you exist like you were placed on this Earth just for him.

The worst part? He didn’t even have the nerve to walk up and say hello.

Oh, he tried. Multiple times. But every time he got close, you were either walking away, mid-conversation with someone else, or—God forbid—he chickened out at the last second. He, Jake Seresin, who had never been shy a day in his life, had turned into a complete coward over one woman.

Still, it never stopped him from calling you what he knew you were.

Over the next few weeks, his friends caught on.

“Hangman, who the hell are you looking for?” Rooster asked one night, watching as Jake’s eyes scanned the Hard Deck like he was on a mission.

“My wife,” he answered simply.

Natasha choked on her drink. “Your what?”

“My wife,” he repeated like it was obvious. “She’s usually here on Thursdays.”

Phoenix’s eyes narrowed. “You mean that girl you won’t even talk to?”

Jake gave her a slow, lazy grin. “Manifesting, darlin’.”

Natasha and Rooster exchanged looks, then promptly burst into laughter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rooster muttered, shaking his head.

But Jake didn’t care. Because deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

—

Years later, Jake leaned against the kitchen counter of the house you now shared, watching as you laughed at him—full-on, doubled-over, tears-in-your-eyes laughing.

“Wait, wait—” You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “You’re telling me that for months before we even spoke, you were going around calling me your wife?”

Jake shrugged, sipping his coffee like it wasn’t a big deal. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You gaped at him, still half-laughing, half-astonished. “Jake. You manifested our relationship.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying, sweetheart,” he said, ever so smug.

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing between his legs, hands resting on his chest. “So, let me get this straight—you saw me once, decided I was going to marry you, and just… ran with it?”

Jake set his coffee down and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Darlin’, the second I laid eyes on you, I knew there was no way in hell I was lettin’ you be anything but mine.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in them betrayed you. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “But I was right, wasn’t I?”

You huffed a small laugh, leaning into him. “Yeah, yeah. You were right.”

Jake grinned, pressing his lips to yours. “Told ya.”

[logans-whore]

VALENTINES DAY WITH LOGAN

A/N: Sigh. Well. I’ve been missing for a month, and i had to write something for Logan for valentines day, because this is my nineteenth valentines day SINGLE, and it SUCKS and I’ve had to do MATH in college which ALSO sucks. I promise I’m working on the requests everyone has sent, thank you for sending them. 

But, Happy Valentine's day!

Now, Logan is not the type of guy to make a big deal out of valentine's day. He won’t take you to a fancy restaurant or spoil you with expensive jewelry or chocolate. To me, he just isn’t the type. 

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He’ll take you out, if it means something to you. Nowhere fancy, but he’ll bundle the two of you into his truck, drive till you’re in the middle of nowhere, lay a blanket into the truck bed, and let the two of you get real cozy. 

Talking about nothing, your head on his chest, his fingers carding through your hair. 

He’ll grab food from the diner you both like, and you’ll eat it out of grease-stained paper bags between kisses, under the open sky. I just can’t stop thinking of him pressing kisses to your hair, his warm chuckles rumbling through your body as he listens to you talk. He lets you steal his fries, which in my humble opinion is the pinnacle of love. 

It isn’t fancy, it isn’t much, but it's something for the both of you and that matters more.

Now, I personally would spoil the everloving shit out of this man. I’d get him some of those vodka filled dark chocolates, maybe some fancy cigars, a new lighter, and a framed photo of the two of us. He’d get all grumpy, saying he doesn’t need anything, but really? He’d be touched that you thought of him, that you got him stuff he’d like. 

Like I said, he wouldn’t get you anything that's just showy or flashy. Maybe a simple locket he saw in a store that made him think of you. Chocolate you love, or a pastry from your favorite bakery. Your favorite flowers. He’d be so awkward giving them to you, he’s never really done this before. But he tries, and that’s what matters. 

If you got all dolled up for him? A pretty dress, a little makeup if you like it, your hair done? He will take one look at you like that and the biggest, widest, goofiest grin you’ve ever seen on this motherfucker's face, spreads. It takes him twenty minutes to leave the house, all while he’s pressing kisses to your jaw, neck, cheek, mouth, any part of you he can reach really. Mumbling about how he can’t let you go when you look like that, all pretty, all dolled up, and all his.

But I think his favorite part of the entire evening is when you take him home, take your clothes off, and let him see the lingerie you put on specifically for him. He falls in love with you all over again, everyday. But Valentine's day? That's something special

[runninriot]

Another Love

written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event It's Complicated

wc: 1.966 | rated: M | tags: past friends with benefits Eddie/Jeff, newly established Steddie, unrequited love, complicated feelings, mild hurt/comfort, friendship | also on ao3

   “Guys, this is Steve. Steve, these are the guys. My best friends, who will not embarrass me today. Right?”

Eddie laughs, tries not to let his nerves show by making a silly grimace in the direction of Gareth, who lovingly scoffs and rolls his eyes, says ‘You don’t need us for that, you’re pretty good at embarrassing yourself‘, just to be a little shit. And maybe that’s good, because it means they’re not pretending to be something they’re not. There’s no need to mask who they are in front of Steve, Eddie knows that.

He knows that, once they’ve warmed up to each other, they’ll get along just fine. But still, he can’t shake the funny feeling in his gut.

This is a big deal for him, finally introducing his boyfriend to the people who, apart from Wayne, mean most to him in this world. He wants, no, needs them to accept this new person in his life, because there is one thing he’s absolutely certain of – Steve is here to stay.

Gareth and Doug, being the lifesavers they are, immediately start wrapping Steve up in a conversation and it helps ease Eddie’s nerves a bit. But out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the tension in Jeff’s shoulders. Can sense his resentment of the situation even if Jeff is obviously trying his best not to show it.

He stands off to the side, pretending to tune his guitar which he’s definitely not. Eddie knows he’s already done that before even coming to the venue. Out of all of them, Jeff’s always been the closest to a professional.

It’s something Eddie admires, one of those things he loves about him.

Jeff and Eddie go way back, met long before Gareth and Doug entered the picture. They’ve been friends forever, through thick and thin, always together against the rest of the world.

He’d never admit it out loud but Jeff’s opinion matters most. And that’s not only because he’s his best best friend. It’s also because he doesn’t know what he’d do if Jeff didn’t give him his blessing. There’s so much at stake here, so much to possibly end in ruins. This is so much more complicated than just wanting his friend's approval - there's more to consider. More to fight for. So that's what Eddie is willing to do.

   “Hey, man,” Eddie claps Jeff on the back trying to act casual, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach. “Can we talk?”

   “If it’s about your boyfriend, then no.”

Jeff takes a big swig from his beer, the look in his eyes unusually cold and distant.

   “Come on, man. I thought we agreed that-”

   “Well, I’ve changed my mind. Look, Eddie. I’m happy for you, I really am. But you cannot expect me to put on a brave face and pretend that this doesn’t fuck me up.”

His words slice through Eddie like a knife, sharp and quick, no mercy on his heart.

Eddie probably deserves it for thinking he could ignore the giant ass elephant in the room and simply wait it out. Wait for the problem to solve itself, for everything to go back to normal, back to easy. Because truth is, there is nothing easy about this.

Eddie knew from the start that this would be complicated, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. He knew and yet, stupid as he is, he still hoped they could just... move on. Not forget but maybe lock up the memories of a different time and go back to how things were before. When they were just friends, no feelings involved. At least not those kind of feelings.

   “I’m sorry, Jeff,” he says, head tilted down to avoid his friend’s piercing gaze, “I know it’s-“

It’s what? Hard? Unfair? Well, yeah, obviously. At least from Jeff’s point of view. But what is Eddie supposed to do? He didn’t choose to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have feelings for Jeff, only they’re different now. Not that he ever-

It’s a cruel thought, even though it’s true. They both know it because Eddie never pretended to be in love when he wasn’t. Was he attracted to Jeff? Oh, absolutely. Otherwise they wouldn’t have ended up in bed together. More than once. And it wasn't just the prospect of easy sex that had Eddie coming back for more - it was the thought of falling asleep in Jeff's arms. To be held by someone who makes you feel safe and cared for. He loved the kisses and giggles and how okay it was to be vulnerable and open because there's nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide because Jeff already knows everything about him.

The problem is, while it had all started out as casual fun between mates, something changed over time. Something Eddie noticed too late or he would’ve ended it sooner. Jeff never told him about his feelings, so that’s on him, but it is just as much Eddie’s fault because- he should’ve known anyway. Should’ve noticed the shift. But he hadn’t. Or maybe he simply refused to acknowledge it. Selfishly ignored it until he couldn’t anymore.

When he met Steve, he instantly knew he needed to put his cards on the table and come clean about what this would mean for him and Jeff. Told him about this guy he likes – ‘Don’t know if it’s mutual but I’d like to give it a shot, see where it’s going. Maybe it’s nothing but maybe- I think he could be the one.’

And at first, Jeff seemed to be fine with that. Said he understood that they couldn’t hook up anymore. Said he’d miss the fucking but ‘Eh, whatever.’

Only it wasn’t whatever.

But Eddie was so lost in his own head, so caught up on Steve, Steve, Steve that he didn’t see what it was doing to Jeff. Didn’t notice him pulling away more and more until Gareth mentioned it. Asked if something had happened between the two because they were acting weird.

So, when he finally confronted Jeff, things seemed... okay. Better. At least that’s what he thought when Jeff told him he’d get over it, that he just needed some time to adjust. Promised Eddie that nothing had changed when it came to their friendship but right now, Eddie isn’t so sure about that anymore.

And it kills him.

Makes him lie awake at night because he can’t stop thinking about all the worst possible outcomes. What if this breaks up the band? What if Eddie loses his best friend?

   “I don’t want to lose you, Jeff.”

    You’re up in five, someone calls from the side of the stage and Eddie knows this is the worst possible timing for a heart-to-heart. They should be getting ready, he should be talking to his boyfriend who he abandoned and left with people he doesn’t really know, in a place he’s never been to before. But he can’t step away, can’t leave it like that, not when Jeff still hasn’t said anything.

   “I need you. You’re my best friend and I- I love you.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, to use this word, this feeling that is the cause for this mess and the reason for Jeff’s pain. But it’s the right word nonetheless, because it’s the truth. Eddie loves him. Maybe not like he loves Steve but different from the way he loves Gareth and Doug. This love goes deeper than friendship, soul-deep.

   “I love you. You’re important to me and I know- I know you're hurt and I am sorry but I can’t change that my heart belongs to Steve.”

Eddie can’t stop, knows he should because right now, he’s only talking himself deeper into the hole he dug for himself. But he refuses to lie, refuses to try to appease Jeff with false hope – he needs to know where they stand. And if that means Jeff will tell him to fuck off, if that will be the end of their friendship, then-

   “I hate you.”

Eddie’s heart stops at Jeff's words, eyes filling with tears as he braces himself for the biggest regret he'll ever have in his life.

   “I hate you so much for even thinking you could ever lose me!”

They’ve got eyes on them now, Eddie can feel it, but he doesn’t care. Can’t, not when Jeff moves closer, taking one of Eddie’s hands to place it on his chest, right above his heart.

   “It hurts. It fucking hurts. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, just sniffs and blinks away the tears blurring his vision.

   “It’ll take some time for me to... get over this. But you and me, we’re bound for life, man. So don’t you ever think you’re getting rid of me. You hear me, asshole?”

Jeff smiles at him and even though there’s still sadness in his eyes, Eddie can feel that he means it.

   “Uh... sorry to interrupt but, um, they said you’re up next so I-“

When Eddie turns to the voice coming from behind, he finds Steve standing there, hands in his pocket, nervously looking to the side.

   “I’ll be down there somewhere. Have- have fun.”

Steve’s about to turn around, ready to step away but Eddie can't let him go like that, so he stops him.

   “Baby, wait!”

He looks back at Jeff, hoping, praying to find what he’s searching for in the other man’s eyes.

   “Go on, your boyfriend looks like he’s waiting for a kiss. Would be rude to leave him hanging.”

   “Are you gonna be mad at me if I do?” Eddie’s not asking for permission to kiss his boyfriend, not really. But he’s willing to tone it down around Jeff if that’s what it takes.

Jeff scoffs, lets go of Eddie’s hand and takes a step back.

   “So mad. But I’ll get to have you all to myself for the next 40 minutes so I guess it’s fine,” he jokes and it feels like a peace offering. Like maybe it’s the first step to better, before hopefully they can go back to how things were when everything was good, not complicated.

   “I love you,” Eddie says again just because.

   “Love you too, man. Now go take care of your man and then let’s get this fucking show started.”

Eddie nods, taking another moment to look at his best friend before walking over to Steve.

   “Everything good with you and Jeff?” Steve asks quietly as Eddie wraps his arms around his middle to pull him close.

   “I think it will be, yeah.”

Eddie's glad he never made a secret out of his past with Jeff, couldn’t bear withholding something so crucial from Steve. He needed him to know that no matter what, Jeff will always play an important role in his life. That if Steve wanted to be with him, he’d have to accept that there will always be a place in his heart that’s occupied by someone else.

Steve throws a look over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles to himself before leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

   “Is that all?” Eddie asks when his boyfriend pulls away, leaving him longing for more.

   “For now,” Steve confirms with a wink, “Your friends are waiting.”

With that, he wanders off into the crowd and Eddie, for the first time in weeks, feels a weight lift off his shoulders and heart.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated.

Maybe it just needs time and trust and mutual understanding.

He’s willing to try, willing to do everything to make this work

Because what he’s definitely not willing to do, is to give up one love for another.

[empydoc]

RATS! i’ve dropped my VALENTINES THEMED HUSH/DOC headcanons! 🐀 🐀 🐀 (how does this keep happening?!)

- doc probably doesn’t give two diddly squats about valentines but they like to think about it as a chance to get closer to people.

- ergo, this somehow leads to them thinking of making hush something in terms of … food, maybe?

- they know he technically doesn’t need it, but all the times he’s cooked for them has been nice. and not to mention, he’s getting good at it too

- so they get to cookin’. a little something here, a little something there— a favourite meal of theirs!

- suddenly, a hush appears! he notices them in the kitchen and inquires

- “What’re you doing, Doc? Did you expect me?”

- doc realises that for some reason they didn’t anticipate such a CALL OUT

- they shrug, offering him to look over their work in progress of a meal

- “What’s this? It smells good.”

- they nod, explaining the meal to him. he inspects their means of a process, asking questions mainly of ‘why’s’ and ‘how’s’.

- he feels like an interviewer with all these questions, to the point where once doc’s finished, they insist he tries it instead of asking any further.

- to their odd surprise, he does exactly that, looking at them with a pause before…

- “This is your favourite? I can see why.”

- they smile, and he almost feels compelled to keep that image in his mind.

- doc asks for him to sit with them & eat, and he does. hush makes occasional comments on how cooking their favourite meal is worth learning, and doc responds with a satisfied hum.

- when they finish, hush leans against doc, looking at them with a soft expression

- “You’re very bright when you’re happy, Doc.”

- what’s that supposed to mean? they feel his presence right in their core.

- “So… I’d like you to tell me more about ‘Valentines’.”

- as you wish. they nod and relax into that feeling.

[rik0shii]

late night haechan thoughts…..

The studio was quiet, save for the soft hum of the equipment and the faint melody that Haechan played on the keyboard. It was late—way past midnight—but this had become routine for the two of you. He thrived in these quiet hours, and you didn’t mind being his companion while he worked on his music.

You sat curled up on the couch, holding his notebook in your lap, flipping through pages of lyrics and messy doodles. Occasionally, you’d glance at him, the way his brows furrowed in concentration or how he lightly bit his lip when he was focused. The sight made your heart ache in the best way.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence. “The chorus feels like it’s missing something… maybe make the second line softer, like how you play it here.” You hummed the melody he’d been working on, tapping the page with your finger.

Haechan swiveled in his chair, turning to you with a playful grin. “Oh? My genius lover thinks they know better than me now? Should I put your name in the credits as my co-producer?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you threw a nearby crumpled napkin at him. “Hey, you asked me to stay and help, remember? Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”

He caught the napkin with a smirk, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you. “Oh, I know exactly why you’re here,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You can’t resist me so you said yes and stayed with me. Admit it.”

“Lee Donghyuck,” you warned, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t make me regret staying here instead of bingeing dramas in my warm bed.”

“Warm bed, huh?” he quipped, pushing himself off his chair and walking over to the couch. “Then I guess I should make this worth your while.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. His warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze.

“You’re cute when you’re pretending to be mad,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a hint of affection laced into his usual playfulness.

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to cover it by nudging him away. “Stop trying to distract me with kisses! You have work to finish.”

He laughed, catching your hand before you could push him too far. “Oh, come on. I’ve been working on this for hours. Can’t I take a break with my favorite person?”

“favorite person huh?,” you muttered, but your voice softened as you glanced up at him. His eyes were filled with something deeper than his usual teasing, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he said quietly, sitting down beside you on the couch. “Thank you for staying. Seriously. It’s… different when you’re here. I don’t feel so alone.”

The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, the late-night teasing faded into something more intimate. You reached out, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “You’re never alone, Haechan. You know that, right?”

His lips quirked into a small smile as he leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I know. It’s because I have you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, before he closed the distance and kissed you. It was soft, unhurried, and sweet, like he was pouring every unspoken word into it. His hand rested on the back of your neck, holding you close as if you might disappear.

When he finally pulled back, his smile was brighter, the usual spark in his eyes tinged with warmth. “Okay,” he said, his voice playful again. “Now I’m ready to make the best song ever. All thanks to my muse.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you shoved his shoulder lightly. “Go finish it, lover boy. I’m not letting you use me as an excuse to procrastinate.”

As he stood and returned to his keyboard, you couldn’t help but watch him with a fond smile. Even as he played through the melody again, occasionally glancing back at you with a grin, you knew this moment—these late nights with him—were something you’d cherish forever.

[duachai]

Till' The World Ends - PARK CHANYEONG | SWEET HOME

In the midst of a monstrous apocalypse, former idol M/n is rescued by the military and brought to a safe base where protector Park Chanyeong takes him under his wing.

Your soul's half alive, and I'll be by your side, I've come to take you there, show you how to care

♱ PAIRING : PARK CHANYEONG (JUNG JINYOUNG) X MALE READER ♱ CONTENT WARNING : Slightly detailed gore, SPOLIERS (I guess?) ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : I want to note I've only seen season 1-2 of this show, so I'm quite behind so if this makes no sense contextually that's why lol. ♱ REQUESTED : YES (ANON) - Can you pleaseseee write something for Private Park Chan-young from Sweet Home? Maybe something like male reader gets picked up off the street and becomes one of the soldiers along side of him and there's this big fight with the monsters and he confesses his love. Maybe also reader was and idol too. Thank you!!

LINKS : Wattpad

The air outside was heavy, thick with the stench of blood and decay. M/n stumbled through the wreckage, his breaths ragged as he tried to keep moving. His jacket was torn, caked in grime, and he clutched a makeshift weapon; a rusted pipe he’d picked up days ago. The world had long since crumbled into chaos, but M/n had refused to let it break him. Determined, but weary, he fought to keep going. 

The faint roar of an engine in the distance made him freeze. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned, squinting against the setting sun. A military vehicle approached, its headlights cutting through the haze. For a moment, hope flickered in his chest; a dangerous, fragile thing. M/n raised his hands, signaling for them to stop. He wasn’t sure if they’d help or just run him over, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

The vehicle came to a halt. Soldiers spilled out, their weapons drawn, faces hardened. One of them barked, “Stay where you are! Hands where we can see them!” 

“I’m not infected!” M/n shouted, his voice hoarse. He dropped the pipe and raised his hands higher. “I swear, I’m clean!” 

The soldiers exchanged glances, their expressions skeptical. One of them, a tall man with a scar running down his jaw, muttered, “We can’t take risks. We’re stretched too thin as it is.” 

“Please,” M/n pleaded, his voice cracking. “I’ve been out here for weeks. I just- please, don’t leave me out here.” 

The scarred soldier scoffed, gesturing to the others. “We don’t have room for strays. Move out.” 

Before they could pile back into the vehicle, another voice cut through the tension; calm, but commanding. “Wait.” 

M/n turned to see him. Park Chanyeong stepped out of the vehicle, his expression unreadable. There was something in the way he carried himself; strong, deliberate, that made the others hesitate. 

“He’s not infected,” Chanyeong said firmly, his sharp eyes studying M/n. “Look at him. No signs of transformation, no erratic behavior.” 

The scarred soldier frowned. “That doesn’t mean he’s not a liability. We can’t afford-” 

“We can’t afford to lose more people, either,” Chanyeong interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “He’s a survivor. That counts for something.” 

M/n’s knees nearly gave out as relief washed over him. But the others weren’t convinced. “And what happens if he turns on us later?” one of the soldiers argued. “It’ll be on you.” 

“It’ll be on me,” Chanyeong replied coldly. “I’ll take responsibility.” 

The soldiers grumbled but didn’t push further. Chanyeong stepped closer, his gaze locking with M/n’s. “Get in the vehicle,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’ll be safe.” 

M/n hesitated for a heartbeat, as if waiting for someone to change their mind. But when no one did, he nodded and climbed into the back of the vehicle. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the seat, his heart still racing. 

Chanyeong joined him a moment later, sitting across from him. For a while, the vehicle was silent, save for the rumble of the engine and the distant cries of monsters in the wasteland. M/n dared to glance up, meeting Chanyeong’s steady gaze. 

“Thank you,” M/n whispered, his voice barely audible. 

Chanyeong gave a small nod, his expression as stoic as ever. “Don’t thank me yet.” 

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but for the first time in weeks, M/n felt a flicker of hope. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

The vehicle slowed as it reached the underground safe zone. The heavy steel gates creaked open, revealing a dimly lit corridor bustling with survivors. Soldiers on patrol watched with wary eyes, their hands resting on their weapons. The air was tense; too many people, too much fear, and too little space. 

M/n stepped out of the vehicle, his legs unsteady from both exhaustion and anxiety. As he followed Chanyeong through the narrow passage, he felt it; the weight of dozens of eyes on him. Whispers spread like wildfire. 

“Is that him?” 

“No way. He’s still alive?”    “He was there… the apartment complex.” 

M/n kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his jaw clenched. The memories of what happened at Green Home; the screams, the betrayal, the monsters; flashed through his mind. He didn’t want to remember. Not here. Not now. 

A small group of survivors gathered near the entrance, openly staring. One of them, a woman with dark circles under her eyes, took a hesitant step forward. “You were… an idol, weren’t you?” 

M/n didn’t answer, but the silence spoke for him. The woman’s expression hardened. “You ran, didn’t you? Back when things went to hell.” 

“I did what I had to,” M/n said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of the accusation. 

Before anyone could say more, Chanyeong stepped between them, his presence like a wall. “That’s enough,” he said. His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “He’s here now. That’s all that matters.” 

The crowd slowly dispersed, muttering under their breath. Chanyeong turned back to M/n. “Come on. You need rest.” 

They walked in silence until they reached a small, dimly lit room near the edge of the safe zone. Chanyeong opened the door and gestured for M/n to enter. It wasn’t much; just a cot, a chair, and a few supplies, but it was a haven compared to the outside world. 

M/n sat on the edge of the cot, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m wanted here.” 

“They’re scared,” Chanyeong replied, leaning against the doorframe. “Fear makes people lash out.” 

“You’re not making second guessed about me?” 

Chanyeong’s lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “No.” 

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. M/n looked up, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why’d you stand up for me out there? You didn’t have to.” 

Chanyeong’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “Because I know what it’s like to have people give up on you.” 

M/n tilted his head. “You mean before all this?” 

Chanyeong nodded, resting against the door frame. “I played baseball. Before the world ended, it was my life. But I made mistakes. Got injured. People stopped believing in me. Said I wasn’t worth the trouble.” He paused, as if weighing his next words. “I didn’t want to do the same to you.” 

M/n’s chest tightened. He’d spent so long feeling like a burden, like the world would be better off without him. But Chanyeong didn’t see him that way. 

“I used to be an idol,” M/n admitted quietly. “I loved it; performing, being on stage. But when things got bad at Green Home, all that didn’t matter. All people saw was someone who couldn’t protect anyone.” 

Chanyeong studied him for a long moment. “You survived. That’s enough.” 

M/n swallowed hard, emotion threatening to choke him. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.” 

Chanyeong stepped closer, his expression as steady as ever. “Then stay alive. Long enough to figure out what it does feel like.” 

The words weren’t comforting in the traditional sense, but somehow, they settled something deep in M/n’s chest. 

“I’ll try,” M/n said, meeting Chanyeong’s eyes. 

“Good.” Chanyeong gave a small nod. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.” 

The underground safe zone was a far cry from the life M/n once knew. The constant hum of generators, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the steady patrols of soldiers made the air feel tense and suffocating. Every day was a battle to maintain order amidst the fear of what lurked beyond the gates. 

For M/n, blending in wasn’t easy. The other survivors kept their distance, some out of fear, others because of lingering resentment. But he forced himself to adapt. He helped with chores, cleaned communal areas, and volunteered for supply runs; anything to prove he wasn’t just a burden. 

One morning, M/n found himself summoned to the central training area; a wide, open space lined with sandbags and obstacle courses. The air smelled of sweat and metal. A group of soldiers stood waiting, their uniforms crisp and their expressions unreadable. 

Chanyeong was there too, his arms crossed as he watched from a distance. M/n’s heart rate spiked, but he didn’t let it show. 

The scarred soldier from before, now identified as Lieutenant Kim, stepped forward. “You’ve been here long enough to catch your breath. Now it’s time to see if you can actually contribute.” His tone was clipped, full of skepticism. 

“What do you mean?” M/n asked, though he already had a sinking suspicion. 

“We’re short on fighters. If you’re going to stay, you need to be more than just a survivor. We need soldiers. Fighters who can defend this place if the monsters breach the gates again.” 

M/n’s fists clenched at his sides. “And if I fail?” 

“Then you’re just another mouth to feed.” 

Chanyeong’s gaze darkened, but he stayed silent. 

The first test was simple; a physical evaluation. M/n had to run laps around the training area, climb walls, and navigate through an obstacle course designed to simulate urban terrain. Sweat dripped down his face, his muscles screaming in protest. 

By the time he finished, his lungs burned, and his legs felt like lead. But he hadn’t stopped. He’d refused to quit. 

Lieutenant Kim gave a curt nod. “You’re determined. I’ll give you that.” 

The second test was combat. M/n was handed a dull training knife and pitted against a soldier twice his size. The fight was brutal; every swing and jab testing M/n’s reflexes. He dodged as best he could, but his opponent’s strength was overwhelming. He hit the ground more than once, his knees scraped and bloodied. 

“Enough,” Chanyeong’s voice cut through the tension. He walked over, his expression neutral but his eyes burning with something M/n couldn’t quite name. “You’re not training him to get beaten. You’re training him to survive.” 

Lieutenant Kim scowled but didn’t argue. “Fine. You take over, Park.” 

Chanyeong tossed M/n a water bottle before taking his place in the sparring ring. “Get up,” he said quietly. “Again.” 

M/n wiped the sweat from his brow and forced himself to his feet. His body protested every movement, but he wasn’t about to back down; not with Chanyeong watching. 

They squared off. Chanyeong’s movements were deliberate, precise. He didn’t go easy on M/n, but he also didn’t aim to break him. With every step and swing, he pushed M/n to find his limits and then push past them. 

By the end of the session, M/n was panting, bruised, and exhausted. But there was a spark of pride in his chest. 

“You did well,” Chanyeong said, offering a hand to help him up. 

M/n took it, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Chanyeong replied. “You earned it.” 

Lieutenant Kim gave one last, assessing look before turning on his heel. “We’ll see if you can keep it up.” 

As the soldiers dispersed, M/n stayed behind with Chanyeong. The ache in his muscles was sharp, but there was something else; an odd sense of belonging.  

The underground gates groaned open, revealing the desolate wasteland beyond. The world outside the safe zone was eerily silent, the air thick with the stench of decay and abandonment. Concrete rubble and twisted metal were strewn across the landscape, remnants of humanity’s fall. 

Chanyeong led the group of soldiers, M/n walking beside him. It was M/n’s first mission outside, and the weight of anticipation hung heavy over him. He could feel the judgmental eyes of the other soldiers drilling into his back. 

“Don’t slow us down,” one soldier muttered under his breath. “He should’ve stayed underground where it’s safe.” 

Another snickered. “He’s not cut out for this. Idol or not, he’ll get someone killed.” 

M/n’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze forward. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. Chanyeong shot the soldiers a warning glare, but M/n shook his head. “Let them talk.” 

The group pressed on through the ruins, their boots crunching against broken glass and gravel. They were scavenging for supplies; a routine mission but one that could turn deadly in an instant. 

They hadn’t gone far when the first sound came; a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down everyone’s spines. 

“Contact!” Lieutenant Kim barked. 

A monster emerged from the shadows of a crumbling building. Its skin was pale and cracked, its eyes hollow but filled with a ravenous hunger. It lunged with terrifying speed. 

The soldiers scattered, weapons raised. Gunfire erupted, but the monster was fast; too fast. It zigzagged between them, slashing with razor-sharp claws. 

“M/n, move!” Chanyeong shouted as the creature charged straight for him. 

Time seemed to slow. M/n’s heart thundered in his chest. The soldiers’ words echoed in his mind. Weak. A burden. Not good enough. 

No. 

M/n surged forward, a primal fury igniting inside him. He grabbed a broken pipe from the ground and swung with all his strength. The metal connected with a sickening crunch, sending the monster staggering backward. 

It roared, blood dripping from its mouth, but M/n didn’t stop. He attacked again, driving the pipe into the creature’s side. His strikes became relentless, each blow fueled by anger and desperation. 

The monster fell to its knees, but M/n kept going, the world around him blurring into a haze of adrenaline and rage. Every fear, every insult; it all exploded in that moment. 

“Enough!” 

Chanyeong’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. 

M/n froze, panting. His hands trembled, the blood-slicked pipe slipping from his grasp. The monster lay still, its body broken and lifeless. 

And then it hit him. 

He had killed it. 

The world tilted. M/n staggered back, his vision swimming. His stomach churned violently, and he collapsed to his hands and knees, retching onto the cracked pavement. 

Chanyeong was at his side in an instant, dropping to a crouch. He placed a steadying hand on M/n’s back, his touch firm but gentle. “Breathe, M/n. You’re safe now. Just breathe.” 

“I-” M/n’s voice cracked. “I killed it. I didn’t mean to-” 

“You did what you had to,” Chanyeong interrupted softly. “It was you or the monster.” 

But M/n couldn’t stop shaking. His hands were stained with blood; proof that he wasn’t the same person who had stepped outside those gates. 

“It’s different out here,” he whispered. “I thought I was ready. But I’m not.” 

Chanyeong knelt in front of him, their faces inches apart. His usual stoic mask had slipped, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “No one’s ever ready the first time. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.” 

M/n’s breath hitched. He wanted to believe Chanyeong, but the weight of what he’d done felt suffocating. 

Chanyeong reached out, wiping a streak of blood from M/n’s cheek. “Look at me.” 

M/n’s eyes slowly met his. 

“You’re alive,” Chanyeong said firmly. “You fought back because you wanted to protect us. That’s what matters.” 

For a long moment, they stayed like that; M/n sitting chin to his knees on the broken ground, Chanyeong steadying him. The chaos of the world faded into the background, leaving only the quiet connection between them. 

“Ypu’re not alone,” Chanyeong promised. “Not now. Not ever.” 

M/n swallowed hard, the knot in his chest loosening just a little. “Thank you.” 

Chanyeong helped him to his feet, his grip never faltering. The other soldiers approached, their expressions a mixture of surprise and respect. 

“Maybe you’re not all useless,” one of them admitted grudgingly. 

M/n didn’t respond, but he held his head a little higher as they made their way back to the safe zone. 

M/n leaned against the wall of the underground compound, his arms folded across his chest. The dim lighting overhead cast shadows on the rough concrete, and the air smelled faintly of metal and disinfectant. He had just returned from the mission with Chanyeong, his mind still replaying the moment he killed the monster. His hands were clean now, but he couldn’t stop seeing the blood in his mind’s eye. 

“Hey.” 

The voice pulled him from his thoughts. M/n looked up to see Jung Ye-seul standing a few feet away. She was one of the few civilians allowed to move around freely within the safe zone, her resourcefulness and sharp mind earning her respect among both the survivors and military personnel. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her sharp eyes locked onto M/n with a mix of curiosity and something harder to read. 

“You’re the one they found outside,” she said, her tone neutral but guarded. 

“Yeah. That’s me.” M/n’s voice was flat. 

She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. “You were on the mission with Chanyeong earlier. I heard what happened.” 

M/n nodded slowly. “Word travels fast down here.” 

Ye-seul crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “You saved him.” 

“I did.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“I guess I should say thank you,” she said, but there was no warmth in her voice. 

M/n raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound very grateful.” 

“I am.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “But I also know what happens when people get close to Chanyeong. They start thinking they can rely on him too much. They make him a crutch. And Chanyeong’s already carrying enough on his shoulders.” 

M/n felt a flare of irritation. “I’m not a burden to him.” 

Ye-seul’s gaze sharpened. “Are you sure about that? He’s always been the protector. It’s who he is. People lean on him, and he never says no. But that doesn’t mean it’s good for him.” 

“I didn’t ask him to protect me,” M/n shot back. “In case you missed it, I’m the one who saved him today.” 

Ye-seul’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t change anything. You’re still someone he cares about now. And that means you’re a risk.” 

M/n felt a pang of guilt, but he pushed it aside. “I didn’t choose to care about him. It just happened. And I’m not going to walk away because you think I should.” 

Ye-seul’s expression flickered with something—pain, maybe, or jealousy. “Chanyeong doesn’t let people in easily. If you hurt him…” 

“I won’t,” M/n interrupted, his voice firm. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other, two stubborn forces unwilling to back down. 

Finally, Ye-seul sighed. “I hope you’re right. For both your sakes.” 

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving M/n standing alone in the dim corridor. 

M/n exhaled slowly, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what the future held for him or for Chanyeong, but one thing was certain; he wasn’t going to let anyone push him away from the person who had become his anchor in this chaotic world. 

The mission had been simple; retrieve medical supplies from an abandoned hospital a few miles from the safe zone. The military had cleared the building once before, but the monsters were unpredictable, and the place was still a danger zone. 

Despite the risks, M/n had volunteered to go. He was determined to prove himself again; not just to the others, but to himself. And in the days since the last mission, things had been better. The soldiers who had once mocked him now showed respect, their gazes lingering with a newfound acknowledgment. Even Yeseul had kept her distance, a quiet truce settling between them. 

Chanyeong had insisted on coming along. His ever-stoic demeanor gave M/n strength, an unspoken promise of protection. They moved together like a machine, sweeping the darkened hospital halls with precision and efficiency. 

But nothing ever went according to plan. 

They had just reached the hospital’s old surgical ward when the air shifted; a low, guttural growl that sent shivers racing down their spines. 

“Get ready,” Chanyeong muttered, gripping his weapon on his hip tightly. 

The monster exploded from the shadows, its pale, sinewy form illuminated by the flickering overhead lights. It was larger than anything they had faced before, its limbs unnaturally long and its teeth razor-sharp. 

Chaos erupted. 

M/n swung his weapon, the metallic pipe connecting with the monster’s ribs. The creature roared in pain but didn’t go down. It lashed out, its claws narrowly missing M/n’s face. 

“Fall back!” Chanyeong barked. 

They moved in sync, dodging the creature’s attacks as they retreated down the hall. But the monster was relentless. It lunged again, forcing them into the surgical ward; a sterile, cold room with no exit. 

Chanyeong’s eyes darted around, calculating their next move. The monster was blocking the only doorway, and it was too fast to take down easily. 

“We’re out of options,” M/n panted, adrenaline coursing through him. 

Chanyeong’s gaze softened for a brief moment. “Trust me.” 

Before M/n could respond, Chanyeong surged forward. He slammed the emergency door controls, and the steel door hissed shut, trapping M/n on the outside and locking Chanyeong inside with the monster. 

“Chanyeong!” M/n shouted, pounding on the glass window that separated them. 

The monster roared and charged. 

Chanyeong didn’t flinch. He met the creature head-on, his movements precise and deadly. He dodged its swipes and struck with brutal efficiency, his fists and blade a blur of motion. Blood sprayed across the white walls, staining the sterile room with crimson. 

M/n watched in horror, his fists clenched so tightly they ached. The glass barrier felt like a prison. Every instinct screamed at him to break through, to help, but there was no way in. 

The fight raged on, and Chanyeong was relentless; but so was the monster. It struck him hard, sending him crashing into a surgical table. The force knocked the breath from him, and for a terrifying moment, he didn’t move. 

“No!” M/n shouted, his voice raw with desperation. 

The monster loomed over Chanyeong, ready to deliver the final blow. 

Then, with a burst of strength, Chanyeong drove his blade into the creature’s throat. It let out a choked howl, its body convulsing before collapsing to the floor. 

Silence fell. 

M/n’s breath hitched as he saw Chanyeong slump against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Chanyeong!” He banged on the glass again, tears stinging his eyes. “Stay awake!” 

Chanyeong’s eyes barely opened. His voice was weak, but his gaze found M/n’s through the glass. 

“I-” He coughed, blood flecking his lips. “I think I... love you.” 

The words hit M/n like a lightning strike. 

“No, no, you don’t get to say that now!” M/n’s voice cracked. “You’re not dying. You hear me? You’re not dying!” 

But Chanyeong’s eyes closed, and his body went still. 

“Chanyeong!” M/n’s scream echoed down the empty hallway. 

Frantic, M/n slammed his shoulder against the door controls until they gave way, the steel door sliding open with a hiss. He rushed to Chanyeong’s side, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. 

It was faint, but it was there. 

Relief flooded M/n, and he let out a shaky breath. He tore a strip of fabric from his sleeve and pressed it against Chanyeong’s wounds, his hands steady despite the chaos still swirling in his mind. 

“I think I love you too,” M/n whispered, his voice breaking. “So don’t leave me.” 

Chanyeong didn’t respond, but M/n felt the faintest squeeze of his hand. It was enough. 

M/n’s muscles screamed in protest with every step, but he didn’t stop. Chanyeong’s unconscious weight rested on his back, his arms draped over M/n’s shoulders and head leaning against his neck. Blood soaked M/n’s shirt, both Chanyeong’s and his own from cuts and scrapes. The road back to the base was long and treacherous, every shadow a potential threat. But M/n’s mind was fixed on one goal; getting Chanyeong back alive. 

When the base finally came into view, M/n’s legs nearly gave out from exhaustion. A group of soldiers rushed forward, weapons raised until they saw who it was. 

“Help him!” M/n’s voice cracked as he knelt, lowering Chanyeong onto a stretcher the medics had brought. He stumbled to his feet, covered in dirt and blood, as the medics took Chanyeong inside the makeshift medical ward. 

But the moment of relief was short-lived. 

“Why are you the one walking around fine?” one soldier sneered, stepping forward. “Chanyeong’s the best we’ve got, and now he’s half-dead.” 

Another soldier scowled. “You were supposed to have his back. Instead, you let him get locked in with a monster.” 

The accusations hit M/n like a punch to the gut. His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t defend himself. He couldn’t. The truth was, he felt the same crushing guilt. Chanyeong had saved him; again and now Chanyeong was paying the price. 

“Enough!” Yeseul’s sharp voice cut through the crowd. She stepped between M/n and the soldiers, her glare fierce. ���Blaming him won’t help Chanyeong. And if you’re so concerned, why aren’t you in there helping the medics?” 

The soldiers muttered under their breath but backed off. 

Yeseul turned to M/n, her expression softening. “Go inside. He’s going to need you.” 

M/n nodded, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, but his feet carried him forward. 

The makeshift ward was a bleak, sterile space. Cots lined the walls, and the air was filled with the acrid scent of antiseptic. Chanyeong laid on the closest cot, pale and still, an IV drip hooked to his arm. Bandages covered his torso, and his breathing was shallow but steady. 

M/n sank into the chair beside the cot, his body sagging with weariness. He hadn’t realized just how heavy his grief and fear had been until now. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, reaching for Chanyeong’s hand. It was cold to the touch. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

The hours blurred into days. M/n never left the ward. He barely slept, catching fitful naps in the chair. He hardly ate, ignoring the rations Yeseul and a few other soldiers brought him. Every time Chanyeong’s breathing hitched or his body twitched, M/n was there, his heart racing with hope. But Chanyeong never woke. 

The medics warned him to take care of himself, but M/n didn’t listen. Guilt gnawed at his insides like a parasite, and every second spent away from Chanyeong felt like a betrayal. 

On the third night, M/n sat in the dim light of the ward, his head resting on the edge of the cot. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his body trembled with exhaustion. 

“I should have protected you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I should have done more.” 

A tear slipped down his cheek, falling onto Chanyeong’s hand. 

“Please,” M/n whispered. “Come back.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. But then; a faint twitch. M/n’s head shot up, hope lighting his eyes. Chanyeong’s fingers twitched again, and his eyelids fluttered. 

“Chanyeong?” M/n leaned forward, his heart pounding. 

Slowly, painfully, Chanyeong’s eyes opened. They were clouded with confusion at first, but when they locked onto M/n’s face, recognition dawned. 

“M/n...” Chanyeong’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was the most beautiful sound M/n had ever heard. 

“You’re awake.” M/n choked on a sob, gripping Chanyeong’s hand tightly. “You’re awake.” 

Chanyeong’s lips curved into a weak smile. “I told you... I’m not going anywhere.” 

M/n pressed his forehead to Chanyeong’s hand, the weight on his chest finally lifting. 

M/n couldn’t let go of Chanyeong’s hand, not even for a second. His heart was still pounding from the overwhelming relief of seeing him awake. Every rise and fall of Chanyeong’s chest felt like a victory, fragile but real. 

“You need rest,” Chanyeong murmured, though his voice was weak. “You’re worse off than me.” 

M/n let out a short, tired laugh. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.” 

“And you’re the one who hasn’t slept or eaten in days. I can tell.” Chanyeong shifted slightly, wincing from the movement. “C'mere.” 

M/n hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Chanyeong said, his gaze soft but insistent. “Please.” 

The vulnerability in Chanyeong’s eyes was rare, and it was enough to make M/n’s resolve crumble. Slowly, he climbed onto the cot, careful not to jostle him too much. The cot was narrow, forcing them close, and M/n lay on his side, his face only inches from Chanyeong’s. 

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. The dim light of the ward softened the harsh edges of the room, and the world outside felt far away; nothing but the two of them, suspended in this fragile, stolen moment. 

“I thought I lost you,” M/n admitted, his voice trembling. “I’ve never been so scared for anyone before.” 

Chanyeong’s fingers tightened around M/n’s. “I’m still here.” 

M/n swallowed hard. “I know... but seeing you like that, I-” 

Chanyeong reached out, his fingers brushing against M/n’s cheek. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver through M/n’s entire body. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Chanyeong said quietly. “But I meant what I said. I love you.” 

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. M/n’s breath hitched. He could see the truth of it in Chanyeong’s eyes; there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. 

“I love you, too,” M/n whispered. The weight of everything; the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty, dissolved in that moment. 

Chanyeong’s hand slid to the back of M/n’s neck, and M/n leaned in without thinking. Their lips met, tentative at first, but the kiss quickly deepened. It was desperate and full of emotion; a kiss born from the fear of almost losing each other and the joy of finding one another again. 

M/n’s fingers curled into Chanyeong’s cut up shirt, holding him close. Their breath mingled, and the world outside the ward melted away. 

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together. M/n’s heart was racing, but it was no longer from fear. 

“We’ll get through this,” Chanyeong said softly, his thumb brushing over M/n’s cheek. “Together.” 

M/n nodded, tears glistening in his eyes but a smile tugging at his lips. “Together.” 

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 16: Eaten Alive

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

Masterlist | Taglist

f1

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, y/n_rb, and 1,823,923 others

f1: And it’s a gorgeous day here in Miami at the Miami International Autodrome ahead of the 2024 Grand Prix! Scheduled to start at 4pm local time, it could be anyone’s race! Will it be Verstappen, in P1, who takes the win today? Or does Ferrari, with Leclerc P2 and Sainz P3, have something in the works? Might we see L/N, P4, win her second race?

view all comments

user1: it’s gonna be max for sure!

user2: come on Ferrari! Leclerc for WDC!!

↳user3: Forza Ferrari Sempre!

user4: rooting for Lando!

↳user5: maybe choose someone who can actually win?

↳user4: it’s gonna be his year! I just know it

user6: praying for y/n!

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2 and 790,469 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, y/n_rb

f1gossip: what was your favorite part of the Miami weekend so far and why was it Max and Y/N’s media interviews?

view all comments

user7: man oh man, I love Max and Daniel but I think Max and Y/N are my favorite pairing

↳user8: they just work so well together?

↳user7: they do! And it’s so fun to watch them have fun

user9: petition for redbull to give them more toys to play with during interviews!

↳user10: seconded! Loved the toy speedboat race personally

↳user11: I loved it more when y/n pushed max in!

↳user10: no no no that WAS the best part really

user12: I feel for y/n — I’ve been in Miami at this time of the year before and the damn mosquitos are brutal!

↳user13: I swear they have it out for me personally

↳user12: I think they have it out for y/n too…

y/n_rb

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, logansargeant, and 2,184,222 others

y/n_rb: Miami I love you so much but why the mosquitoes???

view all comments

user14: god they just about ate you alive didn’t they?

↳y/n_rb: they did! It was an all you can eat buffet 😩😩😩

logansargeant: why didn’t you use bug spray!!

↳y/n_rb: it’s smelly

↳logansargeant: you’re an idiot.

↳y/n_rb: you’re mean…

↳logansargeant: i got you the bug spray for a reason! You’ve always had trouble with mosquitoes

↳y/n_rb: yes moooommm

↳logansargeant: 🙄🙄

oscarpiastri: I don’t know why they like you

↳y/n_rb: thank you!

↳oscarpiastri: you’re so annoying, I didn’t think even bugs would like you…

↳y/n_rb: both you and Logan are being taken off my Christmas card list…

↳oscarpiastri: finally!

↳logansargeant: what did I do??

maxverstappen1: you know I didn’t believe you when you said that the mosquitoes had it out for you…

↳y/n_rb: I told you!!

fernandoalo_oficial: ¡Chica, necesitas obtener algo de protección! ¡Te están atacando! Girl, you need to get some protection! They are attacking you!

↳y/n_rb: Mr. Fernando sir, I’ve tried! But apparently I’m too delicious

francisca.cgomes: Mon amour, ils vous attaquent! My love, they are attacking you!

↳y/n_rb: I know babe. I’m just too lovable… liked by francisca.cgomes

↳pierregasly: really?

↳y/n_rb: 🖕🏻🖕🏻

↳y/n_rb: but i think some time spent by your side is just what i need to recover!

↳francisca.cgomes: on my way!

↳pierregasly: STOP STEALING MY GIRLFRIEND

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt

[awardenandacrow]

You know what 18 is fun too. It’s “Rook tries to impress someone.” Or, in Naimy’s case, two someone’s.

@erin-unknown sorry for taking so long on this one, it’s been kicking around for a little bit in the brain but it was in a lot of little pieces so I wanted to have it a little more together before sharing. Still three pieces but that’s better than it was!

[snippet 47: at the Ossuary, Naimeryn tries for convince herself… and Neve, and Lucanis, that she is capable of leading the team and NOT a total screw up]

CW/TW: strong language, death by drowning, other violence

——————————————————————————

“I’ve seen demons possess corpses. *Ashes.* even hair once.”

“At least this one has good taste,” Neve remarked with a smirk. Naimeryn did not succeed in suppressing a nervous giggle. That he did. She’d never been so grateful to see a Venatori guard in her life, to avoid whatever awkward exchange would have followed. Instead she ran forward, blasting Magic into the ground behind them, sending one flying *through* the Ossuary wall. She gasped and covered her mouth as she watched him drown. She spun back to Neve and Lucanis, eyes wide.

“*I didn’t know the enchantments were just — just —*” she waved her hands emphatically at Neve and then the wall.

“Not solid?” Neve asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“*Yes*!” Naimeryn snapped.

“Rook, *you* pointed out at the entrance that some of the walls were leaking.”

“Yes but I — I just thought — you know what?” Naimeryn rubbed her forehead and tried to still her panicking heartbeat. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. Let’s get the damn phylactery, kill this Calivan asshole, and get the fuck out of here.”

“I get that this is a rescue,” Lucanis smirked a little as they began walking again, “but you could leave a little for the rest of us, Rook.”

Naimeryn flushed at the remark. She felt like all she’d done was embarrass herself since she and Neve had arrived. But he seemed to… maybe think differently?

“Hey, Rook,” Neve said, falling into step beside her. “I can’t help but notice you rely pretty heavily on your staff attack.”

Naimeryn tightened her grip on the offending weapon. “Oh, uh, do I?”

“You *know* you do,” Neve frowned. “Are you more comfortable with your mageknife and orb? Why don’t you use them instead?”

“Oooooh, no,” Naimeryn laughed. “You do *not* want me brandishing this thing around.”

She patted it where it sat on her hip nervously. “This is mostly just for looks. I promise, I’m *way worse* at magic with this.”

“I didn’t say you were *bad* at ma— Rook, you’re about to—!”

Before Naimeryn could turn back away from Neve to look where she was going, she found herself tumbling down another slide made of sand. Blight and damnation, why would the Venatori build their prison in a ruin like this??? She skittered to a halt just before falling off yet another ledge. She started to sit up, then ducked to avoid a spell hurtled at her from the Venatori guards below.

“Hey!” She yelled down at them, throwing herself off the ledge and tossing magic of her own onto their heads to break her fall. All three screamed as the blast threw them all off the edges of the platform they’d been standing on.

“Serves you right for not even giving a girl a chance to get back on her feet,” she snapped to no one in particular.

“You can’t deny *that* was impressive,” she heard Lucanis say to Neve, and she flushed at the praise. No one had *ever* called her impressive before. At anything.

No, wait. Antoine had called her plan to save the village impressive. Why did this feel different?

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Neve replied drily, inspecting the ledge above for an easier way down to where Naimeryn stood.

“Oh, I’ve got you!” Naimeryn called up, waving her staff at a crumbled pile of what had once been a tall pillar. She floated the pieces over to Neve to create a suspended temporary staircase.

“Thank you,” Neve said, beginning to descend, “but I could have jumped.”

“I didn’t mean to imply I thought you couldn’t,” Naimeryn said nervously. Had she offended her? “It’s just, earlier when we had to, it seemed like it hurt? So I didn’t want you to have to do it again.”

“You really *are* sweet,” Neve chuckled.

“I just… uh…” *Damn it, Naimeryn, get it together.* Why did she have to be so awkward with Neve? All she’d done since they got to Antiva was make a fool of herself. “I’m used to just doing… practical stuff. To help out, you know? It’s just a… reflex. Um. Anyway.”

She was keenly aware of Lucanis studying her curiously. Just great. An amazingly talented, drop dead gorgeous, unbelievably smart mage she was growing to immensely look up to, and an incredibly attractive, clearly competent, used-to-taking-out-much-more-powerful-than-her mages, *man.* These were the people she was falling, stumbling, stammering, relying-on-her-basic-staff-attack in front of. Very confidence inspiring. Excellent leader material.

…

He was too strong. Even with Spite seemingly intent on helping, Lucanis couldn’t get close enough to Calivan to hit him. Any time Neve got close, he would blast her back and summon another demon to block her path. The Venatori guard grabbed her staff, and Naimeryn punched him in the nose, quickly bringing her attention back to Calivan. Maybe if she could do something to distract him, Lucanis could take his shot. She ducked under the sweep of another guard’s scythe, surveying the room for a second time.

Calivan’s desk was on a raised platform behind him, accessible by a curving staircase to either side. If she could drop down from above, pull his attention away from the other two… yes, that could work.

Naimeryn swung her staff, catching the guard she’d punched in the side of the head. He went down like a ton of bricks. The one with the scythe swung at her again, and she narrowly managed to parry, the blow sending vibrations up her arm. She planted her staff and pushed off the ground, swinging around it to plant both of her feet into his chest. He fell, and she sent a blast of magic from her hand into his face, rendering him unconscious as well. She leapt to her feet and ran, dodging ranged attacks from demons and wraiths, climbing the stairs two at a time. Just as she reached the top, she saw Calivan pivot, drawing closer to the side she was on. Rather than getting to his desk and jumping from there, Naimeryn readied her staff and leapt down towards him.

Calivan spun, a wicked smile cracking his face. He reached up and caught her, throat first, knocking the wind out of her and sending such pain through her spine as she was jarred to a stop that she saw stars.

“An incompetent mage,” Calivan sneered into her face as he pulled her in close, his fingers crushing her throat even as hers fought to loosen them. Out of the corner of her good eye, she could see Neve trying to get past the demon he’d summoned, fighting to get to her. “Zara will have *such* fun with *you.*”

“Nah,” Naimeryn wheezed, “I may be incompetent… but I’m *resourceful*.”

She quickly pulled her mage knife out of her belt and thrust it as hard as she could manage into his side. With a gasp, he dropped her, and they both crumpled to the ground. The demons he’d summoned disappeared. Naimeryn coughed and rubbed her neck as Lucanis stepped into her line of sight to stand over Calivan.

…

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to use this?” Lucanis asked, wrenching her mageknife free and wiping the blood on Calivan’s clothes for her.

“Not for *magical* things,” she said hoarsely, accepting it as he flipped the hilt towards her. “I know which end to stab people with; I’m not a *complete* idiot.”

“Maybe try convincing him of that when you haven’t just thrown yourself into close quarters with a powerful blood mage,” Neve shook her head. “That was reckless, Rook.”

“We needed an opening,” Naimeryn frowned. “I got us an opening.”

Neve gave her a hard look and curled two fingers under her chin, making her tilt her head back. She squirmed under the scrutiny.

“Really, I’ll be all right,” she insisted, giving Neve’s shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve faced down worse bullies than *him.*”

Yay! Either 11 or 18 for the prompts, if you like 😊

Ooooh I likey! 11: Rook is recognized for an accomplishment. This is off the cuff so forgive me if it’s a little rough!

——————————————————————————

“Rook will be making breakfast this morning!” Bellara beamed, giving a little hop of excitement. Naimeryn smiled nervously at the team, feeling absolutely foolish.

“So, eggs?” Harding smirked.

“*No*,” Naimeryn snapped, but Neve and Harding snickered.

“I’m missing something,” Taash crossed their arms over their chest.

“Rook does not cook,” Lucanis said gently, giving her an encouraging smile that made her heart do a summersault. “When I first arrived, the only thing she knew how to make was eggs. But Bellara has been teaching her some things.”

“Ah, excellent!” Emmrich clapped his hands together. “It is ever so important to always be open to learning new things!”

“I… don’t want anyone getting their hopes up too high,” Naimeryn said nervously. “Bellara is an excellent teacher, but I’m still learning.”

“If I die, I promise I’m going to haunt you,” Davrin said skeptically.

“I’ll withhold the poison then,” Lucanis said smoothly, “as I could not live with myself having subjected her to *that.*”

A chorus of laughter and Davrin’s good-natured protests filled the dining hall.

“Come on,” Bellara nudged her into the kitchen. You’ve got this!”

Under Bellara’s watchful eye, Naimeryn whisked and fried and flipped and sizzled. She was nervous — only Bellara had eaten her food thus far, and the thought of the whole team trying it was… admittedly terrifying. But the last batch had been pretty good, and bacon was much easier than she’d believed. She took a deep breath as she pulled the last pancakes off the griddle, and Bellara brought the syrup they’d bought in Arlathan to the table.

“Pancakes?!” She heard Neve cry immediately. “Did you actually teach her to make pancakes?”

“And bacon,” Naimeryn affirmed, turning to the table with a plate of each in her hands. “I made some crispier and some less so, so hopefully everyone has it how they like it.”

Naimeryn and Bellara served the rest of the team, then Naimeryn took her usual seat at the head of the table. Bellara, her plate in hand, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she sat to her left.

“*Rook!*” Harding spoke first, her eyes wide.

“Is it okay?” Naimeryn asked nervously, twisting her hands in her lap. She thought she might be sick.

“I’ve never had pancakes before,” Taash said, “but these are really, really good!”

“Really?” Naimeryn perked.

“You done did good,” Davrin nodded, shoveling a whole pancake into his mouth in one bite. Naimeryn didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him.

“I’m proud of you, Rook,” Neve said, taking a bite of bacon and smirking at her. “Your hard work really has paid off.”

“Not burnt, or stuck, or the wrong consistency,” Lucanis smirked. “You’ve truly come a long way.”

Naimeryn’s face burned. “I’m no *you.*”

“So, ah, is this gonna be a regular thing?” Taash wanted to know, holding up their empty plate. “‘Cos I want more. Please.”

As everyone began to laugh again, Naimeryn brought Taash her plate. “I’ll make myself more,” she smiled at the Qunari. “Apparently I can do that, now.”

——————————————————————————

I hope you guys enjoy! Guess we’ll call this snippet… 33? ;)

[yourinaudiblename]

I’ve become afraid of death. which is actually improvement for someone who was suicidal but also. scary :(

this is all your faults /pos /pos /pos-

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[crazyw3irdo]

id like the many many people who said my romeo & juliet uquiz reminded them of in stars and time to know i started playing it and hell fuckin yeah

[chibi-scone]

It’s been said before and the fact that I’m an Izzy simp aside like having a character who survives the most certain death shit ever (shooting himself in the head at point blank) and literally being nicknamed by another character “indestructible” and then become a symbol of protection for a whole group of people die from a fucking bullet to the side that was established in universe to have no vital organs in order to “atone for his sins” or however you wanna spin it and have him say he wants to go after (see point one) literally trying to kill himself in the show that is literally about growth and betterment of the self in a cruel world that wants you dead and where the main (and mostly queer) characters survive the most batshit insane injuries is like COSMICALLY stupid writing like I don’t even understand how you get there and the fact that it’s supposed to be a kind/ happy/meaningful ending is beyond me

[soobvape]

heol

[blood-ology]

Girl help i can’t stop thinking of ideas for drag looks / performances now that I’ve done it once?? it was supposed to be a one time thing but I’m losing it over these ideas 😭