#none of the songs really bring out the beauty of his voice

[cosmicdreamgrl]

well. that was........everything i expected and yet i'm still massively disappointed

[tomsparkyr]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: y/n is on her world tour and sings a surprise song that might be dedicated to someone …

oscar piastri x fem!reader

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You paced around backstage, twirling your hair with your fingers and going over every step and lyric in your head. Despite it being your 48th show on your world tour, this one felt more intense, more pressuring, purely because you knew he was in the crowd.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a light tap on your shoulder, causing you to snap your head around to the perpetrator.

Oscar Piastri’s wide smile adorned his face and caused a familiar feeling of butterflies to swarm your stomach; reaching your arms up and wrapping them around Ocsar’s shoulders.

He quickly caught into your embrace and cradled the back of your head, kissing your temple. “You’ll do great, I know you will.” He whispered, his free hand running down the embroidered bodysuit that hugged your figure. His brow raised at the beautiful sight of you and couldn’t wait to take the outfit back home.

You heard the crew call your name so you backed away from your boyfriend, “I’ll see you after, I love you.” He bumped his nose with yours, “I love you too.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips and sighed into you, your hands reaching into his hair. You pulled back, “Ok, Osc I really have to go.” He pulled you back in by your waist.

“They can wait.” He mumbled, “They’ve paid and sat in this boiling weather to see me, you see me every day, Osc!” You laughed as he reluctantly let go, “I’ll bring the orange bodysuit home if you let me go now.” He quickly dropped his hands off your waist and skipped back to his VIP tent, hearing your laughter as he disappeared further from you.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rumour spread pretty quickly that a Formula 1 Driver was spotted in the VIP tent of your concert. But fans didn’t think much of it, rather traded friendship bracelets with him and took blurry, grainy photos of him for fan pages.

However, fan’s perception changed as you sat down in front of your piano for the surprise songs.

“Hello Sydney!” You laughed into the microphone, hearing the Aussie crowd erupt in cheers and hollers at the song of their hometown. “I hope you’re all enjoying the show!” The reaction from the crowd was enough to tell you that they seemed to be more than happy with it.

You cleared your throat, taking a subtle glance to the VIP tent as you saw a bright orange cap catch your attention. You smiled at his direction, knowing his would return it despite you not being able to see his face.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Sydney…” You couldn’t help your broad smile lighten up your face at the screams from fans at the barricade.

“The song I’m going to play you is one I haven’t done before… it’s one of my favourites and it means the a lot to me and …others.”

The crowd got impossibly louder, “Here we go…” You adjusted the microphone and looked down at the piano, smiling to yourself and you played the first notes.

None of the fans had clocked onto which song you were playing yet, which made it much more enjoyable for you; taking a deep breath as you sang the first lyric.

“My love was a cruel as the cities I lived in”

Fans began screaming and so many flashes of people filming appeared, people crying and jumping up and down at the song choice.

“I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you”

Your red cheeks and genuine smile was pure and making the fans go wild.

Oscar stood in the VIP tent with a smile and blushing cheeks, swaying to your voice knowing he wrote this song with you. He mouthed the lyrics in time with you and looked at you with heart eyes; a pure look of raw, scream-it-from-the-rooftops love.

“I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight”

You peered over to the VIP tent and saw his orange cap moving along to the beat, the same colour matching the dress that covered your shoulders as of now.

It took the fans a moment for them to realise what was going on, connecting the dots; the love song, the interview, the colour of your dress, the colour Oscar Piastri sports, why Oscar was there, the blush on both of your cheeks.

Holy shit. Y/N Y/L/N and Oscar Piastri were in love.

“I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden”

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yourusername all the love songs were about u, my lover🧡

tagged: oscarpiastri

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[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[iliketangerines]

I don't know if you had written one already or not but can you do one where Bihan realizes that he has feelings for a female reader that is an earthrealm champion and Kuai Liang encourages him to ask the reader out on a date?

it's a date

a/n: um, not proofread

pairing: bi han x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Bi Han avoids trying to stare at you from across the training fields, trying to mind his own business on training the champions

but every single time he finds his gaze drifting back to you, simply observing the champions as you fidget with the instrument in your hands

he knows who you are, has trained with you even, and he clenches his jaw, bringing his gaze away from you once again to focus on the scene in front of you

you’re simply a mentor here at the Fire Temple, nothing more, nothing less, a disciple of Liu Kang’s, and Bi Han should feel nothing for you, not a single thing

he looks ahead at Kung Lao’s form, a muscle straining in his jaw as he stares at the preposterous form, and he still wasn’t over the fact that the man had thrown a chakra at him

a simple farmer would not be the end of him, but the fact that Kung Lao even had the gall to think he could kill a Lin Kuei was insulting

before Bi Han can even open his mouth, you’re by Kung Lao’s side, using your flute as a device to help the farmer correct his posture

Kung Lao gives you a smirk, thanking in a low gravely voice that Bi Han knows is not his regular one, and you give the farmer a polite smile and walk back to your spot

you barely brush by Bi Han, the long flowing robes of your hanfu just barely drifting across Bi Han’s arms, and yet it sends a chill down his spine that no ice ever would

Bi Han snaps his eyes away from you once again, having found himself staring at your backside and only when your eyes meet his does he realize that he’s staring you again

unfortunately, when he turns back, he finds Kung Lao and Raiden staring at you as well, and he barks at them to continue practicing their stances

they clear their throats and go back to focusing on their own routines, but he catches every single glance they throw towards you

he wishes that he could go to another training field so that you could be away from prying eyes, but Tomas was training with the other two champions while Kuai Liang discussed Lin Kuei matters with Liu Kang

and well, going to the other training field meant that you would be out of Bi Han’s sight, and as much as he disliked Kung Lao and Raiden beng in your sights, he disliked the idea of not seeing you at all

training seems to pass by slowly for Bi Han, gritting out orders to the two farmers, getting them to stop looking at you in the corner, getting himself to stop looking at you as well

Bi Han doesn’t really know why you’ve decided this training field as your spot to perch today, but he finds out soon enough when he hears a flute start to play

he turns his head around and finds you, your plush lips pressed to the smooth wood, your eyes focused on a spot near the border of the training field, and the clean beautiful sound of a song plays from you

it doesn’t take long when a family of cats pokes their head out of the bushwork, staring at you and chirping happily, rushing towards you

one mother cat, several smaller kittens follow behind dutifully, and all of them gather around you, piling into your lap and around your body

irrationally, Bi Han feels jealous, that he should be the one resting in your lap, that he should be the one sitting next to you and pressing into you for warmth

he knows that these feelings are ridiculous, and he clears his throat and turns his gaze back to Kung Lao and Raiden on the training fields

they’ve disappeared, and Bi Han whips his head around to find them sitting next to you, playing with the kittens as the mother cat sleeps peacefully in your lap

your soft hand pets the soft fur gently and watch and guide Kung Lao and Raiden gently how to play with the kittens

Bi Han stalks over, gaze focused on you, ice gathering on his hands because the two of them should be focused on training and you shouldn’t even be here, let alone distracting the two of them

and somehow all of his ice melts away when you look up at him with a gentle smile and scoop up one of the small kittens in your hands, placing your flute off to the side

you hand him the small kitten and before Bi Han can disagree, the small kitten launches themselves at the assassin and Bi Han naturally cradles the small fluffy thing in his cold hands

it only curls into his palms, purring loudly at the chill in the heat of the day, and you laugh, a sound that he swears comes from the heavens themselves, and say that that small kitten particularly likes him

Bi Han grunts out that the two of them should go back to training, and you only smile at him, only a few seconds later, the bell signaling lunch ringing into the air

Kung Lao perks up immediately, standing up and grabbing onto Raiden’s hands, waving the two of you goodbye as Kung Lao drags Raiden off to lunch, leaving Bi Han alone with you

you stand up slowly, picking up the mother cat, and she doesn’t seem to care, opening her eyes only slightly to let you perch her up and around your shoulders and neck and then closing them again as you lean down and pick up the rest of the kitten into your arms

he still holds the singular one in his hands, but it’s squirmed and clawed its way to perch on Bi Han’s shoulder, leaning its soft body into the side of his neck

and yet, he makes no move to remove the small offending thing, relishing in the soft smile and giggle you give him, saying that the look suited him before you start walking off to lunch

something possesses Bi Han, and so he follows you to the lunch room, kitten on his shoulders, and he almost snorts at the irony that he’s following you like a lost puppy

Bi Han enters the lunch room, immediately catching how Kuai Liang and Tomas stare at him wide-eyed, almost bewildered by the sight of him holding something so precious and gentle and soft and useless on his shoulder

so desperately does he want to sit next to you, to bathe in the rest of your warmth and to talk with you or to simply just be near you

but he must discuss proceedings with his brothers, must talk to Liu Kang about future trainings, the future of Earthrealm-

you snap him out of his thoughts when you ask him to hold your tray of food for you, it’s a bit difficult with all the kittens in your arms

an agreement flies from his mouth before he can even process when he’s thinking, and you give him a sweet smile and thank him, heat blooming across his face

the kitten on his shoulder gives him no trouble as he grabs two trays of food, only meowing loudly in his ear as the kittens in your arms watch with wide eyes at the trays of food

finally, you sit down at one of the tables, near Liu Kang, and the kittens clamber off of you to go and crowd the Fire God, meowing at him loudly and curling up into his heat

only the mother cat stays with you, but you don’t seem to mind as your hands finally grab onto your chopsticks, and you thank Bi Han for helping you

he only grunts, white-knuckling his tray and walks over to his brothers to discuss with them what had happened today

Bi Han sits down, setting his tray down perhaps a little too loudly and a little too uncharacteristically, but he ignores the glances from his brothers and starts talking about business, picking up his chopsticks and picking at the food on his plate

Tomas does not answer when Bi Han asks how training with the actor and the swordsman had gone, eyes slightly too wide and mouth parted as he stares at the kitten on Bi Han’s shoulder

Kuai Liang says it first, asking how you had convinced him to carry a kitten with him, and he says that he did not want the kitten to be with him

the distinct lack of moving the purring little thing on his shoulder seems to disprove his argument, less so when it meows in his ear and Bi Han grabs onto the cooked chicken in his hands and tears a strip a piece of it off and feeds it to the small kitten

Tomas is the next one to say that Bi Han had helped you with your food because you had encumbered yourself

Bi Han says that you needed help and so he helped, and Tomas nearly chokes on his food, never did Bi Han help people who had put themselves into those sort of situations

Kuai Liang pats at Tomas’s back and takes a second to respond, one brow raising, glances between Bi Han and the kitten

and then a smirk spreads across his face as he points at Bi Han, saying that the eldest brother liked you

the grandmaster has to stop himself from leaping across the table and strangling Kuai Liang as he feeds the kitten another strip of chicken

he denies that he liked you, practically growling and glaring at his brother, resisting the urge to kick at Kuai Liang’s shin

it only urges the second brother in his excitement, voice raising as he exclaimed that the Lin Kuei grandmaster did liked you

Bi Han ends up kicking Kuai Liang in the shin anyway, and the second eldest grunts and glares at Bi Han, who only glares back at him

clearing his throat, the grandmaster says that he does not like you, that even if he did, that you would not even accept him

Kuai Liang practically jumps up and out of his seat, saying that you most definitely liked the grandmaster back, why else would you entrust him with a kitten and your food

Bi Han only waves off his brother, finally feeding himself as the kitten settles down on his shoulder and starts to drift off to sleep

Tomas picks up the conversation, saying that he should try anyway, maybe it could lead to something more, an opportunity at some point

opportunity, it was something that the Lin Kuei never capitalized on, and Bi Han restrained himself from visibly perking up at the idea of finally taking an opportunity, even if it was something a bit more selfish

Kuai Liang blinks at Bi Han, his lips curling up into a smile, and he leans across the table, saying that he should ask you out soon, perhaps even today, so that he could see you again, something about returning the kitten

Bi Han clears his throat, switching the conversation back to business about the Lin Kuei and trainings

he thinks about it for the rest of the day, the kitten surprisingly docile and low-energy, opting to spend most of its time napping on Bi Han’s shoulder as he trained the actor and the swordsman in the other training field

unfortunately, you had not followed, but he had felt your eyes on his back as he disappeared from the dining halls

it was only when Bi Han arrived back at his room that the kitten hopped off his shoulder and began exploring, pouncing about every corner of the room

the grandmaster simply ignored the small skittering cat on his floor, opting to change into his sleep robe and get ready for bed

as he brushes his hair, Bi Han hears a knock on his door, soft and gentle, and he has to refrain himself from yelling at the person on the other side of the door to leave

opening the door, his stern expression drops at the sight of you, dressed in a thin nightgown and holding the mother cat in your arms

you smile up at him, peering around his shoulders into the room and perking up at the sight of the kitten in his room roaming around

Bi Han almost misses you asking if you could have the kitten back, that the mama cat had grown quite antsy without one of her children, and the grandmaster has to clear his throat and pretend he wasn’t admiring how the moonlight curved around the features of your face

he says that he can and scoops the kitten into his palm, a slight pang in his heart as he hands the kitten over to you

you thank him, bowing your head slightly, but before you can leave, Bi Han calls for you to wait, heat spreading through his body once more

it was strange, the heat instead of the cold that consumed him, but at the same time, it was addicting, the sight of you staring at him with wide eyes, the soft lilt of your voice as you asked what else he needed

Bi Han clears his throat, looking off to the side just briefly, a thrumming in his chest that he hadn’t felt since he was a small child, and he asks if he could see you again tomorrow, to see the kitten he had all day

a smile falls onto your lips, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you say that of course he can, that he can meet you in the same training field just right before lunch and that it’s a date

whatever was happening in Bi Han’s brain short circuit at your words, unable to say much more as he watches you turn around, the sight of your back disappearing around the corner

he drags a hand over his face, sighing into his palm, asking himself what sort of fool he had become for you

and yet, the feeling of heat and something more than just training regiments and fighting thrills him, has him chasing for more than just his usual life

a date indeed

[luvh4nji]

𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 + 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

warnings: none that i can think of :-)

seonghwa ; he's the type to protect you. he always keeps a hand of the small of your back, walking slightly behind you so he can lead you away from anything he considers to be too dangerous. he's the type to make you walk on the inside of the sidewalk to keep you away from the road when you go out, he's the type to make you ask him to cut stuff for you when you're cooking because he gets nervous when you're around the sharp knives, he's the type to brush your hair out of your face when your working, bringing you cut up fruit and telling you how good you're doing. he just wants to take care of you and make you feel safe and, honestly, it would be a little annoying if it wasn't him. he's just so honest and earnest in everything he does, you can't help the way it makes you heart flutter <3

hongjoong ; he makes time for you. it may not seem like much, but he's such a busy guy, it means the world. he always lets you sit in with him in the studio while he's working, asking you to pull up a chair and giving you his headphones so you can listen to the song, always asking for your honest opinion of his work. and he never raises his voice at you. his job can be exceedingly stressful and he never wants to put that on you, so he always treats you with so much care. "come over here, babe, i got something for you to listen to." side note; he definitely writes songs for you <3

yunho ; he likes to surprise you with kisses. he's the type to keep his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to give you little pecks all over your face whenever he gets the chance. and he can never just give you one, he always has to lean back in for more. "i can't help it, baby, you're just so sweet." he'd tease, ruffling your hair when you giggle against his lips, half-heartedly asking him to stop. he's definitely the type to turn his head when you lean in to kiss him on the cheek, grinning into the kiss <3

yeosang ; he's the type to notice the little things. he always compliments you on your nails or your hair, telling you you look gorgeous in that new dress you bought. and he notices your mood, as well, he's become so attuned to how you're feeling. "what's got you so happy, hmm?" he'd asks when he sees you jumping into his apartment, wrapping you up in his arms and leaving a kiss on your forehead while you tell him about your day. and he'd know when you're not feeling so good, too, smoothing down your hair and pressing you close to his chest while he asks you what's wrong.

san ; he's the type to hype you up constantly. he never gives you the chance to feel insecure, because he's always complimenting you. he casually calls you beautiful and gorgeous and pretty - perhaps the prettiest person in the whole world. and he's always all over you; there's never a moment when he doesn't have his hands on you or he's not touching you in some way. and he loves to give you kisses, he's always trying to plant one on you, giving you little nips between kisses.

mingi ; he always listens to you. it was one of the things that you made you fall for him; he always pays attention to you when you talk, even when no one else does. when people start talking over you while you're telling a story, he notices how discouraged you get and leans closer to you, urging you to continue, giving you his full and undivided attention. he loves seeing how comfortable you get around him, he loves knowing that he can be somebody you rely on, even if it's just to give you some attention <3

wooyoung ; the type to use a soft voice around you. he knows that he can get loud and he knows that it can get overwhelming and all he really wants to do is make you comfortable. he wants to a safe place for you to feel safe and secure, so he always speaks to you softly. he talks to loud to the boys, but the second he comes home and sees you, he gives you that lovestruck expression, looking at you with a reverence you've never seen on him.

jongho ; the type to follow you around. jongho seems like the type to be very firm in his decisions and himself in general, but he becomes such a softy when it comes to you. he wants to be able to lift you up and make you feel as supported as you make him feel, so he'll do whatever you tell him to do, really. you want him to go get you something from the convenience store in the middle of the night? he's on it. you want him to come help you and keep you company while you study for a big exam? he's there. you need someone to rant to after a long day of work, not even necessarily to ask for advice, but just to listen? you don't even have to ask, he's already on his way.

[stargirlinterludefr]

ENOUGH FOR YOU: former rafe cameron x reader, jj maybank x reader (part 2 of this)

Based off of the song enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: All you ever wanted was to be enough for Rafe but you realise he could never accept that, someone else can love you the way you deserve though.

TW: mentions of a previous toxic relationship, mentions of drug usage (cocaine), emotional manipulation, angst, fluff, addiction, Rafe being a dick, JJ being his loving self, happy ending (for the reader.)

Word count: Around 3,400

Notes: I’m not as fond as this one but I promised part two and I shall deliver!

I wore makeup when we dated

'Cause I thought you'd like me more

If I looked like the other prom queens

I know that you loved before

The month after you’re split from Rafe was a blur, while you’d felt more freer than you had in over a year you still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt on your shoulders for a reason you couldn’t quite deduce.

However, falling back into stride with the pogues had made things one million times easier. They were like a warm blanket waiting for you after a long day, ready to wrap you up and protect you from the cold. The cold being Rafe.

None of them realised the deep extent to his manipulation of you, the way he’d twisted you into someone so unrecognisable and fragile had them feeling devastatingly remorseful.

Particular everyday instances is where Rafe really shines through in your actions, and the thought had JJ feeling nauseous.

Both you and the Maybank boy are sat on the dock at the Chateau, your legs dangling from the side of the wood as he watches you, his eyes catching onto the hints of makeup lingering on your skin.

“Why’re you wearin’ makeup, mama? It’s like fifty degrees out.” The boy states, his voice airy and joking but it makes your stomach drop slightly as you shrug.

“Force of habit, I guess.” You mumble with a small smile, bringing your knees to your chest as you lay your chin on them.

JJ ponders for a moment, quelling over his previous question and what he would say next to ensure he wouldn’t say the wrong thing. Before Rafe, you hardly wore makeup, you’d wear a small amount sure but it was rarely noticeable and JJ had always thought you looked so entrancing without it but when Rafe cooped you up in his little toxic nest…he doesn’t think he’s seen you go without.

“You know you don’t need it, right? You’re like, the most beautiful girl on the island.” He states, gently nudging your shoulder so you’d look at him “Don’t be tellin’ Kie I said that, she’ll be gettin’ all jealous.” The boy jokes and you give him a gentle smile to which he returns immediately.

Tried so hard to be everything that you liked

Just for you to say you're not the compliment type

One week into your breakup had you looking through old text messages, while you know you shouldn’t, something about looking upon the way Rafe treated you when you were no longer under his thumb gave you a entirely new perspective.

A specific chain of messages has you slowing your scrolling to intently read them.

You: *attached one image*

You: what do you think of this new dress I got?

You let out a scoff at the sight of the dress, mind whirring now at how kooky it looked fitted onto your figure.

Rafe: it’s a dress?

You: that’s it??

Rafe: idk what u expect i don’t do compliments babe

Letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, you place your phone down and stare up at the ceiling of John B’s bedroom.

You remembered wearing that dress to a party the night after showing him it, feeling completely out of place, like a prized calf dressed up for auction.

And he’d still never complimented you, even when you looked like his picture perfect type.

And I knew how you took your coffee

And your favorite songs by heart

I read all of your self-help books

So you'd think that I was smart

Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave

Officially going out into the outer banks after the breakup took additional encouragement from your friends, you’d been to and from homes but you’d not dared to venture into the town.

Somehow, Pope and Kiara had convinced you to accompany them to a cafe near figure eight as they had quote on quote ‘the best coffee on the island’

You hadn’t considered that you might run the risk of falling into old habits as soon as you walked through the doors.

“What’re you guys fancying?” Kiara quotes in a mock english accent, Pope rolling his eyes at the girl as you snort.

“I’m fancying the idea that you never do that again.” Pope quirks back, earning a frown from Kiara who sarcastically placed her hand to her chest.

“Come on guys, it’s on me.” She notes, looking up at the board of differing coffees as you reply.

“Uh, just a black coffee for me.” You say absentmindedly, swinging on your heels, both Pope and Kie’s heads turning to you making you laugh nervously.

“What? Have my tits fallen out or something? Why’re you looking at me like I just committed a hate crime?” You blurt, eyes darting between them both as Kiara’s face twists slightly.

“You hate black coffee.” She says, ensuring to pronunciation the word ‘hate.’

Pope nods in agreement before adding to her statement, “Yeah, I mean, John B and JJ gave you it as a joke once just after you’d woken up and you literally threw the mug at their heads.”

You look to the floor, picking on the skin of your arm slightly as you shrug and before you can even come up with a lie to explain why you’d had a change of heart toward the drink Kiara speaks up again.

“It’s not you that likes it, is it? It’s Rafe.” You don’t notice the way she and Pope lock eyes, a look of pure anger washing over the Heyward boys face.

You feel stupid, stood there ordering Rafe’s order for yourself, if he were here he’d attempt to joke that you were obsessive and proceed to call you emotional when you had the reaction you were having now.

“Screw that asshole, we’re getting you a…Caramel Cappuccino!” She exclaims, linking her arm with yours as she looks up at the board, “And then we’re going to torch everything you still have of Rafe’s.”

You don’t bother to protest with her, a small grateful smile making its way to your lips.

You found someone more exciting

The next second, you were gone

And you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong

And you always say I'm never satisfied

But I don't think that's true

'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

And all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

Your phone is blowing up again, a loud groan sounding from beside you as you stare down at the device.

“Is that Rafe again?” JJ grumbled, gesturing for you to show him what Rafe is sending but you hand him your phone instead, the boy immediately begins to shake his head as he reads the chain of messages your ex has sent.

“Can the dude not get a hint?” He mutters, eyes flicking to you as your head falls back onto the sofa.

You zone out for a few moments but your brought back by the sound of JJ’s loud scoff, he’d clearly been reading more of the end laugh gif messages Rafe loved to leave you daily.

“The fuck does he mean you’re never satisfied with what he gave you? That asshole never did shit apart from manipulate and-“ Before he can finish, you’re gently taking the phone from his hold and placing it beside you as you look back to him.

“And that’s what he’s still tryna do, Jay, he says I’m never satisfied but like did he see the amount of chicks he was flirting with at parties? And he has the audacity to say I’m never satisfied?” You ramble, letting out a scoff at the end as JJ stares at you intently and you wait for a moment, for him to interrupt…to tell you to stop yapping, to stop being annoying but he never does so you continue.

And maybe I'm just not as interesting

As the girls you had before

But God, you couldn't have cared less

About someone who loved you more

I'd say you broke my heart

But you broke much more than that

Now I don't want your sympathy

I just want myself back

Walking through figure eight without Rafe feels like an out of body experience for you, as though it wasn’t plausible to actually be without him around here.

Sarah, Cleo and Kiara walk alongside you. The four of you on a small venture to Sarah’s home to get some of her clothes as you’d planned an all girls sleepover at Kiara’s home, allowing the boys to run rampage at the Chateau.

Plus, the girls had been dying to do so ever since you’d officially rekindled with them.

What they didn’t want to do, was to put you through the trauma of seeing Rafe but you’d assured them you were fine going to Tannyhill as long as you were surrounded by them and Sarah had assured you that Rafe was out. He apparently hadn’t been home often since your split.

As you walk through the gate at the front of the mansion, you feel your body riddle itself with anxiety almost immediately making you swallow harshly.

“You okay, girl?” Cleo asks, grasping your hand in her own as Sarah and Kie come to a stop infront of you.

“Yeah I’m good, I just…” you trail off, eyes floating toward Sarah who smiles in understanding.

“You don’t have to come in, me and Kie can just run inside and grab a few things.” She says softly, eyes achingly kind and your mind whirrs back to the conversation you’d had outside of Tannyhill only a few months prior.

You shake you head, “It’s okay, I can just-“ You cut yourself off as your eyes trail upward and to the all too familiar balcony at the front of the mansion where your eyes catch onto a figure.

Rafe is watching the four of your intently, his eyes primarily on you as you freeze up once more with all three girls following your eyeline to spot the Cameron boy.

As expeceted, Sarah is immediately full of apologies.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise he’d be here.” She whispers quickly and you can’t bring yourself to respond, feeling like you’re deep rooted into your spot on the driveway.

Kiara eyes are furious as they look up at your ex, her fist clenching and unclenching as she cocks her head almost challenging him to even acknowledge you.

“That motherfucker better stay where he is or I’ll gut him like a fish.” Cleo states lowly, bringing herself to stand in front of you slightly as Rafe continues to stare.

You snap your gaze away from him, eyes flitting to Sarah who is looking at you with a mass amount of guilt.

“On second thought, I think I’ll stay out here.” You mumble, attempting to have a teasing tone but your voice comes out shaky and vulnerable causing you to curse yourself silently.

Rafe had basically turned you into a frightened child, trembling in her boots at just the sight of him.

“Okay, we’ll be right out.” She says softly, grabbing Kiara’s hand and running inside leaving Cleo to stand infront of you protectively.

“If he even dares to leave that house…” She grumbles, left hand now donning her iconic pocket knife she carried no matter where she went.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you slowly withdraw it, knowing exactly who’s messaged you as your eyes scan the text and then dart to where the man himself stands as you slowly hand Cleo the phone so she could read it herself.

“I don’t want your fucking sympathy!” You shout out, voice holding a slight tremble as you stare up at him in fury, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Rafe: I never meant for you to be afraid to be around me

Rafe: plz come in so we can talk.

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Five months after the split and you’d successfully avoided any interactions with Rafe, sure he’d been in close proximity to you but thanks to your friends he didn’t even get the opportunity to utter one single word to you.

Overcoming the small manipulations he’d implanted in your mind was a milestone you were incredibly proud of, coming to your own realisations at how fucked up he was toward you.

You’d observed over the months how he’d been with other women, well not seeing him with them personally but hearing about such notions from either Sarah or Rafe’s friends. You’d heard how easily he used and discarded them and you followed his distinct patterns to yourself.

While you knew he was with you for a significant period of time that didn’t mean he didn’t not use you, you were the picture perfect girlfriend to parade around to parties and to impress his father.

But he discarded you after every event, made you feel like a disappointment.

And he’d pushed you to believe you deserved nothing.

Despite that being a significant factor of your relationship you struggle to heal from, luckily, you have JJ.

JJ had always been obvious with his feelings toward you, he never bothered to hide them before you’d gotten with Rafe but he respected your decision when you did eventually get together with the Cameron boy and he ensured he was primarily your friend after the split.

But with months of pining and being there for you, and you for him, he’d laid his heart on a silver platter for you.

You didn’t realise you’d been falling for him but you weren’t going to deprive him or yourself of the happiness it would both serve to you.

And when you told him? JJ became the happiest man on the planet.

But don't tell me you're sorry, boy

Feel sorry for yourself

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else

You and JJ had decided to take things slow, he didn’t want you to feel pressured or like he wasn’t valuing you by rushing into things (A notion which made you fall for the blonde haired boy even more.)

You’d been dating for around a month now, JJ not being able to wipe the cheesy grin off of his face whenever he was with you and you’d never felt happier.

The two of you were sat at the boneyard, tipsy off of beer and one another’s presence, as JJ holds you onto his chest.

What you had failed to notice, was Rafe making his way to stand before you and at the sight of him your stomach churns violently with nerves.

“So what? You’re fucking Maybank now?” He says loudly, voice hoarse and at the sight of the boy’s appearance you immediately feel sorry for him.

“Get lost Cameron.” JJ says boredly, not bothering to move from his position holding you as he glares up at Rafe.

“Look, I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry! But fucking Maybank is low, I didn’t realise you were so fucking trashy.” Rafe slurs but you don’t find yourself being hurt or even bothered by his words as you simply tilt your head at him.

“Yo! Watch your kook mouth when speaking to my girl!” JJ shouts, voice laced with fury as he goes to rise but you place a hand on his chest to settle him back into place as you snap your head to Rafe.

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies, Rafe, I don’t think it’s me you need to be sorry for.” You state, voice not tethering on anger as you lean into JJ showing your lack of interest toward the Cameron boy. “It’s yourself.”

And they'll think that I am so exciting

You’d heard from Sarah that Rafe had stopped doing cocaine, apparently he’d even gone to a rehab centre on the mainland and you acknowledged that you felt truly happy for him.

But honestly? You couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on the thought of him getting his shit together.

Sure, you cared, a part of you would always hold care for Rafe but you didn’t spend time thinking about the man or what could’ve been if he’d begun healing while you were together or even before.

It’d been 18 months since you’d split from Rafe and you never thought you’d know the happiness that you’d witnessed on John B and Sarah’s faces at that party.

You were wrong, obviously.

You’re walking down the pathway after finishing up work at the small cafe you’d landed a job at in figure eight, Sarah having gotten you the role as it was one of Rose’s friends who owned the business.

JJ was on his was to pick you up, having already told you he’d be slightly delayed as he’d promised to do a small delivery for Pope’s father and you’d assured him you were okay with waiting as he borderline refused to let you walk from figure eight to the cut. The journey being around an hour and he didn’t want his girl getting overheated.

You’re not paying attention as you walk, eyes trained on your phone as you message on the Pogues group chat and due to your distraction, you collide into a chest which leaves you grappling to grasp your phone before it falls.

“Oh my god, i’m so sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You exclaim, blowing out a breath as you look at the person who you’d walked into and your eyes widen slightly at the sight.

Rafe.

Yet, he didn’t look like the Rafe you remembered.

The boy had shaved his head of hair away, now donning a buzz cut and the usual blown pupils that looked upon you in the past were now a normal sizing as he smiles down at you, nervously.

“It’s all good, y/n.” He says softly, not protesting when you take a step backward. “H-how have you been?”

You nod and shrug awkwardly at the same time, “Good, really good actually.”

Rafe smiles, “I’m glad to hear.”

“And you?” You ask, shoving your hands into your shorts that weren’t actually yours but JJ’s.

“I’m getting there, I’m uh three months clean now.” He notes and you feel yourself smile at the mention, not noticing the way his gaze seems to light up at the sight of your smile.

“That’s good, I’m happy for you.” You state, eyes genuine and sincere as you look up at him.

“I know it’s not my business but, how are you and Maybank doing? You guys still together?” He inquires and you want to snap at him for asking but you instead smile wider at the mention of JJ, happy you get to talk about your love.

“Yeah we are, we’ve actually just got our own place together.” You say softly, now fiddling with the promise ring JJ had given you which was placed perfectly on your right hand.

Rafe eyes watch your movements and while you don’t see the regret in his gaze, he feels it immensely.

The boy opens his mouth to respond but the sound of a motorbike whirring has the both of you turning to the source. At the sight of a familiar red bike drawing nearer, you grin.

“That’s Jay.” You mumble to yourself, turning back to Rafe as you smile at him once more, “It was good to see you, I’m real glad you’re doing better.” And while you know it sounds rushed, you can’t bring yourself to care as you turn away and walk down the pathway to where JJ had pulled up.

When you were with Rafe, you’d be expected to just hop onto the bike with no greeting as he’d impatiently tap his fingers on the handles. But JJ isn’t Rafe, not even close.

The blonde haired boy immediately stands off of his bike, propping it up and jogging toward you as he scoops you into his arms to spin you around causing you to squeal in delight.

Rafe watches the interaction, the pure bliss on your face similar to nothing he’d ever seen when the two of you were together and while he’d forever consider you to be the loss of his life he couldn’t find himself being bitter you’d found love with JJ.

Rafe didn’t treat you with the love or excitement you deserved but JJ does, and the Maybank boy will ensure he spends the duration of your lives together proving you deserve such happiness.

[rootedinrevisions]

Texas Orange

SUMMARY: Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him.

**This was my first time writing about Glen himself and not one of his characters. I really loved the idea and the song that inspired this fic, however think I may stick to writing his characters instead of him as a person in the future. **

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

The Texas sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape as you and Glen drive through the winding roads of Austin. The truck hums steadily beneath you, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside.

You glance over at Glen, dressed in a black t-shirt with the orange Texas Longhorns symbol emblazoned on the chest, and a white Longhorns baseball cap turned backward on his head. His sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light, and with one hand on the wheel, he holds your hand gently in the other. You glance over at him, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile when he catches you looking at him.

"This is amazing," you say, taking in the sprawling hills and the way the cityscape rises in the distance. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Glen chuckles, his voice low and smooth, the kind of sound that makes you feel instantly at ease. "I still can't believe that. Austin's pretty great. But, I mean, you grew up on the coast, right? Plenty of beauty there too."

You nod, your mind flashing back to memories of ocean breezes and sandy beaches, a world away from the vast, open skies of Texas. "Yeah, but it's different. I've never seen anything quite like this."

He grins, squeezing your hand gently. "You're gonna love it here. Plus, this is only the start. Wait till you see the stadium-it's a whole other world."

You laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubble up inside you. "Speaking of the stadium, I've got to admit something. I've never actually been to a football game before. My family wasn't really into sports growing up."

Glen's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a teasing grin. "You've never been to a game? Well, that changes today. Texas football is like a religion around here. It's something you just have to experience.

"Hopefully I'll fit in okay," you say, half-joking. The thought of stepping into the massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of passionate fans, is both thrilling and a little daunting.

He chuckles, his voice warm with affection. "Don't worry, I'll be right there with you. We'll ease you into it. Plus, my folks are going to be so excited to meet you they're gonna forget about the game, at least for a minute."

The mention of his family makes your stomach flip. This is a big step, meeting his family, even if you've both been keeping things casual. There's a part of you that wonders if this trip is more than just a casual one for Glen.

"What are they like? Your family, I mean," you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Glen's expression softens, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They're great. They'll love you, I promise. My mom might be a little overwhelming at first, but that's just because she cares so much. And my dad, well he's the quiet type, but once you get him talking about anything Texas-related, you won't be able to get him to stop."

You smile at the thought, feeling a bit more at ease. "They sound like a good bunch."

"They are," Glen says, his voice sincere. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

His words bring warmth to your chest, and you squeeze his hand in return. "I hope so."

As the two of you continue to drive further into Austin, Glen gives you a mini tour. He points out a few landmarks - his favorite taco place, the park where he used to hang out with friends, and a music venue where he once saw an incredible show. You listen, soaking in every detail, feeling a sense of connection to this place that Glen clearly loves so much.

"Here we are," Glen says as he pulls into a parking spot near the stadium. The massive structure looms ahead, a sea of burnt orange and white, alive with energy even from a distance.

You take a deep breath, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside you. "This is it, huh?"

"This is it," Glen confirms, turning to you with a smile that melts away any lingering doubts. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, smiling back at him.

As you step out of Glen's truck, you notice that nearly everyone around you is decked out in burnt orange and white. Texas Longhorns hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, all show their pride. The sea of matching colors makes you acutely aware that you're the only one not wearing any team gear.

Glen steps around the truck to join you, noticing the way your eyes scan the crowd. He gives you a playful nudge with his elbow. "Feeling a little out of place?"

You laugh, shrugging slightly. "Just a bit. I think I missed the memo on the dress code."

Without missing a beat, Glen reaches up to the back of his head and pulls off the white Longhorns cap he's been wearing. He turns it around in his hands before stepping closer to you. "Here, you can wear this. Can't have you being the odd one out."

Before you can respond, he's already placing the cap on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts the fit, making sure it sits just right. You tilt your head up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen takes a step back to admire his work, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look great in Orange. Might even say you wear it better than I do."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "You might be biased."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I'm also right."

As you walk towards the section of the parking lot reserved for tailgating, Glen drapes an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. "Tell you what, we'll hit up the merch stand once we're inside. Gotta get you a t-shirt to complete the look."

"You don't have to do that," you start to protest, but Glen shakes his head.

"I want to," he insists, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Consider it part of the full Texas football experience."

You smile up at him, feeling more at ease with every step. "Alright, but only if you help me pick it out."

"Deal," Glen says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before leading you into the sea of orange and white.

The aroma of sizzling barbecue fills the air as you and Glen approach the tailgating area. Rows of trucks and RVs are lined up in the parking lot, each decked out in burnt orange. Flags bearing the Texas Longhorns logo flutter in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles create a festive atmosphere.

Glen leads you through the crowd with a confident stride, his hand securely holding yours. As you near a large, lively group gathered around a grill, Glen spots his family and friends.

"There they are," he says, nodding towards the group. "Ready to meet everyone?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Glen gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the group. His mom, Cyndy, is the first to spot the two of you, and her face lights up with a welcoming smile. She's a petite woman with a warm demeanor, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you over.

"There you are!" Cyndy calls out, pulling Glen into a quick hug before turning her attention to you. "And you must be the one we've been hearing so much about. I'm Cyndy, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

You return her smile, instantly feeling at ease with her friendly nature. "It's great to meet you too. Glen's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Cyndy says with a wink before pulling you into a hug. "Welcome, sweetheart."

Next, Glen's dad, Glen Sr., steps forward with a firm handshake and a nod. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet strength about him. "Good to have you here," he says simply, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable.

Then, Glen's sisters Lauren and Leslie, each take their turn to greet you. Lauren gives you a friendly smile. "You're braver than I would be, meeting the whole crew at once like this. They can be a handful, but you'll be fine."

Leslie nudges Glen playfully. "You didn't warn her about us, did you?"

Glen laughs, shaking his head. "I figured I'd let you all speak for yourselves."

As you exchange pleasantries, more of Glen's friends and extended family members join in, introducing themselves and welcoming you with open arms. Someone hands you a cold drink, and before you know it, you're standing around a grill piled high with burgers, sausages, and all the fixings, soaking in the pre-game atmosphere.

The conversation quickly turns to stories about Glen's past. A few of his college buddies, each with a beer in hand, are eager to share some of their favorite memories.

"Remember that time Glen tried to impress a girl by riding a mechanical bull at that honky-tonk?" One of them starts, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, I remember!" Another chimes in. "He was so confident, strutted right up there like he was gonna show everyone how it's done. Lasted about five seconds before he got thrown off and landed flat on his back."

The group erupts in laughter, and even Glen can't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says shaking his head. "At least I gave it a shot."

Cyndy leans in closer to you, a glint in her eye. "That's nothing compared to the time he and his sister decided to 'borrow' my car when they were kids. Thought they'd take a little joyride around the neighborhood...until they crashed it into a mailbox."

"Oh no!" You gasp, unable to suppress a laugh.

Lauren grins, shaking her head at the memory. "We were grounded for months. Glen thought he was so slick, but he didn't realize the mailbox he hit belonged to one of Dad's friends."

"Yep," Glen Sr adds with a rare smile, "and that's how they learned not to mess with my car."

The easy banter and lighthearted stories quickly dissolve any lingering nerves you have. Glen's family and friends are down-to-earth, welcoming you into their inner circle as if you've always been a part of it. The more they share, the more you see the depth of their bond and the way they care for each other.

As you take another bite of your burger, you look over at Glen, who's been watching you with a soft smile. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear.

You nod, feeling completely at ease now. "Yeah, I'm doing great. Your family's wonderful."

His smile widens as he places a hand gently on your back. "I'm glad you think so. They're a little crazy, but they're mine."

"And now I guess I'm part of them too," you say with a playful grin.

Glen's eyes light up at your words, and he leans in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Just then, one of Glen's friends raises his drink and shouts "Hook 'em, Horns!" The entire group responds in unison, raising their hands in the iconic "Hook 'em Horns" gesture, with pinkies and index figures extended with the thumb tucked grasping the second and third fingers.

You try to mimic the gesture, but you don't quite cooperate. Glen catches your struggle and chuckles softly. "Here, let me help," he says, gently taking your hand in his.

With his warm fingers guiding yours, Glen carefully adjusts your hand, making sure your pinky and index fingers are extended and your thumb tucks the other fingers. His touch is gentle and precise, and you can't help but feel a little flutter in your chest as he concentrates on getting it just right.

"How's that?" you ask, looking up at him with a smile.

He gives your hand a final tweak before stepping back to admire his work. "Perfect," he says, his voice soft and affectionate. "Now you're officially part of the team."

You laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Guess I really am one of you now."

The group continues to laugh and share stories as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The pre-game atmosphere, filled with the sounds of sizzling food, clinking bottles, and cheerful banter, is everything you imagined - and more. With Glen's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders and the "Hook 'em Horns" gesture nailed down, you feel a sense of belonging that surprises you in the best possible way.

As the tailgate winds down and the anticipation for the game grows, Glen wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the throng of excited fans heading towards the stadium. The air is filled with the sounds of chanting, music, and the collective buzz of thousands of supporters, all eager for the big game.

"Ready for the full game day experience?" Glen asks, glancing over at you with a grin.

You nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Definitely. Lead the way."

As you approach the entrance, Glen veers off towards a merchandise stand just inside the gate, keeping his promise to get you your very own Texas Longhorns shirt. The stand is awash with burnt orange and white, offering everything from t-shirts to hoodies, foam fingers, and even Longhorns-themed sunglasses.

"Okay, let's find you something," Glen says, scanning the racks of shirts. He picks out a simple, yet classic burnt orange t-shirt with the Texas Longhorns logo emblazoned across the front. Holding it up to you, he grins "How about this one?"

You take the shirt from him, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "It's perfect," you say, already imagining yourself fitting right in with the sea of orange in the stadium.

Glen pays for the shirt and then hands it back to you. "Go ahead and try it on. Let's see how it looks."

You pull the t-shirt over your white tank top, the bright orange contrasting perfectly with your outfit. As you smooth the fabric down, Glen steps back to admire the look.

"Hold on," he says, reaching for the white Texas Longhorns baseball cap he had been wearing earlier. With a playful grin, he gently places it back on your head, adjusting the brim so it sits just right. His fingers linger for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen's gaze softens as he takes you in, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look great," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I think orange might be your color."

You laugh softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Guess I'm officially part of the team now."

"Absolutely," Glen replies, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against your forehead. "Now, let's get to our seats."

With his arm comfortably draped around your shoulders, Glen guides you through the bustling concourse and up towards the exclusive box seats he reserved for you, his family, and close friends. As you walk, you can't help but notice a few heads turning, whispers following in your wake. It's clear that Glen's presence isn't going unnoticed.

But Glen seems unfazed by the attention, focused entirely on making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "Don't worry," he says, sensing your unease as you pass by a group of fans who seem to be debating whether or not to approach. "The suite will give us a bit of privacy. It's just us and the people we want to be with."

You give him a grateful smile, relieved at the thought of a more private space. "That sounds perfect."

When you reach the suite, a staff member opens the door, revealing a spacious, comfortable area with large windows offering an unobstructed view of the field. The room is decked out with cozy seating, a fully stocked fridge, and even a table spread with game day snacks.

Glen's family is already there, mingling and settling in, and they greet you warmly as you enter. You quickly realize that this box isn't just a place to watch the game - it's a space where you can relax, enjoy the company, and soak in the experience without any interruptions.

Glen guides you to a seat near the window, right next to him. As you take in the view of the field below, and the energy of the crowd that's starting to pile into the stadium, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up.

"So, what do you think?" Glen asks, settling in beside you, his hand casually resting on your knee.

You turn to him, your smile reflecting the excitement you feel. "It's incredible."

Glen grins, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you're here," he says giving your knee a gentle squeeze. "Now, get ready for some real Texas football."

Suddenly, the lights dim, and the giant screen at the far end of the stadium flickers to life. The Texas Longhorns logo appears, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You glance over at Glen, who is grinning ear to ear, clearly caught up in the excitement.

"Here they come," he says, nodding towards the tunnel at the edge of the field.

The sound of drums fills the air as the Texas Longhorns marching band begins playing. The brass instruments gleam under the stadium lights and the rhythm of the drums pulses through the stands, making your heart beat a little faster.

As the band starts playing the school fight song, the crowd rises to their feet, the familiar tune echoing throughout the stadium. Glen stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. The sight is breathtaking - the sea of burnt orange, the flags waving proudly, and the booming voices of thousands of fans all joining together in the song.

Glen leans in close, his voice just above a whisper in your ear. "You've got to sing along, it's tradition."

You smile nervously, not sure what the words are, but Glen's enthusiasm is contagious. As the band reaches the chorus, Glen starts singing, his voice blending with the roar of the crowd. "Texas Fight! Texas Fight! And it's goodbye to A&M..."

You start to hum along to the words, your soft voice, almost drowned out by the thousands of others. But Glen's infection energy pulls you in. His eyes spark with excitement. "Louder!" he urges, his grin widening.

You laugh, feeling the last of your hesitation melt away as you throw yourself into the chant, clapping along with the beat and shouting the words with enthusiasm. Glen's pride is evident, and he can't hide his delight at seeing you get into the spirit of the game.

As the team bursts onto the field, the stadium erupts into a thunderous roar. The players, clad in their iconic burnt orange and white uniforms, charge out of the tunnel, the sight of them stirring a fresh wave of excitement into the crowd. The band crescendos into the final notes of the fight song, and the noise level reaches a fever pitch.

Glen wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the team lines up on the field. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You look up at him, your heart racing with the excitement of the moment. "It's amazing," you reply, your smile wide and genuine. "I can see why you love this so much."

As the players take their positions on the field, the atmosphere in the stadium becomes electric. The roar of the crowd swells, and you can feel the anticipation vibrating through the stands. You're fully immersed in the excitement, your earlier nerves replaced with growing enthusiasm as Glen points out different players and explains the significance of the game.

Just as you start to relax, the opening kickoff is moments away. You're leaning forward in your seat, eyes glued to the field when suddenly - BOOM!

The deafening sound of Smokey the Cannon firing catches you completely off guard. You jump in your seat, your heart racing as the shock of the blast reverberates through your chest.

Glen, noticing your startled reaction, can't help but chuckle. "Sorry, I should've warned you about that," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. His laugh is warm and affectionate, and he pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That's Smokey the Cannon. It fires off at every kickoff. Just part of the tradition."

You lean into his embrace, your initial fright quickly fading as you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. "I think I just aged a few years," you say with a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. "I wasn't expecting that at all."

Glen's grip tightens slightly, his way of reassuring you. "It's loud, but you'll get used to it," he says, his voice gentle and comforting in your ear. "Trust me, by the end of the game, you'll be waiting for it."

You turn your head to catch his eye, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "I'll take your word for it," you reply, your nerves settling as you take comfort in his closeness.

The game kicks off, and the action on the field immediately draws you back in. As the players clash, the crowd erupts into cheers and groans, their energy contagious. Glen keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself getting more and more caught up in the excitement of it all.

Throughout the game, Glen is right there, guiding you through the experience. He explains the rules as plays unfold, pointing out the strategy behind each move. "See how the quarterback is scanning the field?" he says at one point. "He's looking for an open receiver, someone who can catch the ball and make a run for it."

You nod, trying to absorb the information. "It's a lot more complicated than I thought," you admit, appreciating his patience.

Glen grins, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "That's what makes it fun," he says. "Once you start to understand the strategy, it's like watching a chess match...only with a lot more action."

As the game progresses, you find yourself cheering along with the crowd, your earlier nerves completely forgotten. Glen's explanations help you feel more connected to the game, and his excitement is infectious. Each time something exciting happens on the field - a touchdown, a particularly good tackle - he turns to you with a grin, eager to share the moment.

"Did you see that?" he asks after a particularly impressive play, his eyes alight with excitement. "That's what they call a 'Hail Mary' - a long pass to try and score a touchdown when time's running out."

You nod, caught up in the moment. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," you say, feeling a sense of pride as you follow the flow of the game.

Glen leans in, his voice low and full of affection. "You're doing great," he says, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. "Me too," you reply, feeling more at home in the stadium with each passing moment.

As the game continues, the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm - Glen explaining plays, you cheering along with the crowd, and both of you enjoying the shared experience. It's a day filled with excitement, but also with moments of quiet connection, each one deepening the bond between you.

And by the time Smokey the Cannon fires off again, you barely flinch - too caught up in the thrill of the game and the warmth of Glen's presence beside you.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts in a sea of burnt orange and white. Texas has won, and the energy in the air is electric. Fans are cheering, hugging, and celebrating as the Longhorns players wave to the crowd before making their way off the field. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement, clapping along as the band strikes up the fight song one last time.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Glen helps you gather your things, and the two of you make your way out of the suite. The halls of the stadium are still buzzing with excitement, fans streaming toward the exits, chatting excitedly about the game. You notice a few people casting glances your way - recognition flickering in their eyes as they realize who Glen is.

You feel a flutter of nervousness in your chest as the looks become more frequent. The idea of being recognized, of suddenly being in the spotlight, is overwhelming. But before the anxiety can take hold, Glen reaches for your hand. His grip is firm, and reassuring, and he gives you a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I'm right here."

His words and his touch soothe you, and you take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in yours rather than the curious glances around you. Together, you navigate through the crowd, Glen's presence beside you acting as an anchor, keeping you steady.

As you step out into the cool evening air, the noise of the stadium fades behind you, replaced by the more distant sounds of fans celebrating in the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out, and the atmosphere feels less intense, allowing you to finally relax.

Glen leads you to his truck, and as you approach it, he glances over at you, his expression softening. "So...your first Texas game," he says as he opens the passenger door for you. "What did you think? Did it live up to the hype?"

Your smile, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat. "It really did," you reply, your tone reflecting the surprise in your voice. "I didn't think I'd get so caught up in it, but I did. The energy, the crowd, the way everyone was so passionate...it was contagious."

Glen closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat beside you. He doesn't start the truck right away, instead turning slightly to face you, his gaze soft and warm.

"I'm really glad you came," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot to me to share this with you."

You feel your heart swell at his words, and you take a moment to let them sink in. "I'm glad I came too," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "It's not something I ever imagined myself doing, but I'm really happy I did."

Glen reaches out and takes your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours. "You were a great sport about everything," he says, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Even when Smokey scared the life out of you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "I'll admit, that was a bit much," you say with a grin. "But honestly, the whole experience was incredible. I see now why it's such a big deal for you."

Glen's smile widens, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, meaningful silence. The excitement of the day is still buzzing in your veins, but there's also a deeper feeling - a sense of connection, of understanding, that goes beyond just the game.

"I'm really happy you're here with me," Glen says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion. "This...it all means a lot more with you by my side."

His words hit you in a way you didn't expect, and you realize just how much this day, and this man, have come to mean to you. You squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the game or the crowd, but everything to do with him.

"I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice just as soft. "With you."

For a moment, the world outside the truck seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the parking lot. It's a moment of quiet reflection, of mutual appreciation, and as you sit there, you realize that this experience has brought you closer to Glen in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Glen starts the engine, but before he shifts into gear, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your lips. It's soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken emotion, a perfect ending to a day you'll never forget.

As he pulls away, you both smile at each other, the bond between you stronger than ever. As the truck rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, you feel a sense of contentment, knowing that this is just the beginning of something truly special.

The next morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, absently twisting the brim of Glen's baseball cap between your fingers. The events of the previous day play on a loop in your mind - Glen's infectious enthusiasm, the electrifying atmosphere of the game, and the way he held your hand, guiding you through it all. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the look in his eyes when he told you how much it meant to him to have you there.

But now, in the quiet of your room, the excitement of the game has given way to do something deeper - an unmistakable warmth in your chest, a feeling that's both exhilarating and a little terrifying. You realize that what started as casual dating has slowly grown into something more. And for the first time, you feel the need to talk to someone about it.

You take a deep breath and scroll through your contacts, landing on your mom's number. The familiar sound of the ringtone fills the room as you hold the phone to your ear, your heart beating a little faster with each passing second. Finally, you hear her voice on the other end, warm and welcoming as always.

"Hi, sweetie! How are you?" Your mom greets you, the sound of her voice instantly soothing some of your nerves.

"Hey, Mom," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm good. Just...thinking about a lot of things."

Your mom chuckles softly. "Well, it sounds like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts before you begin. "I met somebody, and...he's really great, Mom. he's got these green eyes that I could just get lost in, and he's so sweet. He opens doors for me, he makes me laugh, and he...he doesn't make me cry." Your voice softens as you say the last part, a small admission of how different this feels from anything you've experienced before.

There's a brief silence on the other end, and then your mom speaks, her voice gentle. "He sounds wonderful, honey. Tell me more about him."

A smile spreads across your face as you think about Glen. "He's from Texas, not exactly where we're from, but...when I'm with him, he feels like home. He's got me doing things I never thought I'd do, like going to a football game." You laugh, still a little surprised at how much you enjoyed the experience.

Your mom laughs too, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. "A football game? You? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, right?" you reply, shaking your head at the memory. "He even gave me his hat to wear because I didn't have any Texas gear. And, Mom...I liked it. I really liked it."

There's a pause, and you can almost hear your mom's smile through the phone. "It sounds like you're really falling for this guy."

You bite your lip, the truth of her words sinking in. "I think I am," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Mama...I like him a lot. I even learned the words to the Texas Fight Song."

Your mom's laughter rings through the phone, full of warmth and understanding. "It sounds like he's got you wrapped around his finger," she teases, but there's no judgment in her voice, only happiness for you.

"Maybe he does," you say, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "But...it feels right, Mom. He feels right."

Your mom's voice softens, a hint of emotion creeping in. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Just take things one step at a time, and follow your heart."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

As you end the call, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Talking to your mom has helped you put things into perspective, and you realize that you're ready to see where things go with Glen, no matter where that may lead. The thought of him brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at what the future might hold.

[romancefranaticstay]

☆.｡.:* Neighbor ☆.｡.:*

Neighbor!Jeongin x fem!reader

Category: fluff ❤

Warnings: ♥ None ♥ (but... maybe a little smut towards the end)

Note: A short story about some neighbor fluff, very romantic (in mine opinion), i hope you enjoy!

Xoxo

Rachel

You were wearing headphone's, jumping around with your music.

"I bring, I bring all the Drama-ma-ma-ma (hey, hey) I bring drama-ma-ma-ma (hey, hey) With my girls in the back"

You singed, making some little dance move's.

'나로 시작되는 drama (all that)'

You were heading towards your house when you saw a moving van. That's weird, you didn't move, did you? You snuck a little closer and saw a new family moving into the house next door.

You saw two people standing there, they were probably a couple. They looked quite old, maybe they had children. Oh! That would be so nice, to finally have friends in your neighborhood.

You went inside and grabbed a snack from the fridge. You didn't have much to do before school tomorrow, so you could finally get some rest and enjoy these beautiful spring days.

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

Eventually you started to get bored in your room. You went downstairs to your garden. Your garden was so beautiful, because all the sunlight always shone in your garden.

Beautiful, but a few clouds in the sky. The trees glistened in the sunlight, everything looked more beautiful than usual. Suddenly you heard a voice.

'안녕하세요, Hey.'

You looked around to see where the voice came from. You looked to your right and saw a boy leaning against the gate of your garden. He had black hair that fell slightly over his eyes.

"Hey."

"Do you live here?"

'No, I'm just sitting in their garden, sorry, I'm being sarcastic again. Yes, I live here.'

"So you're my new neighbor?"

'Ahh, so you are our new neighbors, welcome to the neighborhood by the way. It's very quiet here, so you're going to love it here.'

"I'm sure I'll like it here." he said under his breath.

"So, what are you doing?"

"I was actually listening to music."

'Can I listen in?'

"Of course, come."

He carefully opened the gate and approached you. When he came closer, you could observe his face better. He was actually very beautiful. He calmly took the headphones from your head and placed them near his ears.

"I know this song!"

'Really? What's it called then?'

'Let me think...

I'm a 퀸카 I'm a 퀸카 I'm a, I'm a, I'm a 퀸카 I'm a 퀸카 "

he started to sing. You laughed, he could actually sing very nicely.

"So you know it."

'Of course I know. Can I show you some songs?'

"Sure, go ahead."

He grabbed your phone and started typing something on Spotify. You recognized the lyrics immediately.

“Ahh, BTS run.

손 뻗어봤자 금세 깨버릴 꿈 (꿈, 꿈) 미칠 듯 달려도 또 제자리일 뿐 (뿐, 뿐)

그냥 날 태워줘, 그래, 더 밀쳐 내줘 이건 사랑에 미친 멍청이의 뜀박질 ..."

You both started laughing.

"Actually, I should be helping my parents, so... I'll see you later?"

'Yep, ofcourse.'

He waved and went out of sight. Finally someone to be friends with, or so you thought...

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

Every day you learned something new about him. He had a big brother and a little brother. He likes his personal space and he has some different tastes in music. His favorite colors are also Coral and Teal. He also has a lot of passion for music.

He told something about his friends, it doesn't mean that he has moved that he has to change schools. You've already heard of someone named Seungmin and Changbin. They sound very funny. He is the youngest of his group of friends.

You sat with him in his room, you lay on his bed.

"You know, I'd love to build a time machine and go back to the '90s."

'How so?' Jeongin asked.

"I just want to see how everything works there."

'Do you like the 90s concept?'

'Yes of course! The hair, the clothing style, the stuff, wow.'

'Yes, that's possible.'

'Which era do you find most interesting?'

'I don't really know, maybe just this time, because we live in the moment now. We live now and not in the past. We will never be able to live in the past, so why compare this time to the others?"

“Wow, very poetic Jeongin.”

'Am I wrong?'

"No, in a strange way it all makes a lot of sense."

"Let's change the subject."

"Okay sure, what do you want to talk about?"

'Maybe about love? Do you believe in soulmates?'

'Me? I don't know, sometimes I feel like there's one person for everyone. But sometimes I think that certain people just fit together because of certain interests. And you?'

'I don't know, I think so. I want to live with the idea that there is someone for me, who suits me exactly. Okay, maybe not exactly, but still.' 'Yes..'

"You know, this might sound really weird, but maybe I can try out my flirting techniques on you?"

"Sure, but don't think it'll work."

'Bet?'

"Okay bet."

He came next to you on the bed. He grabbed your hand with one hand and caressed your cheeks with the other.

"Do you think that'll work?"

"Shh, I wasn't ready yet."

He breathed deeply and started looking into your eyes.

“You always look like an angel Y/N.”

'Am I an angel? More like a devil.'

He rolled his eyes and turned back to you. He looked from your eyes to your lips and vice versa. He touched your lips with his thumb, your heart skipped a beat.

“These lips Y/N, these lips, the most beautiful thing.”

You couldn't say anything anymore, what could you say? Your hands slid to his hands. Even though he was so confident, his hands were a bit sweaty.

His face moved closer to yours and... he kissed your cheek softly.

'And? Good flirting techniques?' he says as you still hold his hands.

You cleared your throat.

'Yes, quite good, yes, I have heard better.'

'Are you sure?'

'Sure.' you avoided eye contact.

He turned your face so you were looking at him.

'A bad liar.'

Suddenly he pinned you down on the bed.

'And now?'

'Hmmm, it could be better.'

His eyes fell on your neck, he grinned. His mouth came closer to your neck, so close that you felt his warm breath on your so sensitive skin. His tongue made small circles on your neck, leaving small bites.

'And now?'

'It's better already.'

"I can always make it better."

His face came closer to yours, so close that you were about to kiss, but he only kissed your forehead.

Your puppy dog ​​eyes looked up at him. You wanted more... but not in a bad way. He wanted to leave again, but you didn't just let him go. You grabbed his face and pressed your lips together.

His eyes went wide, but he didn't back down. When your lips parted again, he just stared at you in surprise.

"How about that?" you said with a very big grin on your face.

You got up and went to his door.

“This was fun, I'll see you tomorrow. Same hour.”

You wanted to open the door but he stopped you.

"Do you think you'll leave now?"

He kissed you again and pushed you against the door a little. You felt his hands over your body, it couldn't be more romantic.

You looked down and saw that the bulge in his pants was big. He saw what you were looking at.

"Are you going to help me with this?"

'With pleasure.'

You said, leaving small kisses on his face.

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

[the-lost-eighth]

Sanji x Reader oneshot

word count: 657

warnings: none ^_^

genre: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in forever, but I had to get this out of my head so i apologize if it's written poorly !! i tried my best. also he might be a tad OOC. song is what made me wanna write ⬇️

"I love you."

You were in the kitchen of the ship drinking with Sanji before he dropped this on you randomly. You stared at him with your mouth agape before letting out a soft chuckle, "Alright mate, that's enough drinks for you." as you reach for the bottle in front of him, you feel him firmly grip your wrist. "Y/N, I'm seri-serious." he said, hiccuping in between the word seeious. "I'm in love with you. you're special. You stand out, make me feel different. you're everything to me." Sanji brought his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, "I want you all to myself. I want to wake up next to you every morning my dear. finding you was worth more than finding the all blue. you radiate the beauty of it already, it's like having the all blue by my side every day. You're–"

"Drunk. you're drunk and you're talking to talk Sanji. you've probably said this exact same shit to Nami or Robin. I'm not falling for your tricks, now let's get you some rest," you snap as you stand up, this time with his wrist in your hand as you head for his room. "Y/N, I'm not–"

"Sober is what you're not. Now c'mon, sleep." didn't seem like you'd hear him out any time soon. See, truth be told, you wanted his words to be true. you wanted the butterflies, and lingering touches, and sneaky glances to be worth it in the end, but you knew that Sanji was like this with every woman he met. nothing about you was special enough to change that. at least, that's how you saw things. he saw it differently though. you were-

"My secret ingredient." "I'm sorry?" you stopped on your path to his bedroom as you whipped your head around to make eye contact with the cook.

"You're my secret ingredient, the one piece of my life that I was missing. You're what completes my dish. I'd do anything to prove my love for you Y/N." You stared at him as he said this, feeling your face heat up. His eyes widened when he saw a tear make it way down your cheek, a small sniffle escaping your nose. "Why? Why me? Why not Robin, or Nami, why me of all people??" you choked out as more tears fell down your face. He quickly brought his hands up, wiping them away before cupping your cheeks, "You're perfect. You're sweet, gorgeous, smart, hilarious, you can cook really well, and I appreciate it deeply when you help me out in the kitchen, you're caring and generous, and insanely selfless. You risked your life to save someone you had just met, even when we all told you not to, you put their safety before your own and i admire that. your voice is soothing, your touch is calming, your laugh is like a drug, you always find some way to cheer me up but most importantly of all, you make me feel seen. you don't see me as a flirt, or just a cook, you see me as Sanji, and I love that about you. I love you, all of you, and I–" you cut him off by crashing your lips into his, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you hastily kiss him. he's caught off guard before transferring his hands from your face to your neck, kissing you back a lot more passionately than your rushed advances. you pull back for air and look at him softly, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "I love you too Sanji. so, so much." all he could do in response was give you a big stupid smile as he laughed and brought you into a tight embrace. the moment was so unreal he could've swore he was dreaming. but he wasn't, this was happening, you loved him back.

He had finally won in life.

The end :3

he's so 😩

[zepskies]

Choosing Him

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, Sam W. x Reader

Summary: You and Sam have been dating and living together for a few months, when Dean shocks you with a confession. Now you have to choose.

AN: This was requested by this beautiful anon! (And also by my friend! ❤️)

Read this as a stand-alone or see this imagine for context: Dean gives you an impossible choice. (In which Dean is in love with Sam’s girlfriend.)

**Note: This contains two alternate endings: Sam vs. Dean.

Song Inspo: “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, as well as love requited.

Imagine: Choosing him.

“Dean, just talk to me. What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

No, he implored. Angrily.

But he implored, nonetheless.

Dean was good at being stubborn. In fact, he was a professional. His lips were tight in a frown, his brows just as knitted as his brother’s.

He sat cross armed on the couch while Sam stood, using his hands to punctuate his exclamations, as he often did when he was frustrated.

“Nothing, man. I already told you,” Dean tried.

“No,” Sam said sharply. “She’s actively avoiding you. And you’re taking any excuse you can not to be within three feet of my girlfriend. So either you said something, or you did something.”

Dean looked up at his brother with a heavy sigh through his nose.

They’d been at this for a while now. So long that he was surprised you hadn’t come barreling into the living room already to break up the argument. Because he had a feeling that just the sight of you would shut them both up. (Not in a good way.)

Dean’s throat was tight, his stomach churning with unease, though he tried to show none of it on his face. He could see that Sam was on the verge of losing his shit. Just a hair away from assuming the worst.

And the worst of him.

That, Dean couldn’t abide.

“Look,” he gritted out. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sam paused, tilting his head. He took in a breath that was only slightly calming, enough that he lowered to a seat on the coffee table, across from his brother.

“Then what’d you say?” he asked.

Dean felt even guiltier just remembering.

Three weeks ago…

You wanted to know why he was drinking alone. Why he’d downed nearly an entire bottle of Jameson in the kitchen on a Tuesday night.

“You really wanna know?” Dean asked. His voice was both a rumble and a coarse whisper. His green-eyed gaze fell to your lips.

He watched you suck in a subtle breath. Your eyed widened, and your body froze. He also saw the blush staining your cheeks.

So he leaned in, slowly. He was mere inches away from finding out how sweet you really were.

He heard your shallow breath. His eyes flicked up to yours, and instinctively knew that he’d captured you. He was making you think about it.

“Tell me no,” Dean said. Tell me to stop, or I swear to God...

“Dean, what...” you whispered. But that wasn’t a no.

Still, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. Not to Sam.

Dean merely reached out with a hand to soothe a gentle thumb across your cheek. He realized then that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you go, if he had to.

"It comes down to this," Dean said. His voice was deep, full of grit and desire. He saw the conflict in your eyes.

He swallowed. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he used every ounce of self-restraint he had left, forcing his hand to fall away from your cheek.

"You've got two choices, sweetheart," he said. And he pulled away, leaving you there at the table.

You never told him to stop…but he just couldn’t do it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean eventually answered his brother.

He ultimately couldn’t bring himself to voice the desperation of a drunken idiot.

He met Sam’s gaze directly. This much, he could say.

“All you need to know is I’d never…even drunk off my ass, I’d never hurt you,” Dean said.

Sam turned those words back and forth in his mind. His mouth firmed as he read between the lines, as he so often had to with Dean, who struggled to express the deeper parts of himself. Sam realized then what his brother was finally confessing.

“She loves you,” Dean added, with a self-deprecating smile.

That fell between them for a moment, as Sam rested a hand on his knee and processed all of this in record time. He glanced up.

“What about you?” he asked.

Again, with that quirk of a smile that didn’t reach Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry about that either.”

He got up, clapped Sam on the shoulder, and left him there to continue thinking. Dean passed the kitchen and continued down the hall.

Neither man realized that you were standing behind the kitchen doorway. You’d been about to attempt a bit of stress baking. A chocolate tart, maybe. Or a cheese souffle. Or even the new cherry pie recipe you’d found for Dean. Anything to take your mind off your current predicament.

However, now you knew you couldn’t put it off anymore.

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ventured into the living room, where your boyfriend was still brooding. He raised his head when he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. Even now, he was relieved to see you. He also felt like he was standing on unsteady ground.

“Hey, yourself,” you greeted back. You tried to smile, but your heart was in your stomach with nerves. “I need to tell you something.”

Sam seemed to realize what you wanted to talk about. He sighed.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Dean and I talked it out—”

“No. No, because I need to say this. Because you deserve to hear it from me,” you insisted.

You also paused, as you didn’t quite know where to go from here.

Sam’s brows furrowed, but he tried to be patient. He watched your gears turning as thought to thought shifted in your eyes. It was one of the things he loved most about you, how open and expressive you were. He could usually tell what you were thinking…except for today. And the past few weeks.

That was what had him more nervous than he’d like to admit. If a blow was coming, he’d really like to be prepared…but he just couldn’t fucking tell.

Until you began speaking.

“Okay, first of all. Nothing happened,” you assured. You rested your hands on Sam’s shoulders. He looked up into your eyes, but before he could even nod in response, you kept going.

“Dean was drunk, and I wasn’t. Which probably won’t make you feel all that better, but the point is, all I did was ask him what’s wrong? And he didn’t want to tell me. But then I pushed the issue, as you know I do sometimes. I’m working on it, I really am.”

You levied a finger at Sam, at which he could only nod. Again, before he could offer a reply, you kept going.  

“Well, finally he was all, you sure you wanna know?” you said, mimicking Dean’s deeper voice. Sam was tempted to smile, if but for what you were actually saying, and the way your gaze averted from his.

“And there was a moment there when…I thought maybe he might try to…but he didn’t. The problem is, I didn’t say no,” you confessed. Your brows knitted as you revealed how disheartened you felt at that, how guilt-ridden.

Sam’s eyes softened a bit, even though your words stung.  

“I should’ve said it,” you knew. “I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. Though in my defense! I was in shock. He was saying shocking things without saying them, you know? And I don’t want to be in this cliché…teen drama-esque, love triangle bullshit! You’re not Edward and I’m not Bella and this isn’t goddamn Twilight. And I refuse to be treated as such.”

You were huffing and puffing by the end of your little rant. Your eyes widened a fraction when you caught Sam trying to stamp down a smile.

“Is this amusing to you?” you snapped.

“Not at all,” Sam said. He shook his head, and with a sigh, drew you back to him with his hands on your hips. You stood between his open legs and grasped the front of his shirt.

“Look, thank you for telling me,” he said. “I know that we kind of rushed this a little. The moving in thing, I mean. It just…it felt right, at the time.”

“Yeah, I was kinda there for that,” you quipped. Your smile made him smile in return.

“Well, I guess I just need to ask you…if it still feels right,” he said.

He looked up into your eyes, still not quite sure what he would find. His heart was in his throat, no matter how many times he cleared it. He was good at looking calm when he wasn’t, and maybe his face was composed, but inside him was a tempest.

You calmed it with one touch. A gentle hand on his chest.

“Sam,” you said. Your smile was beautiful and warm. “After you left Stanford. After what happened to Jess…I didn’t know that her funeral was the last time I was ever going to see you.”

Despite that melancholy memory, your lips soon curved into a grin.

“Well, not for a long time anyway.” You both lightened at that.

Then you became more contemplative. Your gaze wandered beyond him for a moment, lost in the past.

Sam’s hands moved up to your waist and squeezed gently. You came back to him with a brighter expression.

“But when I saw you again, I thought…damn, he’s amazing,” you said with a giggle. “Even more amazing then when I knew him.”

Sam looked down at that, despite his smile. You picked him back up with your hand on his cheek. It was overgrown with stubble, a week or so past when he'd usually shave.

You didn't mind the scratchiness, but you wondered if you'd been distracting him too with your indecision. That thought made you feel all the more guilty.

“I still think that when I see you. Get to wake up next to you, research mythology and symbology and dead languages, and other things that should be impossible,” you said. “So yes, it still feels right for me. Very much so.”

Sam’s more genuine smile lightened you. He nodded and let you tilt his head back, slipping your fingers through his hair. He liked the way you touched him freely, both reassuring and affectionate.

He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been quietly afraid. Afraid he'd read you wrong, that his heart had somehow lied to him. Now he knew that it rang true.

“Okay. Good,” he said. And he reached up to touch his lips to yours.

At least, it was a simple touch at first. It soon grew in passion, becoming a more claiming kiss. He pulled you in flush against him. A hand tangled into your hair, brushing against the back of your neck, and you hummed in delight.

Your hands sunk further into his hair, just as your mouth wordlessly claimed him back. His long fingers trailed down your back and made you shiver against him. You gave more and more of yourself with each kiss.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Because he deserved to hear that too.

Sam paused. His eyes were still closed as he recovered some of his breath. He rested his forehead against yours and brushed a tender hand down the soft column of your neck.

"I love you too," he admitted. He had resisted saying it, and even felt a bit ashamed that he'd doubted your feelings. Now, he felt like an idiot for not fighting harder before.

This, what he had with you, it was worth fighting for.

He smiled at the way you kissed his cheek then, soft and slow and with purpose.

After a moment, you pulled away to stroke his cheek once more…and also to tell him one last thing.

“When I saw you again, I did have another thought,” you said. “He’s amazing, but…how can I think that about my best friend’s boyfriend?”

Sam frowned then, as that reality had crossed his mind as well, back when he reconnected with you last year. You held a hand to your chest, over your heart.

“Jess was like a sister to me. So how could I think about you like that? It didn’t matter how much time had passed since her death. That thought, and those feelings still had weight, Sam,” you said. “My point is…try not to be too hard on your brother for this. I think he’d rather lob off an arm than cause you any pain.”

Sam considered your words with a nod.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry,” he said.

“No, I…I’d like to talk to him, if you don’t mind,” you said. “That is, if you trust me.”

Sam’s brows rose, and then furrowed slightly.

“I do, baby,” he said. “You can talk to him if you want, but…I have to. He’s my brother. He should hear it from me too.”

No need, Dean couldn’t help but think.

He pushed off from the wall, twisting a wrench in his hand as he made his way back to the garage.

It stung. Actually, it fucking cut and twisted. More painfully than Dean would ever, ever admit.

However, he knew when he needed to bow out. This was one of those times.

He’d just have to learn how to let you go, for good this time. He wouldn’t risk hurting you, or his brother again.

So once he made it to the end of the hall, he shut the door, once and for all.

Or…

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ducked out the back way, heading down the hall.

You found Dean exactly where you’d expected—in the garage, getting ready to work on his Baby. He was sitting on a stool with his box of tools beside him. Tools he didn’t let anyone touch (except for that one time you hid his power drill, just to mess with him).

You crossed your arms.

“We need to talk,” you said.

Dean sighed, and spied your stern face over his shoulder.

“What fucking now?” he muttered. You didn't quite hear him, but you recognized his surly frown.

“Yes, right now,” you said. “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Dean asked, raising incredulous brows. “Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You stepped up to him while he swiveled in your direction. “If you supposedly had feelings for me, why did you wait so damn long? Why did you wait until we got here?”

You weren’t just casually dating his brother. You were living with him. Even if it had just been a few months, you loved Sam…and yet, you hadn’t pushed Dean away when he almost kissed you.

Why, why, why? you thought. Your teeth ground together when you thought of how tenderly Dean had touched you. The fire in his eyes, just barely held back by a thin wall of self-restraint.

“Tell me no,” he’d said.

And now, annoyance made his face tight.

“Look, just forget about it, all right? I was drunk—”

“No. You weren’t that drunk,” you refuted. “I’ve seen you slaphappy, laughing at nothing, grinning like the Joker and falling onto the couch face-first, passed out drunk. You were coherent that night. You were honest. So tell me, how long have you felt this way?”

Dean tensed. He didn’t want to do this. You both knew that, but he also knew that you weren’t giving him much of a choice.

And yet, you were waiting on him, as patiently as you could manage (something he knew was difficult for you). He sighed deeply.

“Pretty much from the beginning,” he said.

“What?” you said, ever so eloquently. You wanted to cringe at yourself. (And you called yourself a linguist.)

Your lips pursed in disbelief. “What part of the beginning?”

Dean glared heavenward, as if that could stop you from asking questions.

“From the first damn second I saw you,” he snapped. The longer he looked at you, however, he couldn’t help but soften. “I remember, you argued with Sam about dead languages, that Latin was for pussies. Ancient Greek was the tougher beat.”

That was true, you thought. And that argument stemmed back from when you and Sam were in college. Ancient history, you could say.

“The Greeks were more fun too,” you added. It triggered a smile to briefly lighten Dean’s face.

“Yeah, you said something about mass orgies,” he said, his brows furrowing.

You bit your lip at the memory. You might’ve winked at Dean with more confidence than you’d felt at the time.

Now, the man shook his head.

“Right then, I wanted to know you,” he said. “Problem is, the more I did, the more I liked what I saw.”

You stared back at him in dismay.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me from the beginning?” you asked.

Dean made a sound of frustration, carding a hand roughly through his hair.

“Oh, and what, break up the show?” he snarked. He waved haphazardly beyond you, to the moose of a man somewhere beyond the closed doors of the garage. Remembering his brother made Dean’s irritation start to fade, back into self-deprecation.

“You and Sam…you’ve got history,” he said. “He’s smart. He takes care of you, protects you. He’s uh, more the boyfriend type, anyway.”

Dean looked away from you then, crossing his arms. You relaxed yours and couldn’t help but draw near to him. A frown took over your features as you tilted your head.

“Okay, Sam and I have history,” you said with a nod. “But…you don’t think you’re smart too?”

Dean’s lips pursed somewhat as he glanced back up at you. You met his stare.

“You don’t think you’re capable of all those other things?” you asked.

Dean didn’t have an answer for you. At least, not one he was willing to say.

For the past few weeks, you’d been fighting with yourself. You’d turned that moment in the kitchen over and over in your mind, and why you couldn’t do what you were supposed to do.

Now, looking at Dean’s face, you understood why your heart broke for him. Why your heart ached with ridiculous longing for him in equal measure.

You knew then that he’d take care of you. That he’d protect you. And maybe…

“Sam and I don’t make a habit of going after the same girl,” Dean said. Even that, it seemed, was difficult for him to get out.

It broke you from your thoughts, again with your frown.

“Yeah?” you asked. A bit of your temper sparked once again. “Is that why you’re making me Yoko Ono? I’ll tell you something right now. You’re not John and Sam’s not Paul and I refuse to break up the band, Dean!”

“No one’s asking you to!” Dean said, finally raising his voice to match you.

He got off his seat and stood to his full height. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he still towered over you. You craned your head up to glare at him.

His green eyes were once again full of fire. You tried to resist it, but that look made a jolt of electricity zip down your spine, and between your legs.  

“Oh, really?” you retorted. “That’s what you want? For me to forget you didn’t shake me the hell up?”

“Yeah, I really fucking would,” Dean gritted out. Even though his heart leapt at your admission, that he’d shaken you up at all.

“Why?” you said. “If you claim to care about me, why would you—”

“Why would you?” he shot back. He gestured at you with a dismissive hand. “The second you saw him, it was like your face lit the hell up. I’m not gonna get in his way. And by the time the you two were together, I just…I didn’t think you…”

Dean cut himself off, turning from you to wipe a frustrated hand over his mouth.

You watched him very closely, all while you made efforts to take in some deep, even breaths. You followed him, and more tentatively, you grabbed onto his wrist to tug him back around.

“Why would I what, Dean? You didn’t think I’d what?” you all but pleaded. Your grip lowered and tightened on his hand.

“Just talk to me,” you said. “Because this is your one and only chance.”

He was reluctant. For once, you could see it written all over his face. Or maybe you were just getting better at reading him.

“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it,” said Dean.

Liar.

He shook his head and slipped his hand out of yours.

“At the end of the day, you saw him, not me,” he said. “So go back upstairs, and we’ll never have to talk about this again.”

Your frown deepened as he sat back down and tried to turn away from you. You were so goddamn mad. At yourself, or at him, you didn’t know what percentages of each.

So you closed the distance between you and Dean and turned him back around, with a firm hand on his shoulder. Even with that small touch, your insides fluttered at the firm muscle there, and the broadness of his frame when he let you move him. He blew out an exasperated breath.

You wavered just slightly, as you contemplated the confession you were about to make. It shamed you, but at the same time, you were woman enough to admit your mistakes.

“I did see you,” you said, meeting his eyes. “But Sam never hesitated to show me what he wanted. And maybe…maybe he was safer. Familiar, and less dangerous.”

Dean’s brows furrowed, incredulous and confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

You couldn’t fault him for it. Your hand eased on his shoulder.

“Dean, seeing Sam again was like getting my best friend back,” you told him. “Back in college, we were thick as thieves. Me and Jess, Sam and Brady. And when you two found me to help with that case, I wouldn’t have ever seen him as anything more than my friend…until he did something about it.”

Your gaze was pointed. Dean’s lips pursed.

“When I met you,” you continued, “it was like the Godfather ‘thunderbolt.’ When you flirted with me, I didn’t know what to do with myself…whereas with Sam, I could fall back on my old habits.”

Dean’s face knitted further, making you sigh.

“With Sam, I’m the person I was when he knew me. The me that never faltered. That had all my shit together,” you said. Your small smile then was self-deprecating at best.

You felt vulnerable. Dean could see it in the way you held yourself. It was costing you something to be this honest, and that meant something to him. His face might've been stoic, but he was hanging on your every word.

“With you…with you I can’t hide," you said. Your voice was softer, slightly trembling. "And that terrifies me, more than monsters.”

Looking into Dean’s eyes again, you found him actually listening. He seemed to be digesting your words, and trying to make sense of them. You reached for him, clenching a hand in his shirt.

“So what was it that you thought I wouldn’t do?” you asked.

Dean studied your face a moment longer. He hesitated.

But he couldn’t keep lying to you either. What you’d just said gave him hope that he wasn’t about to fall flat on his face here.

With a deep, defeated breath, he shook his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs.

“I just got to thinkin’…” he said. “Why would you give up what you’ve got with him, for me?”

You didn’t know quite what to feel when you looked down at him. Disheartened, sympathetic, annoyed…but most of all, you felt your heart clench.

Your hands framing Dean’s face brought his eyes back to yours. You stepped in between his open legs.

“I’m going to try something. Just once,” you said, biting your lip. “And if it doesn’t work, we won’t speak of this again. Understand?”

A true smile finally twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“All right,” he agreed. You nodded.

Slowly, ever slowly, you leaned down and brushed your lips with his. It was chaste and sweet. Your hands were soft curving along his jawline. His hands found their way to your waist, molding to your shape. That steadied you, and encouraged you to dive back in.

You tilted your head and kissed him a bit deeper. He held you more securely against him, like he was afraid you were going to think better of this and pull away from him.

But you didn’t. His lips were soft and supple and knew how to move against yours. He soon guided you down for a seat on his strong thighs, even though the stool he was sitting on creaked at the added weight.

Then his tongue begged entrance past your lips. If this was his one chance, then damn it, he was going to make the most out of it.

You let him in with a moan. Your fingers tangled in his short hair, your nails dragging down the back of his neck and making a tendril of heat run down his spine. He squeezed your hips, down your thighs, while his lips continued to ravage yours.

It was one hell of a kiss.

But it wasn’t just lust either. At least, not for you. It was warmth, and an overwhelming feeling being right where you were always meant to be.

For Dean, it felt like a craving he wasn't meant to indulge in...but even so, having you in his arms felt as natural as he feared it would be. He didn't just want you. He wanted this. Today, and every day.

When his lips finally dragged away from yours, it took you a moment before you could even open your eyes, let alone catch your breath.

“Damn it,” you whispered.

Dean chuckled, and pulled back just far enough to graze your cheek with his curled fingers.

“Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. You smiled, but it soon fell.

“Oh God, Dean. What’re we gonna do?” you asked. Already there were tears stinging in your eyes. And still, you held him back with your arms curled around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Dean’s relief, and a hidden swell of happiness, also dimmed. “That ship’s sailed, sweetheart."

You sniffed, wiping at your face. “Don’t joke right now, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he said. He held you a fraction tighter. His deep voice rumbled, with desire, longing, and remorse all at once. “I’m actually serious beyond fucking belief.”

You saw everything you needed to see in his eyes. It gave you the strength to be honest.

“So am I,” you nodded, sniffling again. “I’ll talk to him.”

Dean shook his head. “He’s my brother. I’ll do it.”

You stroked his cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble against your fingers.

“Together, then,” you compromised.

And with an unsettled breath, you reluctantly detangled yourself from Dean. Before this went any further, you needed to talk to Sam. It was easily one of the hardest things you’d ever contemplated doing in your life.

Dean seemed to have similar thoughts as he let you up, then stood along with you. He dragged a hand through his hair again and heaved a sigh.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he said. His brows drew together as he considered every alternative reaction his brother might have. None of them were pretty.

You rested a hand on his arm.

“Look, Dean. If we’re going to do this…if I need to leave the bunker, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, as long as you’re in this with me,” you said.

Both your gaze and your will were unwavering. Dean didn’t doubt that you meant every word; that you were willing to jump into the fire with him. And that was just a small fraction of what had made him fall in love with you.

He took your hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“I’m with you,” he replied.  

AN: So while it was painful to contemplate both of these scenarios, I hope I did them justice! 🥲

Which ending was your favorite: Sam, or Dean? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[andkisses]

♡ oh say it ditto | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: he confesses, and wants you to say it back

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 968 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff!  ♡ mentions of/warnings: none (this wasn’t proof read tho </3) ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ each part is inspired by lyrics from ditto by newjeans <3 ♡ a/n p2: this song is so sunghoon coded imo so if u see smth else get posted with him and this song 🙈 just know

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “like you a little, don’t want no riddle” 

he’s had all this time to think about it, and do know that jungwon is really putting his thoughts to it. he’s decided—he needs to confess, and as soon as possible, because he’s slowly becoming concerned it might be a health crisis. this feeling, the one that started out so small and chaste, has grown into something he can’t contain anymore. and the idea that he doesn’t know exactly what you think? the riddle of it all? that’s what’s the worst. imagine his relief, after he confesses so simply in the winter wind, as he watches your cheeks and the tips of your ears flush red, red, red. and his heart sparks with hope. imagine the surprise when you grin, overwhelmed, and place a sweet kiss to the apple of his own smiling cheeks. “me too.”

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “my feelings for you, like the memories we share, have grown so big” 

it started out so small, heeseung realizes thinking back on it. he liked your laugh, or your smile, or your fashion. then, suddenly, he found himself wanting to get to know you, not just see you from across a lecture hall. and now… this. the feelings that press against his chest, the ones that make it almost painful to see you because you don’t know. except, here in this stairwell after class, when he grabbed your wrist to catch you, you do know. the confession slips past his lips, almost desperate, and now heeseung is certain he will be sick. except, you take a step back up towards him, wrap your arms around his neck. and when he wraps his arms around your waist, the warmth that floods him tells heeseung he’s exactly where he needs to be.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “you smiled at me but do you think about me now?” 

uncertainty is not one of his favorite feelings, but jay deals with it for you. except, he’s not sure how much longer he can take this. he likes to think he knows things about people, knows how they tick. but you? maybe it’s the feelings that keep growing and growing inside, the way just hearing your voice down the hall or in the cafe makes him smile. but actually not knowing? it’s tearing him up inside, even if it’s masked by that beautiful smile. and now, here you are, standing at the corner of his desk after everyone has left. your fingertips on the corner, his gaze traveling up to your eyes, and the envelope in the other hand. the small, coy smile on your lips. “it’s hard saying things aloud, isn’t it?”

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “i had a long day, i miss you” 

scheduling difference don’t have to be this hard, jake thinks as he waits for you at the corner of where your two paths meet. it feels like it’s been forever since he’s seen you—not like he’s obliged to see you or anything. you two weren’t anything official or special, even if he wants so badly to be. maybe it’s thinking about what life would be like if he could call you mine that made the words slip out. “i miss you.” normal words, but the way he said it, and the way you respond, eyes wide and cheeks dusted with blush. “miss me how?” you ask, winter breeze blowing at your baby hairs. jake takes a step closer, choosing to listen to his heart’s wishes as you do the same. he laces his hand with yours, then brings your knuckles to his lips for a small, dainty kiss. your growing smile keeps him going. “miss… like this?”

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto” 

you make him nervous, sunghoon thinks, but the good kind. the kind that fills you with energy, like what you feel before a roller coaster. the hand that makes your fingers itch, wanting to be held by just one person. wanting to be held by you. this nervousness, he thinks, is what is motivating him, because he has surely never acted like this before let alone felt this much. he takes your hand on the walk back, a wash of seriousness pouring over his features. it’s too late to back out now, and you haven’t wrenched your hand away from his, so perhaps there’s a chance. “i like you,” he says, and he can feel the weights being lifted from his shoulders. “a lot. and i really, really want you to say it back.”

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “can’t wait 'til the morning, so say it, ditto”

yes, the sun set a long while ago. yes, sunoo should be fast asleep. but how can he be when all he can think or wonder or ponder is you? more specifically, how do you feel? he can hedge a bet—how close you sit, how you laugh at his jokes, how you reach out for him in the hall. but it’s the not knowing that’s really keeping him awake. so, of course, he does something about it. phone in his hands, six simple words—i like you, say it back? and while he waits, he elects it’s the perfect time to ascribe shapes to the spots and shadows on the ceiling. and when you text back? yes, i like you too. meet me in 10? sunoo always thought the campus was more beautiful at night.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “do you want somebody? like i want somebody?”

the cafe is loud and quiet at the same time. niki is supposed to be studying, yet the pen in his hand feels like a heavy weight, and the words on the page in front of him no longer make sense regardless of how many times he tries to read. the one thing he knows for sure, though, is you sitting across from him, headphones on, pen scribbling and actually doing work. maybe it’s how loud the cafe is, or how short the distance across the table is to you. niki reaches out, taps on the side of your headphones, and once you look up and slide them off, he’s asking. “do you like someone?” your eyes grow wide, cheeks red, and he dares to be bolder, fingers tracing your cheek before: “and is it me?”

[nxghtstxne]

JJ Maybank before he was your boyfriend headcanons

Warnings: None

Pairings: JJ Maybank x reader

Word Count: 993

*based in the same timeline as the JJ as your boyfriend headcanons so some things may be similar*

-The moment JJ first saw you walking along the beach with Sarah, he knew he needed you.

-He didn’t understand what the feelings he was feeling were at first; never really liking girls for anything other than a quick fling, and if he ever did then he pushed the feelings away before they could grow to anything else.

-He couldn’t do this with you though, the pogues had become quite attached to you, your personality and energy filling a gap they didn’t know they had.

-Even JJ couldn’t deny that it was refreshingly nice whenever you were around.

-You were new to the area so he took it upon himself to show you around, he took you to some of favourite areas, saving his most favourite ones for another time.

-You rather quickly became attached to the boy, finding him bringing you out of your shell, JJ was the first person you went to whenever you needed something. 

-Sarah and Kiara would tease you all the time about how blushy and happy you got whenever JJ would text you or send you a snap, you obviously denied everything but even deep down you knew you had it bad for him.

-Likewise John B and Pope would try and get JJ to admit he had feelings for you, at first he was still partly in denial, not wanting to make himself vulnerable. But after a big heart to heart with the boys he was finally comfortable admitting he liked you. 

-After that it was almost impossible to get him to shut up about you, he was constantly “guys look at what y/n sent earlier” and “oh this is y/n’s favourite song!” 

-Not long after, JJ would take any chance he got to be close to you, sitting on the couch at the chateau, grabbing the seat close to you in the twinkie- most of the time he would choose the seat opposite you in the van just so he had an excuse to glance at you every now and then, walking to the beach on a surfing day, he would happily walk next to you and offer to carry your stuff even though you denied more often than not.

-All of this wasn’t one sided, you would do the same towards him and he would be lying if he said he didn’t get butterflies or flustered for a few seconds whenever your hands brushed his or your gaze lingered a little too long for it to be platonic.

-He was caught by the other pogues on multiple occasions gazing at you with the most lovestruck look on his face, especially when you were reading or softly singing along to your favourite music. 

-The rest of the pogues knew the two liked each other, they’re best friends and the girls spoke to the boys about ways to get you to admit feelings for the other.

-There were three moments in particular that made JJ realise he truly loved you, not just like. 

-The first was when you excitedly made your way over to him when he and Pope got to the beach, handing him something with the most beautiful smile he’s seen yet, you walked  away before you could see his reaction, you didn’t wanna see if he didn’t like it, but you missed the way his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes glazed over a little as he held the handmade bracelet in his hand. You had used sea glass and beads and some little gemstone chips and wrapped them all up in coloured thread, just for him. It was the first time anyone had handmade something for him and just for him. 

-The second time was when he was woken up by the sound of your voice as you walked in the chateau talking to John B. When he came out of his self claimed room rubbing his eyes he definitely didn’t expect to see you with a bag of t-shirts and a hoodie or two, you handed them to him and at a closer look they were his clothes. You had washed his clothes for him? This was when he realised that one of your love languages was acts of service and it made sense. When he asked you about it all you had said was “just taking care of my boy yeah?”  you had said it like it was the most natural thing in the world- your boy.

-The third time was when you had noticed on multiple occasions the rumbling of his stomach (as well as John B’s) and the way the kitchen at the chateau was never stocked. Coming back from a bike ride with Pope, JJ was surprised to see you cooking, the shelves a little more full then before, with some of everyone's favourite snacks too. You had turned to glance at them and made eye contact with JJ before giggling and focusing back on your cooking. 

-You were taking care of him in ways that no one had before, and at first he was ashamed, he should know how to cook and clean his own clothes for god's sake, and maybe he could if he really tried but he never really had the motivation to care for himself before you came along.

-You had reassured him when he brought this up to you during an emotional talk that you didn’t mind doing some of these things for him and the rest of the group, you were good at looking after people. 

-It was after this that JJ decided he was going to show you he loved you too, becoming more comfortable with hugging you, and putting his arm around you any chance he could.

-Eventually that grew to hand holding and he swore it felt like your hands were made to be held in his.

-It wasn’t long after this that the two friends finally admitted they were in love with each other. 

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Masquerade

benedict bridgerton x female reader

The Bridgerton estate was alive with the sound of laughter and music as the masquerade ball reached its peak. Twinkling lights hung from the ceilings, casting a soft, magical glow over the ballroom. Guests in elaborate masks and elegant gowns filled the space, their identities hidden behind intricate designs.

Benedict Bridgerton, dressed in a sleek black suit with a matching mask that covered the upper half of his face, stood by the edge of the ballroom, his eyes scanning the crowd. His mother had insisted he attend the ball, hoping he might meet someone special. He had danced with several women, each one charming in her own way, but none had captured his attention until he saw her.

She stood near the grand staircase, wearing a deep green gown that hugged her figure perfectly. Her mask, adorned with emeralds, matched her dress and concealed her face, but her eyes sparkled like jewels. Benedict felt an inexplicable pull toward her, a sense of familiarity and intrigue that he couldn't ignore.

Gathering his courage, he approached her, his heart pounding with anticipation. "May I have this dance?" he asked, extending his hand.

She turned to him, her eyes meeting his through the mask. There was a moment of hesitation before she placed her hand in his. "I'd be delighted," she replied, her voice soft and captivating.

As they moved to the center of the ballroom, Benedict was enveloped by her presence. The scent of lavender wafted from her, intoxicating and familiar. He couldn't help but draw closer, his arm wrapping around her waist as they began to dance. The world around them seemed to blur, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of enchantment.

"Have we met before?" Benedict asked, his voice low and intimate.

She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Perhaps we have, or perhaps we haven't. That's the beauty of a masquerade, isn't it?"

He chuckled, intrigued by her evasiveness. "You have a point. But I can't help feeling like I've known you forever."

Their dance continued, each step bringing them closer. Benedict found himself captivated by her grace, her intelligence, and the way she made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. The warmth of her body pressed against his sent a shiver down his spine, and he fought the urge to pull her even closer.

"Tell me something about yourself," he murmured, his lips close to her ear.

She looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything. Everything."

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I love books. I could spend hours lost in a good story."

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with affection. "A woman after my own heart. What else?"

"I enjoy painting. It's a passion of mine."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I paint as well. Perhaps we could share our works someday."

"Perhaps," she said, her eyes twinkling with promise.

The music swelled, and they continued to dance, lost in each other. Benedict couldn't get enough of her the way she moved, the scent of lavender that clung to her, the sparkle in her eyes. He wanted to know everything about her, to uncover the mystery behind the mask.

As the song came to an end, Benedict reluctantly released her, his hand lingering on hers. "May I know your name?"

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sadness. "Some things are better left a mystery," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Before he could protest, she slipped from his grasp, disappearing into the crowd. Benedict stood there, feeling a sense of loss that he couldn't quite explain. He had met countless women in his life, but none had left such a profound impact on him.

Days turned into weeks, and Benedict couldn't get her out of his mind. He attended every social event, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be found. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, leaving him with nothing but memories of their magical night.

One evening, while walking through the park, he caught a whiff of lavender. His heart leaped, and he turned around, scanning the area. And there she was, standing by a blooming rose bush, her back to him. He recognized her instantly the elegant posture, the cascade of waves down her back.

"Miss" he called out, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and longing.

She turned around slowly, and their eyes met. Those green eyes, sparkling with the same warmth and mystery he remembered, gazed back at him. She smiled, and Benedict felt his heart swell with joy.

"My Lord," she greeted softly, the sound of his name on her lips sending a shiver down his spine

He approached her, his steps tentative as if he feared she might vanish again. "I've been searching for you," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "I couldn't get you out of my mind. Your eyes, the way they sparkled, the scent of lavender... It all stayed with me."

She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I couldn't forget you either. But I had my reasons for staying hidden."

"Whatever those reasons are," Benedict said, taking her hand in his, "I want to know you, truly know you. The woman behind the mask."

She squeezed his hand gently, her touch sending warmth through his body. "And I want to know you, Benedict. But I need to take things slowly."

"Whatever it takes," he promised, his eyes locked with hers. "I'll wait as long as you need."

Their afternoons together became a cherished routine. They strolled through parks, attended art exhibits, and shared intimate conversations over tea. Benedict found himself falling deeper in love with her each day. He learned her favorite books, her dreams, and even her fears. And she, in turn, learned about his family, his passion for art, and his hopes for the future.

One evening, as they walked along the Thames, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the water, Benedict turned to her, his heart pounding in his chest. "There's something I need to say."

She looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling in the fading light. "What is it, Benedict?"

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he held hers. "I’m falling in love with you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've loved you since that night at the masquerade. Every moment we've spent together has only made my feelings stronger. I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she reached up to caress his cheek. "Oh, Benedict, as am I”she whispered, her voice breaking.

As they made their way back to the Bridgerton estate, the night air cool and crisp, Benedict’s heart raced with anticipation. He led her through the grand hallways, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. His hand remained entwined with hers, their connection growing stronger with each step.

When they reached his chambers, Benedict paused, turning to her with a look of tender intensity. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes shimmering with desire. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He opened the door, guiding her inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candlelight, casting warm shadows on the walls. Benedict closed the door behind them, the sound of the latch clicking shut echoing in the stillness.

He turned to her, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and reverence. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, her breath hitching in her throat.

“Benedict,” she murmured, her voice a blend of anticipation and need.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the nights he had dreamed of her, all the moments he had longed to be close to her. She responded with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

With a gentle urgency, Benedict began to unlace her gown, his fingers deftly working the intricate ties. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, revealing the soft curves of her body. He drank in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against the buttons of his shirt. “So are you,” she replied, her eyes locking with his.

They undressed each other slowly, savoring every touch, every kiss. When they were finally bare before each other, Benedict scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply.

Their lovemaking was a dance of passion and tenderness, a symphony of whispered words and shared breaths. Benedict explored every inch of her body, his hands and lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She arched beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she urged him on.

"Benedict," she gasped, her voice filled with longing.

He looked into her eyes, his own filled with love and desire. "I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you too," she replied, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

With a final, deep kiss, Benedict joined their bodies, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other, their hearts beating in perfect unison. The scent of lavender filled the air, mingling with the heady scent of their passion.

As they reached the peak of their lovemaking, Benedict's name spilled from her lips in a cry of ecstasy, and he followed her over the edge, their bodies trembling with the force of their release. They clung to each other, their breaths mingling as they came down from the heights of their passion.

Benedict held her close, his heart swelling with a love so profound it left him breathless. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. "And I am yours."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a deep, abiding love. "Always," she replied, her voice a soft promise.

In the quiet of his chambers, wrapped in each other's arms, they found a peace and fulfillment they had longed for. The mystery of the masquerade had brought them together, but it was their love that would keep them bound for a lifetime. And as she drifted off to sleep, the scent of lavender still lingering in the air, Benedict knew that he had found his forever in her. With a tender smile, he reached for the small velvet box he had hidden in the drawer of his bedside table. He opened it to reveal a delicate gold ring, adorned with a single, sparkling emerald that matched her eyes.

Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped the ring onto her finger, his heart swelling with emotion. He kissed her hand softly, whispering, “You are my everything.”

like and comment thoughts :)

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

hey love!<3 i'd like 2 req hantengu's clones with a s/o ((*older sibling figure for zohakuten)) who is amazing at singing but is really shy about it!!✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡

Hidden talents

I LOVE THESE KINDA HCS WITH A SHY READER RAAHHHH🥹🙏🏾

Warnings: none really, just Karaku being stupid lmao, Zohakuten's part is clearly platonic

Aizetsu

Aizetsu likes hearing you sing when you don't know he's around. He'll come to your home at night of course to spend time with you but before going inside your home he'll stand outside your window but makes sure to not be noticed when your making dinner for yourself just listen outside to your beautiful voice.

Aizetsu would lean on the wall and close his eyes, hearing you sing the same song. He never brings it up to you since he got sad at the idea of toy becoming more wherey on who's listening to your beautiful singing voice

Aizetsu will get lost in your voice, it was almost like he's being under some spell and feeling more calm the usual, this time he let his Guard down for too long and didn't notice you open your front door

Aizetsu and you looked at each other in surprise. "Y/n... why are you out here.." he said, looking down at his feet. "I'm going to get some water from the well... how long have you been standing there?" You said with a nervous smile

Aizetsu looked at you and saw your nervous smile. "Don't make that face... it's making me sad. I'm sorry for the east dropping.. your voice just sounds so beautiful I.." he looked at you with a worried look. "Aizetsu, it's ok," you hug him. "I just get shy when I sing around people"

Aizetsu hugs you back "well don't be shy with me. I've always loved hearing you sing, " he admits to You strapping more than once. "Please tell me about the somg you're always singing. I want to know why you're always singing this song. It's quite sad"

Sekido

Sekido barely gives you any personal space unless you are doing something that really involves privacy. When he's outside sitting next to you looking up at the stars, he's always hearing you hum a song

Sekido often told you how annoying it is when you hum very quietly because he thinks you're talking to yourself and not sharing your thoughts with him. It never crossed his mind that it was a song you were singing

Sekido was going to arrive late at your house, so you sat outside, actually singing the song you hummed so much. "That's what it is? A song?" Sekido appears from behind you, making you jump in surprise

Sekido sat in front of you, looking at you angrily. "Why don't you just sing the song instead of half assing it and humming?" He questioned. "It's because I'm just shy.. I don't usually sing in front of anyone"

Sekido couldn't wrap around why you were shy and just angered him more. He actually enjoyed what he just heard and wanted to hear more, and even getting mad at himself, thinking he shouldn't have interrupted just to hear you sing more

Sekido sighed "well I'm not anyone. I'm your lover, so there's no need to be shy around me. If you are, I'll get angry, " he said. "Sing the song properly this time. I don't want to hear you hum it, " he asks you as nicely as he can just to hear you sing, especially for him.

Karaku

Karaku didn't realize you could sing until he heard you in the shower. You gave Karaku a certain time to come to your house at nights but he decided to come much earlier to surprise you

Karaku was glad he disobeyed your strict time for him to come over because he got to hear you sing in the shower. Your voice sounded like an angel to him, and he couldn't help listen

Karaku decided it would be a "good idea" to start clapping once you were done your song "Amazing! Great job! How lovely, " he said with the biggest grin on his face. "Karaku!? What are you doing here so early!?" You turned off the shower getting flustered.

Karaku laughs. "I wanted to surprise you by coming early, but it looks like i got surprised instead. You're singing is beautiful why don't you sing more often? Could make lots of money off that, " he said. "It's because I'm just shy..." You pout

Karaku raised his eyebrow in confusion. "I don't understand. You're singing is really good but if you don't want to sing in front of others I understand" he said getting ready to open the door "Karaku don't you fucking dare."

Karaku started giggling mischievously. "What!? I've seen you naked before. Maybe if I see you again, you won't be so shy to sing in front of others. " he jokes and opens the door and is greeted with you throwing bars of soap at his face. "GET OUT!!!!"

Urogi

Urogi doesn't necessarily hear you singing, but he always manages to come when you're whistling a tune. "Hey y/n, what is that song you're always whistling? I don't think I've heard it before, " he asked, getting closer to your face, excited to know.

Urogi looked at you, shocked when you tell him it's a song you've been writing. "Can you sing it for me?" He asked with a wide smile. "Ah... I don't know. I've never sang in front of anyone before. " You cover your mouth and turn the other way.

Urogi was surprised "seriously? I think you'll sound good. Please?" He asks, and the more you told him no, the more he begged. "Please y/n I won't ask again, please!" He hugs you tightly so you can't escape.

Urogi finally got you to agree. "I'm going to have my back turned okay? Sorry, I'm just.." you said, and he puts his talon on your mouth gently "its fine! Just sing! But maybe this will help. " he uses his claws to cover your ears so you will feel like you're alone.

Urogi listens to you sing. He is amazed. He didn't think you were horrible, but you were much better than he expected. Once you were done, he clapped his claws. "You are a good singer! But only sing around me, " he winks. "I definitely will," you giggle

Zohakuten

Zohakuten told you he's been having werid dreams when he is sleeping during the day. He tells you he hears a woman singing and explains how much he likes to hear her sing. "I think this dream will just go away, you know?" You said laughing nervously

Zohakuten couldn't understand how you could just brush off what he said. You're his older sibling according to you, but you weren't doing what an older sibling would do when their younger sibling is curious about something.

Zohakuten was mad at you that night and didn't talk to you until sun rose when he went to bed in his room. He couldn't sleep and thought his mind wasn't play tricks on him until he heard singing and opened his door quietly.

Zohakuten walked to the kitchen, stopping where the sunlight shined in the kitchen and heard you singing the same song he heard in his dream. "It was you," he said, making you jump, dropping a pan. "I thought you were sleeping!? Shit don't scare me like that, you little brat!"

Zohakuten looked at you mad. "Shut up. Don't call me a brat. You're the brat for not telling me you're the woman singing the song that I like." he crossed his arms with a slight pout. "You like the song?" You asked

Zohakuten nodded. "I also like how you sing it. You have a nice singing voice. I don't understand why you're ashamed of it. I'm going back to bed. Sing that song. I fall asleep better that way, " he said, heading back to his room. "A please would be nice," you groaned

[crystalofmoon19]

I Love You Too Much - Striker x Singer! Reader

Summary: You finally decided to confess your feelings to Striker and you were going to surprise him with a song that you composed for him.

Warnings: None! It's just pure love for Striker.

Word count: 1900

Song used: I Love You Too Much - The Book Of Life

(Note: This fic was going to be uploaded on Valentine's Day, but due to personal problems I’m uploading it now.)

Striker was in his lair sharpening his knife for his next mission, if he ever had one, he gave an annoyed snort, leaving his knife aside. He was really already tired of losing so many fights in vain, he wanted to get revenge on Blitz and Stolas for everything they had put him through, but in addition to thinking about them he also thought about you.

While he was losing his battles, he had also met you, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. You two met when Striker had to crash a party to kill one of his targets, you on the other hand were singing on the improvised stage that you and your friends had made.

Your voice was so beautiful and melodious that Striker couldn't help but be attracted to you.

Striker decided to talk to you once he finished targeting him and when he talked to you he realized that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. You valued life with a lot of love and compassion, very contrary to him who was just a dirty murderer who killed royalty, but still the two of you got along well and stayed in touch to this day.

Clearly Striker hasn't told you anything about his mercenary life, but ever since he met you he's had a big dilemma, whether to carry out his revenge against Blitz or...

“Leaving my life as a murderer to be with her.” .- Striker said out loud to himself.

It had taken him years to perfect his life as an assassin, but it was a life he didn't like living, having the stress all the time was killing him and being with you was so rewarding. He could be himself with you and you wouldn't judge him.

Striker continued with his train of thought until he heard a loud noise.

“Striker now has a letter from-!” Striker's mariachis sang in unison, who came out of his hiding place.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” Striker shouted angrily.

“No, no, sir, we have a letter for you!” .- One of the mariachis spoke, the elderly one with the big mustache.

"A letter?" .- Striker asked for the first and only time interested in his mariachis.

“That's right, sir, this letter is for you!” .- Said the female imp who with the others raised the letter for Striker to pick it up.

“It's Miss Y/N's, she told us to give it to you!”

“She is very pretty!”

Striker gave a sinister look at the imp who said that and got scared. This time his gaze went to the letter and he began to read it.

“Dear Striker…

Hi Striker, I know you're busy but I'd really like to see you soon. I've missed you a lot lately. Is it okay if we meet at the stream near my town during the sunset? I'll bring the food for a picnic and you could bring the wine.

I hope to see you again, Striker.”

- Y/N ♡

After finishing reading your letter, Striker couldn't help but smile and wag his tail with happiness. It had been a long time since he felt this happy and only you could make him happy.

And without thinking twice Striker started looking for the wine that he had saved for a while. He was so excited to see you again.

“Sir, are you okay?” .- Said one of the mariachis.

“I think it's the first time I've seen it like this.” .- Said another.

"Yes, me too."

“What did the letter say?”

“YOU GET OUT OF HERE!”

___________________________________________

You prepared the food basket, put the tablecloth, the candles and checked that everything was ready. There was only one more thing missing, your guitar. You really wanted to confess your feelings for Striker, and what better way to do it than with a song?

You mustered up the courage to write a letter to Striker and made an appointment to meet him at the stream that was near your town. You really wanted him to come.

“Miss Y/N, we're here!” .- One of Striker's mariachis spoke from the ground and you just laughed as you lifted them up with your hands.

“You're right on time, guys. Did you deliver my letter to Striker like I asked?”

“Yes, Miss Y/N!”

“We have never seen him so happy!”

“Well done, guys. Now as I promised, I will leave you some of my food if you help me with my song.”

“Yes, Y/N!”

"Thank you so much, guys."

With that the little mariachis got into the basket. You smiled leaving your house and headed to the place where you met Striker; you just hoped he could come.

You were still a little nervous about all of this. You loved Striker, but he had been busy with his work and you weren't sure if he would give you time to come over today; he was always very reserved with his work. You didn't know if confessing was a good idea or not, maybe Striker didn't see you the same way, but you still decided to risk confessing your feelings to him.

That's how you arrived at the aforementioned place, you took the blanket out of the basket and spread it, then you placed some candles; you wouldn't put the food out until Striker arrived, otherwise the food would get cold.

With everything ready, you just had to wait, so you just looked into the distance and sat on the floor while you tuned the chords of your guitar. You watched as Wrath's infernal sun slowly descended into the sunset, a short time later you heard Bombproof's gallop and quickly got up happy to see Striker; for his part, he left Bombproof near the tree, got off his horse, took out the wine, and greeted you with a gesture with his hat.

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Striker, I'm so happy to see you!” .- You hugged Striker without thinking twice, and he, although a little surprised, returned the hug.

“It seems like someone is very happy to see me.”

"You have no idea." .- You said, blushing on your cheeks and looking away from Striker.

"Are you hungry? If you want, we can start eating.”

“Sounds good to me, darlin’. “I brought your favorite wine.”

“Aw, Striker, thank you very much. “I just brought your favorite food.”

“You didn't have to do it, songbird.”

“I wanted to do it for you.”

“You are so sweet, sugarcube.”

A blush returned to your cheeks as you took the food out of the basket. With this you and Striker didn't stop talking to catch up on how they were while enjoying the food you prepared.

When the two of you finished eating, you settled down to drink the wine that Striker brought, he poured it into the glasses you brought and you gave a toast to this. With this you saw in the distance how the infernal sun of Wrath set in the evening.

“That's why I wanted you to come at this time, Striker. I wanted you to see the sunset of Wrath, our home.”

“Well, you're right, darlin'. The Wrath sunset is one of the best and from here you have a stunning view.”

“This feeling you have right now is the same feeling I feel when I'm with you, Striker.” .- You got closer to Striker and took his hands to look him in the eyes while he just looked at you a little surprised.

“What are you trying to say, darlin’?” .- Striker asked you while you raised your hand to your chest, taking a big breath. It was now or never.

“I think it would be best if I sing you a song about the feelings I have felt from my heart, Striker… Mi amor.”

Your words in Spanish caught Striker's interest as you picked up your guitar to start singing.

“I love you too much.”

“To leave without you loving me back.”

“I love you too much.”

“Heaven’s my witness and this is a fact.”

“I know I belong.”

“When I sing this song.”

“There’s love above love and it’s ours.”

“‘Cause I love you too much.”

Striker opened his eyes wide, he couldn't believe you were confessing in a love song, his rattle tail kept waving happily and he was smiling genuinely at your singing, he wanted to keep listening to your song, he was adoring you even more.

“I live for your touch.”

“I whisper your name, night after night.”

“I love you too much.”

“There’s only one feeling and I know it's right.”

“I know I belong.”

“When I sing this song.”

“There’s love above love and it’s ours.”

“‘Cause I love you too much.”

You gave a signal to the mariachis, they came out of the basket and joined you in your serenade playing their instruments.

“Heaven knows your name and I've been praying.”

“To have you come here by my side.”

“Without you a part of me is missing.”

“Just make you my home, I will fight.”

You continued the song playing the chords of your guitar, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest at any moment, but on the other hand Striker was so surprised and at the same time he was loving you at every moment. He didn't even care that the mariachis were here anymore, he only had his eyes and ears for you.

“I know I belong.”

“When I sing this song.”

“There’s love above love and it’s ours.”

“‘Cause I love you too much.”

You kept a moment of silence where you took a big breath to sing the highest note.

“I Love…

“You too much!”

“I love you too much.”

“Heaven’s my witness and this is a fact.”

“You live in my soul.”

“Your heart is my goal.”

“There’s love above love and it’s mine cause I love you.”

“There’s love above love and it’s yours ‘cause I love you.”

“There’s love above love and it’s ours.”

“If you love me.”

“As much.”

When you finished singing, you put your guitar aside, and gave him a smile as your cheeks blushed; he seemed as nervous or more nervous than you, so you decided to talk.

“Striker, you have always been very important to me, and I hope that with this song that I composed for you, my feelings have…” Before you could say anything else, Striker interrupted you, giving you a big hug, one of the biggest hugs. strong ones you have received; since he even picked you up and spun you around.

"I love you too, sweetheart!" .- Striker said that he began to give you kisses on your cheeks.

"Ay, mi amor!" .- You laughed at his kisses that tickled you.

When Striker put you down, you got closer to him and he also got closer to you, in a quick movement Striker's tail caught your hips and he leaned you over, holding onto your figure. You screamed but you saw that he took off his hat that would cover them from the kiss.

You returned the kiss immediately and kissed him with as much passion as he was giving you and you even stroked his hair and your tail met his.

Now Striker no longer had any doubts about it, he preferred to be by your side than any other revenge he might have, he would leave everything for you.

♡

[princessofmarvel]

Wonderland

summary | renfield sees a woman that catches his eye and knows that he shouldn’t speak to her, but he finds that he just can’t help himself.

pairing | robert montague renfield x fem!reader

wc | 1.2k

warnings! | none! maybe some cursing and not really proof read but it’s just fluff lol

genre | fluff!

author's note! | I saw renfield on sunday and just knew that I needed to write for him lol, especially since there are only a few fics on here about him, most of them are written by the amazing @youlightmeupfinn so definitely go check those out! this is a part of my “swift series” (where I write fics based on taylor swift songs)  so if you have any requests for the swift series (or for just something that you would like for me to write) please send them in! I would be happy to write about them! and as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, but I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. and let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

 Renfield was taking a stroll down the streets of New Orleans, he tells himself that it is to relax and to clear his head but in reality he was trying to figure out what to bring his master to eat that night. He didn’t want to bring him anyone innocent like he so desperately wanted, that's why he joined the support group in the first place, to bring those people's monsters to him. To bring people that he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for. But, his boss didn’t like the taste of those people too much. 

He spotted a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore a few paces down and decided to slip in to sit and think about this. That was when he spotted her. Someone he knew his master would actually praise him for bringing back to the lair. She was the most stunning beauty he had ever seen. Sat in the back corner with a latte and what appeared to be a new romance novel that she was on the last few pages of. She was perfect. 

Renfield ordered some tea and took a seat not too far from her, but not so close that he would seem weird. He knew he couldn’t bring her to him. No matter how much his master would appreciate it. No matter how much praise he would get for doing such a good job, he just couldn’t do it, it couldn’t, wouldn’t be her. 

He wanted to speak to her, he knew he shouldn’t though. He knew that he should never involve someone like her in his life. But, he also knew that if he had the chance to, that he would regret for the rest of his life if he didn’t 

The girl then got up and moved towards the bookshelf. He watched her as she spotted something on the very top shelf that she wanted. He watched as she frowned to herself and huffed and she tried to reach for it but couldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t do this, that this one simple and kind gesture would end up leading him down a rabbit hole, but his feet thought for him as he stood up and made his way to the bookshelf and reached up and grabbed the book she wanted and handed it to her. 

“Thank you so much! I wish these things weren’t so tall.” She said as she looked up at him. Her voice just added to her appeal, it was soft and you could tell she was kind just from the sound of it. 

“I agree, It’s like the person who invented them just wanted a cruel laugh.” He said before he could stop himself. 

“Yes! Exactly! Oh I’m (Y/n) by the way.” She said as she put her hand out to him, his body taking over his mind and shaking it. 

“Robert Montague Renfield” He said as he shook her soft hand. 

“That’s a nice name, sounds fancy.” She said which earned a chuckle from him. “I noticed you’re alone, would you like some company Robert?” She asked. He could tell she was nervous to ask, but seemed like she wasn’t asking out of pity, but out of genuine interest in talking to him. He found himself saying yes and following her back to her table in the corner. 

The two spoke for hours, she asked about where he was from, which led to him talking about how hard it is to find good tea in america. He asked about the new book she had picked up, which was ‘Alice in wonderland’, which led to her talking about her love for the 1951 animated movie (He made a mental note to watch it later). They just laughed and talked for hours. Then the conversation led to work. He found himself telling her about having a narcissistic boss that worked him to the bone. And, it never seemed like he really Appreciated it. Then he accidentally let it slip that his boss made him feel like he was undeserving of happiness. He regretted it immediately because he saw how sad it made the girl look. 

“Oh Robert, that's just not true. Everyone is deserving of happiness.” She held up her hand to keep him from interrupting and stopping her. “I know it seems like sometimes you don’t, maybe because you’ve done some things that you regret, but as long as you make peace with those things and accept those things, to know that they were the wrong things to do. And, you work to better yourself from them. Then there is no reason why you should not deserve happiness.” She said to him with a smile. 

Then he realized that her hand was laying on top of his from across the table. She must have realized that she had done that because she pulled her hand away and seemed slightly embarrassed. 

“Thank you, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” he said while looking at her. He felt like he needed to change the subject, in fear of making things awkward. “So, what do you do for work?”

“Oh, I uh, work here actually.” she said finally looking back at him after feeling embarrassed. “Oh god i seem pathetic, I swear I have a life and friends, I just like to come here when I have some time to relax.” She said while letting out a small laugh. 

“You don’t seem pathetic, I would do the same if my work place was as relaxing as here.” Renfield said while giving her a soft smile. 

“I actually go in later, wait what time is it?” She checked her phone and jumped up out of her seat when she saw the time. “Oh my god I was supposed to start an hour ago, and I’m here, Linda why didn’t you say anything?” She said turning around towards the older woman working the register. Who in return gave her a wink and a smile before tending to the customer now in line, the first in hours. 

“I’m so sorry Robert, I have to go.” She said as she gathered her things. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to see her again. 

“Perhaps we could do this again sometime?” he said, folding his jacket over his arms.

“I would love to, you could give me your number and we could plan something.” The girl said with a smile. 

“Oh, I don’t have a phone.” He said, which he immediately regretted since he knew in this day and age was weird. “I broke it yesterday, I was going to replace it tomorrow.” He said quickly thinking of something. “But, I can pick you up here this weekend, if you would be interested.” 

“That sounds great, what time?”  

“I was thinking maybe around 1:00? I hear the weather will be nice on Saturday, so I thought maybe we could have a picnic.” He said, knowing that doing something during the day would mean that his boss could not interrupt it, 

“That sounds wonderful, It’s a date.” She said while making her way to the registrar. “I’ll see you then Robert.” 

He smiled and said goodbye as he made his way out the door and onto the street, the sun starting to go down. He had realized what exactly he had done. He knew that he couldn’t let his boss find out about her, and he also knew how hard that would be to do. But, knowing that he would get to be with her, made how hard this would be worth it. 

“Oh fuck me.” he said making his way back to his boss, but with a smile on his face, something that hadn’t truly been there in a long time.