#sorry for how many times i use the word “like”

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

seven - m. kaiser

you were seven years old when you first met the piece of trash named michael kaiser.

sitting on the swings alone with a busted violet lip and ripped jeans and scratched up, bloody knees wasn’t considered the ideal invitation for a friendship. but you had mindlessly approached him, sitting on the swing next to him before waving to him.

subhuman garbage looked up, wondering why such a nice girl would be looking at him, talking to him. but he didn’t question it and instead listened to you talk, introducing himself.

“but i don’t like to be called michael, so don’t call me that.”

“got it! you’re mihya then!”

subhuman shit—no, newly named mihya felt his heart skip a beat. no one was ever affectionate enough to give him a nickname, so such an experience made mihya strangely ecstatic. he nodded, a small smile slowly making way onto his swollen lips. “right. im mihya.”

the second time you saw mihya was only a few days later.

he had been sitting on the swings, crying his eyes out. this time he had a nosebleed, angry red marks on his neck, and his hands were nearly purple. you had approached him, your eyebrows knit together.

“mihya? what’s wrong?”

mihya had sniffled before looking up at you. “will you get mad at me…?” he choked out weakly. your jaw dropped, grasping both of his hands.

“mihya, i would never get mad at you!” you exclaimed. “you’re my friend!”

mihya muttered something incoherent before sighing. “…my dad. he gets mad a lot.”

you blinked a few times, your seven year old mind not quite comprehending the situation. but you frowned, looking up at the sky. “oh, i really hate it whenever mama and dad get mad at me. your dad is always mad? that sounds so bad. im so sorry, mihya.”

mihya nodded. “it’s…don’t worry about it.”

one day, after many encounters and at eight years old, you finally spoke your thoughts.

“i think your house is haunted.”

mihya, who had been chewing on garlic and sugar flavored bread from the bakery, stopped mid chew. “why?”

“well, your dad is always mad, and you’re always crying. you’re outside as much as you possibly can, and you don’t wanna be there. that sounds haunted to me. and when you are, you hide from him.” you muttered. “i don’t like that. i don’t like how you’re always crying and hiding.”

mihya hummed, quick to respond. “well, i guess i really got no other choice. i wanna avoid getting hit as much as i can.”

your chest tightened to the point where it hurt, a frown making way onto your face. “i love you, you know that? to the moon and saturn, i really do love you.”

mihya’s heart stopped.

and eight years old, having such a crush probably won’t end good for him. but no one had ever told him that they loved him before, and yet you say it out of nowhere, and to the moon and saturn? he might just die of happiness.

heat spread throughout his cheeks before he squeaked out. “i-i love you…too?” you gave him a toothy grin and gave him a high-five.

at ten years old, you’re on the swings once more, this time with a blue raspberry popsicle in between your lips. mihya has a strawberry flavored one, bought using your money.

“you know, mihya. we should move away forever. or maybe we could be pirates or something. y’know, like from one piece.” you said dreamily.

“that came out of nowhere. why?” mihya replied, tossing his now empty stick into the trash can of the park.

“so that we could get away from your damn father and you won’t have to cry anymore.” you muttered, pouting. “i’ve never even met the guy, and yet i hate him.” you chomped down on the popsicle stick, breaking it in half.

mihya laughed. “yeah? i want to leave too. and it sounds nice to leave with you.”

at fourteen, the news arrived.

you sat on the swings, sobbing into your hands. mihya had come from behind you, his heart aching when he saw your tears. you were the love of his life (you just didn’t know it yet), and your tears hurt him.

“mihya, im moving.”

three words, and yet it wasn’t the usual three words that was like music to mihya’s ears.

he swallowed, tears stinging his own eyes. “to where…?”

“japan. apparently it’s supposed to be a safer environment there or something like that. i have to learn the language and the customs and everything.” you sniffled. “but i don’t want to. i don’t want to leave everything i know. but i mostly don’t want to leave you, mihya.”

mihya wanted to go to your family and interrogate them and to beg them to let you stay. he couldn’t live without you, he wouldn’t be able to survive without the light of his life. you would leave and forget him within a month or two because you have all new friends, and he’ll just be another piece of your forgotten childhood. but you would still be his whole life; you were his first friend, his only real friend.

the only person who he will ever love and the only person who will ever love him.

“right. got it.” mihya replied, his throat dry.

two weeks later, mihya became subhuman piece of shit again.

however, at fifteen, the subhuman was arrested and eventually scouted.

subhuman became kaiser.

at nineteen, kaiser traveled to japan to participate in the still fairly recent blue lock program. although he was interested in blue lock’s new rising player isagi yoichi, he wondered if he could coincidentally see you.

nothing was impossible, after all.

—

for the past five years, you’ve been lonely.

the language barrier was resolved within three years of hard work, but unknown customs and a personality that didn’t match the japanese status quo just made everything worse. for years, you had no friends, you spent lunchtime alone, and worst of all?

you didn’t have mihya in your life.

there were nights when you felt so alone that you would just curl up with your pillow and remember mihya. your mihya. those beautiful seven years spent with him, years that you will never forget.

there was a night where you forgot what he looked like.

panicked and crying, you had opened up your phone immediately too look at a picture of him. after a few minutes of staring, your tears stopped as you memorized his face once more. you never wanted to forget him, not a single bit.

at nineteen and in desperation of college credit and money, you volunteered to be a manager of the blue lock program. ego jinpachi was a strange man, but everything was worth it for the money.

and you couldn’t help but think of your mihya, who you remembered bought a soccer ball for his twelfth birthday and adored it.

for years, you’ve refused to check soccer news out of heartbreak.

after blue lock won against the japanese u20 team, you were given a two week break, and was afterwards immediately shoved into the hell of the neo egoist league.

responsible for helping bastard münchen (“for it’s undeniable potential” said ego, although you really couldn’t care less.), you had walked to the germany wing expecting to have the rest the next few months surrounded by the company of isagi, kurona, yukimiya, hiori, and the others.

and yet when you entered, the first thing you saw was pale blonde hair.

the same that mihya had.

kaiser turned to you, as did the other blue lockers and bastard münchen members.

and finally, kaiser became mihya again.

BASED OFF OF THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “seven”

[amywritesthings]

care. / a levi period comfort fic

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 1.4k summary: You have to skip your gym date with Levi due to bad period cramps. Levi, however, isn't going to let you suffer alone.

note: set in the press four for more options / dating on airplane mode universe tags: modern au, neighbors au, menstruation, cramp pain, period talk, doting new boyfriend levi, fluff, adult language, reader has a chronic pms pain

author note: today is my birthday!! my gift to you is this little P4/DOAP one shot. this is a little self indulgent, so i hope this helps anyone else that experiences bad pains like me! i will be writing one shots all month for my endo awareness event, so feel free to send requests if you would like to see more! credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

( Read on AO3. )

You know as soon as you wake up what kind of day it’s going to be.

As you stir from slumber, you’re met with the familiar, unforgiving punch to the gut before you take your first deep inhale. The sharp jab is a tell-tale sign that you should have probably hit the pharmacy when you had the time during your lunch break — yesterday.

You know, before things got awful.

“God damn it.”

Periods have always been a sore spot to discuss in your life. The immense pain that follows the next agonizing few days is not a new occurrence, but knowing them intimately never makes them any better. No matter how many times you’ve prepared, weathered, endured — it’s a gamble whether or not you have the energy to eat today, much less do anything productive.

Dragging your phone off of the adjacent nightstand, your heart sinks when you see your most recent notifications:

Alarm set for 7:30 a.m. (Dismiss?)

Remember to pay credit card bill. (Eventually.)

New text from Levi Ackerman.

Shit.

Opening the third notification first, you read his text from five minutes ago.

[LEVI:] Hey. Still going to the gym this morning?

Self hatred floods your system when you realize there’s no way in hell you’re going to be going to the gym today, much less leaving this apartment. It’ll be a miracle if you can drag yourself to the bathroom.

Missing out on seeing Levi today hurts more than you’re willing to admit.

Tapping the reply bubble, you type in response:

[ME:] Sorry, not feeling well. :( Rain check?

It’s weird to confess why, right?

Everything is way too fresh, much too new, between the two of you.

You can’t burden your newest partner with the—

Another notification pops up immediately.

[LEVI:] What’s wrong?

Double shit.

Sighing to yourself, you type back, hesitate, then send.

[ME:] Don’t worry about it, it’s pretty embarrassing. I probably won’t be able to leave the apartment today. I’m rooting you on from down here!

Or up here, technically, if he’s going to be at the gym.

(Dumbass.)

You drop your phone to your mattress, slowly easing yourself out of bed. You check the sheets behind you to make sure you didn’t ruin them — thank god, there’s a singular win for this morning — before waddling to the bathroom.

Grabbing a new pair of underwear and a pad, you sit on the toilet with your head in your hands, taking some time to breathe through the initial cramps.

A few days.

Just a few days and you can—

It’s faint, but you hear it.

Three raps at your front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Perking your head up, your brows furrow as you finish up, tug your pajama bottoms back on, and wash your hands. Crossing the living room to the front door, you use the peephole to see who’s waiting outside.

For the briefest moment, you forget your cramps altogether.

“Levi?!” you yelp, shocked by his presence.

“Hey,” he states, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his typical white workout tank, displaying his lean arms in the fisheye lens of your doorframe. “You okay in there?”

“I— yeah, I’m okay!” you lie, higher pitched than usual. “Sorry, I can’t let you in.”

You note how his chin tilts, contemplating your brevity. 

“You come down with some shitty cold or whatever?”

“No, it’s—”

“Stomach bug?”

“No, not at all, it’s just—”

“I can wear a mask if you got something catchable.” He shifts, thumbing back to the hallway behind him like he knows you’re watching. “I have a bunch at my place.”

“Levi, no,” you blurt, getting frustrated. “I have my period!”

The dark-haired man stops.

His brows furrow, contemplating with evident confusion on his face.

“...I’m confused, a period of what? Fucking dysentary or something?” When you’re about to argue, he pointedly glances at the peephole. “Can you at least open the door for a sec?”

Reluctantly you agree to his request, unlocking the door and swinging it open. You feel immense shame standing in front of your new boyfriend looking messy and make-up free.

There hasn’t even been time to at least put on some moisturizer, damn it.

When he finally sees you at your worst (or so you perceive to be your worst) he doesn’t even bat an eye.

The stormy grays just stare into your own, brows rising expectantly.

“What do you need?”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to breathe through another wave of cramps. “What?”

With a tsk, he steps a baited sneaker into the threshold of your apartment. When you don’t push him out, he fully enters your apartment and beelines to your kitchen.

(Right. Same layout, just a couple of floors higher.)

“Get comfy on the couch,” he states like he’s a coach again, devoid of nonsense. “You have any tea lying around?”

“I don’t understand,” you state, only then closing the door to your apartment. “You were about to go to the gym—”

“Yeah, and now I’m not.”

“Levi.”

“Couch,” he counters, plucking the kettle you had sitting dormant on your stovetop to fill it with water. “Or your bed, if that makes you more comfortable.”

You can’t really argue with that, not when your cramps are making you dizzy.

Hell, his insistence on helping is making you even dizzier but in an entirely different way.

When you dated Porco, he never extended help beyond some comforting words and a stray pint of ice cream. Levi looks natural rummaging around your kitchen as if he’s been spending time here for months.

“You really don’t have to babysit me,” you try to reason, though you find yourself slowly shambling towards your couch anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, my mother used to have a lot of really bad months when I was growing up.” Levi starts the stove, heating up the water. His eyes briefly flicker to you. “My friend, Hange, doesn’t exactly have a walk in the park with this shit, either. They left an arsenal of supplies at my place whenever they come around. Can’t imagine they’ll care if I borrow some of it.”

So Levi has period supplies at his apartment for friends and family?

That…

You’ve never heard of any man who has something like that.

“Supplies like what?”

“Admittedly it’s a bunch of stuff we used to offer people at our gym in case they were having a rough week,” he explains as if this is nothing while he watches the kettle grow hot. 

Then again, periods are supposed to be nothing.

They’re natural and half of the planet go through them monthly, and yet —

“Heating pads, two different sizes. Mint and ginger tea are soothing for cramping. I’ve got a decently fresh stock of those leaves. Not sure if you’re out of sanitary products, but I got some of those in a cabinet, too.”

You stare dumbfounded, your heart skipping a beat.

(As if this man couldn’t be any more attractive.)

When you don’t respond, he turns around to look at you. His eyes soften as they search your face.

“I’d ask how your pain is right now, but I take it it’s high?” You nod. “Alright. Mind if I keep the door unlocked? I’ll run upstairs and grab everything.”

“You don’t have—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, but it isn’t firm like before.

Levi walks across the room towards you. As he bends at the hip, his dog tags slip out of his tank top.

Gentle lips press to the crown of your head.

“Let me take care of you, alright? You’re my girl. That’s my responsibility, especially when you’re feeling like shit. I can do push-ups anywhere. Gym’s not a necessity.”

Melting at his reassurance, you can’t help but tease. 

“So I get pampering and a show? Talk about high-class service.”

The lips on your head curve to a smirk before pulling away, his eyes meeting yours. His hand raises to cup the side of your face adoringly. An absentminded thumb strokes your cheek.

“Yeah, well, you know me. High fucking class or whatever.”

When you laugh, the corner of his mouth twitches again. He lifts your chin and leans forward, kissing your lips. You return the gesture, warmth spreading throughout your body.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he whispers against your lips.

“It only takes you five minutes to run up six flights of stairs and back?”

“You can time me if you think I’m lying.”

“Deal.”

[1d1195]

Buttercup - Extra I

Read Buttercup here ~2.6k words

From me: most of the asks and follow up requests were for showing how in love they are and how Harry' s going to treat her right after she wasn't for so long. Hopefully this will work 💕

Warnings: a little angsty, but fluffy overall. Maybe a little TOO fluffy. Nauseating, if you will. Like eating too many peanut buttercups.

Summary: Moving in next to Harry is one of the best thing that's ever happened to her.

It seemed like it had been raining for weeks. The wind provided an eerie soundtrack to her dreams. The rain sheeting against her window didn’t help either. She wished she had taken Harry’s offer to install a doorbell camera. However, she worried she would stare at it excessively, worried about who could be approaching her house.

Staring at the ceiling she sighed covering her eyes with her palms groaning to herself. The house was too quiet. Of course, she felt safe. It was just the wind and rain adding to her anxious mind. All she needed to do was fall asleep and in the morning everything would be fine. Her phone said it was just after two she still had ample time to sleep before her alarm went off.

Stupid Levi.

She thought she was a pretty independent person. Given that she kept her secret of leaving Levi for a couple months she felt she deserved the title. It took careful planning. Her heart had been in her throat for well over a year prior to her escape.

A little wind and rain shouldn’t have bothered her.

But it did. Every extra sound made it feel like someone was breaking in. They weren’t and she knew it. There was only one person that would try to break in and despite his threat, he hadn’t been back in the months since he showed up unexpectedly.

Two in the morning was too early. It had to be. There had to be a limit. For God’s sake they’d hardly been dating long at all. Swallowing, she put the phone to her ear and sighed as she listened to the quiet ring. One, two, not even three. “’Lo?” He murmured. Clearly, she woke him. Part of her thought she should just hang up and let him sleep. “Buttercup, baby, y’okay?” His voice clearer as she didn’t answer.

Great. Now he’s worried. “Hi,” she whispered.

He chuffed out a breath of laughter. “Hi kitten,” his voice sounded way too good. It should have been illegal to sound that good half asleep. What was the reason? “Y’okay, Buttercup?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, and she hoped Harry fell back asleep so he wouldn’t worry about her. She could hang up and he wouldn’t even notice. She would tell him he dreamt the whole thing in the morning. “Jus’ wanted t’hear m’voice, then?” He asked.

She sighed heavily. “No...” she shook her head. “Not... no. I woke up and... forget it. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Buttercup,” he practically cooed. “Tell me.”

His voice was too soothing. Too enticing. She was pretty sure as independent as she was that if Harry asked or said it, with his pretty voice, she was doomed. He could convince her to rob a bank just by asking. Or quit her job and rub his shoulders all day.

“M’jus’ gonna come over, kitten,” she heard the rustling of his comforter and sheets. The creak of his bedroom door and his quiet footsteps around his house.

“No!” She said quickly, sitting up and pressing a hand to her forehead. “That’s ridiculous, Harry.”

“No, s’not,” he yawned. “S’actually a great idea. This weather keeps waking me up. I need someone t’snuggle with if I want t’save any remainder of m’sleep. I’ll use m’key. See y’in a minute.”

He was gone before she could respond. She threw her covers off and hurried to the front door switching on every light she passed. As she reached the front door, Harry was closing and locking the deadbolt. “Hi, Buttercup,” he grinned, kicking his shoes off. He was soaked from the short walk, the tips of his curls that didn’t stay in his hood dripped on his face. His jacket dripped on her floor (not that she cared). “Let’s go t’bed,” he hung up his coat and pulled her by the hand as he walked back toward her room.

He switched off each light she just turned on, saying nothing about the impromptu visit. In her room he stripped his shirt off making her gulp because even though she had seen Harry many times without a shirt on, he was stunning and made her speechless. He slipped out of his sweats next and all but tossed himself beneath the covers. The poor thing seemed totally exhausted.

“C’mere, kitten,” he mumbled and lifted the covers for her to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she was settled into his embrace. He pulled her in, so she was spooned into his body. He was so warm it was insane. She threaded her fingers between his and tucked his hand beneath her chin. His other hand outstretched below her pillow. His lips were at the back of her head. Softly he pressed kisses along the spot on her neck he could reach.

“What are y’apologizing for, Buttercup?”

“For waking you—”

“Y’didn’t wake me,” he interrupted. She huffed because she knew he was lying. Lying to make her feel better. “S’not a big deal,” he decided after a moment. “Getting t’sleep with you s’a great reward.”

“But you had to go out in the rain and it’s late—”

“M’not gonna melt, baby.” She huffed again, irritation evident in the tone of just her breath. “Talk t’me, kitten.”

“I was scared,” she whispered.

He inched his body closer to hers. It seemed impossible as the heat of his thigh on the back of hers felt like she was suntanning in the tropics. “Scared of what, Buttercup?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. “The weather was just loud I guess, and every little noise bothered—”

“M’sorry,” he mumbled and kissed her skin. “I’ll stay when we have bad weather from now—”

“Harry, that’s not your responsibil—”

“You’re m’girlfriend, Buttercup. S’not a chore or anything. S’what m’supposed to do and more than that, I want t’do it. Sleeping with you is one of m’favorite things,” he explained.

“It’s silly. I’m a grown, independent woman and I shouldn’t need my boyfriend to sleep with me because I’m scared of a little weather.”

There was a long pause. She would have thought Harry had fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that he released her hand to use his fingers to trace the skin on her arm. “Y’not scared of weather, Buttercup,” he whispered. She felt her cheeks warm at his accurate statement. “Y’don’t have t’be brave for me. Y’had t’deal with a really scary thing and frankly I’m scared for you. Not because I think he’s going t’come back, but because I know y’think he might, and it scares you and s’not fair for you t’live like that. S’why I sleep with m’phone on full volume. I would sleep over every night if y’asked. I would love t’do that. Jus’ because y’don’t need a lot from me, doesn’t mean y’can’t ask nor deserve it. Y’can be independent and still need me,” he spoke slowly, his reassuring words felt elongated by the night. She felt her eyes sting with tears. Harry saw her so clearly and easily. He didn’t even have to see her to know he needed her. He was willing to lie to her about her own emotions so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

“Can you tell me you love me already so I can say it back?”

He chuckled and twisted her around until she faced him in the dark. He cupped her face stroking his thumbs along her cheeks. “Y’could have said it first at any time, baby.”

“Absolutely not. You would have said something mean if I said it first.”

“Mean? Like what?”

“Like... thank you or something, I don’t know. Some silly prank that would make you laugh.”

He chuckled. “S’a good idea.”

“Exactly. Laugh exactly like that. I’m not saying it first. I don’t care how ridiculous that is.”

He brushed his thumb on her lip and leaned in blindly in the dark to press a gentle, warm, firm, and lovely kiss on her lips. It made her dizzy and she couldn’t believe he liked her so much despite her bad attitude and her stubbornness. “I love you, Buttercup,” he whispered softly, his breath fanning across her face.

She couldn’t believe he loved her.

“Thank you,” she sighed dreamily. He snorted, shook his head, and kissed her forehead. “I love you, too.”

“Go t’sleep, Buttercup,” he murmured and tucked her into his chest. “S’jus’ a little wind and rain.”

She fell asleep before he finished his sentence.

*

When she came home from work, Harry was on her front step. However, he wasn’t waiting for her this time. His attention was fixed right next to the handle of her door. “Hi Buttercup,” he grinned over his shoulder as she approached. “How was your day?” He asked. She stared at him as he continued installing the doorbell camera. “What did y’have for lunch?”

She watched him silently as he worked. “What are you doing?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Nothing, baby,” he shrugged. “Jus’ making sure y’feel safe.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Harry made her feel so safe all the time. “How—”

“I should’ve done this when we discussed it the first time,” he shrugged one shoulder and then put the screwdriver he was using in the small toolbox he laid on the porch at his feet. “Can I see your phone?” He asked. She opened the bag on her shoulder and handed off her phone. He unlocked it with her passcode. “Now y’can see,” he put a hand on her lower back. “Y’can adjust the sensitivity. Y’probably don’t need t’know every time a squirrel runs across the porch,” he kissed her temple while the back of her eyes started to sting with the threat of tears. “What do y’want t’do for dinner, Buttercup?” She shrugged and turned toward him. She pressed her face into his chest. “Hey, s’matter, kitten?” He hummed kissing the top of her head. “Hey,” he chuckled. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re so nice,” she sniffled.

“Buttercup,” he sighed and squeezed her tighter. “S’what a boyfriend is supposed t’do. I love taking care of you,” he promised her. “S’normal things t’do for you. S’what y’do when we’re in love.”

“I don’t do anything like this for you.”

“Oh, Buttercup, s’not true...” he frowned. “Y’make dinner, y’rub my back, y’made our garden look so much better than I ever could’ve done. And, not t’mention y’kiss me and let me do naughty things t’your pretty body,” he smiled impishly. “So y’do sweet things all the time.”

“But you make me feel safe and I don’t—”

“Buttercup, your existence makes me feel safe. S’my job t’make y’feel safe.”

“Are you guys making out in front of the doorbell to save for later?” Louis called from the yard. “That’s weird.”

Harry flipped him off and tipped her chin up. “S’a good idea,” he winked and pressed his lips against hers.

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Thank you,” he grinned.

She shoved him and he chuckled, pulling her back to his chest. “I love you so much, Buttercup.”

*

Harry woke up to the smell of something coming from the kitchen. It seemed unlikely that Louis was cooking something because the last time he tried, he thought they were going to need a fire extinguisher. He headed down the hall. “El are y’cooking breakfast?” He yawned rubbing his eye as he did.

“Not quite,” she giggled.

Harry perked up excitedly and quickened the last steps to the kitchen. “Good morning, Buttercup, t’what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, coming up behind her at the counter. He pressed kisses to the crook of her neck while she worked with the waffle maker. There was an upturned bowl beside her little work station. “This is sweet of you, Buttercup. S’it our anniversary already and I forgot?”

“No,” she smiled. “I just, wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You’re always nice t’me, baby.”

“Well really nice then.”

She pulled the waffle from the iron and placed it under the bowl with three others before putting the bowl back to keep them warm. Harry’s couldn’t stop his hands from roaming her hips and sides. “M’in love with this,” he sighed dreamily. He tucked his face into her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Me making breakfast?” She laughed.

“S’jus’ nice, Buttercup. I would never expect you t’make me breakfast, but s’jus’ thoughtful. You’re perfect.”

“Do you want something extra? You’re being super complimentary.”

“I love you, kitten. Take the compliments,” he chuckled, his words mumbled and obstructed by the way he pressed his mouth to her skin. She focused on the waffle again and remained quiet for a few moments. Then Harry realized the error of his words. “S’probably hard to take the compliments, hmm?” She shrugged one shoulder but didn’t say anything; confirming exactly what Harry already knew. “Well, s’a good thing I like complimenting you. S’good practice for you t’get used to it,” he peppered her cheek with kisses. “Can I help y’with something?” He asked.

She smiled. “No, I’m just going to put this on the table.”

Harry was so distracted by how pretty she looked in his kitchen early in the morning, making him breakfast, he didn’t even notice how cute the table looked. There were flowers in a vase in the middle. Four plates and sets of silverware set up like they were at a restaurant. There were strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and butter. Orange juice and a tray of four coffees from their favorite shop nearby.

“You’re incredible,” he pulled her away from the waffle iron as she set the last one. He wrapped one arm around her waist, cupped her face with the other and tipped her back to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and so warm. his heart started pounding like he had never kissed anyone before. She tasted so good, sweeter than the yummy waffles they were about to eat. He couldn’t help but smile as he kissed her. He used to love pranking her; the joy he felt was unmatched when he made her grumpy. God, kissing her was triple the dopamine, quadruple the serotonin. It felt almost illegal to be so happy. It spread all through his body.

“Harry,” she giggled against his mouth. “Breakfast.”

“You taste better,” he mumbled not pausing his kisses against her mouth.

“At least taste the waffles before you insult them,” she whispered pulling back slightly while he dotted kisses along her face while she spoke.

He squeezed her tight to his body, tucking his face back into her neck as he did. “Hey Buttercup?” His voice muffled once more by her skin and his reluctance to move from her body.

“Yeah?”

It warmed Harry how easily she answered to the little name. She was lovely. Perfect. The best thing to happen to Harry. While he hated why she had to move into their neighborhood, he was so grateful her pretty self created a home right next door. He pulled back to cup her face, skimmed his thumb on her cheek. “You deserve compliments.”

He didn’t follow it up with anything cute. Didn’t even compliment her afterwards. He wanted it to sink into her brain—even if it only sank in an inch. He would tell her every day. She deserved all the best and Harry was happy to remind her of such and do whatever he needed to make her feel that way.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll go get El and Lou.”

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you lots.”

“Me too, Buttercup. So much,” he winked heading down the hall.

--

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[marauder-misprint]

hi! can you do something with the marauders preferably sirius or james where the reader has constantly been like kind of invisible her whole life and spoken over and in the end has just stopped speaking up much ? thankyou <33 ( no pressure though! )

Hi! Thank you for this request ❤︎ Not sure how I feel about the quality of this. I definitely feel like it's not James enough, but it is what it is. Or maybe it's the lack of interactions with the rest of the Marauders that has me feeling like this? Idk. (It also might be because I'm not a huge James writer? Who knows?)

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Potions partner

James Potter x reader

4.6k words

cw: fluff, yapper!James

You’re not sure which is more peculiar: the story you’re telling or the fact that multiple people are listening to you tell it. 

It had happened during Care of Magical Creatures class that morning. Professor Kettleburn was trying to settle an aggravated Thestral and was failing horribly to the point where he dismissed class urgently. You were one of the few students who could actually see the beast so your retelling of the event was more descriptive than the rest of the class’. 

But what wasn’t peculiar was when a boy sat down a few seats away from you with complaints about the latest Transfiguration essay and all the attention that had been on you and your story moved on. Was the Thestral more interesting? Yes. But you were you, a background character in your own life. People didn’t pay attention to you if there was something else going on.  

You sigh and turn your attention to the food on your plate. You’ve barely touched it since you were talking for once. Now that attention has left you like it always does, you’re able to eat. It had been nice to feel heard, even if just for a few minutes. You never did hold people’s attention for long. You were just something to fill the background, nothing special to see. And often you weren’t seen. There were too many times for you to count when someone brushes past you, accidentally knocking you to the ground and they barely give you “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” 

In short, you weren’t seen and you weren’t heard. 

It wasn’t just your classmates either. It seemed like once a week, a professor would scan the classroom as they marked who was in attendance and they’d ask if you were there. You always were. You’d raise your hand and wave it around. Sometimes, even with that, they’d miss you until your friend spoke up and said that, yes, you were, in fact, in class. You weren’t sure how the professors managed to skip over you so much, but they did. Maybe it was because you weren’t an extreme. Your grades weren’t horrible enough to be of concern, nor were they exceptional enough to be used as examples and to earn house points. 

That afternoon in Potions, one of your least favorite things happened. Professor Slughorn announced a partnered-project.

“If everyone could get into pairs please! We will be working on brewing Felix Felicis and there will be various assignments with this. Pick someone you will be able to focus with. Yes, this means that Potter and Black cannot be partners.”

A pair of groans erupt from the back of the room. 

“I got dibs on Moony,” Sirius says.

James groans again, scanning the room. Lily had picked Mary. Marlene and Peter didn’t continue with Potions in N.E.W.T. level. People got into pairs quickly. You had immediately turned toward Emmeline. She was usually kind to you, but she paired with Benjy Fenwick. Your options dwindled fast. 

“Alright, anyone without a partner?” Slughorn asks the class as the room began to settle down. 

You and James both raise your hands. 

“Alright, you two are paired then. Here is the first assignment…”

You glance at James and cringe internally. Loud, boisterous James was your partner for the foreseeable future. Slughorn hadn’t given a timeframe for how long these assignments would be. You try to listen to everything that he’s saying about the first assignment, but it’s difficult when you’re dreading the assignment before it’s even really begun. 

After class ends, you approach James.

“Erm, I’ll do the essay if you want to do the first part of the potion?” you offer, hugging your books tight to your chest. 

“Huh? Oh, for the project. The essay’s long, don’t you want to work together on it?” James replies.

“I don’t-” you start to say.

Sirius interrupts you. “Mate, the girl’s just offered you the easy way out of the project. Take it and run.” 

You press your lips into a thin line, nod and walk away. Sirius got it. You’d split the project into separate pieces as much as you could. Plus, did Mr. Popular really want to be seen with someone as quiet and invisible as you? You didn’t think so. As you made your way to your next class, you assumed that was the end of the conversation. 

It wasn’t.

James finds you in the library after dinner. He’s slightly out of breath as he places his things on the table.

“You’re a hard one to find,” he says, taking a seat across from you.

You don’t say anything. In fact, you barely spare him a glance. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the Potions project,” he continues as he takes out homework for a different class. “It’s a multiple part project. It’s very interconnected, not something we can split down the middle and work on separately.”

He stops talking and waits for you to respond. You still don’t look up. You just work on your Herbology assignment.

“You… you are my partner for Potions, right?” he asks, running a hand through already-messy hair. “That’d be embarrassing if I just sat down across from the wrong girl…”

“We’re partners,” you whisper, more to your parchment than James.

“Great. So I’m at the right table! Like I was saying, you can’t do the entire essay and have me do all the brewing. I mean, we can do that. Like you write and I actually brew, which is fine. But we have to meet up to work on it, you know? Can’t do one part without the other.” 

“I prefer to work alone,” you say. “So take my offer or do it all by yourself.”

James’ eyes narrow. 

“That’s not how partner projects work.”

You raise your eyes to meet his for the first time since he sat down. Pretty. You sigh and look back at your assignment. You have work to get done. You hope that James will get the message, accept your terms and leave you alone. Instead, he starts to work on an essay for Astronomy.

“Do you study at this table often?” he asks nonchalantly. 

“Mhmm,” you hum. 

Part of you wants to ask why he’s asking. What’s it to him that you work at that table practically like clockwork? 

“This a daily thing or weekly? Every other day? Multiple times a day?” 

“Whenever I have assignments,” you answer, although it's a very non-answer. When didn’t you have homework as a sixth year? 

Every teacher assigned endless work to prepare you for the incoming exams. You were to be prepared and the way to prepare you was to assign work. 

“So you’re here every second of every day, got it,” James says cheekily. 

A quick glance at him reveals a smirk playing on his lips. Despite his quill hovering about parchment, he’s watching you, scanning your face for some kind of reaction. Something more than the quiet, short answers you’ve responded with so far. It’s a change of pace for James. Everyone wants to talk to him. He can talk with anyone about anything. It’s a gift that he and Sirius share. You, on the other hand, aren’t talking and it’s strange to James. Even Lily talks more when she’s shooting down his advances. 

“Do you need help with that for Sprout?” James offers, confident that he can get you to talk more. “I finished it over lunch.”

You shake your head. James frowns, having been hoping for a verbal answer. He gives up trying to get you to talk for the evening, although he doesn’t leave your table. The two of you work in tandem for a few hours. James is far more uncomfortable with the silence between you than you are. It’s something you’re used to, and even if James had decided to ramble on about something, you would’ve managed to get the same amount of work done. James was used to noise around him, even in the library. With friends like his, quiet work time didn’t exist. 

The next day James tries to say hi to you during the few classes that you share. You offer a small smile or a quiet ‘hello’ in response. You never stop and talk to him beyond that, which bothers him. You were partners for a project that would inevitably force you to spend some time together. Why didn’t you bother trying to get to know him at all? 

“That’s your Potions partner, right?” Sirius asks as you walk away from them for the fourth time. “The one you got stuck with?”

“Yeah. Clearly doesn’t talk much,” James answers, watching you go and wordlessly sit down next to a Hufflepuff. He runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“Maybe she just doesn’t know you? Or like you,” Peter says.

“What do you mean, Wormtail?” James asks. 

“You’re not friends with everyone and some people don’t talk to people they don’t like.” Peter said it like it should’ve been common sense. 

“But how can she not like me if she doesn’t know me? Won’t even try to know me? I sat with her for hours last night and I got maybe five sentences out of her!”

“You were in the library,” Remus snorts. “Some people respect the library’s quiet.”

“I know how to whisper!” 

The other three boys burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. James Potter whispering was more akin to a stage whisper. So, not a whisper. He was a loud person. 

Then after dinner, James sits across from you in the library again. 

“Same table. Easier to find,” he says as he takes out his homework. 

Just like yesterday, you don’t respond. You don’t look up. You just continue working. James, however, is more intent on getting you to talk. He tries to think of something that might get your attention. It’s more difficult than he originally imagined. He didn’t know you. “What’s today’s assignment?” 

“Care of Magical Creatures,” you say, voice barely qualifying as a whisper. 

That got James’ attention more than it should have.

“Were you in class with the rampant Thestral? I heard it was crazy. Can’t imagine dealing with a creature you can’t see!” he asks.

“Professor Kettleburn provoked it. He pulled its wing. It looked overstretched,” you say with certainty. 

Looked.

“Looked?” 

You nod, flipping the page of the book you have open in front of you.

“You can see them? I thought you could only see them if-”

“If you’ve seen death,” you interrupt James. 

He’s staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve seen death?” James asks. 

He’s certain that he won’t get any work done. Not when you can see Thestrals.

You nod, again. Yesterday you were thrilled to have people’s attention as you recounted the beast mauling Kettleburn with its hooves. Today, you want to get your assignment done so you can return to your dorm. You aren’t sure why James is so curious about it, or why he keeps talking to you. No one ever sits at your table two days in a row.

After you don’t speak, James lets the conversation, if you can call it that, die. He figures that you don’t want to talk about who you’ve seen die. Maybe it was someone close to you. Maybe it was recent and hurt too much to talk about. He tries to focus on his work, but he was right in his assumption that he wouldn’t get work done. Even if you weren’t talking, James found you fascinating. His eyes keep drifting up to watch you work. 

He breaks the silence after a while. “Can we work on that Potions essay tomorrow? I’m fine with brewing the potion, but we’ll work on the essay together.” 

You sigh yet you nod all the same. 

“Great!” 

And with that, James leaves you alone. 

The next day feels the same as the last. James says hi to you whenever he sees you, earning the same responses from you. There’s something nice about him taking the time to say  hi to you when most of your classmates barely acknowledge your existence. Still, he’s only your partner in Potions and he didn’t choose to be your partner. It just happened because Slughorn said he couldn’t be with Sirius. 

When James finds you in the library after dinner at your usual table, he’s lugging his cauldron with him. You stare as he sets it up next to the table, taking out a small collection of ingredients.

“Bit rough getting this past Madam Pince,” he tells you, seeing that he managed to catch your attention for once. “But I figured, if we’re working on the essay right now, might as well work on the potion too, right?” 

You open your mouth as if to speak but nothing comes out. You gape like a fish out of water. 

“You do have your Potions stuff with you, yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah… I do…” 

You move your unfinished Care of Magical Creatures assignment off to the side. You’d work on it more after James left. Or at least, whenever he was done insisting on this ‘working together’ thing. 

“Right, so Slughorn wants the first portion of Felix. And the essay is on the…” James says while looking over his scribbled notes.

“Essay is on the ingredients’ effect on the coloring. Pretty self-explanatory if you ask me,” you finish for him.

“How do you mean?” 

You try not to laugh at James. 

“Please, occamy and ashwinder eggs? Common rue? Shiny, shiny, yellow. It’s basic color theory.” 

“Huh,” is all James says for a moment. Then he follows with, “That’s why you offered to do all the writing, isn’t it!” 

“More like I thought you wouldn’t be bothered to work with me.” 

James gasps, putting his hand over his heart like you brutally offended him. “Ouch, sweetheart!” 

“Just get to brewing, Potter.”

And that’s the last that you spoke that evening. You worked intently on the essay as James brewed the potion. For some time, the sound between you was the crackling of the fire under James’ cauldron. But then he started talking. At first it was about the potion. He told you about everything he did and the immediate effects, every change of color and consistency. You didn’t need the commentary, although you used it to ensure that James was doing everything correctly. His descriptions matched what you had written. 

Then he reached the point where the potion needed to simmer, James started talking about quidditch. You humor him for a while, listening to him ramble about what you easily assume is his favorite topic. He talked about more than just the Gryffindor team. He talked about the different tactics he’d seen the other houses use this year and how well they executed them, how they compared to the professional teams and how each of those teams were doing this year. Then he went on a tangent about the new rules and regulations that were passed recently and how they affected the game. He went on for a while.

“Do you want to read this or not?” you ask with some snap to your voice. 

You slid the finished essay across the table toward James. You had written the entire thing as he brewed, only a testament to why you thought that partner part of the project was pointless. But if he wanted to ‘work together,’ you figure the least you could do was have him look over your work. 

“Oh, yes! Let me see,” he mumbles as he takes the parchment from you. 

You resume work on your Magical Creatures assignment. It takes James a few minutes to look over the whole thing. You had put a little extra effort into writing it since it was going to be James’ grade as well. It was one thing if your own work was subpar but when someone else got brought into the equation, you tried a little harder.

“This is great. You really did the whole thing while I brewed?”

You nod.

“You’re fantastic!” You feel a heat creep up your neck at the compliment. It was just an essay.

“Okay, so we have the potion and the essay for the first deadline! Great! I’ll clean up and get out of your hair. But I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he asks, a wide smile on his face.

You nod again.

Over the next week, James continues to meet up with you in the library. He’s grateful that you never change tables. That at least means you don’t mind too much that he’s joining you. With each day, he tries to get you to talk. He tries topic after topic, hoping to come across one that you wouldn’t mind opening up a bit for. What James doesn’t know is that you’ve trained yourself to limit your responses. Even if someone asked about your deepest interest, you’d barely let on that you knew everything about it. 

Then, just as you’re getting used to James constantly being at your table, he says something that throws you off.

“I won’t be here tomorrow.”

You want to respond with “Okay?” He wasn’t required to do homework for you after dinner every day. He wasn’t obligated to sit at your table. You still didn’t even really consider him your friend.

“We got the quidditch pitch reserved for a last minute practice before Saturday’s match,” he says, pausing to watch your face with curiosity. If there was a change in your expression, he’d see it. There was no change. “You’re coming to the match on Saturday, right?”

There was hope in his voice. Like he really wanted to make sure that you’d be in the stands for the game. Almost like he wanted to know if you’d be watching him, and just maybe, cheering for him. 

You blink your eyes slowly.

“I… I’m not sure.”

“Oh?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Depends on how much work I get done, I guess.”

“Stay hard at work then, will you? I’d like you to be there. Heard it’s going to be a good match,” he says, his grin audible in his voice. 

It makes you look up at him rather than at the parchment in front of you. 

“Heard it’s going to be good?” you repeat back to him. “Wouldn’t you say that about every match you’re in?”

“I mean, yeah, but Saturday’s especially.” 

“We’ll see, Potter.”

“You’ll only see if you go.”

You flex your eyebrows and turn back to your assignment. James smiles to himself as he begins to work again too. Something about your demeanor made him think that you would show up. He wasn’t really sure why he cared if you did, but there was something about you. He had grown to like the quiet air that you maintained. He didn’t mind that you didn’t talk much, despite his desperate attempts to get you to talk. You kind of reminded him of Remus during first year, if he was being honest. And that means that you had the promise of becoming a very dear friend. 

You would be lying if you didn’t work extra hard the next evening while James was at practice. You didn’t promise anything but you felt that you owed it to James to at least try to be at a point where you could justify going to the match. You went to a handful of them. You could follow along enough with the game, not that it mattered. Balls were tossed around, some were hit and there was a super small one that only two players tried to catch. That’s about all you needed to know. 

Still, you don’t know why you felt the need to show up for James. It wasn’t like he would be able to see you in the sea of students. It was one thing to find you in the library. It was another to spot you from a broom while you were surrounded by hundreds of others pressed together and bundled up against the biting wind. You even figured that you could just tell James that you went, without actually going, and he wouldn’t know the difference. 

However, when morning came, you were bundling up. You join the masses heading to the pitch. You listen to the excited chatter about how epic the match is going to be. It was Gryffindor against Slytherin after all, which always made for a good match being the natural rivals that they were. You stood pressed between your friend and one of her closer friends. They cheer louder than you did. You were more focused on trying to keep up with the game as your mind continuously drifts to James. As your mind drifts, so do your eyes. You’re confident that you watched James for at least 90% of the match. Which shouldn’t be too shocking given the amount of times he was in the midst of the action. You swore he had his hands on the quaffle during every play. 

And then something happened that made your heart stop.

You swore James’ eyes found yours and then he flashed you a smile. All before proceeding to score again. Almost as if he was doing it just for you. 

Which was ridiculous. He was just your Potions partner who happened to be studying a lot with you as of recently. 

But still. He found you, in the middle of the crowd, where you should have been as invisible as you always were. 

How? How did he see you? It’s all you could think of for the last few minutes of the game. You were so in your own head that you missed the Gryffindor seeker catching the snitch, ending the game and sealing the win for them. You let your friend drag you out of the stands as students filled the pitch. Except you didn’t follow her into the pitch. You started down the path back towards the castle, but you didn’t make it far. 

The sun was shining brightly and the air wasn’t too frigid once you were hundreds of feet into the air. You veer from the path and find a nice patch of grass to sit down on. Some sunshine wouldn’t hurt. An occasional shadow passed over your face as clouds drifted across the sky. Each shadow was only momentary, a brief chill until it moved on.

Until one shadow didn’t move on. You waited a minute before opening your eyes to see how big this cloud was.

The cloud in question? James Potter. James Potter still in his quidditch uniform and sporting a smile so bright it could rival the sun itself. And he was standing in front of you.

“Potter,” you say shortly. 

“Didn’t see you on the pitch after the match,” he replies, sitting down across from you.

You don’t say anything. What was there to say?

“I was hoping to see you on the pitch. Maybe get a congratulations on the win?” he says with a tilt of his head. 

“You played well.” That was as close to a congratulations as he was going to get from you. 

“Did you see the goal I scored for you?” 

You cough. “For me?” 

“Well, yes. I swore I made eye contact with you before I did it.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Or did I look at a different pretty girl?” 

You swallow thickly. “No, you, erm, that was me.”

“Ah, then yes. For you. My pretty Potions partner.”

If your heart had stopped in the stands, it must’ve turned into stone now. There was no way that James just called you his pretty Potions partner. 

“That’s… ah… that’s alliteration,” you manage to say despite your mouth suddenly becoming drier than the desert. 

James tilts his head curiously. 

“I did want to thank you,” he says. “For coming to the match. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come. Because of homework, like you said. But I hoped you’d come.” He pauses for a moment. “Did you like it?”

“The-the match or you scoring… for me?” you ask, the end of your question feeling foreign in your mouth. 

People didn’t score goals for you. That didn’t happen. You were barely noticed. You were spoken over. You were forgotten about because you offered so little to conversation and friendships. 

“Erm, both, I suppose.” 

“The match was entertaining. Definitely a step from Binn’s lectures.” 

James laughs. It was a delightfully warm sound that draws the attention of students headed to the castle. 

“You scoring… for… me…” you continue, the words still feeling odd to you, “was… nice, I guess. Unexpected though.” 

James nods, accepting your commentary. He understands why it came across as unexpected. It wasn’t like he had flirted with you in the library. He hadn’t asked you to Hogsmeade or a picnic or even for a measly walk through the corridors together. 

“I suppose I did this a bit backwards, haven’t I?” he chuckles.

“Did what?” you ask.

“The fact that you have to ask…” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his windswept hair. “I think I want to ask you out.”

Your eyes go wide and a blush tints your cheeks pink. Your heart has been shocked back to life and is working overtime.

“You think?” you ask once you’re able to say words. 

“Okay, well, I do. I want to ask you out. I’m just not sure… if I should? Would you say yes if I did?”

You’re frozen in shock. He wants to ask you out. He grows increasingly nervous when you don’t respond.

“You don’t talk much and you seem to take your studies seriously. You remind me of Remus. You know Remus Lupin, right? Good, good friend of mine. And I think you’re rather pretty. So the combination of both, I want to see if we, you know, work together,” he says all too quickly. “And now I’ve gone and scored a goal for you, which I know most people usually save for after they’ve gone steady with someone or if they’re heavily chatting them up, but you don’t seem like the kind of person to appreciate a proper chatting up so…” He took a sharp breath. “Whatdoyousay?”

You continue to stare at James. It’s a lot. You’re not really sure when he started feeling all of this and you don’t know how to express that. You also don’t know how you managed to catch his eye. 

“Can I, ahem, get a nod or something? You, me, butterbeers next weekend?”

You nod slowly and that brings a brilliant grin to James’ face. 

“And I’ll see you in the library all week, yeah? Can’t be falling behind in our assignments, can we?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Same table.”

“And there’s a party in the Gryffindor Common Room later, if you want to go. I don’t know if that’s your scene or not, but I’ll be there. Wouldn’t mind seeing you there. But only if you’re up to it.”

You nod, but then realize that he might take that as you agreeing that you’ll go to the party. 

“Maybe. I… I need to work on Astronomy but… I’ll consider it.”

His grin gets impossibly wider and he pushes his glasses further up his nose. Then he stands up and holds out a hand to help you up.

“Then let’s get you back to the castle. Can’t work on your Astronomy if you’re out here.” 

You take his hand and let him lead you inside. Something about James inviting you places makes you actually want to show up, even if a Gryffindor quidditch party is completely out of your comfort zone. 

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Baby Preparations

Sam and Dean & pregnant little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re pregnant, that’s literally it, that’s the plot

Warnings: short and sweet, pregnancy and tooth-rotting fluff

“Sam!”

Your voice calling out Sam’s name had him doing a 180, heading back from the direction he’d came to find you. You were sitting on the floor of the War Room, and instead of the usual newspaper clippings and lore books, there were dozens of paint sample cards.

“You need something?” He asked.

You held out your hands to him, as if you were 6 years old again and asking to be carried.

“I can’t stand up,” you huffed. At Sam’s light snicker, you scowled. “It’s not funny! I can’t move!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” But Sam couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he helped you to your feet. “How’s my nephew doing?”

“He kicks like he’s a dang Winchester,” you grumbled, rubbing your stomach. “And every time he moves I have to pee, and he—“

“Ok, ok.” Sam stopped you, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get the picture, and I really don’t need to know more.”

“Coward,” you scoffed.

“Hey, when it comes to my baby sister’s pregnancy, you bet I am,” Sam admitted.

“Has anyone seen my pie?” Dean’s question could be heard before he even entered the room, a quizzical and grumpy expression on his face.

“The baby wanted it,” you answered, drawing an eye-roll and a huff from your oldest brother.

“Is that always gonna be your answer?” He demanded.

“Not always,” you admitted. “Just maybe another two months until this guy is eating his own food, not mine.”

Dean face twisted, but he didn’t argue—he never did anymore, and you took full advantage of it. Sam saw right through how you were playing Dean like a kazoo, but he didn’t comment on it; it was too much fun to watch.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I’m gonna go on a run.”

Without a word, you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and handed it to Dean.

“Again?” He demanded. “It better not be full of weird snacks again.”

“Last time wasn’t that weird,” you insisted.

“I’ve never bought so many pickles or marshmallows in my life,” Dean scoffed.

“It’s marshmallow fluff, not marshmallows,” you corrected.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” Dean asked.

“Because my stomach doesn’t fit behind the steering wheel anymore.” You grinned. “And you never let me drive Baby anyway, so you get to make the runs.”

“Fine,” Dean caved. “But if I see orange-flavored beef jerky on here again, I’m throwing the list away.”

…

“Hey Sam?”

Sam glanced up from his lore book to see you still staring at your paint samples.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I can’t pick a color. Can you help?”

Sam shrugged, ditching his book and coming to your side.

“You really can’t pick?”

“I just…” you huffed. “I want it to be perfect.”

“I don’t really think the baby’s gonna care,” Sam argued.

You were quiet for a long moment, and Sam watched as you started to pick at your hands.

“Hey.” Sam’s hand over yours stilled you. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“I mean…we-we never got anything like this. You know, the rooms and—and a house. But Charlie will…and I want it to be perfect.”

Sam smiled—he loved hearing his nephew’s name, the one you’d chosen to honor your best friend—and rested his hands on your shoulder.

“Charlie doesn’t need the perfect room paint to have a happy childhood. He already has so much more than we had—he has a home, and he has a wonderful mother. He’s gonna grow up so happy—it’s not gonna be like how it was with us.”

“Ok.” You took a deep breath. “Ok, thanks Sam.”

“Any time. And you should totally choose the green.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[pretentious-blonde]

steady

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: healing is never easy, but steve surprises even himself with his progress

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, therapy sessions, depression

a/n: angst!! robin makes an appearance too. steve is kind of smitten and he loves it <3

series masterlist

Steve slouched in the passenger seat of Robin’s car, sunglasses perched on his nose, hiding the tension marring his features. If you could see him, you’d notice the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his hands rested in tight fists on his thighs. 

He kept his eyes shut against the morning light—though the tinted lenses helped, the brightness still drilled into his temples, intensifying the dull, throbbing ache that had settled behind his eyes. The quiet inside the vehicle was unusually deliberate, a courtesy Robin extended with careful consideration.

She was never one to enjoy silence, but she was trying. Like she always did for him.

He shifted, pressing his head a bit further into the seat. The sound of tires on asphalt rolled beneath them like thunder, matching the faint ringing in his ear. It was a small remnant of older injuries—injuries he’d earned through too many head-on collisions with fists and floors. 

Still, he felt lucky. After all, pain was a familiar adversary, and these headaches came around far less frequently than they used to.

A glance at her told him all he needed to know: her shoulders stiff with concentration, hands gripping the wheel lightly, eyes skimming across the road. She gave him a little smile, more a twitch than anything. She’d barely spoken a word since he got in, not wanting to rile his migraine. It reminded him of just how fiercely she cared.

They were heading to his weekly appointment, a routine that once felt more like a punishment than a path to healing. He’d spent his first two sessions in complete silence, arms crossed, mouth sealed shut.

Steve Harrington didn't need a therapist. The idea of seeing felt like admitting defeat. But Robin—gentle, but tearful—had practically dragged him back, desperately pleading for her best friend to return to himself. 

The memory arose every time he buckled in for these drives, reminding him that sometimes letting people in was the only way to get out of the mess in his head.

“Almost there,” Robin said softly, her voice subdued. A pang of guilt flared inside him; he knew she had better things to do on her Saturday morning than play chauffeur. Yet here she was. She always was when he needed her. 

He opened his eyes as the car glided into the parking lot, the movement so careful it barely jolted him. The world outside looked too bright—even through sunglasses—and his headache began to pulse in protest. When she killed the engine, she turned to him, eyes filled with caution.

“You alright with getting in?” she asked. Her voice was as gentle as her driving.

“Yeah.” Drawing in a breath and forcing a small, wry smile. “Pretty sure I remember the way.” He joked through the dull throb in his skull.

She nodded, and he carefully pushed the door open. The sudden rush of cooler air felt refreshing. A stab of pain shot through his temple, and he winced, one hand lifting to shield his eyes from the sun. As he stood, he turned back toward her. 

“I just… I wanna say I’m sorry again, for waking you up and making you drive me. I hate—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand before he could finish. “It’s no problem. Seriously.” 

There was reassurance in her tone, and it squeezed his heart. He hated imposing, but her unwavering support was something he grew to accept.

“What you gonna do for the hour?” he asked, a little softer now.

“I’ve got my reading material. I’m all set.” She patted a worn paperback tucked into the side of the driver's door. She waved him off, managing a playful eye-roll. “Now go. You’ll be late.”

He nodded and headed towards the entrance, stepping through the lobby steadily as not to jostle his head around. The walls were painted in cool tones that did nothing to ease the piercing sunlight still dancing at the edges of his vision.

Despite that, he managed a half-smile at the receptionist—he’d been here enough times now to know the woman, though he never quite remembered her name. He headed for Dr Avery’s office, following the familiar hallway until he found the right door.

He knocked once, the sound dull against the wood, and a voice called from within. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, he hesitated, sunglasses still shielding his eyes. The elderly doctor glanced up from a small stack of files, his expression softening into a gentle smile. 

“Migraine?” he asked, and though his voice was calm, concern wove through it.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a huffed laugh, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. In response, Dr Avery rose from behind his desk, crossing the room to draw the blinds. Morning sunlight turned softer, and the shift in brightness made his shoulders relax a fraction.

“Better?” Dr Avery said, settling back into his chair. 

In one smooth motion, Steve slid his sunglasses off, resting them on his knee as he sank into the chair opposite. He closed his eyes for a second, letting the dimmer light settle over him. 

“Much,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips against his temples. 

Silence hung in the room. It was gentle in the way Dr Avery seemed to cultivate it in all their sessions. 

“So, how has your week been?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a one-shouldered shrug. 

“It’s been alright,” he answered, gesturing toward his temple with the hand clutching his glasses. “Apart from, you know…”

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a migraine.” Dr Avery nodded, thoughtful. “Any idea what might’ve triggered it?”

“Not really,” Steve said, mouth tightening into a line. “Didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Any reason for that?” came the quiet prompt.

He shrugged, gaze drifting away. “Same old dreams.”

There was a pause—a measured moment that the doctor always seemed to use to let Steve choose how much he wanted to reveal. 

“Still bad?” He finally asked when he realised he wouldn’t elaborate. 

“They’ve died down a bit this week.” He exhaled, brow furrowing. “Guess my mind’s been busy with other stuff.”

A knowing spark crossed Dr Avery’s eyes. 

“Drama with the kids?”

A snort of laughter startled from Steve’s chest, a quick bloom of humour in the midst of his fatigue. 

“No, not quite,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Though Lucy still can’t tie her shoes. You’d think she’d have mastered it by now with all my help, but… nope.”

“Is that so?” Dr Avery asked, lips quirking in amusement.

“Yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes in that trademark exasperation that came from too many hours spent cajoling a stubborn little girl to make bunny ears with the laces. “She should just stick to Velcro. Less drama that way.”

A comfortable chuckle passed between them, the air relaxing for a moment. But he wasn’t surprised when Dr Avery steered them back on track—he’d noticed long ago how adept the therapist was at re-centring him whenever he started wandering off-topic.

Which—in his defence—Steve was especially prone to.

“So,” Dr Avery said gently, leaning forward a bit, “what’s really been on your mind lately?”

Steve’s hand tightened around the armrest of the chair. The lighthearted spark in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer. He took a slow breath, like he was trying to gather the right words.

“I... I met someone…” He said slowly, feeling the words out. 

His confession hung in the air—three simple words, but they carried a weight that was far greater than the simple sentence. 

He held his breath for a moment, as though he were afraid that speaking it out loud might shatter the illusion. He could practically see Dr Avery’s features shift into gentle encouragement, the slight lift of eyebrows and a softness around his eyes. 

It was the same look the therapist always gave him whenever Steve cracked open the door to something new, something vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, tried to muster some of that confidence people used to say he had in spades back in high school. It felt a little rusty, but it was there, somewhere beneath the bruises.

“Who is this someone?” Dr Avery asked quietly. Knowing the importance of the question.

Steve couldn’t stop the small grin that crept onto his face. He fiddled with the sunglasses perched on his knee—still mindful of the headache pressing at his temples, but somehow the ache felt muted by a rush of something much sweeter. 

“She’s new in town,” he began, voice a little shy, “took over the old bookshop. You know the one down on Oak? Kids needed some books, so I asked if she could deliver them. And she did—personally.” He shook his head in astonished awe. “I mean, talk about customer service, right? Even managed to track down some of my favorite titles on, like, super short notice.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved into a smile. “She sounds nice.”

“You have no idea,” Steve replied, eyes lighting up as memories tumbled through his mind. He had to fight back the grin that threatened to become almost giddy. “When she came by the school, I asked her out for coffee. Honestly, I thought she’d say no—I mean—I barely even know her—she was just doing her job. But she said yes.” He let out an incredulous little chuckle. “Even looked happy I asked.”

“So, you met up with her?”

“Twice,” Steve confirmed, leaning forward in his seat as though admitting a grand secret. “We got coffee both times—nothing serious, but…” He paused, remembering the feeling of those events. In the coffee shop’s atmosphere, he’d felt almost normal, like he could forget the the weight of the last few years. 

“She laughed at my jokes,” he continued, voice tinged with a note of disbelief, “and I mean really laughed—not just being polite—she actually thought I was funny.”

He couldn’t quite disguise how much that simple fact thrilled him. For so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel that weightless. You didn’t know every part of him yet. And in that ignorance, there was a freedom he hadn’t felt in ages.

Steve glanced down at his sneakers, twisting the sunglasses in his hands as though he couldn’t quite meet Dr Avery’s gaze. After a moment, he exhaled softly and spoke again.

“She, uh… she called me a few nights ago,” he began, running a hand through his hair. “It was late—maybe past ten? I was cleaning up—you know, trying to settle down for the night. Then the phone rang. I kind of panicked for a second before I heard her—I mean, nobody usually calls that late on a school night, unless—”

He paused, eyes flicking up to gauge Dr Avery’s reaction. The therapist merely offered a small, encouraging nod, so Steve continued, his voice growing steadier as he found the story’s thread.

“Turns out she was reworking her finances,” he explained. “Something about spreadsheets and reorganising… stuff—moving money around, I don’t know. Not my thing. She sounded stressed, though. Tired. I could hear it in her voice—even when she tried to laugh it off, there was this… tension, you know?”

“She asked me if I could just… tell her about my day.” His gaze trailed to a spot on the floor, a slight smile creeping onto his face. “Said she needed something to take her mind off the numbers, something that’d make her smile.” He shook his head, as if still in mild disbelief. “And I did—told her anything I could think of. Stupid stuff. But every time she asked me more I—”

A faint flush of color touched his cheeks as he forced himself to stop rambling. He shifted in his chair, the memory clearly stirring emotions he was still getting used to. 

“Honestly,” he admitted with a small shrug, “by the end of that call, I was the one feeling better—like, just by giving me a reason to talk. It was… I don’t know.” His smile broadened as he grasped for the right words. “It felt good to be that guy again.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved in a thoughtful smile, and he leaned forward as though to speak. But Steve, caught up in the rush of the memory, beat him to it.

“I guess that’s why I’m so thrown off by how easy it’s been,” he said, voice going soft. “I was worried I wouldn’t know how to do this. But with her… it’s just been simple.”

He let out a slow breath, hands finally coming to rest on his knees, attention lifting to meet the doctor. His eyes held a sheen, a hope that felt fragile but very, very real.

“So, yeah,” Steve finished, voice hushed. “She called me, and I ended up talking her ear off. Turns out we both needed that call.”

Dr Avery, picking up on that far-off look in Steve’s eyes, nodded approvingly. 

“I’m really happy for you, Steve,” he said. “Truly. This is a big step.”

His cheeks felt a little warm, and he shrugged as if to downplay it. 

“It’s—yeah, well, it’s not like we’re official or anything,” he joked weakly, but there was a trace of a blush there that gave him away.

“No, Steve, really,” Dr Avery pressed, leaning forward. “Think about you this time last year. You’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing aside. “When you put it like that…”

Dr Avery’s expression brightened with approval. “Would you like to talk about what you want to do next?”

Steve’s eyes shot back up, and there was a flash of that old charismatic grin—boyish, genuine. 

“Sure,” he said, settling a little more comfortably into the chair. And he meant it, because he knew exactly what he wanted to spend the rest of this session talking about. 

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was walking toward the bookshop. In fact, he was pretty certain that turning around would be the more logical, less awkward option. But even as the thought crossed his mind, his feet kept moving forward—one in front of the other—carrying him down the quiet street. The evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the storefronts in long shadows. 

He told himself it was a casual visit—you were just on his way home. That was all. After his session this morning and an afternoon spent napping off his migraine, he needed some fresh air. Dr Avery’s words stuck in his head, all that gentle encouragement about letting himself explore how he felt. 

So here he was, hoping he didn’t look like some creep for showing up out of the blue. 

By the time he reached your door, the shop lights shone softly in the evening dim. He hesitated for a split second before pushing inside, setting off the familiar chime of the overhead bell. 

No turning back now.

“Hello?” he called softly, stepping past a stack of books near the entrance.

“Steve?” Your voice echoed from somewhere off to the side, recognising his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” he answered, glancing around the shelves.

“Round here!” you directed.

He followed your voice and turned the corner—and immediately his heart lurched. 

You were on a rickety ladder, precariously reaching for a high shelf. Before he could even say a word, the ladder lurched dangerously to one side, and his instincts kicked in, sharp as ever due to his line of work.

He surged forward, grabbing the frame to hold it steady. The sudden jolt of movement made you stumble, and you shot him a sheepish look as you clung to a shelf.

“Whoa—hey,” he said, breath tight in his chest as he stabilised you. “I spend all day trying to avoid broken bones, now I gotta to look out for yours, too?”

You looked down at him, a pang of sympathy stirring at the worry across his face. His hands remained firmly gripping the ladder, but his eyes were filled with concern.

You mumbled a flustered apology, claiming you were nearly finished. But he didn’t buy it. 

“Sure you were.” He gave the ladder a cautionary glance. “Please, just…get down? Before you break your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Rolling your eyes, you began to climb down, one careful step at a time. 

Reaching the floor, you rested a hand on his shoulder for balance. It was a small gesture, but warmth prickled across the back of his neck. 

He liked being the steady one for a change.

“You need a new ladder,” he said, trying to sound more authoritative than concerned.

“If it lasted this long, it’s fine,” you scoffed, though he could tell you knew how bad it was. He bit back the urge to argue, exhaling a quiet laugh at your stubbornness.

Once you were safely on your own two feet, you turned to face him, dusting off your hands. 

“So, back already for new reading material?”

He blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of his spontaneous visit. 

“Uh—no, actually.” He cleared his throat, searching for something that sounded casual. “You were just on my way home, and, y’know…felt rude not to say hi.”

His heart tripped over itself as you offered a small smile. 

“Hi,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

“Hi,” he echoed, a bit breathless. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He coughed to break the silence. “So, um—doing some reorganising ‘round here?”

“Sort of,” you gestured toward two large boxes in the corner. “Got a delivery yesterday. I was putting it away before I nearly met my demise on that death trap.”

His gaze shifted to the boxes. “That’s… quite a few books.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “my supplier wanted to clear out some stock, so he gave me a really good deal. Now I kinda regret it, because I’m gonna be stuck here all evening.”

His posture straightened. The chance to help—to be useful—sparked a little excitement in him. 

“I can stay,” he offered, maybe too quickly. “I mean—I can help. If you want.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “No, you don’t have to do that on your day off. I feel guilty just thinking about it.”

“Seriously,” he shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’m weirdly good at organising stuff. Used to work at the video store—returns master, right here.” He pointed at himself, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

He had always thought that job would never prepare him for anything, yet here it was—proof that even the worst gigs could have their silver linings. He found himself almost grateful to Keith for all the menial tasks he’d been forced to complete while working there.

You giggled at his proud proclamation, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through him. 

“I still feel bad making you work.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” he admitted, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance, though he couldn't fully hide his eagerness. “Really. Let me help.”

“Fine, fine.” You gave in, lifting your hands in mock defeat. “You take the box on the left. I’ll take the one on the right.”

“Deal,” he said, stepping up to the nearer box. He pried open the cardboard flaps, inhaling the familiar scent of new books and packing paper. 

It took you less than an hour to reach the bottom of the boxes, with Steve finishing his first and immediately jumping in to help with yours. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was good at alphabetising. Only asking intermittently about which genre section he should place them in.

He sank onto the velvet couch with a satisfied sigh, leaning his head against the backrest. The shop felt cosier now that all the new arrivals were tucked away on the shelves, along with the soft lanterns overhead. He had to give it to you, this place really was charming. 

“That was faster than I expected,” you remarked, settling beside him. 

“What’d I tell you?” He shot you a playful grin. “Basically a professional.”

"You’re full of surprises," you muse, nudging his knee lightly with yours.

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of something pleased in his expression. It feels good to be praised by you specifically.

You tilt your head, watching him for a moment. "Are you thirsty?"

"A little,” he starts to shake his head. “But honestly, don’t worry—"

“Wait here.” You sprang to your feet, practically bouncing toward the back of the shop and up the stairs that led to your apartment above. He watched you go, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyelids feeling heavier. The place felt oddly empty without your presence, but he still found it comforting nonetheless.

He felt truly at ease here, already picturing himself marking homework—messy sums and misspelt words scattered across the pages. It would be a relief not to do it under the harsh glare of the classroom lights; maybe it would even help with his headaches.

God, he was getting ahead of himself.

Light footsteps on the stairs made him blink awake. You appeared, carefully balancing two steaming mugs. The soft light from the overhead bulbs illuminated the proud smile on your face.

“Oh?” He sat up straighter, intrigued. “What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate,” you announced proudly, offering him one of the mugs as you begin quote him. “Apparently 'everyone likes it.'”

He took the mug gently, trying not to pay too much attention as your fingertips against his. 

“That they do,” he chuckled, voice low. "Thanks."

You looked so pleased—like you were giving him a gift far more precious—and it made his chest tighten. You settled in next to him again, blowing on the surface of your drink. Your gaze flicked over his face. 

“Were you falling asleep on me?” you teased.

“Never,” he insisted, taking a sip. Warm sweetness spread across his tongue, making him sigh in contentment. “Just had a long day.”

“Well, now I feel even worse for making you stick around.”

“Hey,” he said, shaking his head and lifting his mug in mock salute, “It’s worth the reward.”

A small smile touched your lips. “Fair enough.”

He cleared his throat, trying not to look too anxious as he ventured. 

“So, are you gonna be busy next week?” He kept his eyes on the rising steam so you wouldn’t catch just how much this question mattered to him.

“Not sure.” You gave a casual shrug. “Sometimes this place is packed, other times it’s dead quiet. But I like it—I get to meet new people. It’s one of the best parts of owning a shop, you know? Everyone eventually wanders in.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He nodded. “Hawkins isn’t huge, so…makes it easier to get familiar with folks.”

“Quality over quantity, right?” you quipped, and Steve swore you shot him a sidelong look that made the tips of his ears burn. He swallowed, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face.

He took another sip of cocoa. 

“Right,” he echoed. Then, his heart thrumming, unable to stop from himself from blurting out the question. “See me next week?”

“Huh?” You blinked, a bit confused. 

Realising how direct that sounded, he fumbled to correct himself. 

“I mean—are you free next week? We could…do something. Grab dinner?”

He hoped his recovery was smooth, maybe he was coming on a little strong, but he couldn’t help it. It had been so long since he’d felt hopeful about something, and every time he was around you, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. 

Call him selfish, but if you’d let him, he wanted to soak up as much of you as he could.

A flicker of surprise crossed your features, followed by a delighted smile. “I can be free on Wednesday, I think.”

“Great.” He nodded, doing his best not to look too excited. “I’ll—I’ll book us a table somewhere. A restaurant.”

He could practically feel the adrenaline in his veins. It’d been way too long since he planned an actual dinner date, and the thought of sharing that with you felt electric.

“Do I need to dress fancy?” You grinned. It was a playful question, but he noticed a little bashfulness in your tone.

“Nah,” he said offhandedly, warmth pooling in his stomach. “You’d look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

He said it so nonchalantly that it caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed with colour, a gentle rose you tried to hide behind the rim of your mug. But he still caught the flush and felt his heart leap, safe in the knowledge that you might also feel the same as he did.

He drained the last of his hot chocolate, the flavour still clinging to his lips as he handed the mug back. 

"Thanks," he said as you took his cup.

"I think I should be the one saying that," you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, leading the way to the exit, but before stepping out, he glanced back at you. 

"See you Wednesday?"

You chuckled—he always repeated your plans back to you. It was endearing, but deep down, he needed the reassurance. When it came to you, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

"See you Wednesday," you echoed.

His grin was immediate and genuine, cheeks warming to match yours. With one last look, he slipped out the door, carrying that sweet moment with him all the way home.

Now, all that was left was to call Robin (obviously) and figure out what restaurant to book. He kicked himself for not asking what kind of food you liked, but he liked to think you trusted him with the choice.

It felt good—being in control again.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi

[blushsturns]

₊⊹what we thought was for all time was momentary

title: loml

word count: 1767

warnings: heartbreak, crying, use of Y/N, angst (sorry guys!)

Holy Ghost, you told me I’m

The love of your life

Your heart wrenched. It felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak. Your body began to tremble, your bottom lip quivering, and your vision blurry from the tears forming. 

“We need to break up.” Those four words hit you like you like a tidal wave. You knew things hadn’t been okay for awhile, but you always had faith that things would work out for the better. You couldn’t imagine your life without him and now here he stood right in front of you, his hands in his pockets, his face so hard to read.

Of course you wanted to beg for him to not leave you, to not give up on the relationship. You weren’t ready to give up on it. You two were together for so long, built so much together, and shared so many amazing memories. How could you just let all of that go? How could you walk away from everything you’ve ever wanted and needed?

You gulped down a choked sob, immediately shaking your head as you blinked back the tears, allowing them to fall against your cheeks. Your knees began to wobble, but you tried to keep your composure. How could he stand there; so comfortably chill, no tears, no remorse. 

“Chris..” You could hardly speak, but managed to let his name fall from your lips. 

He let out a deep sigh, his hands still in his pockets, the distance between you two felt like a stab straight through your fragile heart. Your whole world felt like it was crashing around you and you felt suffocated. “I’m sorry.” He said simply, another sigh emitting from his lips. “I’m really so, sorry.” 

You shook your head again, your hands moving to cover your face as you began to cry into them, your body shaking as you allow yourself to fully cry into your hands. You didn’t care if you looked weak, or felt vulnerable in front of the man who stole your heart and then broke it in half. You knew things weren’t great lately, but you had no idea he was going to end things so abruptly. How could he give up on everything you two built so easily like this? Was he hurting like you were right now? 

You pulled your hands away from your face, your face stained with tears and painted red from the amount of crying you had done in a matter of minutes. He walked over you, trying to grab your hand, but you immediately swatted his hand away, your voice raising with anger and hurt filling your tone, “No. You don’t get to stand here and give up on us, and then try to hold my hand. Are you even hurting?”

He looked offended that you swatted his hand away, but took a step back from you to create distance again. “Of course I’m hurting Y/N! I’m trying to keep it together. You don’t think it’s been hard for me? I may look okay, but I’m not okay. This is hurting me too.”

You didn’t want to believe it. Any of it. Your heart was sinking more and more by the second and you didn’t know what to do. All you knew was that your heart was breaking and it was hard to breathe. 

Mr. Steal Your Girl, then make her cry

You said I'm the love of your life

“How could you just give up? Times are hard, but that’s why we work through it. You’re saying that you’re just giving up on everything that we built? I love you, Chris. You can’t just walk away.” Your voice was shaking, tears pouring down your cheeks as you choke back a sob. You place your arms around yourself for comfort, shaking your head as you look down at your shoes, unable to look at anything, especially not Chris.

“This is for the best, Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m really so sorry.” His voice was weak and you could tell he really was giving up on this, on you. 

After working so hard to steal your heart, here he stood with your heart in his hands, crushing it into a million pieces. You didn’t want to believe it, but you knew that you had to. You couldn’t beg for someone to stay in your life. If they really wanted to stay in your life, they would. You should never beg for someone to stay in your life, even if you so desperately don’t want them to go. Breakups are messy and hard, no matter if it was mutual, or if it was one-sided. Whether you were being cheated on, or just being left altogether, it still hurt nonetheless. 

“I just can’t believe this, Chris. After everything we’ve been through, you won’t even fight for us, for me?”

They do say the stages of grief experienced after a breakup are usually denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance and right now you were in the denial phase, but your heart was also breaking into a million little pieces. You sat onto your couch, unable to stand up anymore, shaking your head as you look down at your hands splayed in your lap, your body trembling as you choke back a sob.

Chris stood there by the doorway, moving one of his hands up to run his fingers through his tousled hair, a deep sigh emitting from his own lips. “I tried, I really did. I tried so hard and it’s only hurting both of us. You know that, I can see it all over your face and it kills me every single day.”

You pull your hands away from your face to look up at him from the couch, shaking your head in disbelief at his words, your blood beginning to boil with anger radiating through your system. “If you tried, you wouldn’t be breaking my heart right now. Fuck you, Chris. I tried too, and you can’t say that I didn’t. I tried to be everything that you wanted and look where it got me. I’m broken.”

Chris looked hurt by your words, like a stab to the chest. He sighed hard again, his fingers tugging onto his hair in slight frustration, moving his gaze to stare down at his own shoes. “I’m sorry. This is how it has to be. I’m broken, too.”

I'm combing through the braids of lies

"I'll never leave"

"Never mind"

You never thought that Chris would be the one to leave you, to give up on you and the relationship that you built together so beautifully. He was your first love, and your first heartbreak all in one and you weren’t sure how you were ever going to move past this. You knew that you shouldn’t have the negative thoughts creep into your brain like “Why wasn’t I good enough”,  “Will anyone ever love me”, “Am I not worth fighting for?”, and “Am I hard to love?”

You had to remind yourself that you did the best you could, that everything happens for a reason. It was easier said than done, but you couldn’t let this damage your soul and ruin your spirit for the rest of your life, even if right now you can’t possibly see a light at the end of the dark, scary tunnel that you were afraid you may never be able to get out of it. 

“This is how it has to be? It doesn’t, but okay.” You tried to take in a deep breath, but your chest was literally aching. It hurt so badly, the distance between the two of you, the tension, the pain. You couldn’t handle it anymore. “I think you should go, Chris.” You looked up at him through teary eyes, your vision blurred as you blink back tears. 

Chris looked heartbroken, his feet glued to the floor, his eyes finding yours, pain and sorrow filling his gaze. “Y/N I’m sorry I still l-”

You shake your head immediately, standing up from the couch to walk up to him, while still creating a distance between the two of you. You open up your front door and stand next to it, your body still shaking from the amount of emotions running through you. “No, don’t you dare say it. Chris, please. Just go.” You looked at him with pure pain in your eyes.

He let out a devastated sigh, feeling defeated and now speechless. He nodded his head and you swore you could see his eyes welling with tears, but it’s Chris. Chris never allows himself to cry, ever. 

You exchange one more glance, both of you hurting, broken into a million pieces. Everything you two built has been shattered around you and is now dust on the ground. 

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment. Your eyes closed, tears streaming down your cheeks, taking in a shaky breath as your fingers gripped on your own sleeve to hold onto something, anything. 

A farewell, a goodbye. It’s not see you later, it’s not fight and make up scenario. No more you and Chris. This was it.

He pulled away from you, fluttering your eyes open to look at him with pain and heartbreak all over your face. No more words were shared, there was nothing else needed to be said. 

Chris walked out, didn’t look back and you couldn’t either. You closed your front door, immediately sinking down against it with your knees propped up to your chest and placing your hands against your face and instantly sobbed. 

You cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t breathe, your body shaking as you tried to take in breaths to calm yourself down. 

Life wasn’t going to be the same. Chris was once your everything, your whole world. Now? You had to learn to live without him, to find yourself and learn to love yourself.

You’re strong, you’re resilient, you’re capable of so many amazing things and even though it’s hard right now, it’s not going to be this way forever. 

There is light at the end of the tunnel, there are brighter days ahead. You’re allowed to cry, to feel, to grieve. It’s okay to feel these things. 

Even if it doesn’t feel like everything is going to be okay, it will. You’re stronger than you think and you’re deserving of love and happiness. 

It’s going to be okay.

And I'll still see it until I die

You're the loss of my life

notes: sorry guys! i know this was heart wrenching. i haven't really wrote angst on here, so i thought i'd give it a try. if you have any requests, or if you just wanna chat, my inbox is always open!

taglist: @strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @sturniolochrismatt @lovesturni0l0s

-nessa

[slutsareteacherstoo]

Gonna be blasting all these songs that came up below like wow, Reina. You got me fr. Its highkey a sign for me. Like lemme not block my blessings and get my shit together real quick but amazing

First up gon be that Keyshia Cole

Me reading the warnings more clearly know and sending praise 😩🙏🏿

OH SHE IS FREE?!?! GRACIAS MI REINA 🙏🏿🧎🏿‍♀️I WAS STRESSING!!!!! but damn that’s not freedom frfr but she out!

Come on inner dialogue tingz!!! 🗣️🗣️ “Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.”

“For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.” Its giving sisyphus😪free my girl fr!!!!

Shit that freaked me out but i too would freak out and had i heard someone fall to the floor

“I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.” - you be writing poetry? 🧐🤨 just curious 🤓 it’s very lyrical, very verse!!! I like that last sentence.

OH GOT HE TOGETHER REAL QUICK!!!!!

Nah Havana. We nuh av dat!!!! 😤 THE PERSON IN FRONT IS SHOWING YOU THEY LOVE YOU BABY YOU NOT PRETENDING!! And ol boy knows its not an act 😩

“…Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.” - well *claps hands* so when’s the wedding??? 🤭 no but that was some real shit. This IS some real shit. Havana’s inability to accept her relationship with Terry and his love for her for what it is is def a situation ik all too well, even when all the conditions are met that doesn’t change the mindfuck and guilt can be consuming. And also like being able too see the grey. Cuz like yes 🙄 Vana couldve reeled it in a bit but/and/also Terry was being communicative and ignored Vana when she brought up what happened and how it clearly bothered her. So the moral is that there’s shared accountability in all this!!!

*LEARN SOMETHING FROM THIS*

Yes we love big bawling, emotional Terry being raw and vulnerable

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.” 🥺🥺

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.” - WHEW THATLL DO IT!!!!! 😭

Not his voice metro booming i wouldve [redacted] right there

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.” - THEY GON BE MAKING LOVE TONIGHT YALL 😫 play “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” by Elton John

OH SHIT WE DOIN AFFIRMATIONS NOW?!?!

I blinked in between the pumps like sorry Vana. scooch over real quick i need to hear this 😅🙈

HEY SIRI PUT THAT DESTIN CONRAD “IT’S YOURS” ON REPEAT!!!

Lmaooo ok ok ok Reina 😌Mi Reina you’ve redeemed yourself in the eyes of your public. Now i know (partially)why you had the girls [gender neutral] up in arms. But wow!!!

This was sooo disarming. Like you stripped me raw and got me reflecting like fuck. I don’t do fisticuffs but that anger and being quick to use it on people who aren’t careful. Them words could cut a bitch fr!!! But like wow im like taken aback and in awe. Like shoutout to Vana for seeing herself through it. I mean Terry helped or whatever 🙄 but again Vana did the heavy lifting and thT makes me soo proud to see.

And you’ve done such an amazing job crafting these characters, esp your OC and making her face her shit and be real with herself, always for the better. Like chile lemme get myself together so I can be present in my future relationships like damn. It took me a minute to catch up but it was actually perfect timing. Like wow.

Im constantly blown away by you and seeing you expand in your craft. Ik im a behind but ik that means theres more in store to give flowers to always 💜

Big Mama Pt. 12 | Enough

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +5.1K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, light smut (fingering), heavily dialogue-centered, angst, verbal argument, self-deprecation

🦋Big Mama (series) => 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Early That Morning

“Monnie, I don't know… Everything is just…,” I said, crying softly.

“Girl! If you don't just praise God right quick, and call that man to thank him.” Monnie said, smacking her lips. She was understandably agitated with my response. Was it lackluster? Yes, but I didn't know what to say or do about it. I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I honestly wasn't happy with the outcome.

After almost three weeks of pure hell, I received a call from a lawyer that Terry himself hired. I was told the conditions for maintaining my freedom as I was currently living in the aftermath of the incident between Terry, me, and Taylor. It was finally over, but here I was still crumbling under the weight of it all.

The terms and conditions were as follows:

Terry agrees not to sue Taylor as long as she agrees not to sue me.

Terry agrees not to file and pursue criminal charges against Taylor as long as she agrees to drop the charges against me and forfeit her right to refile.

I would not be allowed to approach Taylor in any public setting, but we could be present in the same vicinity.

There would be no established restraining order from Taylor against me, just a peace order since we have no standing or pre-existing relationship.

Terry's family agreed to take care of any outstanding medical bills for Taylor, along with her receiving a small undisclosed amount.

The records would be expunged after 90 days.

The terms were simple and clear. I just hated how much Terry had to give up for it. The outcome was obviously unfavorable and one-sided. The single impartial party who deserved justice and compensation received none— Terry. Because of that, I felt like crawling into a hole and never resurfacing. Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.

My faith in love had been tainted by my own doing not because I didn't think Terry loved me but because I felt like he shouldn't. Every voice in my head told me I was and should've been deemed unlovable years ago. Honestly, a person like me is not capable of accepting a love as pure as Terry's. For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.

2 Hours Later

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

I was startled awake by the thunder of someone pounding on my front door. I had fallen asleep on the loveseat in my living room.

Jumping up, I attempted to make my way to the door. I used the oversized plush blanket as a cover and held it tightly against my body. I was only wearing a sports bra and micro-biker shorts.

As I walked around the edge of the coffee table, the blanket snagged the corner and positioned itself under my feet. My right foot got trapped in the sea of fabric, causing me to crash onto the floor. My knees collided with the laminated wood with vigor. I had no time to lick my wounds.

“Shit!” I yelled.

At this point, I was more than agitated. I tore the blanket off of me and tossed it to the floor. Using the arm of the recliner, I regained my footing and stood up. I placed my hands on my hips and drew in a deep breath as my body registered the pain from the fall.

Before I could make another move, the knocking began again. This time, the sounds were harder and louder.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

Each knock sounded off, shaking the front door. I paused in fear. My anxiety peaked as my mind began to race with disturbing thoughts. I wasn't expecting visitors, so who was this?

“I can hear you inside, ‘Vana. Please, just open the door.” said a muffled voice from outside.

No. No. No. It couldn't be. Why would he be here?

“Terry?!” I yelled back in confusion and relief.

“Yes, baby! Now, can you open the door? We really need to talk,” he said.

I remained frozen in place. Losing the ability to hear, Terry's voice began to drown out.

“Havana!” he yelled again.

“Uh, Terry. I just… I don't…,” I whimpered loudly.

Before any coherent thoughts left my lips, the door swung open. I couldn't help but stare at Terry in shock.

“How the fuck……,” I asked as I approached him slowly.

“I had a key made months ago. I wanted it for emergencies. This counts as an emer….,” Terry said.

“Terry! Get out! Now!” I yelled. I was beyond frustrated and tired.

Today has worn me thin, and my patience was at its lowest. I wasn't in the mood for tolerating any form of nonsense or mess.

“No! Havana, baby… We need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do.”

I knew I owed Terry an apology, a conversation, and everlasting grace; but I couldn't even find it in me to give myself the same.

I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.

“Havana, look at me!” Terry said, grabbing my chin. Oh, how a firm yet loving hand can change things. My heart fluttered and skipped in my chest as his fingers stoked the surface of my skin.

“Terry… I… I'm sorry,” I said as tears finally broke free. “You… Y-you deserve more than I can give you. I want… I want you to be happy. I just don't think that can happen with me.”

“Mama, don—,” Terry said.

“No! Terry, just lea—leave. Please!” I yelled, pushing him away.

“Havana,” Terry said, grabbing my arms. His eyes dropped to meet mine.

Yanking away from him, I yelled again, “Ter—!”. Before I could finish, Terry's face shifted into a look of utter aggravation.

“That's it! Havana Rose,…. sit down or I'll sit you down,” Terry muttered through gritted teeth as he pointed towards the couch.

I stood there for a second frozen in shock. I never expected Terry to put up this much of a fight.

“Aight, I'm done. I'm sick—,” he started to speak as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, “—of this shit!”.

Terry began to carry me down the hall. I pushed against his back in a feeble attempt to be released. I knew struggling was pointless, but I wasn't ready for the conversation Terry clearly wanted to have.

As we rounded the corner of my bedroom door, I could feel the tears falling with ease. There was no noise leaving my body as I silently wept. I should've prepared for this more productively. Instead, I tried to choose a coward's way out, and Terry wasn't having it.

Like always, life had a weirdly tumultuous way of making me confront my feelings.

Placing me on the bottom edge of my bed, Terry stood in front of me. His eyes scanned my face as he watched me teeter on the edge of implosion.

“Hav—,” Terry started. He squatted down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.

As much as I wanted this to end, one question was burning through my mind— heavy and bitter as it weighed on my tongue. Unfortunately for me, the four words could not be swallowed back down, allowing the unpleasantness of the discontent to fester in the back of my throat. I knew how to rectify this feeling, and I knew how to pacify the voices in my head. But, should I, and did I deserve it?

“Do you love me?” I asked, avoiding Terry's gaze. I could see his lips begin moving, so I placed my hand over his mouth. “No, just listen to me. I want you to think about what happened. I can't even control my anger. W-what if… you wake up one day and finally realize y-you… deserve better… than me. I'm sick of pretending like… like I'm enough. Terry, we both know I'll never be enough, so let's just end this now,” I spoke barely above a whisper.

Terry's hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. As his eyes pleaded with me, I saw a glimmer of something I wish I didn't— hesitation and uncertainty. I slowly pushed his hands off my shoulders, waiting for him to just say what we already knew.

Terry didn't love me. He loved what he thought I—

“’Vana, let's get something clear. I love you with all my fuckin' heart. Just saying I love you isn't enough for me because you're everything to me. What can I do to show you that? Huh? Tell me, love. What can I do?”

I hung my head in defeat. Most women would be swooning over this, but it only added another layer to the guilt that was consuming me. Now, he was giving me unconditional love when I couldn't even allow myself the space to apologize.

“Terry, no. Please, just—,” I choked, wiping away tears.

“No, you stop. Stop beating yourself up about this. I understand that what I did made you doubt me, but don't ever feel like the problem was you. I was. I did it. All of this is on me. If I would have been man enough to tell you the truth about what happened, there wouldn't have been a fight. That one mistake caused all of this. This is my fault, not yours. And—,” he spewed breathlessly.

“Terry…,” I interrupted him.

“No, let me finish. Believe me, when I say this, I'll fight the devil himself for you. I'll climb the mountains in heaven just to find you again. I don't think you understand me, baby. I love every part of you. I hope that one day you can see that. Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.”

Terry stood at his full height, towering over me. His eyes were bright yet somehow lacking their normal vitality, seeming to be void of any indication of happiness. It became clear to me that this was wearing Terry down just as much as it was me. As much as I wanted him to give up, the idea of causing him such grief and fatigue weighed heavily on my heart.

He drew his hands into fists as I watched his eyes. His face became flustered, and his breathing became ragged. Every breath choppier than the last. I could sense something brewing inside of him. His hands were shaking slightly as they rested by his side. As he unclenched and clenched his fists, his bottom lip began to quiver. His eyes glossed over, and his gaze became lethargic. No… No… This couldn't be happening.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I just feel like we can't—,” I said, standing from the bed.

Tears were streaming from Terry's eyes. The strength in his face was faltering right before my eyes.

I slowly reached out to touch his face, stroking his cheek while I wiped away the tears. He grabbed my hand, holding it tightly against his cheek.

“These… these last few weeks have been pure hell for me. I missed you so much, mama. It's like for the first… for the first time in my life, I know love; and that's because of you,” he paused for a moment, taking long deep breaths. “It was a funny feeling at first…. and coming to terms with it was hell. You only hear of women wanting to be seen and heard, but now that I know the feeling—. I don't think I could ever go back to what I thought love was.”

“Terry, you really feel that way?” I asked, sobbing with him at this point.

“Yes, it honestly scared me when I realized how much I loved you… Whew… I had to sit with the fact that I had never loved someone that much… and… and I had never been loved properly before you. Baby,… listen to me… I can say this before God and before you… that this is a love worth fighting for. Havana Rose, YOU'RE worth fighting for. Do you… please, tell me you understand,” he sobbed into my hand.

“Terry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't want… I just didn't know what to say,” I said, pulling him into a hug.

“You don't have to say anything. Just tell me you're not leaving,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

His hands wrapped around my waist even tighter. I rested my face in his chest and mumbled a quiet no.

How could I leave him, especially now? For the first time, my heart felt— full.

“Thank you, ‘Vana. I love you. Okay?” he said, leaning into me.

“I love you, too,” I confessed, wiping away my tears.

I reached out to touch Terry's face, tracing the outline of his jaw. As if that was all the reassurance he needed, his shoulders dropped slowly. I watched patiently as his body returned to a state of normalcy— shoulders broad, chest out, and head high.

As we stood there silently refusing to let each other go, he let out a long yawn.

“Tired?” I questioned, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Wanna take a nap… uh… together?” I asked, praying that he would say yes.

There was nothing I craved more than his touch right now. I needed him bad. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for his answer.

“Hell, yeah!” he blurted, lifting me. His hands carefully wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, crawling towards the head with me in his arms. He gently laid me in the center of the pillows. I released my legs and let them fall onto the bed.

Finally untangling from each other, Terry lifted himself onto his hands. He scooted down so that his head was resting on my chest. I used one hand to run my fingers through his velvety hair, massaging his scalp with my fingertips. The other hand soothingly rubbed his back like a baby. Terry's arms wrapped under my body, embracing me tightly. I let my lips rest at the top of his head.

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.

2 Hours Later

Waking up to Terry's body on mine felt like home— a place I'd never been allowed to experience. As I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, I released one of my own. With him here in my arms, I could breathe again.

Terry's presence was a breath of fresh air because, admittedly, he was the air that I breathed. I had never felt so attached to anyone or anything. Every part of him called out to something in me. His voice soothed my soul, his lips electrified whatever they touched, his hands… God, his hands absolved me of my suffering, and his eyes knew how to see my heart.

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.”

Terry's arms adjusted underneath me, causing me to hold my breath. Embarrassment washed over me, warming my skin. I was silently praying that he didn't hear me. Releasing a deep groan after a few minutes, I realized he was in a deep sleep again. His shoulders slumped forward, allowing his body to melt into mine.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I leaned over and kissed Terry's forehead. I knew that lifting this man off of me would be damn near impossible. I was debating on if I should wake him up or not. I shifted to one side so his hold on me would loosen. His arms fell away from my body, allowing me to scoot out from under him— barely. I carefully moved towards the edge of the bed. I slowly turned my body so my feet softly landed on the floor.

I stood from the bed, stumbling as the feeling in my legs returned. They felt like jelly as a deep tingling sensation went to my toes. I kicked my feet and flicked my ankles.

As I sauntered across the room, I heard Terry stir in his slumber. I glanced over my shoulder to see him now on his back. His arm thrown across his chest left him posed so… so… delicately like an angel. Terry’s face alone could render even the most wicked defenseless.

I smiled brightly at the sight of him. I quietly opened the bathroom door. Stopping to stare at the mirror, I took in my appearance. Yikes! I looked like… something, and it wasn't nice.

I mentally made plans to do my hair— or maybe I'll just pay someone.

Using the bathroom as quickly as possible, I reentered the bedroom and dried my hands on a towel. I glanced over at Terry to see his chest still rising and falling. I half-smiled at the sight. Walking towards the door, I entered into the front room. I closed the door softly behind me.

Before I could reach the kitchen, I heard a noise coming from behind me. The springs of my old mattress were loud and alarming.

“Havana! Where are you?!” yelled Terry from the bedroom. I could hear the bed creaking again.

I turned around to walk back to the bedroom door. “Why is this man yelling?” I asked myself quietly as I giggled.

“HAVANA!” Terry yelled even louder than the first time. The tone of his voice contained a sense of urgency and concern. Panic set in for me as soon as I realized the distress in his voice.

Sprinting towards the door, I flung it open. “What's wrong?” I inquired softly.

Terry was seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door. His eyes shot up to meet mine. The look on Terry's face made my heart thump. My breath quickened anxiously. His eyes were red, and his face was flushed. His head swayed on his shoulders as his breathing quieted. His fingers dug into the bed with a ferocious grip.

I approached him slowly. Softening my voice before speaking, I raised my hand to stroke his cheek. “Baby, are you okay?” I asked him.

Terry's eyes darted from my face to the floor. The worried look on his face cut deep as his eyes seemed to search for mine. This was not a look of simple anxiety or worry. His countenance was charged with— despair and desperation.

I leaned over to place kisses on his forehead. “Hey, I'm right here. Wh—,” I whispered as Terry threw his arms around my waist.

He pulled me into a fervent embrace. His arms felt like a second skin against my body. I felt his shoulders fall forward as his body went limp against mine. I couldn't understand the overwhelming range of emotions this man was displaying.

“I… I… I th-thought you were gone,” he said with his face pressed into my belly.

I squatted down in front of him. “Terry, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I told you that, honey,” I said, cupping his chin in my hand.

He slowly shook his head in understanding as if he was coming to terms with my words.

That's when it hit me. HE THOUGHT I HAD LEFT.

“Terry, look at me. I love you. You big baby,” I said, smiling at him somberly.

“I know. I just panicked I guess. I'm sorry about that,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Awww, don't apologize. I'm okay, papa,” I said, rising on my feet. “You hungry?” I asked him while softly caressing the side of his neck.

His head leaned up slowly as a slight grin spread across his face. “Hell yeah,” he laughed.

Later That Night

“You done, baby?” I asked Terry as I stood from the couch. I held my hand out to take his plate.

“Yeah, here—,” he started. “Wait! Give those here. I got it. You sit down,” he said, taking the plates from me.

“Terry, I could've washed them. It isn't that many.”

“Nah… I told you I got it,” he said, kissing my forehead as he walked past me.

I stood there in silence. This was so adorable to me. How could this man get any cuter?

“Ok. Fine. I'll sit, I guess.” I sat down on the arm of the couch.

Terry entered the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. I don't know why, but the sight of this man washing dishes was so… I could feel the butterflies in my tummy going wild.

As I watched his back muscles move, I felt something. I immediately felt my panties grow damp as his shirt clung to every curve and crevice of his body.

I bit my lip as I crossed my legs. Feeling my body come alive, I released a quiet sigh. I needed this man— on me, in me, with me, however.

I repositioned myself with my legs on both sides of the arm of the couch so that I was straddling it. I was losing a silent battle between my mind and my body. I could feel my hips move slowly. There was no way this man had me grinding my pussy against a fuckin' couch. The friction of my labia and clit rubbing against the couch through the thin material of my biker shorts aided in creating the slick pool in the seat of my shorts. I knew they were ruined, but I was too aroused to stop.

I gulped in desperation, trying to fight against whatever this was. I didn't want to attack this man just yet. I knew words needed to be said and feelings needed to be discussed. I looked down at my body, covering my face in shame. I was being betrayed by the only thing I thought I had control over— myself. Every movement I made and thought I had was overpowered by him.

I was suffering, and I knew it. There was only one way to stop it. I had to feed the beast.

With eyes stricken with defeat, I looked over at him. I feverishly hummed in desperation, “Terry. I… um… I-,”.

To my surprise, he was no longer facing the sink. He was looking directly at me. I froze in shame. I watched his eyes lower as his gaze dropped. I dropped my head and looked at the floor.

“You need something, ‘Vana?” Terry asked. His voice boomed through the air. The intense weight of that question landed right where I needed it— my heart and my pussy. I was past hot and bothered. I was in the middle of having a sexual crisis.

I looked back at him and nodded. At this point, I was a needy mess. If Terry so much as touched me, I'd cum. I wanted to speak, but I knew whatever sound my lips released would be lascivious.

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you need something?” Terry asked, leaning forward against the kitchen island.

“Yeessss,” I whined.

“And what do you need?” he asked, moving to the other side of the island.

I drew in a breath and spoke, “YOU! I NEED YOU!”.

The speed at which Terry made it to me was incredible. His movements were so swift and fluid that his feet never made a sound.

His arms wrapped around my body as he picked me up. My legs instantly found their home around his waist. As soon as his gaze met mine, our lips crashed into each other's. His tongue grazed the seam of my lips, begging for entry. I parted my lips and without pause, our tongues went to war. Each of us fighting for more.

I leaned back to catch my breath. I was shocked to discover that we were now standing in my bedroom. I was too wrapped up in that kiss to notice our location changed.

Terry softly placed me in the center of the bed. He slowly lifted his shirt above his head before tossing it across the room. His hands dropped to the top of his waistband.

I watched intently as his hands moved to remove his clothes. I was practically salivating in anticipation for his pants to fall. I knew what I wanted to see. Terry sensed my eagerness and released a rumbly laugh. “Patience, baby,” he said, removing his pants.

My eyes locked into the large tent at the front of his boxers. I reached out to palm the ever-growing bulge in need and desperation. My neediness had slowly built up in the pit of my stomach becoming a slow churning ache. Terry’s hand grabbed mine and brought it to his lips. He began gingerly kissing my inner wrist.

“Daddy,” I whimpered, pulling my hand away.

Terry's demeanor shifted as his hand once again grabbed mine. Interlocking his fingers in mine, he pulled my hand towards his chest. He placed it over his heart while leaning over me.

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.

I stared straight into his eyes. Lost for words was an understatement. For some reason, I fully understood the intention behind his declaration. This was between Havana and Terry, and this was NOT a scene.

Moments Later

“Say it, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” Terry said, placing his mouth back on my nipple. Using nothing but the tip of his tongue, he flicked the overly sensitive bud repeatedly.

My body was growing more and more enraptured by nothing more than Terry's touch. The feeling of his tongue and hands all over my body was intoxicating. I was in love, love drunk, and high off him.

“I'm yours,” I moaned out quietly.

“And… What else?” Terry asked, switching to my other breast.

Pushing my chest up, I wrapped my hands around the back of his head. Fully enthralled in the moment, my grasp on reality slipped.

“I'm… I'm enough. I'm enough,” I rasped almost chanting into the air.

Terry's licks became suckles as one of his hands found a home between my legs.

He moaned as he found pleasure in his own sentiments. “Enough for who?” he asked back in reinforcement.

“For you!” I screamed, feeling myself come undone as two of Terry's fingers pushed into my pussy.

The gasp I let out became trapped in my throat, leaving me choking on air.

“Breathe, ‘Vana. Hey, take a deep breath for me,” Terry pleaded, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

I swallowed hard and struggled to find air. This was too much. For the first time, I didn't know how to respond or react. The control of my body was no longer in my hands. Terry's voice quickly became the guiding light drawing me to whatever awaited me. Whether that was pleasure, happiness, or a combination of both, I would gratefully accept my fate after wholeheartedly surrendering to his every desire, urge, and craving. I was HIS, and his authority was absolute— there was no doubt about it.

“Look at me. Don't… you… ever… doubt… how much… I… love… you. Understood?” Terry demanded in between kisses as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of me.

“Y-yes. I'm sorry,” I whined, clenching around his fingers.

“All I want you to focus on is breathing. Let me handle everything else,” Terry whispered into my ear.

“Ughh….” I sobbed as tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

“Baby, I missed you,” he cooed, resting his lips against my chin.

“I… I mi-missed you, too,” I panted breathlessly.

Terry's lips covered mine in a kiss fueled by desire, stealing my breath and filling me with his. A heavenly set of plush full lips left a soft trail of kisses along my chin until they reached the side of my neck. Tongue swiping back and forth over the supple skin. I gasped as I felt his teeth nip on the sensitive area.

Every action led to one conclusion— this was yearning in its purest form. LOVE.

“Talk to me, ‘Vana. I need to hear something,” he whispered into the side of my neck. All while his two fingers were stealing my soul— slowly.

Against my better judgment, I attempted to speak. I whimpered in delirium as my mouth released nothing but haphazard babbles. All poor attempts at speech as words slipped from my recollection. I just hoped, for my sake, that my body could tell Terry what my mouth couldn't.

As I was sinking and falling simultaneously to a place I had never been, a new question arose. Is this what being stripped raw felt like?

Without my permission, Terry had pulled me into a state of vulnerability and surrender. Using only his hands and his tongue, he had left me exposed with nowhere to hide. I was being forced to hand over my heart and soul. I was finding myself with every kiss.

To myself, I was Havana Rose Taylor. A black woman who deserved love in all forms. I was an exquisite piece of art— rare and invaluable. I was flawed yet virtuous, in my own right.

To the man I loved, I was deserving and admirable. I was the world in human form. A woman capable of love— potent and everlasting. I was desirable and alluring in every facet of the terms. I was… HIS.

And most importantly, I was enough— for me and for Terry.

A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

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[rcvcgers]

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up. 

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks. 

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

[macapunoz]

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets. 

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that. 

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months. 

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination. 

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week. 

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now. 

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered. 

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?! 

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol. 

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away. 

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers. 

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love. 

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart. 

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos. 

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store. 

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket. 

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun. 

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it. 

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name. 

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda. 

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[ikkyfics]

hi!!! im sorry i dont request often, but ive been so in love with ur fics... my atj obsession is coming back full force and you write dave soooo well <33

maybe a fic where reader isn't exactly popular (pretty and maybe has a few close friends) and has a big crush on dave? like she can't understand how he's 'invisible to girls', cause she stares at him in whatever classes they both have, and she stands at her locker for forever just staring longingly at him and he never notices. maybe her best friend tries to convince her to talk to him eventually ..

was thinking it could be sfw and maybe fluffy (maybe a little angsty if you want) idk!!! thank you for considering it if you do, and im excited for what other work you have lined up ❤️

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: in which Dave doesn't notice any of your signals

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, idiots in love, no use of y/n

A/N: SO SO SO SORRY, I know it's been forever since you sent this request, but I only just got around to doing something. I kind of lost count of how many times I started and deleted this fic. If you read this, I appreciate you not giving up on me, and thank you so much for the message, it was very very kind and I can only thank you for those sweet words. I hope you can enjoy this, darling (and I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request)

You always looked at him.

Sometimes subtly, when he walked down the school hallway with that casual stride, balancing his backpack on one shoulder, his headphones hanging around his neck, his brown curls falling slightly over his forehead. Other times, you didn’t even try to hide it, like when he laughed at something stupid during lunch and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses, or when you saw him from afar during gym class, not understanding how no one else noticed how good he looked in that blue shirt.

It was a mystery to you. How was it possible that no girl at school looked at Dave Lizewski? How was it possible that no one saw what you saw?

"You should just tell him you like him and get it over with," your friend casually remarked, while you checked your phone for the thousandth time, waiting for Dave’s reply.

You pretended not to hear, but the heat on your face gave you away.

That was it. You liked him. More than you should like a friend you only exchanged messages with and talked to when you bumped into each other in the hallways. More than you should like someone who, probably, didn’t see any of it.

So, when Dave suggested you two go to the movies together to watch a Batman re-release, you tried not to overthink it.

But that became impossible when you found yourself standing in front of the mirror for too long, adjusting your top, letting your hair down and tying it up three times before deciding which way looked the least intentional. Your hands were a little sweaty, and you rolled your eyes at yourself when you realized you had chosen that specific perfume, the one that always made someone comment on how good you smelled.

It was just Dave.

Just Dave, who got adorably awkward when you accidentally complimented him. Just Dave, who laughed at your bad jokes and sent stupid memes in the middle of the night. Just Dave, who—when he met you in front of the theater—stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, blinked a few times, and without even trying to hide it, gave you that quick once-over from head to toe before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

"You look… uh, different today."

You raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Different how?"

Dave opened and closed his mouth once, clearly trying to choose his words. His curls fell slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head to the side, and he made that unconscious motion of pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Pretty."

It was a bit hesitant, but genuine enough to make the heat rise to your cheeks.

"I’m always pretty," you joked, trying to keep your composure.

Dave smiled that awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know."

And then, as if realizing he was giving too much away, he pointed toward the theater doors. "We should go in."

He was right. But as you passed through the ticket booth and grabbed your tickets, you could still feel his gaze on you from time to time.

The theater was packed, and the tight seats meant you were close enough that when he moved, his knee brushed against yours.

The room darkened, and soon the movie started. You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy when every little movement of his caught your attention. The way he leaned over to grab more popcorn and, in the process, his fingers brushed against yours, his warm skin against yours in a fleeting touch that left an uncomfortable awareness in its wake. As if, somehow, that brief contact was more significant than it should have been.

He didn’t seem to notice. He just stayed there, leaning on the armrest, relaxed, his eyes lit up by the glow of the screen. Every now and then, he’d bite his lower lip without realizing it, an unconscious habit of concentration that made something twist in your stomach. His jaw looked more defined like that, and you felt an annoying urge to look longer than you should.

And then he leaned in.

You felt it before you saw it. The movement beside you, the sudden warmth of his presence getting closer, and then his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered:

"Did you know Christian Bale almost lost the role because they thought he was too skinny?"

It sent an immediate shiver down your spine.

Maybe it was the fact that his voice came out lower than necessary, raspy on purpose or by accident. Or maybe it was because he was close, close in a way that didn’t seem normal for two friends watching a movie. His face was almost touching yours, and your mind made a stupid connection, the kind that should’ve been ignored: if you turned your head just a little, if you leaned an inch in the wrong direction, his lips would touch yours.

You swallowed hard.

"Is that true?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, and he chuckled softly, as if he noticed.

"He gained like 100 pounds of muscle in six months."

"Is that even possible?" You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the screen, as if ignoring the proximity would be enough to not feel every detail of it.

"If you’re Batman, it is."

The reply came in an almost playful whisper, and then he pulled back as if nothing had happened, leaning back into his seat.

Unlike you, who stayed there, absorbing the fact that your heart was beating way too fast for something that was supposedly nothing.

But it wasn’t just that.

His fingers were still close to yours on the armrest between the seats, so close that if either of you moved, the touches would repeat. You noticed when he grabbed more popcorn and his knuckles brushed lightly against your skin. Maybe you were imagining things, but he didn’t seem in such a hurry to move his hand away this time.

The movie went on, and by this point, you couldn’t tell if you were following the story or just the small details about him. The way he shifted in his seat, the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling with his breath, the warmth radiating from him so close to you.

His voice came low, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Did your soda run out?"

You blinked, needing a second to process the question, before realizing that yes, the cup of soda next to you was empty.

"Yeah."

"Then have some of mine. You must be thirsty after all that popcorn."

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been. But when he tilted the cup toward you, you hesitated for a moment. Your eyes met his, and Dave smiled slightly, waiting for you to take the cup.

So you took it.

You brought the straw to your mouth and drank, feeling the cold soda running down your throat. But that wasn’t all you felt. Dave was watching. Not just casually. He didn’t look away the next second, didn’t glance at the screen as if nothing had happened. He was watching.

When you lowered the cup and handed it back to him, your fingers touched for a moment. Warm, slightly sticky from the popcorn salt, but still soft. Dave blinked a few times, as if processing something, and then drank from the same straw without a second thought.

The rest of the movie went on like that. Little moments that made it seem like you were something more. You whispered that you wanted to try the chocolate he bought, and he offered it, holding the candy near your mouth almost casually. Later, he made a comment about some scene, and you replied softly, leaning your face closer to his than necessary. It was all a silent game that neither of you seemed willing to admit you were playing.

But then the movie ended.

You needed to go to the bathroom, and Dave murmured that he’d wait outside. You nodded, adjusted your jacket, and walked away, trying to ignore the silly feeling that you were leaving something behind.

It was when you came back that you felt something strange.

There he was, standing near the theater exit, and right in front of him was a girl. You didn’t know her, but you recognized that smile. A sugary smile, a deliberate lean of her body toward him. She laughed softly, playing with her hair, saying something that made Dave furrow his brows, confused. And then you understood.

She was flirting with him.

And he had no idea.

Your body froze mid-step. It was stupid, but for a moment, you felt a strange weight in your chest. What would happen if, suddenly, someone started seeing in him what you saw? If someone looked at him and saw exactly what you saw? If someone fell for Dave Lizewski the way you were falling for him?

Your stomach churned.

That’s when he looked at you.

His face lit up in the same second, and he smiled—that genuine, easy smile he didn’t give to the girl in front of him. He muttered something quickly to her, nothing rude, just a hurried goodbye, and then started walking toward you.

And you, who still felt the heaviness in your chest, didn’t know what to do when he stopped beside you and asked, as if nothing had happened:

"Let's go?”

You could still feel the warmth of the movie theater on your skin, the memory of your fingers brushing against the popcorn, the brief touch of your hands, the low sound of his voice, raspy and almost lazy, echoing in your ear. It was absurd how every detail seemed amplified now, as if the simple fact of being alone on this walk made everything feel more real.

Dave adjusted the collar of his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, and took two quick steps to align himself beside you. He always did that—making sure you walked together, close, your shoulders almost touching with every movement. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and just let out a short sigh.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t get the image of the girl at the theater out of your mind. Or the way she looked at him, or the casual way Dave stood there, listening, completely unaware.

"She was pretty."

The words came out suddenly, and Dave turned his head toward you, slightly confused. "What?"

"The girl at the theater." You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on the path. "She was pretty."

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out where you were going with this. Then he shrugged. "Yeah."

It was a small, indifferent sound. But for some reason, it annoyed you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, and looked at him. "And she was flirting with you."

Dave furrowed his brows, laughing lightly, as if that were absurd. "No, she wasn’t."

"Yes, she was."

"No, she wasn’t."

You stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop too, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden hesitation. The cold wind passed between you, but all you felt was the heat rising to your face.

"You’re too much of an idiot to notice."

His smile faltered a little, and Dave opened his mouth, as if to retort, but couldn’t find the words.

"I’m not an idiot." He sounded slightly offended, furrowing his brows in a way that only made him seem more naive.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"Then tell me," you challenged, tilting your head to the side, crossing your arms as you stared at him. "If a girl were flirting with you, would you notice?"

Dave let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head. "Obviously."

"No, you wouldn’t."

"I would."

"You wouldn’t."

He rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated way. "Okay, then. How are you so sure about that?"

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t think much. You just looked at him, at his messy curls and blue eyes behind his glasses, at the face you knew so well and at the answer that had been begging to come out for a long time.

"Because I’ve been giving you every possible sign, and you haven’t noticed."

The silence that followed your confession wasn’t empty.

It was heavy, loaded with something indescribable, something that tightened your chest and made the air feel denser around you.

Dave stood in front of you, his face partially lit by the nearest streetlight, his hair casting shadows over his eyes. But even with the poor lighting, you could see it.

The shock.

His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze fixed on yours, unblinking, and the expression that took over his face was a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage, the pulse vibrating in every extremity of your body. Your hands were cold, but the heat rising to your face was almost unbearable.

You had said it.

You had said it out loud.

And now there was no turning back.

Nervousness washed over you like a wave, sweeping away any trace of courage that remained. Your chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and your fingers moved slightly, restless, before you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"I like you, Dave."

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but it was too late to fix it.

Dave blinked, as if the words had just hit him with full force.

"I’ve liked you for a while. A long time." You forced a short laugh, looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. "But you never noticed."

He wet his lips, looking away, at anything that wasn’t you, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed again, without a single word coming out.

"Dave," you called, and he finally looked at you again.

His eyes were intense now, as if they were trying to absorb every detail of you, every tiny movement.

You felt the hesitation in the air.

The weight of what had just happened.

But then, he did something unexpected.

With an almost hesitant movement, Dave slowly raised his hand, as if testing his own limits, as if he still couldn’t believe he could touch you. His fingers brushed against the sleeve of your jacket before finally holding your forearm, the touch light, uncertain, but real.

"I’m an idiot."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, and the way he said it made your chest tighten in a strange way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued:

"I—" Dave took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I didn’t notice because..." He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm. "Because I never thought it was possible."

Your heart stopped for a second.

His eyes were locked on yours, and there was something so genuine there, something so true, that you felt your throat close up.

"I never thought you could like me."

The confession was soft, said with a half-smile that didn’t match the uncertainty shining in his eyes.

And in that moment, you realized.

You realized he wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t feel the same.

He was hesitating because he had always felt it.

Because he had always wanted it, but never thought he was allowed to want it.

You felt your breathing quicken, and the distance between you seemed smaller now, your bodies leaning in an almost imperceptible way, as if drawn to each other.

Dave blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to understand the reality of the situation. As if he were trying to memorize this moment, to store it somewhere safe inside himself.

And then, he laughed.

Soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and shook his head. "I really am an idiot."

You let out a weak laugh, the nervousness still pulsing inside you, but now mixed with something else.

Something warm.

Something good.

Dave lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip before looking at you again, and then he did it again—that subtle movement of leaning closer. Not enough to break the last barrier between you, but enough for you to feel his warmth in the air, for every cell in your body to be aware of his presence.

"Tell me it’s not too late for me to notice now."

His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense, blue and fixed on you as if nothing else in the world existed.

And the answer came before you could even think.

"Of course it’s not."

[interruptedtrance]

Stress relief (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

contains: calling franco master, nicknames (amor), reader being a brat, being used as stress relief, hands being tied behind the back, spanking, using a ruler, crying, aftercare

masterlist

“come here”

“yes master”

“over the desk”

“i'm sorry, what?”

slamming down his work, “bend over the desk, i've had enough of you amor” now slightly getting up from his chair, pointing where he wants you on the desk, “you have been such a brat, teasing all morning, disturbing me while i work, and now again walking around in a skirt that doesn't even cover anything!”

hesitation fully leaving your body, you move to his desk and bend over it, “i'm sorry master” you let out a small whimper.

he gently runs a hand on the inside of your thigh, before roughly grabbing your mound, and ripping your panties off you, “amor,” he inhales a deep breath, only making you more worried, “i want you to be quiet, and let me use you as stress relief.”

you lightly tremble, “yes master”, you feel franco grab both of your arms and pull them behind your back, firmly holding them to your lower back. his other hand, working off his tie, and carefully binding your arms together, making sure the knot isn't done too tightly.

soon franco sits down and returns to his work, while reading over some documents he gently traces his hand along your thigh, every now and then giving it a gentle squeeze, making you let out a tiny breath.

but the touches don't stop there, his hand moves to your ass giving it a rough squeeze, pulling a moan from you. “what did i tell you?” he questions without easing up his grip on your ass.

“to not make any noise”

“and what did you do?”

“i made noise, i'm sorry master” you knew better than to piss him off even more.

“amor, what do brats like you get?”

“they get punished sir”

“that's correct amor, now pick a number between one and five”

hesitating a bit, before you answer “four”.

“four times five is twenty, exactly how many swats you will be getting”

“what, why so many?” you try protesting. but franco now pulls you over his lap.

“why twenty, well you chose four swats, and the five is for every offence you have done, i see that before each session you will need to explain why you are getting them”

“yes master” you hang your head in defeat.

“can we start? why are you getting the first set?”

“i went over my spending limit”, as soon as those words came out you felt the first slap on your right cheek, the second soon following to your left, and the next two landing in the middle, each one making you hiss out in pain.

franco now gently rubbing your ass, “you should be thankful it wasn't for every dollar you went over, now what's the next thing?”

“i wore short skirts in the hopes of getting your attention sooner”

“shame you didn't ask for it” and with that another set is done, he makes sure to hit the exact same spots to really drive the message home, each spank harder then the last, making you cry out in pain.

franco is still gently caressing your bruised ass, and cooing at you to get you to calm down, “aaa amor it's not so bad, i wouldn't be doing this if you were good for me.”

“i disturbed you while you worked”

franco didn't start as soon as you stated what you did wrong, he caressed your ass for a second longer, “the next round will be with a ruler.”

“yes master” and again, in the same pattern he abused you ass, this time laying down even harder smacks making you shed a few tears.

“what color amor?” he questions, while gently running one hand over your burning cheeks, and with the other grabbing the implement.

“green master” you say with a tremble.

“alright amor, for what are you being punished now?”

“i didn't listen when you said i had to be quiet”

“correct” franco gently drug the ruler up your thighs to your cheeks, making sure both of them felt the ruler equally. when he brought the instrument to your ass, he held it there for a moment, and just gave you a few light swats with it, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting a bit, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“and what is the last thing amor?” he questioned, while pressing the ruler into your burning skin.

“i've argued with you”

before he spanks you for the final four times, he gently kisses you on your head, and gives you another four light swats, making sure to spread them out so it doesn't hurt too much.

“thank you master” you say, while he is undoing the knot.

“stay over my lap for a second” he orders, while moving to grab something from his desk drawers, in the meantime you move and fold your arms under your head so it's being supported a little.

“this might be a bit cold amor” he mentions, before he softly traces his palms against your red cheeks to spread the ointment so you don't bruise. the cold from the ointment makes you let out a content breath.

he moved you, so that you are now sitting on his lap, careful of the area where he has delivered the hardest spanks too. “did the ointment feel good?” you only nod in return, now tired from the punishment.

franco gently grabs your face in his hands, and with his thumb lightly wipes away the tear streaks on your face, before softly connecting your lips together.

[deansbeer]

between constellations ྀི ・ BABY!CLARK KENT. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

୨୧ synopsis. you love space, stars, and galaxies—so much that you barely notice when clark catches you mid-fall, utterly unfazed.

୨୧ warning(s). none! | fluffy fluff | space rambling | mentions of tripping | starlight's light based abilities | clark being a lil cutie pie.

୨୧ word count. 1296

୨୧ kari notes. it was time i did my part and share this little with yall for me and bree's baby <3 we love her and her quirks oh so much :') her in roller skates with stars on it was just too cute of a detail not to add !!! i also did some light research to make sure that the astronomy in this was accurate (???) so i'm sorry in advance to all the astronomy girlies, if any of this is incorrect <3

the world outside your window is quiet, wrapped in the deep indigo of night. the only sounds are the faint rustling of leaves in the cool summer breeze and the occasional chirp of crickets hidden in the grass. the air smells of late august—warm earth, freshly cut wheat from the nearby fields, and the lingering scent of your mother’s lavender-scented laundry detergent clinging to your pajamas.

you’re tucked beneath a soft quilt, propped up by a collection of pillows, your small hands gripping the edges of your favorite teddy bear as your mother’s voice carries through the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

her tone is warm, gentle, like the softest whisper of the wind through the corn stalks outside. she reads with practiced ease, her voice rising and falling in a familiar rhythm as she turns the page of A JOURNEY THROUGH THE STARS—one of your most treasured books. the worn edges and slightly creased corners are proof of how many times you’ve begged her to read it to you.

you already know everything about the words printed on these pages. you could recite them in your sleep, and yet, you still hang onto every sentence as if it’s the first time you’ve ever heard them.

“and so, the stars were born,” your mother reads, her voice soft and full of wonder, “burning bright in the endless fabric of space, their light traveling for millions of years before reaching us here on earth.”

your lips curl into a small smile, your heart swelling with something warm and familiar.

stars. light. space.

your entire world.

she reaches the end of the chapter and closes the book gently, smoothing a hand over your hair before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“alright, starlight,” she murmurs, her voice laced with affection, using the nickname clark had given you. “time for bed. sweet dreams, my love.”

you blink up at her, already feeling the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids. or at least, that’s what you want her to think.

“goodnight, mama,” you whisper, your voice small and warm with feigned drowsiness.

she lingers for a moment, brushing a few stray hairs from your face before finally standing. with a soft sigh, she turns toward the door, her footsteps quiet against the wooden floor.

you listen carefully, waiting, your breath caught in your chest as she moves down the hall.

and then—silence.

you wait a little longer, just to be sure.

when you’re certain she’s far enough away, you let out a tiny sigh of relief and reach under your pillow, fingers closing around the cool, smooth cover of your newest treasure.

THE WONDERS OF THE UNIVERSE.

even the title makes your chest flutter with excitement.

you sit up slowly, careful not to make a sound, and prop the heavy book open on your lap. the dim glow of your bedside lamp isn’t enough to properly read by, so you do what you always do—what you can do ever since you discovered the strange, shimmering power that now lives inside you.

you reach out a tiny hand, palm open, and let the light bend and shimmer at your fingertips.

a soft, golden glow spills across the pages, specks of light swirling like tiny fireflies in the air. it’s warm, comforting, and familiar—your own little piece of the cosmos resting in the space between your fingers.

your breath catches as the soft glow illuminates the first page, revealing a breathtaking illustration of a spiral galaxy.

“the andromeda galaxy,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the delicate swirls of stardust.

your eyes are wide, drinking in the beauty of it. the way the light from a billion stars twines together, stretching across the vast expanse of space. you read the tiny caption beneath the image, your lips barely moving as you murmur the words aloud.

“the nearest galaxy to the milky way, only 2.5 million light-years away.”

your little heart thumps with excitement.

only 2.5 million light-years.

to anyone else, that number would seem impossibly large, an unfathomable distance. but to you, it’s close—so close, you almost feel like you could reach up and touch it.

you flip to the next page, then the next. nebula, galaxies, exploding stars—an entire universe alive within the pages of your book.

you don’t even notice how late it is. you don’t realize how heavy your eyelids have grown until the book starts to slip from your grasp.

you blink sluggishly, forcing yourself to stay awake, but the warmth of your blankets, the soft hum of your powers, and the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat lull you into submission.

with a reluctant sigh, you close the book, tucking it safely back under your pillow before settling under your blankets.

your eyelids droop, the golden glow at your fingertips dimming.

and as sleep finally pulls you under, you dream of galaxies dancing in the sky.

the next morning, the air is crisp, the scent of damp earth and fresh-cut grass filling your lungs as you step outside. the sun is still low in the sky, painting the world in soft hues of gold and pink.

you tug on your backpack straps, your roller skates gliding smoothly over the pavement, the tiny stars on them shimmering in the early morning light.

beside you, clark walks with easy strides, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. he’s always been taller than you, always had that steady presence that makes you feel like nothing in the world could ever really go wrong.

you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your book clutched tightly in your hands as you flip through the pages, barely paying attention to where you’re going.

“clark!” you spin toward him, nearly shoving the book in his face. “this is the andromeda galaxy! it’s the closest galaxy to the milky way—our galaxy—at 2.5 million light-years away! can you believe that?! it’s basically our next-door neighbor in space!”

clark blinks at you, his lips twitching into an amused smile. “that’s… really far away, starlight.”

“not in space terms!” you insist, flipping the page dramatically. “and look! look at this one! the whirlpool galaxy—it has a companion galaxy that it’s pulling in with its gravity! isn’t that awesome?”

you’re so caught up in your excitement, in the sheer wonder of it all, that you don’t notice the rock in your path.

your skate catches.

the world tilts.

but before you even have time to process the fact that you’re falling, a pair of hands grabs you, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

your book wobbles in your grip, but you barely even falter, immediately turning back to clark with wide, starlit eyes.

“and this one!” you continue, flipping to another page without missing a beat. “the sombrero galaxy! it’s got this really cool dust lane and a super bright nucleus—”

“wait—hold on—” clark interrupts, brows furrowing. “you almost just ate dirt a second ago. are you okay?”

you blink up at him like you don’t understand why he’s even asking.

“yeah?” you answer easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “why wouldn’t i be?”

he stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head with a laugh, letting go of your arms.

“you are so weird, starlight.”

you just grin, a front tooth of yours missing, unbothered, flipping to another page.

“okay, but listen to this—did you know there’s a planet made entirely of diamonds?!”

clark sighs, but there’s fondness in his voice when he says, “of course there is.”

and just like that, you’re back to rambling, your skates rolling smoothly over the pavement as clark walks beside you, listening to your endless fascination with the stars.

he thinks you shine brighter than any galaxy ever could.

៸៸៸ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @honeyryewhiskey@ultravi0lence14 @abox-of-rocks @deanswidow @jasvtsc @cowboysandcigarettes @beausling @stereotypicalbarbie @bejeweledinterludes @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @sunsbaby @jjmbbg @freeluigihesbae @unfortunate-brat @a-lil-pr1ncess @starzify @notsocoqquete1 @deerlysacred @severe-mental-illness

[bigmomma25]

Character Analysis of Josh Levy

Sorry if this is shit, idk how to word my feelings on Josh. Gonna go about each character very differently bc they're all complex in their own right and I have so many thoughts. Brain so full. He’s the most tragic of them all, super overlooked, misunderstood, and underrated. He’s someone who’s hard to analyze, since he’s so guarded. Plus I distance myself from him bc he's too real lol

I feel the most integral part of Josh's character is the fact that he's neurodivergent. He's always been very autistic-coded in writing, but it was also confirmed by Dorkin that he is somewhere on the neurodivergent spectrum, which changes his character completely from just a gluttonous selfish loser to a cautionary tale of what can happen when autistic children get no resources or room to be "weird" in public.

When we first meet Josh, it's established that he's the laughing stock of the group. In the first meeting that we see, the rest of the club has managed to get all types of pop culture merchandise from all over the place, but Josh's are more childish, like Animaniacs and Flintstones. He also went the easiest route, basically relying on his mother if he wanted to get anything done. All in all, not very complex, and this gets him laughed at immediately.

He is only treated with respect when he has something the rest of the club values, and has to use it as leverage to get any kind of positive feedback. During open debate, he's almost sneered at by the rest of the group and doesn't even realize it, since he's loud and corny and laughs at his own jokes. When they play DnD, he's shown to be very insecure and terrible at decision-making, once again getting him endlessly shit on by Pete. And once his leverage is gone, he's mocked again, especially for falling for such an easy scam.

There is a lot to unpack there, very quickly. The story almost makes it easy to point and jab at someone like Josh, without looking much deeper than the surface. He's the Eltingville Club's personal Chris-Chan, or Tophia, or Daniel Larsen.

Josh Levy has a Binge Eating Disorder

Josh has bad eating habits, both in the comics and pilot. He's willing to eat stale Doritos from a trash can, is constantly shoving fast food in his face, and bulk buys food constantly for the collectibles, eating it all instead of throwing it away like his friends. It even leads to health problems and discomfort, like when he was eating nothing but Batman-shaped Mac and Cheese for days and had extreme bathroom issues. This is meant to show his gluttony, but even that represents the issue Josh has faced all his life - his problems being portrayed as his own fault and made into a gag. Being fat is not a moral failure, but everyone has always told Josh that it was.

Binge eating stems from somewhere. You aren't born with those habits, and there's a reason he feels stupid and ashamed every time he participates in it. Josh has always faced a lack of control and emotional support from everyone in his life, leading to him trying to find it in both escapism and food binges. It's also a sign of even bigger mental health issues, but no one steps in. His own family shows a lack of care or consideration for their son, along with enabling his habits by constantly buying more for him. He has very little say in his own life, but he does at least have a say in how he eats and the things that bring him joy, even if it's destroying him.

Enabling Parents

While I wouldn’t say Josh has good parents, they at least have some type of care for him, and he obviously comes from a family with money. His parents are very old, and his mother is sickly, which means that they probably can’t discipline him in the way that he needed as a child. Even when Josh was grounded, it was a very light punishment compared to what he did (literally vandalism) and it’s clear there aren’t many rules in his house.

They essentially allow Josh to do whatever he wants, and throw money at him constantly, but refuse to actually look at what he needs emotionally that is causing all these outbursts. They show very little care when Josh is distraught, don’t address his binge eating habits or obsessions or why he’s having dreams of his friends beating him to a pulp. They constantly buy him a bunch of junk food when they can see the impact it’s having on his health, or maybe they don’t pay enough attention to notice. With his mother being sick, it’s very likely that he didn’t get much attention, and tried to get it from everywhere else in his life. He’s emotionally neglected and physically spoiled, trying to use material possessions to fill that void.

Josh’s Autistic Traits

I’m going to have to make a bullet pointed list for this, since there’s so many instances that it’s hard to pinpoint all of it.

Emotional Outbursts/Emotional Impermanence - Josh has been shown on multiple occasions to feel things very strongly, and acts out because of how emotional he gets. Particularly, his anger often overwhelms him. It’s very common for people on the spectrum to lack the ability to regulate their emotions and self soothe in a typical fashion, which leads to meltdowns, and angry outbursts. Josh clearly has a hard time conveying what he’s thinking when he’s upset, often getting tripped up and desperate, like trying to explain himself during the trivia-off, and trying to set boundaries with the club about the fat jokes only to be met with laughter and ridicule. I firmly believe he’s had meltdowns multiple times on screen, and it’s not always just him throwing a tantrum. He’s also able to switch his emotions very quickly, going from fuming with anger to beaming with joy, as if he’d felt nothing else beforehand.

Social Obliviousness - Josh often doesn’t realize he’s the butt of the joke when it’s not spelled out for him. His friends don’t even want to be seen next to him at times, and he never really realizes the degree in which they hate him. He makes a fool out of himself constantly, but doesn’t realize how people perceive him OUTSIDE of being a fat nerd, and has no desire to know and no self-reflection. Once again, I feel that the dream he has about his friends beating him up until he bleeds is significant, because he asks himself “what could that possibly mean” when it is VERY obvious to the rest of the audience.

His Special Interests Shape His World - Josh isn’t shown to be the brightest in many aspects; in the pilot he’s prone to making mistakes, he often comments in the comics about how he comes to realizations far slower than the rest of his friends. But when it comes to his special interests like Star Wars, he’s a human encyclopedia. He knows the most out of the group about anything sci-fi and comic related, even trying to build an actual functional Iron-Man suit by himself (before lighting himself on fire, but that’s still knowledge and dedication). The way he calms down is literally sorting his figure into lines. He can’t take his mind off of it even in important situations, like in the pilot when he’s being screamed at by Bill’s mom but is still caught up in the DnD game. His job in the future is literally him trying to be a comic writer. He cannot function in the world without his special interests being involved, and since most people were very hostile towards him and his interests, this manifests in him being defensive and obsessive instead of forming a normal relationship with it.

Lack of Empathy - Josh is very rude, like everyone in the club. While his harassment of others isn’t an autistic trait, it does show that he has a hard time putting himself in other people’s shoes. Even when he does care about people, like his mother, or Bill not getting a chance to get a Star Wars figure because Josh keeps hoarding them, or Pete after the zombie walk, he can’t conceptualize how they feel if it doesn’t affect him. It may not even dawn on him, because of his social ineptitude.

Missing Social Cues - Josh isn’t the best in social situations; from the painful conversation with the many cashiers at fast food places, to the scene during DnD, in the comics, when Josh is confronted with a social interaction with a girl and completely falls apart. He’s awkward, he’s loud, and he has no idea he’s awkward and loud. He’s also very blunt, and sincere with his words, not realizing that other people can say something and mean another, like when he showed up to job interviews and talked about Godzilla, thinking the hiring manager was interested.

Black and White Thinking/Paranoia - Josh jumps to conclusions often. With him, it’s either something is the worst thing to ever exist, or it’s perfect and you’re not allowed to criticize it. He has a hard time understanding that grey area, and this also reflects on how he views other people. Unlike Bill or Pete who form their judgements of “normies” on trends they’ve noticed and behaviors they’ve watched from afar, Josh thinks they’re all inherently bad based on his own experiences being bullied. And he believes all nerds are inherently better because of his friend group and experiences. Seeing someone who’s both preppy and enjoys nerdy media would probably turn his entire world view upside down.

Disorganization/Executive Functioning Issues - Josh can’t care for himself on his own, and has a hard time in public places. In the pilot it’s more evident, during the DnD game when he’d been shown to drop everything, make poor decisions, be hyper focused on small issues and details while ignoring the big picture, which can reflect how he conducts himself in real life. Even just making himself a meal or going grocery shopping is hard for Josh, which can be partly caused by his parents babying him too much, and partly from lack of executive functioning skills.

The Lolcow-ification of Josh

Unfortunately it’s a big part of his character stereotype that this story takes place in the early 2000s, which means the general population is very hostile to both fat people AND autistic people. Being both means that anyone and everyone will find an excuse to shit on you, and it will be socially accepted to do so. So it’s not unreasonable to assume Josh has been socially outcasted since his birth. Social Isolation is scientifically the worst pain humans can go through as a social species - it manifests in the brain as physical pain. And being exposed to that pain your whole life leaves you traumatized.

I’m going to be a dork for a second and reference my favorite book; much like how Frankenstein’s monster was not born violent, but grew to be so after being rejected and betrayed by everyone he knew, Josh‘s positive traits slowly became overshadowed by his insecurity and defensiveness.

It’s rather heartbreaking, how hard it is to analyze Josh when he is so clearly defined by trauma. Especially since it’s a fact that no autistic person in our society has really gone without trauma. It’s hard to know the real Josh when he’s always on defense mode. His trauma is also heavily overlooked, both in the story and in reality. Since he is most likely undiagnosed, he probably sees it as his own fault.

Josh’s Positive Traits

When he’s so often looked down upon, I feel like it’s important to have a little segment all about the good things in Josh that’d hard to notice.

Creativity - Josh is actually very imaginative. From his desires to become a comic writer, to his eagerness during the costume contest, he’s shown a desire to create and is always full of ideas. Good ones? Maybe not. But full of ideas nonetheless.

Loyalty - Josh puts up with shit no one in the whole world should let slide. When Josh truly loves someone, like the club, he doesn’t leave them. It may be partially caused by his follower tendencies, but he’ll stick by and defend his friends in any situation. Even when he swears he’s leaving for good, like when he daydreams of shooting his friends in the head, or claims the end of the Eltingville Club in the pilot, he always comes back.

Attention to Detail/Ingenuity - Josh is the type to notice things no one else notices, which often comes in handy, like during the trivia-off and how he managed to make the stash of collectibles in toy stores for the club. It’s an important skill, especially when the rest of the club doesn’t pay as much attention is he does. He tends to take the long way when solving problems, so this attention to detail often means coming up with unique solutions to difficult problems.

Honesty - Josh says what he means, which is real as fuck. Saying he’s gonna piss his pants in excitement is not only humorously blunt but also goes to show that he’s not gonna hide what he thinks or how he feels for anyone. The type of friend you go to when you want someone to tell you how it is and not sugarcoat it.

——

Yeah that’s all I’ve got for now. Too many thoughts and too little words I may explode. I just wanna squish him

[fel-09]

Howdy! Hello! Thanks for answer my last request so quickly! It was amazing and your writing is wonderful to read!

I had another request if you are interested? Another Thranduil x Reader, except in this one Reader can’t feel pain? Like not a situation where they have a high pain tolerance but they have a medical condition that makes it impossible for them to feel pain!

And who will protect you?

Sorry for the mistakes, I'm very tired.

You were used to curious stares.

Humans, elves, dwarves-anyone who recognized your secret gazed at you with apprehension, doubt, or even disgust. You felt no pain. Not at all. Since birth. It was not a gift, not a blessing, but rather a curse. Deprived of your natural self-preservation mechanism, you have been on the brink of life and death many times.

Thranduil learned of this by accident.

The battle was fierce. Arrows bursting, screams, the smell of blood. You fought alongside the elves of Licholesia, twirling among your enemies, not noticing the blades cutting through your skin. Only when the battle was over, when everyone held their breath in the deafening silence, did Thranduil notice you - bloody, with wounds that should have rolled you off your feet.

- Why are you standing there? - His voice was cold, but wariness lurked in his eyes.

You shrugged.

- It's not fatal.

His gaze slid to the deep cut on your side. The blood flowed in an even, dark line, and only the absence of a grimace of pain proved your words. He didn't believe it at first, but when you looked up at him with a calm, even indifferent gaze, something in his face changed.

Thranduil was an elf who saw everything, felt everything. He felt the rustle of leaves as they fell from the trees. He felt the warmth of the fire, even if he didn't touch it. His world was made of sensations, and you... you were devoid of them.

He couldn't understand that.

- So you don't feel pain. - He'd said it once, watching you bandage a fresh wound on your arm.

You nodded.

- How do you know you're not feeling well?

You hesitated.

- By the blood," you answered simply.

Thranduil stared at you for a long time, too long, as if trying to figure out something impossible.

- It means you could be hurt, but you wouldn't know it.

You nodded again.

- 'It makes you vulnerable.

- It makes me strong,' you parried.

He grinned.

- No. It makes you a mortal who doesn't realize the limits of her body.

You didn't answer, but a strange emotion flared inside. You'd never thought of yourself the way he said.

Thranduil was watching you. You saw it out of the corner of your eye, felt his presence in the shadows of the trees, in the remoteness of the palace corridors. He asked questions no one had ever asked before.

- Are you afraid of death?

- No.

- But if you can't feel pain, then you can't tell when it's time to stop.

- That's right.

- It scares me.

You looked up at him sharply. The king, whose mask of unwavering confidence never fell, was admitting fear?

He stepped closer, slowly, as if he feared breaking the thin line that separated you.

- I don't want you to die.

You smiled.

- 'No one does.

He frowned.

- I want you to live.

Those words penetrated your heart. No one had ever said it to you like that before, with such feeling. People have wondered, feared, but not cared. No one tried to protect you from yourself.

One day he reached out and touched your palm.

- Can you feel it?

You shook your head.

- But you realize I'm there for you?

- Yes.

He squeezed your hand tighter.

- Then you can feel, just differently.

You didn't know what to say.

With him by your side, you began to realize something different. You didn't feel pain, but you felt the warmth of his hands. You didn't feel hurt, but you felt his eyes on you. And for the first time in your life, you wanted to feel pain to see if it was real.

But the pain didn't come.

Only something else came, the feeling that you didn't have to be with him.

didn't have to be the one

he didn't feel. Because he felt for both of them.

You expected it.

Thranduil didn't say anything out loud, but you knew it would happen. When the King of Licholesia made a decision, no one could change his mind. No one, except perhaps time itself.

- You will not go into battle.

His voice was calm, but steel lurked in that calmness.

You froze, clutching the bandaged blade in your hand.

- I have fought before.

- And you won't again.

You gritted your teeth.

- Thranduil, this is not your war.

- This is not your war. - He stepped closer, and you could see the anger glittering in the depths of his eyes, cold and icy as a winter night. - You go into battle without realizing your limits. You could bleed out and not notice.

You clenched your fists.

- I know my limits!

- Lie. - He raised his hand as if about to touch your face, but stopped at the last moment. - You don't even know where your body ends.

You didn't answer.

He took another step forward, and you felt the tension in the room become as palpable as a bell.

- I forbid you.

Silence.

You stared at him, incredulous, irritated, but deep down.... you were afraid.

- You have no right.

- Yes, I do. - His voice was firm. - I am your king.

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to claw at him, make him realize he couldn't decide for you.

But he'd already made up his mind.

You unclenched your fists.

- Is it because you're afraid?

He didn't answer right away. But when he did, there was something different in his words.

- Yes.

You felt the ground slipping away from under your feet.

- If you felt pain, you'd know when to stop. - His voice got quieter, deeper. - And now I have to do it for you.

You turned away.

- You don't understand.

- I do. - Thranduil leaned down to look into your eyes. - You're used to living on the edge. But now you have something to lose.

You didn't know what to say.

You could have thrown yourself into battle, gone against his will, proved something, but... в

this time it was different.

Thranduil wasn't just forbidding.

He was protecting you.

You felt the tension in the air become almost palpable.

Thranduil stood across from you, his gaze piercing you, but not with anger, but with something much deeper. Anxiety. Fear. Something he probably never allowed himself to show.

You wanted to say something, but he didn't give you time.

Warm palms rested on your cheeks, and before you could blink, his lips touched yours.

The kiss was deep, but not desperate. It was firm, but not demanding. It was... protective.

Like he was trying to convey to you through that touch everything he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, his forehead remained pressed against yours. He was breathing heavily, as if he had to fight for this moment.

- I know you want to protect people," his voice was quiet, but it was so strong that you felt as if the words were imprinted in the air. - But who will protect you?

You didn't have time to answer.

His hands slid down your back, enclosing you in an embrace. They weren't hard or overbearing. They were strong, secure, like he was trying to keep you safe from the world.

- Except for me," he whispered. - I'm your only defense...

You froze, feeling him press you into him, as if that weren't enough, as if he was afraid you'd disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip.

- I'm afraid... - he breathed out this confession into your hair, so quietly that if you hadn't been so close, you might not have heard it at all. - I don't want to admit it, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose you.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You're used to fear, but not like this.

You're used to being afraid for others, but not for yourself.

And now, in his arms, you realized - for the first time, someone was afraid for you.

Not because you were weak.

But because you were important to him.

You hugged him back, pulling him closer.

- Then let me stay close.

He

didn't respond with words. He just squeezed you tighter.

[swtt4hk]

Are we still lovers? || ex!Cho Sang-woo x fem!Reader (Oneshot)

requested by: anonymous!

author’s note: this was inspired by the song “Are we still friends?” By Tyler , The Creator! It also contains some curse words…enjoy!

he’s here…again. Cho Sang-woo , your ex , is here to beg you to come back again. Everyday is the same shit. He comes over shouting and wakes up the whole neighbourhood just to beg you to come back. But of course you’re not going back to him , not after what he did to you.

You and Cho Sang-woo had been together for a few years now. You were both really happy with your relationship and were even planning to get married soon. Until one day , everything changed.

Flashback

—I’m breaking up with you.

You freeze. Him wanting to break up with you was the last thing you expected to hear.

—w-what? No , you aren’t.

—yes , I am. I’ve already packed your things.

—what?! But why?! Is there anyone else? What happened? What about our plans? You were just telling me , a few days ago , about where you want us to get married!

You protest with tears in your eyes. The truth is , Sang-woo didn’t want to break up with you either. He loved you a lot. But he had just gotten an offer to go work in America and he couldn’t turn down such offer. Money was tough and he couldn’t take you with you , so he had to make a decision. It was either you or his career. But his ego took over him and he chose to go to America. He thought that if he stayed here , he wouldn’t achieve anything and would make your life harder. But let’s be real. Work was his top priority, you were his second choice.

—do I really need to explain this to you? Don’t make this any harder for me and leave.

—no! Sang-woo , I’m your girlfriend and I have every right to know why you want to break up with me!

His jaw clenched in frustration and sighs.

—you wanna know the truth so badly, huh? Here it is then. I’m leaving you. I’m going to America. I got offered a better position and I’ll make much more money than I do here.

your eyes soften as tears roll down your cheek.

—Sang-woo , that’s amazing…why can’t I come with you?

He can’t tell you. He can’t admit that he doesn’t have any money. He’ll seem weak and miserable , so he lies instead. He has to.

—I don’t need any distractions. Also , the work hours will be long.

Then it hits you. He doesn’t love you anymore? He finds you a distraction? That’s not the Sang-woo you know…there is more to it.

—Cho Sang-woo! Stop lying and tell me why you don’t want me to come with you!

—I can’t sit here and argue about something pointless. Just take your things and go!

You burst into tears , take your things and go. You don’t have any choice.

End of Flashback

Ding dong

Here we go again.

—y/n! I know you’re in there , please just open the door! How many times do I have to apologise?!

you walk to the door

—you think an apology can fix this? You’re such an asshole , you don’t know me at all.

—please , just please open the door…

his voice breaks and cries. You’re tired of this shit. It wouldn’t hurt if you finally opened the door , right?

the door unlocks , revealing Sang-woo on the floor , his shirt half unbuttoned and his cheeks red. He must be drunk.

—you better have a good explanation.

You say coldly , not even offering to help him get up.

—can…can I come in?

He says and looks at you like some desperate puppy. You sigh and gesture him to come in. You both sit on the couch and wait for him to speak.

—y/n…can you please come back? I’m sorry. I need you. I promise I’ll be a better man for you.

You scoff at his words.

—I didn’t let you in for you to tell me the same shit you’ve been telling me for the past month. I need to hear something new.

He looks down at his feet in embarrassment. He is ashamed for what he did. After he moved to America , everything was going well at first. Until everything started going downhill. It turned out that he owners of the company he was working in had committed a bunch of crimes , scammed people , including Sang-woo. He , then , realised how big of a mistake he had made. He had left the love of his life , the person who gave him courage and happiness just for money. He knew it wouldn’t be so easy to come back to you but he was determined to get you back.

—y/n…if I explain…will you accept me back?

sighs

—no promises.

He lets out a small chuckle. He knew that you would react like this and it’s funny how well he knows your reactions.

—alright then…

Sang-woo explains everything to you , detail by detail and you’re left stunned. That’s both stupid and sweet at the same time. You found it cute and sweet that he thought he would seem weak and wanted to provide you with more money but that fact that HE BROKE UP WITH YOU and moved away just for money was stupid asf.

—Sang-woo…

—I know. I’m a dumbass.

You chuckle.

—yes , you are. But , first of all , why did you break up with me to move to America? I have a job , I could work some extra hours to get more money and I could come with you some months later. Second of all , you’re stupid for thinking I would find you ‘weak’ for not having enough money to take me with you. Third , you’re an asshole because you put work first and then me.

Sang-woo nods. He totally agrees with what you’re saying but he’s still surprised that you’re not screaming at him.

—I’m…I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?

—well…no. Not exactly. I’m glad that you finally confessed but I will not be accepting you back. It hurts. What you did hurts a lot and I don’t think I can ever forget what you did to me.

—oh…

—I’d like you to move on. Please don’t contact me anymore. Thank you so much for everything , truly.

You say and get up. You open the door and gesture him to get out.

—goodbye , Sang-woo. I hope you find the right one.

Sang-woo , with tears in his eyes , gets up and leaves. He looks at you one more time before leaving , all the memories fading and a new chapter of both of your lives starting.

This isn’t the end. This is only the beginning of a new and better life.

———————————————————————

Idk why but I think I made y/n a lil bit pick me , so I apologise 😭

Taglist: @sensationallysangwoo

@chosangwooswife

@nanamiscsleeve

@snowgirl12

@vkeyy

@lfegoeson